so now that bb are back any chance of some seungri smut?
I highly recommend that you educate yourself by watching this video. I have said before and will say again, I will never write for that man. Stop asking me.
I hope you realise that no matter how much you support him, he is never going to pick you. Stop embarrassing yourself:)
synopsis: it was never supposed to be you. his best friend’s little sister. one of the dancers he stood beside every day. someone he would have to pretend meant nothing to him, because wanting you was already too dangerous to be anything but a secret. what started as something small and greedy turned into something neither of you knew how to let go of, until he did it for the both of you. he told himself it was the right thing to do. you told yourself you’d be fine. after that, it became a matter of restraint — of careful distance and practiced indifference, of pretending there isn’t still something continuously pulling you back towards each other.
authors note: this fic is so so special to me because it’s actually one of the first fics i’ve ever written! there’s actually a whole other part to this story (it’s like 19k words) where seungcheol finds out about their relationship and basically beats the crap out of mingyu lolol. i wasn’t planning on posting it, but if enough of you actually want it, i will!! as always, i really hope that you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think! feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ♡
CHAPTER ONE: THE FALLOUT
you should’ve known it would get messy the first time he kissed you.
it wasn’t sweet. it wasn’t slow.
it happened behind the wardrobe rack in one of the pledis dressing rooms, thirty minutes before a run-through while the crew scrambled to fix a lighting issue.
you were in a sports bra and sweatpants, makeup half-finished, with second-day curls falling effortlessly down your back.
he was in his usual all-black rehearsal outfit, a gold chain hanging on his collarbone, and something unreadable behind his eyes.
“you’re not supposed to look at me like that,” he muttered, jaw tense, his gaze fixed on yours.
you crossed your arms. “i’m not looking at you like anything.”
he stepped in closer. “you keep doing those little moves. the ones you know drive me fucking crazy.”
“you mean the choreography?” you shot back, lifting a brow. “i’m literally just doing my job.”
“that thing in the second chorus,” he said, his voice lower now. “when you drop low and bite your lip. you do that for me. don’t lie, beautiful.”
you rolled your eyes, but your breath caught when he moved again, pressing his body flush against yours.
“you want me to lose it, don’t you?”
you didn’t answer. you couldn’t.
the way he looked at you was hungry. frustrated. like he’d been holding something back for far too long, and it lit something dangerous inside you.
before you could even speak, his mouth was on yours.
your back hit the wall as his hands gripped possessively at your waist.
your fingers curled into his shirt like it was an instinct.
his tongue, his hands, the way he groaned when you tugged his hair. everything about it was messy.
and it didn’t stop there.
the backstage hookups became a pattern. between rehearsals. after fittings. corners of the studio with fogged mirrors and locked doors.
always hidden. always rushed. always too much but somehow never enough.
you gave him your first time on the studio couch, the same one you always collapsed on after long nights.
not out of romance, but something heavier. needier.
your legs wrapped around his waist. your fingers in his hair like you were clinging to gravity.
and he always let you.
let you take. let you tremble.
let you come undone in his lap while his mouth traced your collarbone like a promise he’d never speak out loud.
no one knew about this, either.
not the stylists. not the other dancers. not even his own bandmates.
and especially not seungcheol.
your older brother would’ve lost his damn mind. maybe even burned the whole building down if he ever found out.
because of course, out of all the people in the world, it had to be him.
kim fucking mingyu.
his best friend. his closest friend.
the one person who had no business even looking at you like that; let alone touching you, wanting you, needing you.
and yet somehow, he was always there.
for months, you told yourself it didn’t mean anything.
that the way he touched you like he needed you — like breathing wasn’t enough unless you were under him, around him, full of him — was just part of the act.
that the way he lingered after, brushing hair from your face like it mattered, wasn’t real either.
you told yourself you could handle it.
that you were strong enough to keep it casual. quiet. hidden.
but it got harder to lie every time he pulled you in and didn’t let go.
every time he stayed a little longer.
every time he looked at you like maybe, just maybe, you were more than a secret.
still, you never asked for more. i mean, how could you?
he was your brother’s best friend. this was never supposed to happen.
but it did.
over and over again, like a bad habit neither of you could quit.
you didn’t plan to fall for him. didn’t mean to hope he’d stay the night, or kiss you like it meant something.
but you did. god, of course you did.
i mean, how could you not?
he touched you like you were fragile, but fucked you like you were the only thing that’s ever made him come undone.
he zipped up your jacket for you like it was just an excuse to touch you again.
he continuously found your eyes across any room like they were the only ones that existed.
for a while, you let yourself believe he felt it too.
until about a month ago, when he decided that pretending it meant nothing became easier than admitting it ever meant anything at all.
it happened in your dressing room. you’d just touched up your lip gloss, and casually asked him if he was coming over that night.
it was the same routine. same rhythm.
he didn’t answer right away though. he just stood there, still and silent.
you turned, confused, watching the way his jaw clenched and how he couldn’t quite meet your eyes.
when he finally looked at you, you knew. before he even opened his mouth, you could feel it.
“we can’t keep doing this.”
your stomach still dropped. “what?”
“this…whatever it is…it needs to stop.”
“don’t do that. don’t act like this wasn’t real.”
his jaw tightened as he looked away. “it was a mistake.”
“say it and mean it,” you snapped.
he didn’t hesitate this time. “it was a mistake.”
your laugh came out sharp and bitter. “tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night, but don’t stand there and pretend that i didn’t mean a damn thing to you.”
“y/n—” he started, but you cut him off.
“fuck you, mingyu.”
he met your eyes again, his throat tight, almost as if he wanted to say something else, but it was stuck somewhere between his ribs and his pride.
however, he didn’t answer. he just let the silence grow between you.
let it choke on everything that hadn’t been said. let it mean more than the truth ever would’ve.
“i’m sorry,” he finally said.
not a reason. not an explanation.
just those two words, and then he walked out.
no goodbye. no chance to respond. no space to fall apart.
just the door clicking shut behind him like none of it had ever meant anything. like you had never meant anything.
the worst part wasn’t even the way it ended.
it was how nothing else did.
rehearsals still ran long. the mirrors still fogged with sweat. the playlist still cycled through the same tracks you used to hum when you thought no one could hear you.
he was always there. of course he was.
not in the way that mattered though. not in the way you needed. just in the way that somehow made it worse.
that same smirk. same swagger. same easy charm that made everyone else feel like nothing had changed.
like he hadn’t ruined you with nothing but his mouth and a handful of whispered promises he never intended to keep.
he still showed up to rehearsals like none of it ever happened.
he still carried his favourite hoodie; the one he never left home without.
everyone thought it was a comfort thing; a habit, maybe. something worn-in and familiar. assumed he just loved it.
and maybe he did. but it wasn't because it was warm, or soft, or broken in just right.
it was because it was yours.
he never carried it for himself. he carried it for you.
you never brought your own. you hated feeling cold, but hated asking for help even more.
with mingyu, you never had to ask. he paid attention to the way you’d rub slow circles into your arm, tuck your hands under your thighs, sometimes even press your tongue to the roof of your mouth just to stay quiet.
tiny things. things no one else could ever pick up on.
and yet somehow, he always did.
you never had to ask. he’d just offer it. sometimes with just a glance, sometimes with a soft, “here.”
and if you ever hesitated, he’d pull it over your head himself. like he was allowed to. like it meant something.
the other boys never questioned it. of course they didn’t. they would’ve done the same. they had before, on the rare days mingyu wasn’t around. but when he was, they never got the chance.
but now, he wears it again like it doesn't hold your scent. your shape. every version of you that he’s ever pulled close. like it's just a hoodie.
however, this didn't stop you from showing up to rehearsals every day too.
because that’s what professionals do, right?
they show up, even when it hurts.
even when the person they can’t stop dreaming about is stretching ten feet away.
still laughing with everyone like he wasn’t one secret away from getting his jaw broken by your older brother.
there was no wreckage. no huge fall-out. just absence.
no one knew what had been taken because nothing, on the surface, was missing.
but you felt it. in every glance he didn’t give you. in every touch that didn’t happen, but almost did.
you were angry.
angry that he ended it without warning. angry that he made that decision for the both of you. angry that he could walk away without looking back.
you were angry at yourself for still caring.
you hated that your eyes searched for him when you entered the room. that your skin remembered him better than your brain wanted it to. how some part of you still wished he’d turn around and take it all back.
but he never did. not once.
rehearsal had run longer than usual today. the sun had dipped somewhere behind the city skyline without you noticing. shadows were now stretching across the floor as the studio emptied, one by one.
you stayed behind, stretching in silence, letting the burn in your muscles distract you from the burn in your chest.
you suddenly heard your brother’s loud voice, which snapped you out of whatever trance you were in. “dinner. let’s go.”
you didn’t even blink. still stretched out on the floor, one leg bent and arms braced behind you. “pass.”
seungcheol frowned. “you didn’t even ask where.”
“don’t need to,” you said coolly. “you’re painfully predictable.”
jeonghan raised a brow. “she’s got you there.”
“actually, i’m switching it up tonight,” seungcheol insisted. “new place. no kimchi stew.”
you finally looked up, unimpressed. “who’s paying you to try their new restaurant?”
he crossed his arms. “no one. i just think you need some real food in you. something with protein. maybe even a vegetable.”
“tempting,” you said, standing up and stretching your arms over your head. “but i can’t. i’ve got plans.”
“plans?” seungcheol’s voice cracked like he’d just heard you say you were moving out and never coming back.
you grabbed your water. “yep.”
“what kind of plans?”
“the kind that don’t include you,” you said, smiling sweetly.
seokmin’s head popped up from behind his duffel. “wait. are we talking…plans plans?”
you just sipped your water like it was nothing, which, naturally, made it into something.
seungkwan narrowed his eyes. “that look. that’s a ‘plans with a boy’ look if i’ve ever seen one.”
you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to. it was much more entertaining to watch them spiral on their own.
“i didn’t say that,” you replied, smoothing your hair down.
“but you didn’t not say it.”
you gave the smallest shrug, which, unfortunately, said everything, once again.
seokmin gasped like he’d been betrayed. “you’re seeing someone? since when?”
“relax,” you said, throwing your towel over your shoulder. “you’re acting like i announced an engagement.”
“it’s a bit hard to relax when you’re acting suspiciously vague,” seungkwan countered.
“which means it’s serious,” jeonghan added while nodding. “you’re protecting him.”
you raised a brow. “or i’m protecting you idiots from a full-blown meltdown.”
seungcheol squinted. “who is it?”
“none of your business.”
“it is absolutely my business if some dude is out here making googly eyes at my baby sister behind my back!”
“googly eyes?” you echoed, half-laughing. “what are we, twelve?”
“i’m being serious, y/n.”
“i can tell, cheolie. you’re very intimidating.”
“is it someone we know?” chan asked, his voice filled with curiosity. “because i feel like it’s someone we know.”
“you don’t know him,” you replied, which wasn’t technically a lie.
there was no him, but they didn’t need to know that.
especially not the one sitting on the bench near the mirror, completely silent.
mingyu hadn’t said a word. hadn’t even moved a muscle. he just sat there with his towel around his neck, keeping eyes on the floor.
but you saw the tension in his hands. the way his jaw was set so tightly, it almost looked like it hurt.
the sight gave you just enough fuel to keep going.
seungcheol was still spiraling. “i don’t like this. what if he’s some asshole? what if he’s just trying to—”
“then i’ll deal with it,” you replied calmly. “i’m perfectly capable of throwing hands.”
“still don’t like it.”
“you’re not supposed to, cheolie.”
and that’s when mingyu spoke. low. dismissive. deadly. “just let her go.”
everyone turned towards him, mostly in shock.
seungcheol blinked. “huh?”
“if she’s got plans, she’s got plans,” mingyu said, not looking at you. not looking at anyone. “it’s not our business.”
“oh, wow,” seokmin muttered. “traitor.”
“you’re not even gonna try to talk her out of it?” seungcheol asked, almost sounding dumbfounded.
“she’s allowed to do whatever she wants,” mingyu replied, tossing his towel aside like the whole conversation bored him. “if it’s a date, then…let her have fun.”
you said nothing. you just stared at him.
after a long second, he finally looked up, just for a heartbeat. just long enough to meet your eyes.
and there it was. buried under the surface; jealousy. regret. hurt.
only things that you could see. the things he couldn’t say. the ones you never needed him to.
“thanks for your support, gyu,” you said sweetly, using the nickname you rarely used for him anymore.
he didn’t answer, but you didn’t wait for one either. you just grabbed your bag and threw it over your shoulder.
“anyways, don’t wait up!” you shouted, turning and blowing a kiss towards the boys as you walked towards the door.
soonyoung clutched his chest. “she’s so going to make out with him.”
“i’m gonna vomit,” seungcheol muttered, shaking his head in disgust.
you walked out giggling without looking back again.
mingyu didn’t move. didn’t even blink. just stared at the door like it might swing back open and undo all of it.
it didn’t.
he noticed the tremble in your hands as you reached for your bag. it was faint, almost invisible. the kind of shake that came when your body had given too much.
he always noticed the little things about you; it was like a curse. a reflex. a silent devotion to you that he never meant to make a habit.
you were clearly overstimulated, vibrating underneath your skin, and no one else seemed to care.
but he did. he always did.
the boys were still talking. still laughing. but their voices echoed as if they were underwater.
jeonghan was teasing seungcheol about running a background check. seokmin was already trying to guess the date’s name. one of them joked about texting you the restaurant address ‘in case lover boy stands you up.’
mingyu didn’t laugh. he couldn’t.
because the silence left in your absence was louder than anything they were saying. and beneath it, something ugly twisted in his chest.
he knew you weren’t dressed for a date. your hair was wild and your face was bare, still glowing with sweat and adrenaline.
you didn’t look like someone trying to impress a man, not that you needed to. you just looked like you. the version that mingyu had memorized in the low light of his apartment, curled into his sheets, still trembling from his mouth on your skin.
and somehow, that made it worse.
because what if this new guy didn’t care enough to notice the small things mingyu had?
what if he didn’t realize how you go quiet when you’re overwhelmed; not out of moodiness, but because your brain shuts down under too much noise?
what if he didn’t know how sometimes you can’t ask for help, because you don’t even know what you need?
what about that you chew the inside of your cheek when you’re anxious? or that you tap your thumb against your middle finger when you’re trying not to cry?
would he know that you hated the sound of ticking clocks? that certain words made your skin crawl? that sometimes, dancing was the only thing that kept your thoughts from devouring you whole?
mingyu did. he knew all of it.
he knew how to sit behind you on the studio floor when everything got to be too much; legs stretched out on either side of you, his chest pressed against your back.
he knew not to ask what was wrong. he knew that you didn’t always know, and that asking only made it worse.
just to let you press your ear over his heart and listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat until your lungs remembered how to breathe properly on their own again.
he knew the hoodie he always carried for you was your lifeline when you needed comfort. which songs made you cry even if you didn’t quite know why.
he knew you couldn’t sit in the backseat of a car because it always made you nauseous. which corners of your body held tension so tightly, you didn’t even realize they hurt until he pressed his fingers there.
he learned you like a prayer. a warning. a song that never stopped playing in the back of his head.
and now, someone else might get to touch you. might get to pretend they know you. run their hands down a body they hadn’t earned. kiss a mouth that didn’t belong to them.
and mingyu fucking hated that.
because yeah, it started as just sex.
reckless. rushed. hidden in between rehearsals and outfit changes. in cars, stairwells and hotel rooms too quiet for what the two of you were doing.
but it stopped being just sex a long time ago.
he didn’t know when exactly it shifted. maybe it was the first night you told him not to ask, but to just take. when you grabbed his wrist and pulled it to your throat. when you told him to ruin you.
or maybe it was the one night he didn’t.
the night he slowed down.
held your jaw in both hands like you were made of glass and kissed you like he had something to lose.
told you how perfect you were. how you take him so well. how you were made for him.
you came apart for him like you believed it. like you needed it.
surely that’s when he realized it wasn’t just sex. at least, not anymore.
because you didn’t just let him have your body, you gave it to him. not with words; not directly.
in the way you trembled under his touch. in the way you arched into his hands. in the way you moaned his name like it meant something.
and fuck, it did. it meant everything.
he memorized you. not just the way your thighs shook when you were close or the spot beneath your ribs that made you gasp when he kissed it for the first time.
he knew your body better than he knew his own.
he memorized the curve of your spine. the pitch of your moans. the shape of your mouth when you were too fucked-out to speak.
he knew exactly where to touch to make you fall apart, but also exactly how to hold you when you couldn’t put yourself back together.
he hated himself for it.
for needing you. for learning you. for turning every sound you made into a song he couldn’t stop humming in his own head.
because the more he gave, the more he wanted. and the more he wanted, the more it hurt.
he told himself that ending it was the right call, and maybe it was.
you were seungcheol’s little sister, after all. this was doomed from the moment it started.
but god, he missed you.
you were the only one he ever let see him for who he really was, and now you were gone. and he has no one else to blame for that but himself.
his thumb pressed into the palm of his opposite hand; hard. a grounding technique, one that you taught him. one that never worked unless it was your voice talking him through it.
he barely felt the pain.
he just sat there, spine tense, gaze still locked on the scuffed floor where you’d been standing just a few moments ago.
the room still buzzed with conversation; low laughter, the rustle of jackets, someone still talking about dinner plans.
but it all felt far away. almost like he was watching it through a sheet of glass that was thick and smudged with fingerprints.
he didn’t hear what they said. he didn’t care either.
because all he could think about was the look on your face before you walked out.
not happy. not angry. not sad either.
he honestly wasn’t quite sure what you were thinking, and that scared him a little.
he remembers how you used to look at him. like you saw through everything; the ego, the performance, the chaos.
that was because you did, and yet, you still chose him.
every. single. time.
but now, you didn’t even look back.
“hyung?” chan said cautiously, his tone lighter than his expression. “you good?”
mingyu blinked like he was waking up from a dream. “what?”
“you’ve been acting kinda weird lately,” jihoon said from behind him. “and not just today either.”
“yeah,” soonyoung added. “like the last few weeks.”
mingyu exhaled through his nose, forcing a shrug. “just tired.”
seungcheol looked up from where he was zipping his bag. “gyu.”
mingyu flinched like his name stung.
“talk to us,” seungcheol said, voice low, less like a demand and more like a plea. “we’ve been worried. you don’t laugh the same anymore. you barely even show up.”
“i’m fine,” he said, sharper this time, like if he said it hard enough, they’d believe it.
“we’re not trying to push,” seokmin said gently. “we just miss you, man.”
mingyu’s throat was tight. he couldn’t look any of them in the eye.
“i’ll see you guys later,” he spoke suddenly, already halfway to the door.
“what?” wonwoo called after him. “you’re not coming to eat?”
“not hungry.”
seungcheol took a step forward. “mingyu—wait.”
but the door was already closing behind him. and just like that, he was gone. his feet moved without thinking. down the hallway, out of the building, and into the night.
but on the inside, he was somewhere else entirely.
back in the dressing room. back in your bed. back in that goddamn moment where you looked up at him like you were his, even though you both knew you weren’t.
he can still feel it.
the weight of your body curled under his. your nails in his skin. his name on your tongue.
the breath you let out when he called you sweetheart like it meant something.
the quietness afterwards that felt like a promise, even though neither of you ever made one.
it should’ve faded by now, but it hasn’t. it’s still there.
in the way his chest tightens when someone says your name.
in the way his hands curl into fists when he pictures you laughing with someone else.
in the way the silence feels heavier when you’re not around to fill it.
and now, he has to act like it didn’t happen. like it didn’t mean anything. like you didn’t mean everything.
he hates himself for how much he still cares.
hates that he let it get this far. that he let you in. that he let it mean something.
but more than anything, he hates that he can’t stop hoping it meant something to you, too.
because no matter how far he lets you go, he will always believe that no one else will ever have you in the way that he did.
and maybe that makes him selfish.
but it also makes him right.
CHAPTER TWO: THE BREAKING POINT
you didn’t turn on the lights when you got home.
the dark didn’t bother you. there was enough of the city bleeding through the windows to guide you, just enough for you to not trip. just enough to find the couch with muscle memory.
your keys landed somewhere on the counter. you didn’t check where. you’d stopped caring about details like that a while ago.
you weren’t really much of a drinker. everyone knew that. you were a lightweight, through and through.
one glass and you were warm. two and you were soft. three and you were completely falling apart.
mingyu used to joke about it. not in an unkindly way, but more in a best friend type of way.
“you get cuddly first,” he’d say, brushing your hand off his thigh like he didn’t secretly like it. “then mean. then quiet. it’s like a little timeline.”
you would pretend to roll your eyes, but you never denied it.
he always noticed the shift before you did. he was like that; observant in ways you didn’t always want him to be.
he’d notice when your voice pitched higher at the end of your sentences. when you wore long sleeves even when it was warm out. when you twisted the hem of your shirt because you wanted to say something but were too shy to speak up.
he didn’t always ask, but he always knew.
your eyes caught on the unopened bottle of wine beside the sink, still in the gift bag from your last birthday.
you stared at it for too long, as if it might disappear if you blinked.
you’d been saving it for something special; some date in the future where you were happy and in love.
apparently heartbreak counted too.
you pulled it out of the bag and twisted the cap off with shaking fingers. no hesitation, just acception.
the first glass disappeared before you even realized you’d finished it. the second one sat a little heavier.
by the third, your throat stopped burning when you swallowed.
by the fourth, you were just staring at the tile floor, wondering how it always looked a little bit dirty no matter how often you cleaned it.
your fingers ached. not from anything in particular; just from holding too much.
you left the glass half-full on the coffee table and wandered to your bedroom. your body was tired, but not in the way that made you want to sleep.
you were just…done. like your bones had decided to stop holding you upright.
the dresser drawer got stuck like always. you yanked it open harder than you meant to, causing it to groan in protest.
you reached for something loose. something soft. something that didn’t feel like it would suffocate you.
your hand brushed cotton. worn thin. familiar.
his shirt.
black. faded. a little frayed at the collar. one of the sleeves slightly more stretched than the other.
you hadn’t meant to keep it. or maybe you had. you could never really decide.
he left it here one night after a show. showed up at your door smelling like sweat, cologne and adrenaline, dropped his jacket on the floor, and collapsed onto your bed like it belonged to him.
you remember how he was always so gentle afterwards.
after the noise and the chaos. after the mess of you.
he’d hum sometimes when he held you. sort of off-key and quiet, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
you’d asked him once why he didn’t just take the shirt home.
“you wear it better,” he said, eyes still closed.
he never asked for it back.
you slipped it over your head before you could talk yourself out of it. it smelled mostly like detergent now. but there was something else too; something almost like him, but fading.
still enough to hurt.
you stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem like you didn’t know what else to do with your hands.
“it looks like a damn dress on you,” he’d muttered once, arms around your waist, mouth at your neck.
you’d laughed. “you’re so annoying sometimes.”
he’d grinned against your skin. “you love it.”
and you did. of course you did.
for a second, just a second, you swore you saw him there again. in the mirror behind you. half-asleep, messy hair, and the softest eyes you’d ever seen.
gone.
you didn’t let yourself look twice.
you padded barefoot back to the living room and dropped into the couch like it was waiting to catch you.
it creaked under your weight. it was familiar. the shirt brushed your thighs when you curled up. your knees pulled tight to your chest.
you exhaled slowly as you poured another glass and didn’t taste it as it went down.
grey’s anatomy was already on the screen. low volume. autoplay. not for entertainment, just for something to fill the quiet. something predictable.
the theme song started and you felt it. the ache you’d been holding back all night, rising up like a wave.
because you remembered how you had to beg him to watch it with you for the first time. you remembered how dramatic he was. your head in his lap, and his fingers in your hair.
“just one episode,” you said, dragging out the vowels.
he groaned. “do we have to?”
but he didn’t move when you clicked play.
ten minutes in and he was deeply invested, muttering under his breath. “wait—wait, that’s her boss? what the fuck?”
you laughed so hard you dropped your drink all over the floor.
he was laughing too, mostly at you, but still handed you a napkin.
after that, it became a thing. your thing. every time he stayed the night, you put it on.
he never argued after the first time, just tucked himself against you like a habit he didn’t want to break.
some nights, it felt real.
he’d hold you through an episode and you’d think, maybe. maybe this is more than what we said it was. maybe, this time, he’ll stay.
sometimes he did. but mostly, he didn’t.
you blinked hard and snapped yourself out of your train of thought.
someone on screen was crying. someone else was dying. it all sounded the same at this point.
your glass was empty. again. the bottle was almost empty too. you didn’t remember finishing it.
you just shifted deeper into the couch, into the silence, into the memory.
the shirt still clung to your skin, soft and warm all at once.
you hated it.
you hated how this apartment still looked like it was waiting for him. how every room felt a little off-balance.
how every silence sounded like something he forgot to say.
you missed him.
not the sex. not the late-night texts. not even the breathless, messy way he used to kiss you when you pulled him in too fast.
you missed the quiet things.
the way he made tea without asking. how he always gave you the mug with the chipped rim because you said it was your favorite. how he pulled his knees up on the couch when he was cold but never said it out loud.
how he used to press his lips to your temple and murmur, “you’re too much,” in the same tone people use to say i love you.
you missed the parts of him he didn’t show anyone else.
you were wiping your eyes with the collar of his shirt when your phone suddenly buzzed.
just once.
you flinched, then stared.
the soft glow of the screen lit up the room.
no one had texted you all night. they all thought you were on a date.
finally, you leaned forward to see the screen more clearly.
mingyu: hyung’s asking if you got home okay. figured i’d check so he’ll stop hovering.
your chest hollowed. you stared at the message like it might rearrange itself into something that made sense.
you let your head fall back against the couch, and exhaled through your teeth.
liar.
you knew seungcheol hadn’t said anything. he would have just messaged you himself.
mingyu just needed an excuse. this was his way of knocking without knocking. caring without crossing a line.
of saying i’m still thinking about you without letting the words leave a mark.
you didn’t reply. mostly because you didn’t know what to say.
the only options you could think of were,
yes. i got home.
i’m fine.
i’m actually wearing your shirt and crying over the way you used to make me laugh during the commercials.
your eyes burned. you pressed your fingers to your face and stayed like that.
still. quiet. waiting for something to give, and to your surprise, something eventually did.
the knock was soft.
you didn’t move.
at first, you thought it was the tv or maybe your imagination. maybe you wanted it to be someone else so badly that your mind was just inventing things.
but then it came again, firmer this time. not urgent. not polite either. like whoever it was knew exactly how much pressure to apply to say ‘i know you’re home’.
you pushed yourself off the couch.
everything felt heavier than it should’ve; your legs, your arms, the weight of your chest. like gravity was suddenly stronger in this apartment. like your body didn’t want you to answer the door.
and maybe you shouldn’t have.
because when you opened it and saw him standing there — hood up, face red from the cold or maybe from running, chest heaving like he hadn’t stopped to think before showing up — you froze.
you didn’t say anything. you didn’t have to.
your body reacted before your brain did. your hand gripping was the door, and starting to slam it shut like a reflex.
but his hand was already there. flat against the wood. not forcefully or aggressive, but steady.
steady, like he knew you’d do that. like he deserved it. like he didn’t plan to move until you forced him to.
“y/n—wait.”
his voice was soft. strained. almost careful.
you stared at the edge of the door where his hand met it. your own knuckles had gone white around the handle. your throat burned.
he didn’t push the door open. didn’t beg on his knees.
he just sighed. “please.”
you hated the way your fingers relaxed, and hated it more when you stepped back.
you didn’t want him in your apartment. didn’t want him in your space, in your air, or anywhere near the unraveling mess you’d been trying to clean up since the night he left.
but the door opened anyway.
he didn’t move, not right away.
he just stood there; eyes wide under the edge of his hood, blinking like he didn’t think you’d actually let him in.
“what do you want, mingyu?” your voice was sharp. sharp enough to sting. not because you meant to hurt him, but because it hurt to say his name out loud again.
he flinched, just barely. “you didn’t answer my message.”
you scoffed, turning back towards the couch. “that’s not usually an emergency.”
“you said you were going on a date.”
you didn’t look at him. “so?”
“and yet you’re here,” he said. “wearing my shirt and drinking alone.”
your spine straightened. “so what? you came to shame me for lying?”
he blinked. “no. i came because i was worried.”
you stopped, just for a beat, but he caught it. the flicker. the crack in your armor.
you covered it fast. “you don’t get to worry about me anymore,” you muttered, walking back into the apartment.
you didn’t tell him to follow, but he did. deep down, you knew he would.
because that’s what he always did; came close enough to make it hurt, then pulled back the second you reached for him.
the tv was still playing. volume low and characters mouthing drama you had already heard before.
you dropped into the couch like you’d never left it. like your body already remembered how to be this low.
your fingers wrapped around the stem of the wine glass like it was a lifeline. and maybe it was. it was the only thing in this room that hadn’t walked away from you.
he hovered for a second. didn’t sit. didn’t speak.
but eventually he moved. walked around the table and dropped onto the edge of it, elbows on his knees, close enough to touch you but not stupid enough to try.
his eyes scanned your face. the puffy lids. the tear-dried cheeks. the shirt that used to be his.
his voice was quieter when it came. “how much have you had?”
“not enough.”
he exhaled. “y/n—”
“don’t.” you said sharply as you tipped the glass toward your mouth.
and he took it. without even asking.
your eyes cut to him. “what the fuck are you doing?”
“you’ve had enough.”
“you don’t get to say that,” you snapped. “you don’t get to come here, uninvited, and act like you give a shit.”
he didn’t argue. just tipped the glass back and drank the rest in one mouthful.
your mouth fell open. “you hate wine.”
“yeah,” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “but you hate it more.”
and there it was.
you laughed, sharp and humorless. “fuck you.”
his eyes flashed. “y/n—”
“no. fuck you. you’re not allowed to say things like that to me anymore.”
“i didn’t come here to fight.”
“no? then why did you come? to feel better about yourself? to make sure i’m still heartbroken enough for your ego to stay intact?”
“you think that’s what this is?” he said, almost sounding offended that you would think that lowly of him.
“isn’t it?” your voice rose. “what, you saw me in rehearsal and couldn’t handle the idea of me going on a date? you saw me smiling about someone else and had to remind yourself that i still belong to you?”
his jaw visibly clenched.
“you told me we were a mistake,” you said, pushing yourself up off of the couch. “you told me we never should’ve happened. and now what, you’re mad because i’m not sitting around pining for you anymore?”
“it’s been a month, y/n.”
“and whose fucking fault is that?”
he stood up now too, matching your energy. “what do you want me to say?”
“i want you to hurt the way i hurt,” you snapped. “i want you to feel what it’s like to have your chest torn in half every time someone says your name. i want you to live with the fucking silence you left me in. i want you to be just as ruined as i am.”
he didn’t say anything, not at first. his hands stayed clenched at his sides.
your fists weakly hit his chest. “say something. fight back. do something.”
nothing.
you shoved him again.
“don’t you dare stand there and act like you’re the victim,” you sobbed, shoving at him with all the force your body could gather. “say something, mingyu! scream at me! tell me you hate me! fucking lie if you have to, just—”
“fine!” he exploded. “you want me to scream? i’ll fucking scream!”
your chest snapped tight, but you didn’t back down.
“you think i wanted to leave?” he barked, louder now. “you think i wanted to walk away from the only person who’s ever—who fucking saw me?! you think it didn’t kill me to do that?!”
“then why’d you do it, mingyu?!” you threw back. “if it hurt so bad, why the hell did you choose it?”
“because i didn’t know how else to protect you!” his voice cracked, sharp and fraying. “you’re my best friend’s little sister. i was never supposed to touch you, let alone fall for you.”
you scoffed. “yeah. i was never supposed to happen, right? just one big fucking—”
“you’re not a mistake!” he screamed, stepping closer. “but do you think hyung would’ve forgiven me if he found out? do you think i would’ve forgiven myself?”
“so instead you just fucked me and left.”
he flinched like you slapped him.
“don’t you dare.” his voice dropped lower. “don’t fucking reduce us to that.”
“why not?” you shot back. “that’s exactly what you did.”
“because it wasn’t just sex and you know that!” he shouted. “you know exactly what it was between us and you’re acting like it was nothing just so that you can be the one who’s hurting more!”
“i am the one who’s hurting more—”
“bullshit!” he roared, suddenly even more furious. “you don’t get to fucking claim that, y/n. you have no idea what this past month has been like for me. i’ve been going insane. i haven’t slept. i can’t eat. i’ve been replaying every fucking moment in my head, wondering how the hell i’m supposed to keep breathing when you won’t even look at me.”
you blinked hard, like the tears burning your eyes were somehow his fault too.
“what do you want me to say?” your voice cracked. “that i’m sorry you chose to leave? sorry i listened when you told me it was over?”
he scoffed. “don’t put this all on me.”
you stepped back like he’d shoved you. “you said it was a mistake.”
“i said it because i didn’t know how else to let you go!” he shouted. “i said it because it was the only thing that would make you hate me enough to stop loving me!”
you froze, but he didn’t stop.
“you think this was easy for me?” his voice broke around the edges, but the fire inside of him didn’t die. “you think i wanted to walk away from you? i’ve spent the last month trying to pretend like i don’t see you in every goddamn room we walk into. do you know what that’s like?”
you didn’t answer, but your jaw locked.
“no,” he said, stepping closer. “you don’t. because clearly you’ve been too busy drowning in wine and watching tv in my fucking shirt—”
“fuck you—” you tried to retaliate, but he wasn’t done.
“—like we were nothing but a hookup.”
your lungs started to feel heavier.
“like i didn’t hold you almost every night,” he snapped. “like you didn’t kiss me like i was the only thing keeping you grounded. like you didn’t mean it.”
you shook your head, voice quieter now. “shut up, mingyu.”
“i should have never touched you. i should’ve stayed the hell away.” he said, eyes wild.
“you were never supposed to be mine.” he shouted, fists clenched like the words were fighting to tear out of him. “i should’ve walked the fuck away the second i started looking at you differently.”
you still didn’t speak. you couldn’t.
and he saw it. the way your lips trembled. the way your hands twitched at your sides like they didn’t know what to do.
yet he kept going, mostly because he was already in too deep.
“but i didn’t,” he snarled. “because i was selfish. because you looked at me like i was someone worth ruining everything for, and i—i let you.”
his voice cracked on the last word. but he didn’t slow down.
“i let you. i let you kiss me like i meant something, i let you crawl into my bed and into my fucking life like it wasn’t going to destroy me.”
you physically flinched, and he saw it.
“i spent months pretending it was just physical,” he spat, eyes burning. “like holding you didn’t feel like breathing for the first time. like hearing your laugh didn’t fucking gut me. like i didn’t fall asleep every goddamn night with your name in my head because i love you and i fucking hate that i do—”
you stopped breathing, but he didn’t.
because he didn’t even realize what he’d said. he was too far gone. too angry. too hurt.
“—i hate that i love you,” he continued. “i hate that i can’t fucking stop, i hate that i still see you in everything that i do, and i hate that you’re looking at me like i’m the one who gave up when i never fucking wanted to leave in the first place!”
his face was wet. his voice was shaking. he wasn’t yelling anymore, he was pleading. unraveling.
and still, you didn’t move.
your eyes were wide, cheeks drenched in tears, your chest starting to hitch like every breath scraped the inside of your ribs. your mouth opened, just slightly, but no sound came out.
he saw it immediately.
the way your fingers twitched at your side. the tapping; middle to thumb, over and over. how your shoulders tensed, your jaw clenched, the way your teeth sank into the inside of your cheek like you didn’t even realize you were doing it.
“fuck,” he whispered, his anger breaking like glass beneath him. “no, no—baby, hey—”
but you were already backing up. slowly. stumbling one step at a time, like distance would fix the fire clawing up your throat. your breaths came faster. louder. more shallow. like your lungs had started folding in on themselves.
he followed you without thinking.
“y/n,” he said, moving with you. “y/n, baby, look at me. please.”
you tried. god, you really tried. your mouth moved like you were trying to answer, to scream at him, to curse his name, but nothing came out. just air, broken and sharp, each inhale shallower than the last.
“you don’t—” you only got one word out. maybe two. your own voice didn’t even sound like yours anymore.
your back hit the hallway wall, snapping you back into reality for only a quick moment.
you pressed your palms to it like it might keep you up. like you could push yourself back into your body if you just held on hard enough.
but your body had already given up on you.
you collapsed forward, hard and fast. chest folding, legs buckling, and a sob ripped straight from your lungs.
he caught you instantly. mid-fall, arms locking around you with instinctive force. his back slammed into the wall behind him as he dragged you down with him, pulling you into his lap, shielding you from the floor like it was something that could break you worse than this.
“no—no, i’ve got you,” he breathed, already winded and trembling. “i’ve got you, baby, i’ve got you—”
you didn’t care. you thrashed in his grip. it was wild, broken, and feral.
your fists landed wherever they could. his chest, his arms, the side of his neck. your nails scraped, your elbows dug, your legs kicked out as your body folded into itself and tried to fight its way out.
“get off me—get—fuck off—i hate you—” your voice cracked and fell apart, less a scream than a sob torn open mid-breath. “i hate you, i fucking hate you—”
“i know,” he said softly, one hand steady on your back, the other at the back of your head. “i know, sweetheart. it’s okay. you can hate me. you should.”
he was just as scared as you were, if not more. but, he knew he needed to force himself to stay calm. if not for himself, than for you.
you still bucked against him again violently, almost as if your body couldn’t survive being held by him.
“why,” you gasped, the word barely audible. “why—why would you—say that—why—”
your lungs stuttered, breath catching like it had to claw its way out. you couldn’t stop shaking. you couldn’t breathe either.
“i can’t—” you choked out, voice splitting down the middle. “i can’t—breathe—i can’t—fucking—breathe—”
your hands clawed at your ribs. at your throat. at anything.
“fuck—baby—look at me, please—” he whispered, his voice rough with panic. “y/n—just look at me—come on cheonsa—”
your eyes snapped up to his. and that’s when he saw it.
not hate. not rage. pure terror. not of him, but of the fight and of what he’d said.
you were afraid of your own body. of the panic. of what it was doing to you. worst of all, you were afraid it wouldn’t stop.
his entire face shattered.
“okay,” he breathed, hand shifting to cup the side of your head, cradling you as gently as he could. “okay. come here. come closer, baby, i’ve got you—just stay right here with me—”
you didn’t mean to collapse into him, but you did.
your head dropped forward, landing against his chest like it remembered the way. like it had always belonged there.
and the second it happened, everything shifted. the sound of his heartbeat was deep and steady, so loud beneath your ear. it crashed into you like a wave.
your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie.
his other hand came up, pressing flat to your chest, firm and grounding, almost like he could hold your heart in place.
“you feel that?” he murmured, voice cracking again. “that beat—you know it. you’ve fallen asleep to it.”
your sobs faltered, just barely. a single jagged hitch caught in your throat.
“you’ve calmed to it before,” he said quietly, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. “you told me once when you were half asleep that it made you feel like nothing could ever hurt you.”
your body gave the smallest tremor, but you didn’t lift your head. you didn’t pull away either.
“i’m sorry,” he whispered suddenly, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “i’m so fucking sorry for yelling. for everything. you didn’t deserve that. i was scared, and i said the wrong things, and i hurt you. i know that. i’m so sorry.”
his hand on your chest stayed right where it was. steady. anchoring. his thumb rubbed soft, careful strokes against your collarbone.
you were still gasping. still sobbing. still shaking so violently you felt like you might unravel in his arms, but your ear was still focused on his heartbeat.
his arms folded tighter around you. his body curled in, protecting and cradling you to the best of his abilities, like he could shield you from whatever part of yourself was breaking.
“you’re doing so good,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to your temple. “you’re here with me. you’re still here. just keep holding on. i’ve got you.”
“hurts,” you sobbed. “it—it hurts—i can’t—”
“i know. i know, sweet girl,” he whispered, his voice breaking entirely. “i’m right here. i’ve got you. you’re safe now, i promise.”
your whole body jolted with another sob, but your grip didn’t loosen. he pulled you in tighter, if that was even possible, curling his entire body around yours even more.
“stay with me,” he whispered, again and again. “just stay with me, beautiful. you’re safe here.”
your ear stayed pressed to his chest. his hand stayed firm against your chest. your tears soaked through the fabric of his hoodie.
but he didn’t let go. not even for a second.
your next breath came in slow. it was shaky and uneven, but deep enough to count.
your lungs burned, ribs still tight, but air finally filled them. finally.
mingyu felt it beneath the hand still splayed over your chest.
his own chest rose with it. his eyes fluttered closed for a second.
“that’s it,” he whispered, voice hoarse with something reverent. “there’s my girl. that’s it, baby. good job. i’ve got you.”
your fingers tightened in his hoodie again as you buried your face in the hollow of his neck, like the world would be softer in the spaces between his skin.
his hand stayed steady, rubbing slow circles into your back. and for a long, quiet minute, neither of you spoke.
until your voice, barely a whisper, cracked through the silence.
“mingyu…”
your voice cracked around his name; quiet, hoarse, frayed at the edges like the rest of you.
he dipped his head downwards at the sound of your voice, his nose brushing against your temple, and his arms already adjusting to hold you closer.
“i’m right here, cheonsa,” he murmured, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. “i’m not going anywhere.”
you tried to swallow, but your throat felt like it was lined with glass. “i’m sorry.”
his hand instantly moved. one palm still over your chest, but the other rising to cradle your jaw, as gently as if you were made of porcelain.
“no, sweetheart. no,” he whispered, eyes searching yours. “you don’t ever have to say that to me.”
you blinked, fighting back another wave of tears.
“but i yelled at you,” you whispered. “i hit you. i said things i didn’t mean. i just—i didn’t know what to do—i didn’t know how to stop it, gyu, i didn’t know how to come back—”
“baby,” he said softly, stroking your hair, “you don’t have to come back alone. not ever.” his thumb brushed your cheek. “you were scared. i know. i saw it all over you. but you still held on. that’s all i’ll ever ask of you.”
your breath hitched again.
“it’s never been that bad before,” you whispered. “i thought—i thought something was really wrong with me. i couldn’t breathe. i thought i was dying, gyu. i was so scared.”
“i know, love. i know you were,” he whispered. “i was scared too.”
he tilted his head down further, resting his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours so gently it felt like comfort itself.
“but you’re here now. you’re safe. and you didn’t do anything wrong. you hear me? not one single thing.”
you nodded shakily.
without thinking, you nestled yourself even deeper into his chest, curling your arm around his waist.
his entire body moved to make room for you like it was instinct; like he was always meant to hold you just like this.
he kissed the crown of your head. “you wanna know one of my favourite memories of you? maybe it’ll help ease your mind a little.” he asked gently.
your brows knit slightly, a tired little hum leaving your lips.
he smiled softly. “it was, what—eight months ago? the night after tour rehearsals, when we all went out for dinner. you had, like…two drinks. maybe. and you were absolutely gone.”
your cheek shifted against his chest, almost like it would have been a laugh if you had more energy.
“and then, of course,” he continued, his voice light and warm, “it started pouring rain, and you didn’t wanna wait for a car. nooo, you just needed to walk. claimed it was more ‘cinematic.’”
you exhaled hard. “i’m gonna pretend i didn’t say that.”
“too late,” he grinned. “you marched us through the rain like it was a movie scene. we got to mine drenched to hell and back. i tossed the boys some of their clothes from my closet — because, yes, i steal their stuff — and told you to find something comfortable.”
you groaned softly into his shirt, not liking where this was going.
“you came out ten minutes later in one of my huge ‘i <3 mingyu’ hoodies and a pair of my boxers like it was the most normal thing in the world.”
you winced. “oh my god.”
“you weren’t even fazed. you just wandered in, soaking wet, hair brushed back, no makeup — looking so stunning, by the way — and seungkwan immediately started clapping. i think seokmin even offered you a damn flower he found lying around.”
you huffed a little through your nose. “what did seungcheol do?”
mingyu had to fight a grin. “he stared like he was about to combust. but it gets even better. once you realized how mad he was, you climbed up onto the coffee table.”
you groaned again out of embarrassment.
“you started doing poses,” he laughed. “like a full-on vogue photoshoot. slow turns. hair flips. you pointed at your hoodie and winked at him. hyung looked like he was gonna explode.”
his voice dropped, slipping into a hilariously deep tone “‘yah! you better not love mingyu like that!’”
you let out a little hiccup of a laugh involuntarily. mingyu froze. he looked down at you, a smile slowly creeping in.
“did you just hiccup?” he whispered, grinning. “are you giggling at me right now?”
your shoulders shrugged up a little, your cheek still hidden against his chest. “no.”
“liar,” he said softly, brushing his nose against your temple. “anyways, he stormed over, yanked you off the table like a ragdoll, tossed you over his shoulder, and body-slammed you onto the couch. then he started scolding you about ‘dignity’ and ‘respect’ while you snuggled into him and passed out mid-lecture.”
you laughed softly again, this time for longer.
mingyu rested his chin on the top of your head, his hand still stroking your back. “you passed out between the both of us, totally content. we all just gave up and stayed there the whole night. i think all fourteen of us slept in the living room.”
your fingers flexed against his waist.
“you don’t even remember it,” he added, quieter now. “but i do. every second of it. you looked so happy. so comfortable. like you knew you belonged there. and i think…”
he paused. exhaled slowly. “i think that was when i realized i was in love with you.”
your breath caught again. not in panic this time, not from fear either, but from the weight of everything he’d just said.
from how gently he held it all. how gently he held you.
“eight months ago?” you whispered, your voice barely there. “you—really?”
his thumb brushed beneath your eye, collecting what was left of your tears. he nodded slowly, like it still scared him to say it out loud.
“i didn’t mean to,” he said softly. “i think it just sort of happened. you were standing on my coffee table in my hoodie and boxers, looking like the absolute troublemaker you are, purposely trying to piss your brother off, and i just remember thinking, ‘yeah, that’s it. i’m screwed.’”
you stayed quiet for a beat, watching the way his lashes trembled slightly when he blinked. the way his hand never stopped tracing little lines into your back. his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek.
you tilted your head to look up at him. “you know i’m in love with you too, right?”
his breath hitched so hard it sounded like a hiccup.
his eyes snapped to yours. “you’re—wait. what?”
your lips tugged up, a soft smile blooming through the fog of emotion. “mingyu.”
“you’re—” he blinked. once. twice. “you’re in love with me?”
“you really didn’t know?”
his whole face twisted, like you’d just told him the sky was purple and he’d somehow never noticed. “no?! you—you said you hated me for months.”
you laughed, quiet but real. “well yeah, because you were being an idiot.”
his jaw dropped a little. “i—okay, valid, but still—”
“you didn’t even wonder?” you asked, leaning your chin on his chest. “not once?”
he shook his head slowly, still dazed. “i was too busy trying not to lose you.”
your heart clenched, because you’d spent so long trying not to lose him.
you exhaled with barely a sound. your hand curled into the front of his hoodie. “i think i’ve been in love with you for way longer than i even realized.”
you felt him freeze under you, almost like he couldn’t breathe, but you kept going, voice quiet but steady.
“it wasn’t one exact moment, it was a hundred little ones. when you’d wait for me after practice without ever saying why. when you’d bring me food without asking. when you made me laugh on days i wanted to disappear. when you looked at me like i wasn’t broken.”
you tilted your head just enough to meet his eyes.
his lashes were damp. his grip on your waist tightened just slightly, like he needed to hold onto you to stay grounded
“i love how stupid you are about your skincare,” you whispered, smiling through it. “i love that you care too much. i love that you act all cocky and untouchable but you’re just—” your voice cracked, but you smiled anyway. “you’re just you. and i’ve never felt happier and safer than when i’m with you.”
he still hadn’t said anything. just looked at you like the weight of your words hadn’t quite settled yet. like maybe they never would.
then, quieter than before, and rough with feeling, “come here.” he said.
you blinked, lips tugging into a small smile. “i’m already in your lap.”
his fingers flexed a little at your waist. “yeah, but it’s not close enough.”
you huffed a soft laugh and leaned up just enough to meet his eyes again. “you’re ridiculous,” you whispered, smiling. “and maybe a little obsessed.”
his mouth twitched, eyes soft. “can you blame me?”
still grinning, you shifted in his lap; tucking your arms around his neck, pressing in closer until your nose brushed the space beneath his ear. and the second you did, he folded into it like he’d been waiting his whole life for that exact closeness.
his arms came around you fully. warm. sure.
“you really mean it?” he murmured, voice barely there. “you love love me?”
you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “mingyu. do you seriously think i could fake all of that?”
he opened his mouth, closed it, then let out a slightly choked breath. “i don’t know! you’re a very convincing liar sometimes!”
you laughed quietly against him. “i’m not that good.”
he stared at you for a second, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real, then let out a breath that sounded like it had been holding him together.
“cool,” he mumbled. “cool cool cool. i’m in so much trouble.”
you grinned against his chest. “because you’re in love with me?”
“because i’m so in love with you,” he muttered, like it was a crime. “and now you’ve gone and said it back, and i’m never recovering.”
you giggled as he kissed your hair again, dramatic and a little breathless, almost like he was surrendering.
you shifted back down slightly so that your cheek was resting over his heart again when the silence shifted. not heavy like before, but softer now. calmer. like the part of a storm when the winds quiet, and the rain doesn’t hurt anymore.
you could feel his heartbeat picking up again. not frantic like when you’d panicked earlier, but fluttering. fast. like it was excited. nervous. happy.
you smiled a little against his chest. “your heart’s going crazy.”
mingyu let out a quiet breath through his nose, the kind that barely reached the air. “yeah, well,” he murmured, fingers brushing gently through your hair, “it does that when you’re around. it’s not really something i can control.”
you tilted your head, just enough to look up at him, causing you to notice that his cheeks were still pink.
“i thought you were supposed to be the cool one,” you whispered, soft and teasing. “all that swagger and bravado, and you’re over here blushing.”
he gave you a look that said he wanted to come up with something clever and cocky, but it never made it past his lips. instead, he just smiled.
he squinted down at you. “you’re literally wrapped in my shirt right now and talking shit?”
“just calling it how i see it,” you whispered dramatically, lips twitching.
“you’re lucky i’m in love with you.”
you tried to hide your smile in his chest again. “i know i am.”
CHAPTER THREE: THE RECOVERY
you stayed like that for a while longer. just breathing. wrapped around each other like maybe, if you stayed still enough, time would forget to move forward.
his hand never stopped tracing slow circles into your back. your cheek stayed pressed to his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat still grounding you. the world was quiet here, almost like it had been waiting for you both to catch up.
“okay,” he sighed eventually, voice warm against your ear. “as much as i’m enjoying this whole heart-to-heart-on-the-floor moment, my back is gonna give out if we stay on the floor much longer.”
you laughed quietly. “okay, old man.”
“watch it,” he muttered, but there was a smile in his voice as he tightened his arms around you.
without any warning, he stood. lifting you off the floor with ease.
you yelped, clinging to him. “mingyu!”
“shhh,” he teased, voice smug as hell. “don’t fight it. you’ve definitely wanted this treatment since day one.”
“emotional intimacy and a bridal carry?”
“exactly,” he said smoothly, heading down the hallway. “welcome to the deluxe package, baby.”
you buried your face in his neck, smiling despite yourself.
he carried you into your room like it was second nature, like he’d done it a hundred times. when he placed you down on the bed, he did it so gently, as if you were something precious and breakable. his hands lingered at your waist for a beat before he straightened up.
“don’t move,” he murmured, brushing his thumb gently across your temple to move your hair out of your face. “i’m gonna get you some water.”
you stirred just slightly, your voice quiet. “you don’t have to do that.”
“i know,” he said, and kissed your forehead like it was second nature. “but i want to.”
he left with careful footsteps, and for a few long seconds, the silence stretched around you. your body had curled in on itself, arms tucked between your legs like a barrier, but you weren’t shaking anymore. just breathing, finally breathing.
when he came back, he nudged the door open with his hip, and had two glasses of water balanced in his hands.
“here, sweetheart,” he said softly, making his way over. “slow sips, yeah?”
you sat up just enough to take one, hands reaching out automatically, and that’s when he noticed.
your arms had been tucked under your thighs, clenched close to your body. now, as your fingers curled around the glass, he caught the faint tremble in them. the way your thumb rubbed absently over your opposite forearm. the little things he always noticed, even when you didn’t even know you were doing it.
his gaze softened. “cheonsa,” he murmured, using the old nickname he always used for you out of habit.
you looked up at him, brows lifting slightly.
“you’re cold,” he said quietly, already setting his own glass aside.
“i’m not—”
“you are,” he said, without the slightest hesitation. “i can always tell. your body tells me even when you don’t want me to know.”
you opened your mouth like you might argue, but nothing came out. maybe because you knew he was right. or maybe because, before you could even respond, he was already tugging the hem of his hoodie over his head.
the fabric stretched. his hair ruffled with static. and something about the way he did it made your chest feel warm in a way that had nothing to do with body temperature.
he held it out with a crooked little smile and a tilt of his head. “arms up, trouble.”
you rolled your eyes as your cheeks went pink. “you’re ridiculous.”
“mhmm,” he hummed, carefully helping guide the sleeves over your arms. “and you’re freezing.”
the hoodie was just as soft as you remembered. still worn-in and familiar, like every version of comfort was stitched into the fabric. it smelled like him, too. that clean mix of laundry and cologne and something warmer underneath. something that always felt like home.
still warm from his body, it settled over your shoulders like it remembered you. like it had been waiting.
he pulled you in gently, settling back against the pillows with a quiet sigh like he’d been waiting all night to do this. your head rested on his chest while your hand rested lightly over his heart, and the way he tucked you under the blanket, like muscle memory, made something deep in your chest finally relax.
he grabbed the remote off the nightstand and flipped on the tv, the quiet glow lighting up both your faces. the familiar red netflix logo bloomed on screen.
you peeked up, curious. “what are you putting on?”
“just…trust me,” he said softly, scrolling through the profiles.
yours. his. seungcheol’s. jeonghan’s. seokmin’s. soonyoung’s. all with different ridiculous icons.
he paused on his own, displaying the little gold crown avatar you’d picked months ago just to mess with him. he never changed it.
he clicked into it, and sitting right at the top of his continue watching, was grey’s anatomy.
you blinked. “…really?”
he didn’t look at you. just scrolled over to it and hit play like he hadn’t just made a silent confession.
you lifted your head slightly. “i thought you hated this show.”
he shrugged. “i never said that.”
“you said it was ‘an emotional hostage situation.’”
“and it was,” he muttered. “that crash came out of nowhere.”
you grinned. “we stopped it right at the end. left it on a cliffhanger.”
“yeah,” he said, quieter now. “because we thought we’d finish it the next day.”
your smile faded a little. his hand smoothed over your arm, slow and comforting, like he could feel the shift in your chest.
“i kept thinking about it,” he admitted. “the next part. what could have happened. but i couldn’t bring myself to keep watching it without you. even though i know you’ve already seen it all.”
you didn’t answer right away. just curled in tighter, your fingers curling gently in the fabric of his shirt. “gyu…” you murmured. “you don’t have to put it on just for me. we can watch whatever you want.”
“no,” he said, almost instantly. “i want this. it feels right. you. me. this dumb show you made me pretend not to like.”
you smiled against him. “you used to say you never paid attention.”
“i paid so much attention,” he whispered dramatically. “i was emotionally invested. i just didn’t want you to know.”
you laughed, nose brushing his neck. “you’re ridiculous.”
“maybe, but i’m also in love,” he said, kissing your hair. “now hush. i’ve been on this cliffhanger for over a month.”
you giggled as the episode started, and his arms tightened around you just a little more.
neither of you moved for a long time. just your breathing, his heartbeat, and the comforting hum of something familiar filling the room again, like you’d finally picked up right where you left off.
his heartbeat was still rather quick. still fluttering beneath your cheek like it hadn’t caught up to everything yet.
you smiled against his chest. “your heart’s still going crazy.”
“yeah,” he murmured. “i already told you that it does that when you’re around.”
your breath caught. not because you didn’t already know, but because he said it like it was the easiest truth he’d ever known. like loving you had never been a question.
you didn’t say anything right away. just let your eyes fall shut, let yourself breathe him in. soak in the way his arms wrapped tighter like he was anchoring himself to you.
he was quiet too, until he wasn’t. silence never lasted long with him around.
“…y/n.” his voice cracked. just a little. barely there.
you blinked, not lifting your head. “hmm?”
he didn’t answer at first. his thumb had been tracing your hip lazily, but now it moved with more purpose, like it was trying to ground him. or you. or maybe both.
you felt him swallow. then, almost too quietly to hear, he whispered, “can you sit up? i—i wanna look at you.”
you blinked, already worried. “what’s wrong?”
“nothing,” he said quickly, eyes flicking to yours for a second before shifting away. “i just—i can’t say this while you’re laying on me. i’ll chicken out.”
you shifted slowly, pushing yourself up onto one elbow, then moving with him as he sat up slightly against the headboard. his knees bent, yours pulled close. you settled beside him.
he wouldn’t look at you. not yet. his hands fidgeted at his lap until you reached over and gently took one of them in yours. you laced your fingers through his and brushed your thumb across his skin.
he exhaled. it was shaky, but you could tell it helped ground him a little.
“this is probably gonna come out all wrong,” he muttered. “and it’s not even a big deal, it’s just—no, that’s a lie. it’s a big deal. it’s always been a big deal.”
you squeezed his hand. he looked down, then up at the ceiling, then finally, finally turned to meet your gaze. his voice was low.
“i thought i could live with just pieces of you,” he said. “i thought i’d convinced myself that was enough.”
your breath caught.
“but it wasn’t,” he went on, his eyes wide, honest and terrified. “it never was. every time i left, i left a part of myself with you. and every time i pretended it didn’t matter, i swear it killed something in me.”
your chest ached, but you stayed silent, allowing him to continue.
“you walked into a room and everything else faded. like—like static going quiet. like i could finally breathe. even when we weren’t talking. even when we were pretending none of it meant anything. it still felt like…everything.”
his grip on your hand tightened as he continued.
“and when you told me you loved me earlier, i think my heart actually stopped. i’ve wanted to hear those words for so long, i almost didn’t believe it.”
his voice cracked again. he blinked fast, causing one single tear to slip free.
“but i don’t want to love you in secret anymore. i don’t want to sneak around, or lie, or act like i’m not the luckiest person in the world just to know you.”
you reached up and wiped the tear from his cheek, your hand lingering there. his eyes fluttered shut beneath your touch.
“i love you,” he whispered. “so much i don’t know what to do with it most days. but i know what i want to do now. what i’ve always wanted to do, but was never brave enough to do before.”
he opened his eyes, gaze steady now, more sure with every word.
“i want to choose you. out loud. every single day. not just in the quiet. not just when no one’s looking. i want the real thing. i want you. in every single way.”
you swallowed hard, your eyes already stinging.
his thumb lingered against your cheek, and you could feel the nerves rolling off him; in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his knee bounced once beneath the blanket, in the way he looked everywhere but at you.
until he finally did. his eyes were watery and filled with so much love, it gave you instant butterflies in your stomach.
and then, barely above a whisper, “will you let me be your boyfriend?”
your heart stopped, but you didn’t hesitate.
“yes,” you whispered. “god, yes.”
you were crying again, but this time, the tears were the good kind. the ones that came when the ache in your chest finally had somewhere to go.
“you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to hear you ask me that.”
his inhale was sharp and shaky, like your answer knocked the air from his lungs.
he blinked at you, wide-eyed, overwhelmed, completely undone. “wait—really?” he asked, voice barely holding itself together. “you… mean it?”
you nodded, laughing through the tears now. “gyu. yes. really. why are you so surprised?”
“i don’t know,” he said honestly, voice rising with panic. “i thought you’d laugh. or throw a pillow at me. or say it’s too soon, or that i talk too much, or—”
“you do talk too much.”
“see?!”
“but i love that about you. i love everything about you.”
he made a sound, something between a laugh and a sob, and pulled you straight into his arms.
his hoodie still swallowed you whole as you curled into him, and his hands cradled the back of your head like you were something fragile.
he kissed your temple once. then again. and again. he just couldn’t get enough of you.
he eventually let out a shaky breath, eyes wide and shiny as he pulled back slightly to look at you. “okay. okay, cool. this is good. we’re good. you love me. i love you. we’re officially dating. amazing. i’m thriving. we’re thriving.”
you smiled into his chest. “we’re thriving,” you confirmed, “but i think you’re forgetting something.”
mingyu tensed. “no i’m not.”
“mm. pretty sure you are.”
“cheonsa, please.” he whispered, like he was trying to make a deal with god.
you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “you still have to tell seungcheol.”
he blinked. then physically recoiled, like the words themselves had slapped him. “…fuck me.”
you burst into laughter as he collapsed his head backwards, dragging both of his hands down his face like a man preparing for his own execution.
“oh my god,” he groaned, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “he’s gonna kill me. not figuratively. not even creatively. like, straight-up murder. headlines. candlelight vigil. obituary. closed casket.”
you curled into his side, still laughing. “he’s not gonna kill you.”
“he is,” mingyu insisted, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his chest like it could protect him. “and not quickly either. he’s gonna do that thing where he talks real quiet, and just when i think i’m safe…”
he made a dramatic choking motion for dramatic effect, “boom. i’m dead.”
you tried to your absolute hardest stay serious, but your shoulders shook with laughter. “gyu baby, i think you’re being a little dramatic.”
“am i?” he shot back, lifting his head just enough to meet your gaze. “last week, i asked him if you were seeing anyone and he just…stared at me. didn’t say a god damn word. and i swear to god i felt cold. like, spiritually. in my soul.”
“you’re such a baby.”
“i had to wear two sweaters!”
you were full-on wheezing now, “you’re lucky i love you.”
“i am,” he agreed solemnly. “and i plan on reminding seungcheol of that when he’s holding me out of a window by my ankles.”
you wiped at your eyes from laughing so hard. “you’ll survive. probably. hopefully. i’ll protect you.”
“you’re very brave, saying that from the safety of my arms.”
you shifted to look at him, more tender now. “gyu, you love me. i love you. he’s gonna see that.”
he nodded slowly, his hand finding yours again beneath the blanket. “i know. i do wanna tell him. and i will. i just,” he paused and exhaled. “i hope he’ll see that it’s never been a game to me. not even for a second.”
your heart melted as you leaned in and kissed his cheek. “he’ll know.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
he let his head fall back again, dramatically. “cool. amazing. i’m still absolutely terrified, but at least i’ve got the girl.”
“and two sweaters,” you reminded him.
“god bless.”
you just laughed again, full of love, warmth, and maybe a tiny bit of joy at watching your usually unshakeable best friend, now boyfriend, fall completely to pieces over you.
he grinned, proud of himself, and proud of you too; just for being here. for choosing him.
the chaos settled, eventually. you curled back into his side, quieter now. the kind of quiet that felt earned.
for a while, you didn’t speak.
but then, your voice came softer. “i’m sorry it’s all so complicated.”
he didn’t answer right away. he just kissed the top of your head and held you a little tighter.
“cheonsa,” he murmured. “you don’t have to be sorry. none of this is your fault.”
“but it is,” you said. “because i’m me. and he’s…well, he’s him. it shouldn’t have to be this hard.”
he pulled back just enough to see your face, to make sure you saw how serious he was. “loving you has never been the hard part.”
your throat tightened at the sound of his words.
“it’s everything we tried to do instead of loving each other that made it hard,” he added. “all the pretending. the sneaking around. the trying to act like it didn’t mean anything.”
you didn’t speak at first.
his words just hung there, soft and certain, and you let yourself feel them. not rush past them. not change the subject. just sat with them.
he was right. you’d both made it hard. not on purpose. not to be cruel. just out of fear. out of habit. out of trying to protect something that you didn’t want to admit was already real.
your voice was quiet again when it came back. “we wasted so much time.”
he shook his head instantly. “we didn’t waste it. we just didn’t know what to do with it yet.”
you looked at him then, really looked. his hand, already resting against your thigh beneath the blanket, gave a small squeeze like he felt it too.
“it still scares me a little, if i’m being honest.” you murmured.
“it scares me too,” he said, without hesitation. “but not enough to walk away from it again.”
that undid you a little. you shifted closer, your knees brushing against his legs. his eyes flicked to the movement like he couldn’t help it, like you were magnetic.
“you make it really hard not to believe in love, you know that?” you whispered.
“i hope so,” he murmured softly. “because i want you to believe in it. in me. in this.”
“i already do.” you smiled, small and real.
your hand found the side of his neck, thumb tracing just beneath his jaw, and when you leaned into him, it was calm and familiar. like slipping into something you’d been waiting to return to.
his lips met yours with the same quiet knowing.
the kiss was soft. not rushed. not desperate. just full. like an exhale you didn’t know you’d been holding. his lips moved with the kind of certainty that didn’t need proving, just feeling.
one hand stayed warm against your thigh, the other brushed faintly at your side, like he couldn’t bear to let you go even for a second. your fingers curled at the base of his neck, anchoring you both in the quiet.
when you finally pulled back, your forehead rested gently against his. your breath intertwined, and hearts pressed close together.
his was racing, but still steady. so was yours.
“i’m so in love with you, kim mingyu.” you whispered.
he didn’t speak right away, just breathed you in; eyes closed, hand slipping around your waist like he couldn’t stand the thought of you being even an inch away.
then finally, soft like a secret, “i love you so much,” he murmured. “you don’t even know.”
but you did. you felt it in the way he looked at you. in the way he never let go.
in the way this, right here, felt like home.
you curled into his side again, resting against him. and for a while, there was nothing else. just the sound of your breaths and the faded hospital noises coming from the tv. it was the kind of quiet that only came when everything finally made sense.
eventually, and inevitably, your voice broke the silence, a little mischievous now.
“just so we’re clear,” you said, “i’m still gonna make fun of you for crying during grey’s anatomy.”
he let out a noise that sounded like a half groan, half laugh, “you promised we’d never talk about that.”
“i lied.”
“unbelievable,” he muttered while shaking his head, eyes closed and grinning.
you lifted your upper body and turned slightly to look at him, your legs still tangled beneath the blankets.
he felt the movement and opened one eye to peek at you with that boyish grin that always made you melt.
you nudged his foot beneath the blanket, not hard, but enough for him to feel it. he knew you just wanted his attention.
he kept his eyes closed, still smiling like an idiot. “was that a love tap or a threat?”
you shrugged, eyes soft. “you’ll never know.”
he opened both eyes this time, finally, and just looked at you.
and in that look, you could see it all. relief. love. disbelief that this was real; like he still couldn’t believe you were his to look at.
the silence between you wasn’t empty, it was warm. filled to the edges with everything you didn’t need to say out loud anymore.
“can i kiss you?” he asked softly, though you were unsure as to why he was even asking to begin with.
you nodded in response, unable to find the words to express how much you truly wanted him.
when he kissed you again, it was slow, deep, and full of everything he’d never be able to say.
it made you melt, just like always.
he always knew how to touch you. how to hold you. how to make you feel like the only girl in the world.
and now, you were his, and he was yours.
his mouth was on yours, gentle and unhurried, like he had nowhere else to be. like he’d waited all his life for this exact moment and now that it was here, he wasn’t about to rush it.
you sighed into the kiss. melting, sinking, surrendering. you felt his hand slide beneath the hem of the hoodie again, slow and steady.
he touched you like he was rediscovering you, like he needed to relearn every inch of your body just to survive.
“that’s it, baby,” he whispered against your lips. “just like that. just let me take care of you.”
your fingers slipped under the bottom of his t-shirt, dragging lightly over the dip of his spine, and he shivered.
even now, even after all this time, your touch still undid him.
his palm smoothed over your waist, trailing up the curve of your back until it splayed across your ribs, right beneath your left side.
you inhaled sharply.
he smiled against your mouth, so soft and so sure. “there it is,” he murmured. “that little spot that makes my girl fall apart.”
“gyu,” you breathed as your eyes fluttered shut.
he didn’t press harder. didn’t take more than you gave.
he just kissed you again, still deep and patient, and let his hand settle right there, warming that soft spot with his palm like it was his most sacred place.
“you’re so good for me, cheonsa,” he whispered, voice low and reverent, his nose brushing yours. “always so patient. always so perfect.”
your hands were in his hair, thumbs grazing the sides of his neck, and he leaned into your touch like he needed it to survive.
“i love you,” you whispered.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes soft and blown wide with love. “say it again.”
you looked up at him, still a little dazed, and let a grin pull at your lips. “i looove youuu,” you repeated, dragging it out in a sing-song voice just to make him smile.
he groaned under his breath, kissing your cheek, your temple, your jaw. “god, you ruin me.”
his hand slipped lower, tracing the curve of your hip beneath the blanket, and you felt your breath catch.
“i need you to use your words for me, baby,” he whispered, nuzzling into your neck. “tell me what you want. what do you need from me, hm?”
your lips parted, but your voice came out like a breath. “just you. i need you.”
he kissed you once, lightly. then again, deeper this time. a little less restraint, a little more need. you could feel it in every part of him; how badly he wanted to give you everything.
“i’m yours,” he mumbled against your skin. “all of me. you want it slow?” kiss. “you want it rough?” another kiss. “just say the word, beautiful, and it’s yours.”
your hands gripped his shirt tighter, your body arching closer to his like it couldn’t help it; it was practically begging for more friction.
“slow,” you whispered. “please.”
his smile was tender, his eyes molten. “anything you want, gorgeous.”
he kissed you again, tasting every sound you gave him. he let his hands wander with purpose. never rushed, never really rough, even if that’s what you wanted sometimes. his touch was full of worship. admiration.
“look at you,” he murmured as his hand slid beneath the waistband of your underwear, slow and reverent. “my beautiful girl. i’ll never get enough of you.”
when you gasped his name, barely audible, he kissed you even harder, praising every little reaction, guiding you with his hands, his voice and his endless devotion.
because that’s who mingyu was with you.
soft. worshipful. in love. and entirely yours.
his fingers curled around the hem of your hoodie, giving you one last kiss before tugging it up and over your head. his gaze swept down, eyes soft and starry like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.
“god,” he breathed. “how do you keep getting more beautiful? you’re unreal.”
your hips shifted under his words, breath catching when his fingers dipped lower, skimming the soft skin of your inner thigh.
“easy,” he murmured, his voice honeyed and low. “let me take my time with you.”
you nodded, barely, eyes already glassy, lashes fluttering as your fingers clutched the blanket.
“that’s it, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “good job. you’re always so good.”
his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear. slow and unhurried, just enough to make your breath stutter. he paused, eyes lifting to meet yours. “still okay?”
you nodded again, but he didn’t move.
“words, baby,” he said gently. “you know i like to hear you say it.”
“yes,” you breathed. “please, gyu.”
that was all he needed.
his mouth caught yours in another kiss as his fingers found your slit, causing your whole body to arch beneath him.
“oh, baby,” he whispered, smiling into the kiss. “you’re already so wet. you’ve been needing this, huh?”
you whimpered softly, nodding again, as your nails pressed lightly into his shoulder. he took his time. lazy, deliberate strokes. letting you unravel inch by inch, never once rushing the way your body opened for him.
he kissed your neck, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, never straying far.
he pushed two fingers inside of you, curling upwards to hit the spot he knows makes you weak. your moan came out filthy and full of desperation.
his cock throbbed at the sound, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted.
“that’s it,” he whispered when your hips rolled up towards his hand, “just like that. look at you, falling apart for me.”
your back arched when his thumb found your clit, teasing it with slow, deliberate circles that made your breath stutter.
“you like that, huh?” he murmured, watching your face. “mm, yeah you do. god, i could watch you like this forever.”
his fingers pumped a little quicker inside of you, causing the tremor in your thighs to to tell him exactly how close he had you.
“that’s it,” he said, voice thick. “don’t fight it. let go for me, i’ve got you.”
and you did.
with a soft gasp and a desperate little cry of his name, your hand clutching his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring you to earth.
“good girl, there you go.” he praised, while still working you through the high of your orgasm.
he waited until the last tremor in your thighs faded before he kissed your forehead, brushing your hair back from your face as you caught your breath. “that’s my girl.”
he didn’t stop there.
he kissed down your throat, over your chest, lifting the blankets slowly like he was unwrapping something sacred.
“you know i’ve seen you like this a thousand times,” he murmured, eyes sweeping over you, voice so soft it made you ache. “but now that you’re mine, it’s so much better.”
you flushed, biting your lip, your body still trembling a little from the aftershocks.
“gyu” you whispered.
“shhh,” he shushed, kissing his way down your body.
your thighs clenched around him as he slid down, causing him to chuckle under his breath.
“you’re always so sensitive,” he murmured, settling between your legs like he belonged there. “i love it.”
you opened your mouth to say something; to tease him maybe, or to warn him. but the second his mouth found you, every thought you had dissolved.
his tongue was slow at first, dragging a long, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit, tasting every inch of you like he’d been starving. he lingered there, his lips wrapping around you, sucking gently, just enough to make your hips twitch.
“jesus fuck,” he murmured against you, his voice low and wrecked, the vibration making you shiver. “i could stay here all day if you let me.”
your fingers buried deeper into his hair, tugging slightly when his tongue circled your clit in those slow, devastating swirls.
every sound you made, every gasp and shaky moan, earned a low hum from him, like he was savouring it just as much as he was savouring the taste of you.
he flattened his tongue against you, licking up the full length of your slit again before flicking over your clit, over and over, until your thighs started to tremble against his shoulders.
one of his hands slid lower, fingers gripping your thigh firmly, holding you open for him, while the other curved possessively around your hip, dragging you closer to his mouth.
when you moaned again, breathless and desperate, he let out a sound that was half a growl, half a groan. “god, you always taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he rasped, pulling back just far enough to breathe before diving right back in.
you were shaking uncontrollably, one hand fisting the sheets beside you, the other tugging at his hair in a way that made him groan into you again. your body was arching toward his mouth like you couldn’t help it. like it was chasing every stroke of his tongue.
his tongue settled into a steady rhythm. slow, deliberate, every drag pulling another sound from your throat. when two of his fingers slid back inside, deep and filling you just right, your breath hitched into another sharp and broken moan.
“mm, you like that, huh?” he murmured against your skin, voice low and rough, lips brushing along your thigh before his mouth found you again.
he sucked harder, lips closing around your clit while his fingers curled and pumped in perfect sync. every motion was purposeful. your thighs tightened instinctively around his shoulders, while your fingers twisted into his hair as your body jolted beneath him.
he hummed in approval at the way you clenched around him, the vibration of it rumbling against you, pulling another desperate gasp from your lips.
“g-gyu…oh my god—” you gasped, your voice shaking as your hips rocked helplessly toward his mouth. “don’t stop—please don’t stop—”
he didn’t answer. didn’t dare break the rhythm. but his grip on your thighs tightened, holding you steady as his tongue dragged over you in those slow and unrelenting strokes.
his fingers kept their pace, deep and precise. every pass had you arching higher off the mattress, your breath stuttering, and your legs trembling so hard you couldn’t hold still.
“i’m…fuck—i’m so close,” you moaned, your head tipping back, fingers tugging hard at his hair as heat built fast and sharp in your core.
he only hummed against you again, that low vibration paired with another deep curl of his fingers, like he was urging you silently; coaxing you toward the edge without ever breaking the spell.
your nails dug lightly into his scalp as a strangled moan ripped from your throat when the tension finally snapped. your whole body arched off the mattress, every muscle tightening before unraveling all at once.
“that’s it, baby,” he murmured against you, his voice a low rasp between strokes of his tongue. “good girl. give it to me.”
your legs shook around his shoulders, thighs trembling as you gasped out his name, broken and breathless. your hips jerked helplessly against his mouth, chasing every last flick of his tongue, every deliberate curl of his fingers as he worked you through it.
he didn’t stop until your moans faded into soft, shaky whimpers and your body finally slumped back against the bed.
he slowly crawled back up your body, kissing every inch of your skin along the way, slow and sweet, his lips dragging over your stomach, your chest, your throat.
“you’re perfect,” he whispered. “you’re everything.”
you reached for the waistband of his sweats, still dazed and buzzing, but he caught your wrist, smiling softly against your mouth like he knew exactly what you were thinking.
“mm-mm,” he hummed, voice low, teasing. “not so fast, baby. i’m not done loving you yet.”
your breath stuttered.
his hand slid up your side again, trailing the curve of your waist like he’d never felt it before, even though he had a thousand times.
his lips pressed to the hollow of your throat, then lower, slow kisses down the center of your chest. deliberate. reverent. like a prayer.
“you always do that,” he murmured, nose brushing your skin, “get all needy when i haven’t even fucked you yet.”
you whimpered, already arching, your fingers curled tight into the blanket.
“can’t help it,” you breathed.
he chuckled, low and warm and full of adoration.
“you ready for me, cheonsa?” he whispered, voice like velvet, his thumb stroking your cheekbone.
you nodded, so breathless it didn’t feel real. “please.”
he exhaled slowly, like he was grounding himself in that one word alone. like it was everything.
his sweats hit the floor, kicked aside without a second thought as he crawled back between your legs. his palms skimmed up your thighs, spreading you wider. his thumbs stroked your soft skin as if he needed to feel every inch of you before he could even move.
he didn’t rush. didn’t even push in yet. instead, he rocked his hips forward, letting the length of his cock drag over your slit.
the friction had you already arching, your nails digging into his shoulders. “gyu—” your voice cracked, soft but pleading. “stop teasing…i need you.”
he exhaled a low, strained laugh, his mouth brushing your jaw. “you’re already shaking, cheonsa…can’t even wait a second for me, huh?”
another slow glide, the head of his cock catching on your clit just enough to make your hips jerk. he groaned when you clenched around nothing, his grip on your thigh tightening.
“please,” you breathed, desperate now. “just—please.”
he leaned in, lips brushing against your temple as his voice dropped low, smooth but wrecked. “okay, okay. only because you asked so nicely.”
he pushed in slow, inch by inch, every movement deliberate, stretching and filling you until he was buried deep inside you.
your head fell back against the pillow, a broken moan tearing from your throat as your back arched off the bed. your thighs trembled, trying to close around him even as his body held you open.
“fuck,” you choked, nails digging into his arms. “oh my god, gyu—”
he stilled once he was all the way in, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to keep his breathing steady. his hands traced down your sides, like he was grounding himself in the feel of you.
“jesus, baby,” he murmured, his lips skimming your cheek, your jaw. “you’re so fucking tight. every time, baby…every single time, you take me like you were made for it.”
you whimpered, your body shifting under him, chasing friction without thinking. “move, gyu… please. need it—need you.”
his mouth ghosted over yours, breath warm as his hips gave the slightest roll, testing, drawing another sharp sound from your lips.
“yeah?” he murmured, voice low, his nose brushing yours. “you need me to fuck you, pretty girl?”
you nodded quickly, your fingers clawing at his shoulders. “yes—please, gyu. need all of you. please.”
he kissed you softly at first, his tongue sliding against yours as his hips started to move in slow, deep strokes that had you gasping into his mouth every time he bottomed out.
each thrust pulled another sound from you, your voice breaking around his name. “gyu—oh, fuck, you feel…so fucking good.”
his forehead dropped back to yours, his lips brushing your cheek as he whispered, “that’s it, baby. let me hear you. you know i love when you’re loud for me.”
your nails dragged down his back, your legs tightening around his waist as your hips met his with every slow thrust. your body ached for more, but every time you tried to speed him up, his palms slid down, firm against your hips, holding you down even as your body squirmed for more.
his thrusts stayed slow and deep, dragging every sound out of you like he wanted to collect them one by one. his mouth grazed your jaw, then your throat, warm and steady, every kiss full of admiration.
“you’re trying so hard to be good for me,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “but i can feel it, baby. every time you clench around me like that. your body’s already begging for more.”
your nails dug into his shoulders, a whimper spilling from your lips when his hips rolled again, slow and heavy, leaving you trembling beneath him.
“you want me to give it to you faster, don’t you, pretty girl?” he whispered, his voice dipping lower, brushing over your ear.
you nodded quickly, desperate, but his hand slid higher along your side, his thumb brushing just beneath your breast in a way that made you shiver.
“uh oh,” he murmured, his tone soft but unrelenting. “you know better than that, cheonsa. tell me. use your words.”
your eyes fluttered shut, a whimper slipping free, but his hand tightened on your hip, holding you still. “look at me, baby,” he breathed, his nose brushing yours. “say it like you mean it. tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you.”
you forced your eyes open, your voice breaking on every word. “gyu…need you—harder. faster. wanna feel all of you—please. i’ll be good—i’ll do whatever you want, just…please.”
his lips brushed your cheek, his breath warm and steady even as his hips stilled for just a moment, teasing you with the pause. “see?” he murmured, soft but firm. “that wasn’t so hard, was it? you did so good for me, baby.”
before you could even react, he moved with deep, hard thrusts that made the mattress jolt beneath you, the sudden change of pace pulling a sharp cry from your throat.
“that’s it,” he breathed, his hand sliding down your spine to grip your hip, guiding you into every stroke. “this is what you needed, huh? to feel me, every inch of me—”
you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders, while your voice broke around his name. “yes, gyu—fuck, yes—”
he kissed the side of your mouth, soft even as his rhythm stayed firm and consuming. “so perfect for me, baby. you take me so well. every damn time.”
he was everywhere. his voice in your ear, his body flush against yours, his hands worshipping every inch of you.
your moans came quicker now, catching on every breath as the tension in your body wound tighter and tighter. each thrust sent another sharp wave through you, your thighs trembling where they clung to his waist.
he felt it the second your walls started to flutter around him — that telltale pull, that desperate grip that told him exactly how close you were. his lips skimmed your jaw, his voice dropping lower, rough but still steady.
“there it is,” he murmured, his thrusts a little harder now, each one sinking deep. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby? all wound up…just waiting for me to take you over the edge.”
you whimpered, your voice breaking on his name. “gyu—please—don’t stop…i need it—need you—”
his forehead pressed to yours, his breathing sharp as his own restraint started to fray. “i’m not stopping, cheonsa. i’ve got you. let it go for me. fall apart, baby—i’m right there with you.”
the words, his voice, the way his hips snapped just a little harder; it all hit at once. your cry broke free the same moment his groan did, both of you slowly coming undone together.
“fuck—” he gasped, shuddering, “baby, baby—fuck, you’re so—”
every muscle locked tight before unravelling. your nails dug harder into his skin as his hand gripped your hip like he needed to keep you grounded through it.
he held you through it all. every ripple of pleasure. every desperate sound. every tremble your body gave him. your name left his lips like a vow as his body trembled with yours, every pulse and shudder spilling into the quiet between kisses.
when the high slowly came down, he didn’t pull away. he didn’t even try.
he stayed buried inside you, chest pressed to yours, breathing hard against your cheek like he needed the closeness just to steady himself.
his hand traced slow, grounding circles along your side while his mouth pressed to your temple, his breath warm as he whispered, almost to himself, “you’re everything i’ll ever need, cheonsa. everything.”
your fingers found his under the blanket once again, and his hand closed around yours without hesitation.
you stayed like that for awhile. quiet, steady, and sure.
no performance. no pretending. just two people who had been through a wreckage and still reached for each other.
and in the stillness, something settled. there were no more questions. no more fear.
just the quiet, certain knowing that this was real. that this would last.
Synopsis: your brother Joshua finally lets you go to his birthday party, but the only thing you actually care about is catching the attention of a certain cowboy
Warnings: 18+ explicit sexual content, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, public sex
Authors note: sexy cowboy mingyu fic for my besties birthday!! You can thank @slut4kwon for finally convincing me to write Mingyu smut lmao
Every year on his birthday your brother, Joshua, would throw an extravagant dress up party. It was the perfect way to end the year and for as long as you can remember, everyone with a big name attached to them would attend.
Everyone except for you.
Your job would always be to help with the prep, put out the food, arrange the chairs, make sure everyone was set up for the best night of the year, before you were forced to go home.
You had always wondered when he would finally let you go. His excuse had always been that you were too young, and then when you turned 18 it was that you didn’t have a safe way home and he didn’t want to have to worry about you all night. Even when jihoon, who always left early, offered to chaperone you the whole night and then take you home when he left, it always just led to new excuses.
You had grown up around the members of your brother's band.
Joshua was always very protective of you, and being 6 years younger than him, he never included you in things like this.
Last year, you had gotten closer than ever before. Seokmin and Seungkwan had tried to convince him, but with Seungcheol being the deciding vote, you knew you didn't stand a chance. Even Mingyu had tried to convince Joshua at one point too and that excited you more than anything.
The truth was that you didn't really care that you didn't get to go to the party last year. The fact that mingyu had vouched for you, and made it clear that he wanted you there, was all you needed.
Your childhood crush on mingyu had started a couple of years after they debuted.
You remember being 14 years old, watching the music video for mansae and being completely infatuated by him.
It never fully went away after that.
Every event, every show, every family dinner; your eyes were always on him, and part of you hoped that he noticed.
This year was different; your brother had finally invited you.
He had finally given in and you had already ditched the plans you had with your friends that weekend and decided your costume had to be top tier. You wanted to be sexy.
Being a hybe boy, your brother knew everybody. Anyone who was popular within the industry would be at this party and if you were finally going to catch the attention of the older man, you had to make sure you stood out.
And you had the perfect idea on how to do just that.
The party was in exactly a week from today, so you were cutting it close, but you decided to bombard your brother with questions anyway. You needed insider information if your plan was going to work.
“Joshyyyy, I need to pick your brains,” you say, jumping onto the couch next to your brother.
“Y/n if it's about the party, don’t make me revoke your invitation,” he whines.
“Too late, I’m already going. Plus, your friends want me there,” you press, earning an eye roll from Joshua.
“Okay, what do you need to know?”
You think for a second, trying not to make your ulterior motive too obvious. “What are you all dressing up as? I don’t want to look like shit the first time you let me go.”
“I'm going as the joker, chan is going as pikachu and Jihoon is going as a teletubby, I can’t remember the rest.”
You roll your eyes. Weirdos.
“What about mingyu?” You look down, picking at your nails, hoping he doesn’t ask why you’re suddenly interested in his band mate.
“Ummmm….a cowboy, i think,” Joshua looks over like he’s onto you. “He’s so extra isn’t he?”
You nod, agreeing with him, thankful that your brother was so innocent and naive.
Mingyu dressing as a cowboy was perfect for your plan, assuming he didn't already have a side piece, you could match perfectly with him.
You were going to be the sexiest cowgirl at this damn party.
When the night of the party finally arrives, you spend hours getting ready.
Not a single hair was out of place, your makeup was done in the perfect way to suit your face, and your outfit was hugging your frame exactly the way you wanted it to.
You had opted for a blue denim skirt, a cropped flannel and a red neckerchief.
Your cowboy boots had the perfect size heel, making you tall enough to catch Mingyu's attention.
You completed your look by carefully placing a brown suede cowboy hat on your head.
You felt good, and when you looked in the mirror, you finally didn’t see joshua’s annoying little sister anymore.
You looked like someone who was finally going to get what she wanted.
You added the finishing touches to your look — a red lip and expensive perfume — before texting your brother that you were ready.
Joshyyy<3: Me and Cheol are picking you up in 5. Meeting the others there. Be outside ready.
You grab your bag, filling it with the essentials before making your way outside to wait for the boys.
A couple minutes later, you see the familiar car pull up. Seungcheol rolls the passenger window down, both boys staring like they don’t recognise you at all.
“Oh hell no,” they both say in unison.
Joshua gets out of the car and walks over to you like a bouncer about to kick someone out of a club. “Go inside and change right now y/n, I’m so serious.”
“Absolutely not, I’m not a child,” you scorned, pushing past him to get into the back of the car.
You hear Joshua let out a heavy sigh of defeat before getting back into the driver's seat.
The journey is silent, aside from Seungcheol whistling along to whatever was playing on the radio, a welcomed distraction to the weird tension shifting through the air.
You sink into the back seat, bracing yourself for the party ahead. You'd spent hours getting ready, but it hadn’t prepared you for the fact that half the guest list was famous; and now your nerves were catching up more than ever.
Ten minutes later, Joshua pulls up to the venue, the sound of bass already bleeding into the street as partygoers spill out the doors.
As you exit the car, you're met with a face that looks ready to scold you. “Y/n, before we go in there are some ground rules okay?”
You roll your eyes, but he continues regardless.
“No wandering off, only take drinks off of me or the boys and if anyone makes a move on you, come and find me” Joshua lists.
“Yes dad, can we go in now? I'm freezing.”
He nods, taking the lead. Seungcheol holds his arm out to you and you link it with yours. “Ignore him and make sure you have fun, you look hot.”
When you enter the party, it’s not at all what you expected. There were so many people, all of them dressed in extravagant costumes. The bar was surrounded with people on all sides, and the dance floor was full of idols dancing with each other.
You cling to Cheol as he leads you over to the booth containing the other members of seventeen.
You make eye contact with mingyu right away. He was sitting in the middle of the booth next to Jihoon, who very clearly did not want to be there.
His lips curved when he saw you, like he could read your mind and knew exactly what you had planned.
“Ayyy y/n! You look so fucking sexy!” Soonyoung calls, getting up to greet you.
Joshua shoots him a scolding look “Kwon hoshi!”
You give him a quick hug and scoot into the booth, robbing the space next to mingyu right from under Jihoon.
Conversations from before you arrived continued on, and you find yourself shifting in your seat awkwardly trying to get used to the environment around you.
“We’re matching,” mingyu whispers, leaning towards you slightly.
You look up at him, his face only inches away from yours. You can’t help but smile when he doesn’t back away. “We are.”
He brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a smug grin creeping up onto his face. “You planned this didn’t you.”
“How could I have planned this?” You scoff, eyes lowering down to your hands, before they meet his again.
Mingyu shrugs. You know he can see straight through you, but part of you is okay with that. Part of you wants him to see you more.
A cough from Joshua breaks the two of you out of your trance.
“Can I get you a drink?” Mingyu asks, bringing his arm down from where he had stretched it on the seat behind you.
You nod sweetly, moving your legs so he can exit the booth.
When he returns, the rest of the boys are getting up to go and dance.
“Are you going too?” He asks you, sitting down and handing you a vodka coke.
You pretend to think for a second before answering. “Not if you’re not.”
That earns you a smirk, “I think I’d rather stay right here.”
You smile and scoot slightly closer to him, your nerves easing slightly now that you have some alcohol in your system.
There was a small moment of silence between the two of you, but it didn’t take long for him to break it.
“I’m glad you came this year,” He says, putting his arm back to where it was resting behind you.
“Me too, I’ve always wanted to see you in a costume.” You look him up and down.
His costume was simple; blue jeans, a black graphic t-shirt, and a simple brown cowboy hat sitting on top of his effortlessly perfect hair.
He lets out a low chuckle, resting his free hand on your thigh. “Have you?”
Your breath hitches at the simple touch. You thought you would have to work harder to gain his attention, but here he was, giving it to you for free.
As the conversation flows, mingyu begins to rub absentminded circles onto your thigh with his thumb. You noticed him regularly checking that your brother wasn’t lurking anywhere in your eyeline.
“You have something on your leg,” you point out to him, reaching down to brush the black fluff off his jeans.
You don’t even realize what’s happening until your palm meets the hard outline of him through his jeans. The contact is brief — gone as quickly as it happened — but it leaves your pulse racing regardless.
Mingyu looks down and shifts slightly in his seat, a look of panic quickly spreading across his face.
You knew that look.
You had just finished your fourth drink, and mingyu had polished off an entire bottle of soju by himself; meaning your nerves were no longer an issue.
“Dance with me.” You blurt out, even catching yourself slightly off guard.
He quickly meets your gaze, looking like he didn’t hear you; or maybe he did and thought you were joking.
You slip your hand up the back of his neck and drag your nails across his skin. “Come on, dance with me.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea y/n.”
“Why?” You ask, you know why.
Mingyu looks down, and your gaze follows. He moves his hands to reveal the aching boner sitting in his pants.
“Oh,” you say. “Did I do that?”
“You may have helped cause it, yeah,” he whispers, covering it back up.
You turn your head to scan the room. The booth you were in was very closed off; meaning no one could see you from the dance floor, and no one would catch you unless one of the boys happened to come back.
“Maybe I can help you fix it?”
He lets out a frustrated groan, “please.”
Within seconds, your neckerchief was off and tossed over his lap. Your fingers trailed down to the button of his jeans, popping it open and freeing his hard cock from the tight grip of denim.
“Is this okay?” You ask, not wanting to do anything he isn’t comfortable with.
“More than okay,” He reassures, encouraging you to continue.
You grab hold of the base of his cock, dragging your palm up to the tip to gather the pre cum already leaking from it.
You begin to work him up and down slowly, allowing him to get used to the pace.
Mingyu’s hand grips tightly onto your thigh, digging his nails in lightly. The feeling of them pressing into your skin makes you clench your legs together; slick already coating the fabric of your thong.
You quicken your pace, keeping your eyes fixed on him, watching as his head falls back onto the seat.
“Holy fuck y/n, this feels so good,” he whimpers.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long” you groan, fighting the urge to wrap your lips around his cock in this public space.
He lifts his head, eyes boring into yours. “Yeah? Come closer, let me feel you.”
His hands cup your thighs, pulling you closer to him while lifting one of your legs over his knee.
He snakes his hand under your skirt painfully slowly; running a finger over your clothed slit. “You’re dripping.”
You nod, your hand never once slowing on his cock.
He pushes your panties to the side, gathering your slick before bringing it up to his mouth. The view almost makes you come on the spot.
“You taste so sweet.”
Without hesitation or any preparation, he inserts a finger into you, pumping it slowly while his thumb works your clit.
You drew in a sharp breath, gripping his arm for stability. “Fuck—mingyu.”
“Feel good?”
You let out a small yelp, your movements on his dick growing sloppy.
Just as quickly as he started, he pulls his finger out of you before pulling your chin forward, lips crashing against yours.
His hand takes hold of your hair, gripping it in a way that brings you closer to him.
“We don’t have much time, I need to be inside of you” he pants against your lips. “Please tell me you want this.”
“I want this—please mingyu,” your voice comes out in a whimper.
You didn’t have time for more foreplay, or any kind of teasing. Within seconds, he had you straddling him, lips on yours like he was starved of your touch.
“Tell me if it’s too much baby and I’ll stop okay?” He reassures you, lining himself up at your entrance.
You feel the head of his cock pushing against you. Being consumed by your need, you sink down onto him.
Mingyu’s head falls back as his hands take place on your hips. They travel under your skirt before he digs all ten digits into your skin.
Buried in you to the hilt, you feel his cock twitch deep inside you.
“Fuck you’re so tight princess—Ah,” he groans, pushing his head forward to suck the skin on your neck.
You start to roll your hips on him, both of your moans being drowned out by the music. If anyone came back to the booth now, you’d be done for. But at this point, neither of you seemed to care.
“Fuck—you’re so big” you mutter.
“Shh baby I got you, let me take over.”
His grip on your hips tightens as he begins to pound up into you; moans falling from his lips with every thrust.
“I wanna see you touch yourself baby—fuck.”
You follow his orders, pushing your skirt up to rub circles into your aching clit.
You feel pressure consuming you, nearing the edge. “I’m gonna—“
“Fuck me too, let go for me baby girl.”
You moan loudly, gripping onto his shoulders for support as your orgasm takes over your body. Mingyu follows suit, spurting hot ropes inside of you.
You slump against him, your head heavy against his shoulder.
“You did so well for me baby,” he whispers into your ear, “maybe next time we can do this properly.”
You nod, unable to form words though your panting. You feel your stomach tighten, butterflies growing at the thought of a next time.
Suddenly, both of your heads shoot up as you hear footsteps approaching you.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Joshua asks, stopping dead in his tracks at the entrance to the booth.
You panic, jumping off of mingyu’s lap and smoothing your skirt out. “I was just uhhh- I was fixing his hair.”
“So why is his dick out?”
Mingyu rushes to push his slick coated length back into his pants before sitting up straight, face red.
Joshua simply shakes his head, “fucking unbelievable,” he mutters quietly before turning to walk away.
Mingyu turns to face you, his nonchalant expression from before replaced by one of embarrassment. “Oh he’s mad.”
You nod, moving closer to ease him of his nerves. You take his hand in yours, his firm grip telling you everything you needed to know.
“He’s already angry, we may as well take full advantage,” you tease, running a finger up his thigh.
His eyes drop down to the movement on his leg before flickering back up to meet your gaze. “You know, I actually prefer doggy,” he leans in closer, lips brushing yours “and you’re getting dangerously close to making me hard again.”
You smirk, basking in the knowledge that the simple touch of your finger was having that effect on him, “Back to yours then?”
Mingyu downs the rest of his drink before standing and offering his hand out to you, “lets go, I want you to suffocate me with those pretty thighs.”
Synopsis: after a failed night out your best friend, Jihoon, comes to rescue you from the cold pavement outside of the club. What he doesn’t know is that you’re suddenly down bad for him and don’t know how to cope with these new feelings.
Warnings: 18+ explicit sexual content | oral (f. Receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dom! Jihoon
Authors note: it’s about time I posted a fic for my ult, I have no clue why it’s taken this long. Domestic Jihoon is so hot to me and I hope you all like the way I’ve written him! Btw I know he doesn’t drive but in this he does okay:))
“Y/n?”
You look up from where you were perched on the side of the road, the entrance of the club blasting with loud music behind you.
You had left to get some air. Your ‘friends’ had already ditched you for random guys, and at this point, all you wanted to do was go home.
So naturally, you called Jihoon.
You didn’t expect him to get here so quickly, but when something is urgent, Jihoon doesn’t hesitate.
“Hey,” you stand from the cold concrete, being pulled into the muscular arms of the man before you. “Thank you for coming to get me,” you exhale into his chest.
“You know I’ll always come and get you.”
Jihoon releases you from his embrace, holding you by the shoulders to take in your appearance.
“Have you been drinking?” He asks, trying to get an idea of how intently he would be looking after you tonight.
He was your childhood best friend, always there for you no matter the circumstance.
“I had like two drinks. I thought we would all be leaving early but they met some guys and wanted to stay,” you try not to sound pathetic, but you knew he could see straight through you.
Your recent mission of finding female friends your age wasn’t going exactly to plan. Jihoon was 5 years older than you, which doesn’t seem like much, but when all he and his members do is piss about like prepubescent teens, you thought it might be time to make some girl friends.
“You need to find some that actually care about you and don’t just use you to make their friend group bigger,” he sighs, pulling you back towards him.
The warmth of his embrace made you feel safe on a night surrounded by unfamiliarity. He was the best part of you, and it suddenly made you sad to realise you thought you needed more.
“Can we go home?”
“Yeah, come on babygirl.” Jihoon leads you to his car, opening the passenger door for you and then closing it gently when he could see that you were seated comfortably.
As he got into the driver's seat and closed the door, the air shifted into a calm silence. The outside noise from the club was drowned out by Jihoon’s fingers tapping on the steering wheel and the light hum coming from his lips.
“You want to come to mine? I can make you some food,” he calmly suggests, patting your leg and then resting his hand there.
This type of behaviour was normal between the two of you. His over caring attitude bordered on sexual tension to anyone outside of you and him. The other members were skeptical of your relationship at first, but soon grew to realise that it’s just how you were with each other.
However…tonight? His light touch on your thigh felt heavy. The warmth from his fingers was burning a hole in your skin, and you were scared to even question the warm feeling between your legs.
“Yes please,” you whisper, eyes fixated on his hand.
You were silently praying that he didn’t pick up on your shy demeanor, but you couldn’t help the change in attitude.
Jihoon’s hand moved back and forth from the gear stick to your thigh throughout the drive, and somewhere along the way, your once chatty tone had reduced to silence and a red face.
When you finally reached his place, he parked his car, getting out to make his way to your side.
“Do you want ramen? Or should I order a pizza?” Jihoon asks, resting an arm loosely around your shoulder while you walk to the door.
“Whatever takes the least amount of effort,” you say.
Usually you wouldn’t care how much effort he put in; you would just ask for what you wanted knowing he would do it no questions asked.
But you had no clue what this foreign feeling was. It was taking over your entire body, and the only thing you could think to do was take a cold shower and ignore your best friend for the rest of the night.
“I know you want ramen; you always do after a night out,” he says, opening the door and hanging back so you could enter first. “I’ll make two portions and whatever you don’t eat, I’ll finish.”
Over the years, Jihoon had gotten used to your ‘eyes bigger than your belly’ ways. He would always wait for you to eat as much as you wanted and then finish your leftovers. Tonight, however, it was turning you on in ways you couldn’t even begin to understand.
You turned to wander off into Jihoon’s bedroom where he kept a drawer full of your clothes. Getting changed out of your clubbing clothes and into something more comfortable seemed like it might help you feel more familiar in your setting so the turned on feeling would maybe turn off.
“Do I not have any more clean sweats in here?” You call out to Jihoon after finding the drawer empty other than a few t-shirts and cozy socks.
Jihoon pokes his head around the door frame, his jacket had been taken off, leaving him in a tight t-shirt that hugged his big arms perfectly. No stop it y/n, please stop it.
“Uhh i think there’s two pairs still in the wash from when Soonyoung spilled his drink on you last weekend,” he said before looking toward his closet, “just wear some of mine.”
fuck.
You wear his clothes all the time, this should be normal right?
As soon as you open the closet door, you’re hit in the face by his smell. A smell so familiar and comforting to you that it should remind you this is your best friend you're thirsting over and you need to stop. But all you can think about is being completely suffocated by that smell, burying your face in his neck so you could get more of it.
Get a grip y/n.
You had changed and already settled in on his couch when he approached you holding a bowl of ramen. His sweats sat low on his hips, and suddenly, you weren’t just hungry for ramen.
After placing the bowl on the table in front of you, he sat down; the warmth from his body was being projected over you as his leg pressed up against yours.
You scoot up the couch a bit, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
He did. Of course he did.
“Do I stink or something?” He laughs, lifting his T-shirt to his nose. The movement exposed his lower stomach, giving you a full view, really not helping whatever it was that had taken over you tonight.
“No um—I just,” you look down at your hands, picking at your nail polish to try and distract yourself from him. “I probably smell bad, you know, because of the club.”
Without any hesitation, he leans towards you, burying his face into your neck and taking a deep breath in. Fuckkkkk.
“You smell fine, y/n,” he says, pulling back only slightly, close enough that his nose is still inches from yours.
You feel like you’re in a trance, completely paralysed by his gaze, and you can’t help but stare back.
“Jihoon—please don’t,” you whimper, eyes locked on his.
His confused expression from before grows stronger.
“What’s going on, y/n? You look like you’re in love with me or something,” he lets out a quiet laugh, patting your thigh and returning to his position on the couch.
Just to tease you further, he moves to close the gap you had just created, causing you to sit thigh to thigh.
As he reaches for the tv remote, your eyes trace the veins on his arms. His strong hands gripping the remote, making you wish they were gripping your throat instead. You needed him so bad, but there was no way you could tell him.
No way that wouldn’t ruin your friendship.
“Hello?? What are we watching?” Jihoon was waving a hand in front of your face, snapping you back to reality, “Were you staring at my arms?”
“No um—I just,” you fail to form a coherent sentence. Your only option at this point was to walk home and pray that you could sleep this feeling off.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, looking concerned now.
You gulp, not being able to hold eye contact, “I just have an issue, it’s nothing.” Jihoon discards the remote, the sound of the tv muffled under the weight of your need for him, although your unfocused eyes stay fixed to the blurry shapes on the screen anyway.
“What do you need? You know I’ll do anything for you, baby girl.”
You wince at his words. The nickname he’s used for you hundreds of times throughout your life was now the cause of a river bigger than the Thames, “No, you can’t help me with this.”
A look of confusion floods his face when you dare to look at him. His kind eyes now held a glint of seduction that only you could see. “Why not?”
You hesitate, unsure on how to continue this conversation without leaping on him. Without sacrificing everything.
“Because you would find it weird,” you blurt out.
Jihoon sighs and rubs his face, frustration painted across his skin, eyebrows furrowed like he was about to give up on asking. But he doesn’t. He never has.
“Maybe tell me what it is before you predict my answer,” he puts his hand on your thigh again and you can’t do anything but stare down at it, your mouth hung open.
“I can’t tell you, I’m too embarrassed.”
“When have you ever been embarrassed in front of me?” His tone was becoming irritable, however the look on his face had softened, almost like his brain was aggravated with you but his commitment was fighting it.
“Nothing has ever been as embarrassing as this,” you feel your face heating up to the point you’re worried it may explode, eyes still fixed on his hand that rests against your aching skin.
“Y/n, I’m not going to force you to tell me but you look so flustered right now and I don’t want to see you feeli—“
“Ugh fuck okay! I’m just really turned on right now! That’s it!” Your hands immediately fly to your face, covering the embarrassment that was seeping out of every orifice.
“You’re…turned on?” He questions, reaching to pull your hands away.
You let him.
“Yes,” you stutter “for you—your hand—in the car,” you had given up, there was no going back. “I’m literally soaked through my thong because of you and I don’t even that think all of the cold water in the world would stop how turned on I am right now so I need to go home or I don’t know, run into oncoming traffic because the way you’re looking at me is making me desperate to kiss you and that’s so weird,” you sigh, shocked at your sudden outburst. Your plan to not make things weird has now definitely failed because of your inability to stop rambling.
He looked slightly taken aback, but then his expression changed to something you couldn’t quite read.
“Would it be weird?” He asks, now being the one failing to hold eye contact.
“I don’t know, would it?”
His gaze finds you again and you watch as his eyes flick down to your lips and then back up, a look of yearning on his face.
He shifts to look at you, his hand leaving your thigh and making its way up to gently caress your cheek, like he was touching a priceless item.
“I don’t think it would be,” he whispers.
You could feel the heat radiating off of him, setting alight to every nerve ending in your body. Fuck.
“You’re really close to me right now,” You breathe.
“Would you like me to be closer?”
“Please,” you almost moan.
Jihoon’s finger finds your chin, lingering there for a second before lifting it lightly. His lips graze yours softly, as his eyes flicker shut. You follow suit when you feel him kiss you.
“Okay?” He asks, pulling back a few inches.
Words are unable to form in your mouth, so your only solution was to pull his T-shirt forward, reconnecting your lips in a kiss that holds more urgency than the last.
“Bedroom,” Jihoon mumbles against your mouth, hands gripping your hips tightly as he lifts you from the sofa you were pressed against.
He carries you to his bedroom, mouth not leaving yours for even a second while your grip tightens around his neck.
The feeling of his hands on your ass and his hardening dick on your heat gives you the friction that you’ve been aching for, but not nearly enough.
Placing you down onto his bed, he steps back to admire you. His eyes held a glint of something you were unable to read. You wanted to know everything he was thinking, you wanted to know what he felt like, his skin against yours, what he tasted like. You wanted it all.
“I’ve wanted this for so long, thought about so many different ways I could make you feel good,” he pushes the long dark hair out of his eyes, “and now I’m here, I don’t know where to begin.”
“You’ve wanted this?” You ask, your breath getting caught in your throat. You and Jihoon were never something you had thought about like this, but now, your entire being is suffocated by the need for every inch of him.
“Y/n, you’re so oblivious, it's adorable,” he moves closer, standing between your spread legs. “I’ve wanted you for years.”
“Why didn't you say anything?” You ask, trying not to make direct eye contact with the growing bulge in his pants.
“For the same reason you were scared to say anything earlier, but now looking at that,” He gestures towards the large wet spot on his sweats you were wearing that you no longer needed to hide from him, “I’m so glad you asked me to pick you up tonight.”
He moves forward, resting his knee on the bed in between your legs, to lean over and kiss you. For the first time in your life, kissing someone felt good. Before, it had always been a thing you thought you had to do, not something you enjoyed. But with Jihoon? You could live the rest of your life with his mouth attached to yours.
You reach down, feeling the soft fabric on the hem of his t-shirt. Pulling it up over his head, you finally got a full view of his bare chest. You had seen him shirtless before, but never like this.
“Tell me what you need, baby girl. I’m yours, whatever you want,” he mumbles, lips going back to meet yours.
“Please, I need you to fuck me” you whisper against his mouth.
“Come here” Jihoon holds your hips as he guides you to straddle him. His lips travel down, sucking and nibbling on your neck, leaving his mark as gently as he could.
He reaches for your t-shirt, tugging at it as if asking for permission before lifting it over your head.
“Fuck, i feel like I’ve waited my whole life to finally be the one to give these the attention they need,” he groans, attaching his mouth onto the skin of your breast above your bra, “can i take it off baby girl?”
“Jihoon if you don’t take it off in the next five seconds I actually might die.”
He lets out a quiet laugh against your skin while reaching around to unhook your bra, "I see you’re still dramatic even during sex.”
“Would you want me any other way?” You ask, brushing the hair out of his face as his eyes meet yours.
“I want every part of you, exactly how you’ve always been,” he leans back slightly, taking in your naked appearance, “you’re perfect.”
Jihoon leans in to attach his mouth to your hardened nipple, keeping the other one between his index finger and thumb.
“Lay down for me,” You follow his command, shyly trying to cover your chest with your arms, but he stops you.
“You don’t need to hide from me,” he breathes, making his way down to your hips with his tongue.
Jihoon removes his sweats from you before running his finger over your covered slit. You let out a soft moan; it was the first time you had seen this side of your best friend, and somehow it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He carefully removes your thong, throwing it to the side.
“Okay, I’m gonna start now. Tell me to stop if you need a break, okay?” He says, giving your hand a slight squeeze but not letting go.
“Wait,” you stutter, grabbing hold of his wrist, “you’re wearing too many clothes.”
He let out a breathy laugh before removing his own sweats. You took the opportunity to look him up and down again. His toned abs made your mouth water, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off the huge bulge in his boxers. He notices.
“Let me take care of you first and then we will get to that, okay?”
You nod in response, bracing yourself while Jihoon settles between your legs.
“Wait! Ji I’m scared,” you declared, looking down at his startled expression.
“What’s scaring you? Let me fix it.”
“I’m just…I’m scared it won’t be the same after,” you let out a sigh while Jihoon sits up facing you, “and I haven’t done it in a while either. I’m nowhere near as experienced as other girls you’ve been with.”
“It will be whatever you want it to be after. I’m yours, no matter what boundaries you set. And I don’t need experienced girls, I just want you. Let me take care of you okay? Stop overthinking and relax baby,” he says quietly, brushing his thumb along your cheek.
You nod, feeling the weight of his care settle deep in your chest. The line you swore you wouldn’t cross had already blurred beyond recognition.
You were right about your friendship not being the same after this. Not when you’ve already fallen in love with your best friend.
Pushing aside those feelings for now, you watch him get back to his position, his dark hair falling over his eyes while he looks up at you through his long lashes.
He licks up your slit gently, before moving his tongue in circles around your clit. He pauses for a second, noticing how tense you are.
“Relax for me baby, just let yourself feel good.” He instructs, bringing a hand down to rest on your inner thigh. He continues to lap at you, holding onto you like you would break if he let go. Releasing your thigh from his grip, he parts your folds gently.
“I’m gonna put one in, you still okay?” Jihoon asks, bringing his head up to read your expression. You had now gone from feeling on edge to feeling euphoric.
“Yeah, I’m good” you respond, squeezing his hand reassuringly. He presses a finger into you, sliding it all the way in, keeping it still for a moment while he listens to your breathing. When he’s checked you’re still okay, he pumps it a few times before curling it inside you.
“Ah—Jihoon” you moan, causing him to go deeper. He reattached his mouth to your clit and added another finger, pumping them in and out of you at a speed that made your eyes roll back. You could feel your stomach tighten, dangerously close to finishing when he stops completely.
He makes his way up the bed to face you, mouth coated in your slick. A wave of bravery takes over you as you grab his chin and bring his lips to yours, tasting yourself.
“That was hot,” he pants when you finally pull away, causing you to smirk and do it again.
Jihoon plants one last peck on your lips before getting up from the bed, pulling his boxers down in one swift motion. His cock springs out, pink and leaking at the tip. You always knew he would be big, but you never thought you would be seeing it up close and personal.
“Woah,” you gawk, eyeing the bead of precum that was making its way down his length.
He laughs at you, making his way over to get back on top of you. “Condom?”
“Wait, I wanna go down on you too,” you whine, trying to push him up a bit.
He shakes his head, lowering it to graze his lips against your collarbone before leaving a soft kiss against the soft skin. “Next time baby, this is about you.”
“Next time?” You ask, reassuring yourself out loud that this wouldn’t be a one time thing. That this wouldn’t ruin your favourite dynamic with your favourite person.
“I swear to god y/n, if there’s no next time, I might actually lose my mind. No one else compares to you.” He kisses you again, letting you explore his mouth with your tongue. “So, condom?”
You shake your head, “I’m on the pill.” You knew that if you were going to fuck your best friend, you wanted to feel every inch of him.
“Are you ready?” He asks, peppering kisses over your cheek and down your neck, stopping at your collarbone.
You nod as he lines himself up at your entrance, using his free hand to grab yours, interlacing your fingers.
“It might hurt a little if you haven’t done it in a while. I’m gonna go slow okay?” He warns before slowly easing into you.
He works himself into you at a very slow pace, which you were thankful for. The stretch was intoxicating, and when he finally bottomed out, he let you adjust for a second.
“Do you need more time?” He asks softly, still every bit the gentleman as he holds himself perfectly still for you, even though the tension in his body makes it clear how much restraint it’s taking.
“No please, I need you to move,”
Jihoon pulled his hips back halfway before thrusting back into you. He felt amazing and it didn’t take long before he was pounding into you. Your whole body was on fire, and the only thing you could do was moan out his name over and over again.
“Holy shit—you’re so tight. You feel so fucking good,” he said in between low breaths. His hips began to move faster; the sound of skin against skin mixed with the headboard hitting the wall filling the room. It didn't take long for the tension to build up inside of you again.
“Jihoon—ah—I’m gonna—” you cried out, squeezing his hand with all your strength.
“Come for me baby.” His words sent you over the edge.
You saw stars while your fingers dug into the soft skin on his shoulder, as he worked you through your orgasm. Your walls constrict around him, causing him to moan loudly before releasing inside of you.
As Jihoon stilled above you, catching his breath, you admired his face. The pink tinge to his pale skin, the sweat that had formed in his hairline and the look of complete lust painted across his expression. You were in deep.
When he had finally come down from his high, Jihoon eased out of you slowly before collapsing on the bed.
“Was that okay?” He asks.
“That was amazing,” you turn onto your front, head resting on his chest as he runs his index finder up and down your spine, “why didnt you tell me you were a fucking god in bed?”
“I don’t think that’s a conversation you have with your childhood best friend who you’ve been in love with for years.”
His eyes meet yours. You stare at him, trying to process what he had just said. The way the L word just slipped out of his mouth so casually.
“I meant it,” he whispers, as if he just read your mind, “you don’t have to say it, I know this is new for you, but I’m ready for anything you want. I'm yours.”
“Jihoon i—,”
You take him in properly then. The curve of his mouth. The steadiness in his eyes. The way he looks at you like he’s already chosen you a thousand times over. You wonder if he has always been this beautiful — or if you’re only just letting yourself see him.
And suddenly, you understand.
You’ve loved him for a long time. Maybe longer than you’re brave enough to admit.
“I think I’ve been in love with you for a while now,” you confess quietly.
Jihoon’s face breaks out into the biggest smile you have ever seen, and you can’t help but smile back before kissing him again.
“Come on, let's get in the shower so i can clean you up,” he says standing and pulling you up with him causing you to groan.
Synopsis: Late night walks home from work are never an issue when you have Boo Seungkwan to walk next to you. When your job gets stressful, he’s there to pick up the pieces.
Warnings: none
Authors note: Another rewrite and probably my last because there will be a new fic in the next few days!! This storyline is so perfect for Seungkwan and as my bias wrecker i needed to put something out for him asap!! I hope you enjoy my loves<3
The walk from work back to your apartment always had you fearing for your life.
You finished around 8pm. The summer nights were okay, due to the light sky, but winter? There wasn’t a single night he let you walk home alone.
Since you had started your new career your best friend, Seungkwan, had always been your biggest cheerleader.
He was so supportive with everything you did, and he made sure you knew how proud he was of you.
You could’ve driven home, but he knew that car rides make you nauseous and you were stubborn enough to walk regardless of if he was there or not.
So he made sure he was.
Every season. Always making sure you were safe.
On the nights it was warm out, he would bring you a tiny electric fan.
When there were strong winds, he would hold your arm like he was scared you might blow away from him.
You loved walking with him, it always helped you get through the day.
Until now.
Work had gotten harder. Your new promotion set you back two hours. A 10pm finish wasn’t something you thought would affect you much.
But you were beyond stressed. And Seungkwan could feel it.
The weather had been bad over the weekend and Monday morning saw heavy rain that didn’t look like it wanted to stop.
When the clock finally reached 10pm you slump back in your chair, thankful it was over, but looking outside made you shiver.
The rain was coming down strong, there was no way Seungkwan would be waiting for you downstairs.
You pick up your phone to send him a text,
Y/n: I can get a taxi tonight
Y/n: The rain is too heavy
You place down your phone, ready to gather your belongings and pull on your jacket. Your phone dings, expecting Seungkwan. Instead you’re met with your bitch ass boss.
Cuntface: Need that contract on my desk by Wednesday. Do not fuck this up y/n
This was the opposite of what you needed tonight. The stress was already piling on from this promotion, and this text? It was about to make you collapse under the weight of it.
Jacket on and bag ready to go, you sit staring at the wall for five minutes. Not wanting to face the life that you had worked so hard to live.
You’re pulled out of your trance by the sound of your phone ringing.
Picking it up, you see Seungkwan’s contact photo pop up, making you feel slightly better.
“Hello?” You say, holding the phone to your ear.
“Are you coming down or would you like me to bring you a blanket and pillow up there?”
You let out a quiet giggle, he always knew how to bring your mood up.
No matter where you were or what you were doing, just the sound of his voice made you feel safe.
It made you wonder if you could ever actually live without him.
“You’re here?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Of course he was here, he had never not shown up for you.
“Yeah…y/n is everything okay?”
You hear the concern in his voice. The slight tremble like he couldn’t stand it if you weren’t okay.
“I’m just really stressed, that’s all,” you almost whisper, as if hearing yourself say it might make you finally crumble.
“Come down, let me take your mind off it.”
You hang up the phone and make your way to the lift, clutching the strap of your bag and letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
As soon as you exit the lift you’re met with a smiling Seungkwan.
He walks over to you, wrapping his arms tightly around you. His smell comforts you in ways you don’t quite understand but you let yourself get lost in it anyway.
“Have you eaten?” He whispers into your hair.
You pull back from the hug, shaking your head. “No, the thought of food right now is making me want to throw up.”
He shoots you a concerned look before placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you towards the door. “Come on, let's get you home.”
The minute you step out into the rain Seungkwan is holding an umbrella over you. You look towards him, his expression calm and demure like it was no big deal.
But to you it was. Everything he did. Every little detail, he always picked up on it.
He always made the effort. For you.
Your heart clenched in your chest, feeling like a tidal wave had washed over you and unblurred your vision.
You could now see what was right in front of you this whole time.
But the friendship status sent a chill through your bones. It would always just be that.
The path of friendship led to a dead end.
Your mood worsened as you walked, Seungkwan was close beside you but the quiet that lurked between you was eating at you from the inside.
He noticed the tears falling from your eyes before you did.
“Y/n? What’s going on?” He asks, blocking your path to face your misery.
You let out a huge sigh, finally meeting his gaze. “I just don’t know what I want anymore. This job, my personal life,” you sniffle lightly. “I don’t see any of it going anywhere. I just feel alone.”
More tears threaten your eyes. They fall one by one, merging into a stream down your cheeks.
Seungkwan closes the umbrella, placing it on the floor. The cold rain showers you in an instant.
Slowly he holds out his hand, “dance with me.”
“What?”
You stare at his outstretched hand, his response to your sudden outburst was as pure as his personality. You just didn’t know if you had it in you to be carefree for once in your life.
Seungkwan grabs your hand, pulling you towards him. Chest to chest, stood in the pouring rain.
“Think of this as a metaphor. I don’t care how heavy the rain gets,” he lifts a finger to push your sodden hair behind your ear. “I will always be here to stand in it with you.”
His hand still in yours, he spins you around before pulling you back to his chest.
You grasp hold of his shoulders, eyes staring into his soul like you’re trying to convince yourself he’s actually real.
“Kwannie, I—” you drop your gaze momentarily, trying to think of the right words to say next.
You could no longer deny the fact that you loved him. You always had. But telling him was never something you could be confident enough to do.
You feel his finger lifting your chin before you can gather your thoughts.
Eyes meeting, his search yours for any clues on what’s happening in your head. You don’t know if he gave up or gave in but slowly, he leans forward and places a soft kiss to your lips.
When he pulls away you already miss him. His warmth, his security.
The rain continues to come down on the two of you but you don’t feel it, you’re consumed by him.
You crash your lips back onto his, pulling him towards you by the collar of his jacket.
His hands move to your cheeks, where 5 minutes ago they were showered in tears, they were now sheltered by him.
You stand there, allowing yourself to get lost in him for what felt like an eternity. But when he pulled away it didn’t feel like long enough.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispers, inches from your face.
You graze his nose with yours, giving yourself an anchor, letting your brain know he’s still there.
“Me too” you respond, pecking his lips again.
Seungkwan steps back, retrieving the umbrella but never losing his grip on you.
He opens it back up and holds it over your head. “Come on, let’s go home and dry you off.”
He tugs you along as he starts walking and you follow suit, never letting go of his hand.
dededos
kianamaiart
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
annaxmalina
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
