✯

🇬🇧 || txt, p1h, en-!

[sombresoobs]

❤︎⁠ ᡣ𐭩 MY INTRO (first post)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

11. 04. 26

hello!! my name is sombresoobs ^^

i ‘m from the uk and as you can guess by my user, my ults are soobin and jungwon !!

i stan:

. txt

. p1harmony

. enhypen

however I do keep up with ateez, boynextdoor, illit (multistan)

fun fact about me:

I have been to p1harmony, ateez & enhypen concert >_<

I speak (not 100% fluent) spanish as I am mexican :3

favourite txt song: dreamer

I enjoy writing in general and will post some fics here 👀

I mostly enjoy reading here, you will find me in the comment sections from fics of my ults🥸

feel free to follow me to see what fics I might post, I mostly post txt fics, so moas stay tuned (the txt fic community is lowk dying let’s save it!!)

thanks for reading, baii^^

ㅤ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ㅤ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

💌 p.s TXT COMEBACK APRIL 13!!!

[n1shinik]

gentleman in the streets , freak in the sheets

synopsis : Riki always tried his hardest to keep up the perfect boyfriend image in front of your parents and it worked. They were completely charmed by him and the respect he has for you. But behind closed doors? He was the complete opposite. All facades dropped.

ⳇ  pairing ╸  dom!bf!ni-ki  x fem!reader

warning : MDNI; smut, explicit sexual content, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingerfucking, deepthroating, edging, overstimulation, power exchange, profanity, and strong language.

To your parents, Riki was a saint. He was the polite, well-spoken, and attentive boyfriend who always opened the car door for you, brought flowers for your mother, and spoke with a respectful tone that had them convinced you’d found the most refined gentleman of the century. He wore pressed shirts, kept his posture perfect, and treated you with a tenderness in public that felt almost cinematic.

But as the front door of your family home clicked shut and the lock turned, the mask didn't just slip—it shattered.

The second you were alone in the hallway, Riki didn’t even give you time to take off your coat. He slammed you against the wall with a force that knocked the breath out of you, his hand gripping your waist so tightly it would leave marks. The polite, soft-spoken boy was gone; in his place was a predator who had been starving for hours of playing "perfect."

"God, I thought they’d never stop talking," he growled, his voice dropping an octave, turning into a rough, gravelly rasp. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent with a desperation that bordered on aggression. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to sit there and act like I didn't want to rip those clothes off you in front of your father?"

"Riki—" you gasped, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"Shut up," he commanded, his lips grazing your ear. "No more talking. Just be a good girl for me."

He didn't wait for an answer. His mouth crashed onto yours in a kiss that was less of a greeting and more of a claim. It was rough, hungry, and demanding, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with an intensity that left you dizzy. He tasted of mint and raw desire, his hands roaming your body with a possessive urgency.

He shifted his weight, hoisting your leg up around his waist, pinning you further against the wall. His hand slid down, bunching up your skirt and diving underneath your lace underwear. When his fingers found you, already damp and aching for him, he let out a low, guttural moan of satisfaction.

"Look at you," he whispered against your lips, his voice dripping with a dark sort of pride. "So worked up. Were you thinking about this the whole dinner? Thinking about how much you wanted your boyfriend to stop being a gentleman?"

He drove two fingers deep inside you without warning, causing you to cry out and arch your back. He didn't slow down; he worked you with a relentless, rhythmic precision, his thumb grinding against your clit with a pressure that pushed you dangerously close to the edge.

"Please... Riki, please," you whimpered, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, digging into the fabric of the shirt your parents loved so much.

"Please what, baby? Tell me exactly what you want," he teased, his pace increasing, edging you with a cruelty that was purely for his own pleasure. He could feel your walls pulsing around his fingers, your body trembling on the verge of a peak. Just as you were about to shatter, he abruptly pulled his fingers out.

The sudden void left you sobbing, your hips twitching in a desperate search for the friction.

"Not yet," he murmured, his eyes dark and blown out. He stepped back just enough to unzip his trousers, his gaze locking onto yours. "I want you to take care of me first. I've been playing the part of the 'perfect man' for three hours. I'm exhausted, gorgeous. Fix it."

He didn't have to tell you twice. You dropped to your knees on the hallway floor, the cold tile a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from him. You looked up at him—the sharp jawline, the predatory smirk—and realized that while the world saw a gentleman, you were the only one who got to see the freak.

You wrapped your lips around him, taking him in deep, wanting to feel every inch of him. Riki let out a sharp hiss, his hands finding their way into your hair, guiding you with a firm, controlling grip. He wasn't gentle; he pushed himself deeper, forcing you to take him, testing your limits until you were gagging slightly.

"That's it... take it all," he groaned, his hips stuttering. "Good girl. Such a fucking good girl."

The praise sent a jolt of electricity through you, making you work even harder. He didn't let you go for long, however. The need to be inside you outweighed everything else. He hauled you up by your arms, dragging you toward the bedroom, not bothering to make it to the bed.

He stripped you bare in seconds, clothes discarded in a chaotic trail across the floor. He didn't use a condom—he never did when he was in this mood, wanting to feel every single vibration of your body against his. He flipped you over, pressing your chest against the dresser, and entered you from behind in one heavy, devastating thrust.

You screamed into the wood of the dresser, your fingers clawing at the surface. He was relentless, his movements rough and punishing, hitting your sweet spot with every singular drive. He gripped your hips, leaving bruising fingerprints on your pale skin, claiming you over and over again.

"You're mine," he grunted, his voice strained with effort, his breath hot against your back. "Every single inch of you. Not your parents', not the world's... just mine."

He pushed you further and further, overstimulating you until your vision blurred and your muscles locked. When he finally hit his limit, he groaned your name like a prayer and a curse, filling you completely as he collapsed against your back, his heart drumming a wild rhythm against your spine.

For a few minutes, there was only the sound of heavy breathing and the ticking of the clock. Then, Riki kissed the back of your shoulder, his voice returning to that soft, polite tone—though with a lingering edge of mischief.

"I think I'll bring dessert next Sunday," he whispered. "Your mother will love it."

ೃ⁀➷ a/n : hope you guys enjoyed this little Riki smut I wrote. I wrote this so that you guys had something while i worked on the space between texts. reqs are open for ideas for the space between texts.

[sombresoobs]

PEAK

[sombresoobs]

STEAMY NIGHT!

|_> a steamy night in yeonjuns bedroom where he looks oh so pretty posted up on his bed shirtless, getting ready to go to sleep, where you just couldn’t resist anymore.

established relationship ; bf!yeonjun x fem!reader

inspo behind this fic is the no labels concept video where he looks so FUCKABLE I need him so bad

reader is basically dom (what did you expect I said hes fuckable😛😛) || wc: 600

a/n: unfinished, JUST THE BUILD UP TO SMUT, I’m tired and busy so I might finish writing the smut, let me know if you’d like me to finish it, hope you enjoy

—————————————————

it was another one of those nights, where you where staying over at your boyfriend, yeonjun’s, place. you had just watched a movie together until midnight and had decided to call it a day. as the two of you got ready together to sleep in yeonjun’s double-size bed like always, you couldn’t help but feel more conscious of him today.

you had just came out of the bathroom and saw him laying on the mattress, scrolling through his instagram feed lazily. his eyebrows were slightly furrowed and his lips pouted and the sound of a reel echoed quietly through the room. his toned back was exposed to you, as he only wore some baggy, black, torn sweatpants. this wasnt new to you, yeonjun always slept shirtless when you were together, he just said it was more comfortable.

but today, it felt different. as he leaned off the edge of the bed, hair flopping to one side, grimacing and grunting, he just looked so particularly delicious. it was the way his hair innocently flipped to the right, exposing his forehead, the way he turned and his toned chest was on full display, rising and falling slowly, it was a sight you couldn’t just ignore.

you approached him slowly, unsure of what to do with yourself. “you ready to sleep babe?” he called whilst still darting his eyes across the blue screen. “mmm,” you hummed, finally reaching him on the edge of the bed. you stood infront of his head, still hanging off the side, yeonjun’s pupils moving to look up at you, lips tugging up into a small smile at the sight of you, the sly grin making your stomach do backflips. “what’cha doing?” he mumbled warmly, putting his phone down on the floor. you stepped closer silently until his head was almost between your legs, and began stroking his hair gently. “mmmm…” he spoke, leaning into your touch, surprised by your sudden affection and proximity. you leaned down and kissed his cheek, his lazy cheeks lifting happily.

“stay like this,” you whispered, placing a firm hand on his back keeping him still. “okay…” he muttered unknowingly, as you got up on the mattress on top of his back. you leaned down again and began pressing slow, lingering kisses to each curve of each muscle on his back, getting a surprised chuckle from him “fuck baby, what’s gotten into you?” he laughed playfully from in front, his head slumped, body completely relaxed and embracing your touch now. you looked up at him through glazed eyes and smiled at the view, his long torso and unsuspecting face turned away from you, view obstructed to any touch you’d give him. he was completely to your disposal, “your so stupid…” you muttered, before he gasped as you pulled his sweatpants down, revealing his red boxers. you could feel the heat radiating from his body. you cocked an eyebrow. you turned him around slowly, and his eyes upfront looked down at you nervously as yours met the obvious tent his pants. filthy thing.

“I….” yeonjun started, his confident facade broken by being caught for his horniness. all you had done was kiss him and he’d already gotten hard. “sorry,” he mumbled, cheeks flushed and shame written all over his face, expecting you to laugh. you did laugh, but then palmed his throbbing cock in his pants hastily. it gained a hiss from him. “don’t be sorry…” you mumbled, satisfied by this pleasant surprise.

he was already worked up and you didn’t even done anything yet.

this would be fun.

——————————————————

[heewnss]

diet pepsi ⸺ camp counselor!jay (sounds to scenes collection)

( ★ ) ⸻ jay spent the entire summer pretending that he wasn't into you. ignoring every single one of your advances, because it made sense. you were younger. he was leaving. it just wouldn't work out. avoiding you just made the most sense. until he's letting himself slip on your last night together and he's quickly realizing that he's made a huge mistake.

۶ৎpairing: mentor!jay x mentee!reader ۶ৎgenre: heavy angst... smut. summer camp au. age gap (reader is 18, jay is 24). established relationships. ۶ৎtw: smut (mdni!) descriptive making out, loss of virginity, mutual pining. unexpected heeseung closure. fingering, dry humping. slight dirty talk. unresolved feelings. cortis!martin makes an appearance. bnd!jaehyun. car sex. subtle masturbation (m.), relationship ending. gone the next morning... post sex abandonment? unprotected sex (not in this economy pls). ۶ৎwc: 16.5k+

⸻ playlist | diet pepsi. addison rae, bound. the ponderosa twins plus one, late night talking. harry styles, electric love. borns, love grows (where my rosemary goes). edison lighthouse, tenerife sea. ed sheeran, perfect places. lorde, bad habit. steve lacy, get you. daniel caesar ft. kali uchis, summertime sadness. lana del rey, vienna. billy joel, the scientist. coldplay.

by the time the sun was setting, camp barely looked like camp anymore. the campers that had spent the past three months running from cabin to cabin had been picked up hours ago. said cabins cleaned up and empty, ready for the winter that slowly crept around the corner. the lake was still. for the first time all summer, there wasn't a schedule to follow, no activities, no headcounts. no one asking where the arts-and-crafts supplies were. you and the eleven other counselors were the only ones left, closing out the summer with a well deserved bonfire barbecue.

martin, sakai and jaehyun dragged picnic tables to the beach before setting the folding chairs up to surround the fire, while jungwon set up his speaker, viv and lex arguing about whose playlist should be shuffled. the smell of charcoal hung heavy in the air as heeseung started up the grill, expertly cutting thick pieces of beef while brin stole bites directly off the serving tray.

he's rolling his eyes the third time her tongs chase his, “those are for everybody,” he grumbles, she nods with a grin – pushing a big piece past her lips. “mhm!” she's reaching for another piece, but he's nudging her away with his hip. she easily reaches around him, popping the pork into her mouth before he can steal it back. “brin.” he tries to sound stern, but the natural softness of his voice never leaves him. “you've eaten like a full cow by now,” he jokes and she grins wide up at him, shoulders lifting in a shrug.

“put more on,” she says simply.

mindless chatter is heard all throughout the beach, a red solo cup clutched in every hand. sunoo is stationed behind a folding table he deemed the bar, two coolers hidden underneath filled with juice and several bottles that had been hidden for the better half of the summer and an obnoxious amount of fruit. mia argues as he hands her drink over, “you shouldn't eyeball vodka,” she nags and he's snorting out a laugh. “it literally won't matter in ten years, just drink.” he encourages, repeating what had become his mantra these last few days.

and no matter how scary that sounded, he was right. all the moments that seemed huge, everything that made you cry, smile, laugh – most likely wouldn't even matter ten years from now. but that's what made every last moment that much more special, what made the goodbyes that you all knew were looming that much more devastating. because despite promising to stay in touch, you all knew that this was all temporary and in ten years, everything would be so different. you all would be completely different.

you sit close to the fire with the other girls as the chaos settles, slowly rotating a marshmallow over the flames. the heat warming the bare skin of your thighs left by the dress you picked this morning. subconsciously putting more thought into your appearance, knowing what tonight meant. it was the last night, yes, but it always was a last chance. so you’re choosing the strapless dress that hugged your frame, a bright orange with pretty pink flowers scattered over it, the colors seeming to pop against your sun-kissed skin.

you hoped you looked as pretty as you felt and that a certain someone took notice, the moment he's drifting into your thoughts – your eyes shift to where he stands. leaning casually against one of the surfboards, head tipped back as he laughs at something jungwon said. jongseong park. jay. you remember reading his name on the welcome sheet on your very first day, the man in charge of the music lodge and all of the instruments inside. your mentor for the next three months and the man who you'd be replacing at the end of the summer when he left for grad school.

that's what he was introduced to you as, but after meeting him, after spending every single day with him for the last ninety-two days, he had become so much more. he was funny, smart, kind, generous and extremely talented. the kids loved him, looked up to him and he gave them a good reason to with how patient and encouraging he was with every last one of them. he was an all around good guy and him being without a doubt the hottest guy you've ever laid eyes on only added to that.

jay was sexy without even trying to be, from his facial expressions to the way his fingers moved over the strings of his guitar, everything he did seemed to draw you in. and god you were so bad at hiding it. from day one, you couldn't keep your eyes from finding him in the crowd, couldn't mask the insistent blush of your cheeks or the way giggles would slip past your lips before you could even think twice.

and the craziest part of all of it, was that he also seemed interested in you. you never missed the way the touches would linger, the way his eyes would drop to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes. you've even caught him watching you from the pier one night when you and the other girls went out for a late swim. but you never once made a move, just treaded dangerously close to the line and it all but drove you insane.

“you're drooling,” you hear from beside you and your body startles, nearly dropping your marshmallow into the fire. viv laugh besides you, leaning into your shoulder as she does. you can already feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “no i'm not,” you uselessly defend and she nods as if she actually believes you, “why don't you go say something?” brin makes an attempt at whispering, leaning across viv to look at you.

you feel the anxiety blooming in your chest before she's even finishing her sentence, “are you crazy!?” while you were like 89% sure jay also thought you were cute, there was still that 11% chance that he was just being nice. and you were terrified by that 11%. viv lifts her drink to her lips, taking a big gulp of it before she's setting in the sand, deciding she was done with it. “he leaves tomorrow... forever.” she reminds with a pointed look. “and then in ten years, none of this will matter...”

as if he could sense he was being talked about, jay's eyes drift in your direction. not even half surprised that he caught you and the other girls staring, it sort of been the theme of the summer. and the way he wiggles his fingers in a slight wave makes everything worse, because you're gasping, marshmallow actually hitting the ground as laughter erupts between your friends.

the night stretches just like that, conversations bouncing between you, drinks and food being passed and lingering stares between you and jay that everyone else pretending they didn't notice. by the time the sky was dark and the stars were twinkling, everything seemed to settle. the feeling of finality that everyone had been avoiding thickening with each flicker of the fire.

“i can't believe i won't be back here next year,” heeseung says, earning a chorus of loud eye rolls from each of you. he's only mentioned it a trillion times in the past three months. “oh my god, wait! it's your last summer!?” lex fakes a gasp that has laughter spreading, heeseung lifts his middle finger in her direction while brin slaps at her shoulder playfully. “cut him some slack, he's been here since they filled the lake.” she teases.

jungwon is quick to interject, a smirk playing on his lips. “nah, that was jay. he poured the water in himself, one cup at a time,” he punctuates his words with a tip of his own cup, letting the last few drops of his liquor hit the sand. “seriously, though, we're going to miss you guys.” sakai starts and you can already hear the quiver in her tone. “it's going to be so weird not smelling brin making bacon before sunrise, or hearing jay fighting with the kids for hiding his drumsticks, no more heeseung waking us up past midnight for ramyeon...” her lips form a pout before she can even finish her thought and you're reaching over to hug her.

“aw.” martin coos, setting down his drink before clapping his hands together. “think tonight calls for some goodbye speeches,” agreement is immediate and it's not long before brin is standing. she talks about her love for the camp, when she started and how close she's become with every one of you, highlighting funny moments, sad ones and ones that she swears she'll never forget. heeseung follows, starting with “i can't believe this is my last summer...” and ending with the same words, head shaking.

jay stands next and you feel the way your heart flutters for no good reason. his hand rubs at the back of his neck, teeth tugging at his lower lip as he fought to put the right words together. he looked handsome, face lit by the fire, hair dyed blond after losing a dare to one of the campers on the first week. it suited him. “i hate public speaking,” jungwon leads the chorus of boos that follow his words, pulling a laugh from him which seems to ease the tension between his shoulders.

he continues on despite the thump in his chest, despite knowing you're sat less than a few feet away, watching him. “honestly, this place has been home for a long time. i started when i was seventeen?” he ignores the groans that come from the group, out of all the counselors, he's been there the longest and he never let them forget it. “get off the stage, unc!” jungwon shouts, hands cupped around his mouth.

jay's eyes drift from the lake, over to the music lodge sitting at the edge of the camp, back to the friends he's grown closer to every summer. and then to you and the way you smile at him has him losing his train of thought for a full three seconds. “seriously, though, i've spent almost every summer here and i thought that would make leaving harder but it isn't. of course, i'll miss the campers, you guys and obviously my music room, but...” his eyes are back on yours and everyone notices the way his gaze, “i think the reason it's kind of easy is because i know everything i love is being left in good hands,” exaggerated gasps are heard around the fire.

jay does his best to ignore them, eyes never breaking from yours. his gaze said everything he had been swallowing for the past few months, mixed with the regret of not having the courage to make a move sooner. stood in his own way each and every time. “yn, i'm so relieved to know you'll be the one replacing me. you're so good with the kiddos, you're smart, funny... patient and creative... way more organized that i've ever been. thank you for making leaving a little bit easier, i appreciate you,” an unmistakable blush has settled on his cheeks and he's moving to sit, “and you look pretty in all your dresses,” the words are jumbled together, alcohol giving him just enough courage to mumble what he had been thinking every morning you walked into the music lodge.

the silence lasts for less than a second before obnoxious cheers erupt through the group. “better late than never!” jaehyun whistles, while sunoo claps wildly beside him. apparently, he had mentioned it to everyone but you the way they were reacting like it was this long awaited thing. it was. you ignore the flutter in your chest long enough to thank him. you can't stop replaying the last three words of his speech: 'all your dresses'. all like every one of them? which meant he had noticed every one. and he thought every one was pretty.

and he waited until the night before he was leaving to say something about it. bittersweet wasn't even the word.

the rest of the evening passes in a blur. all of your crowded around the fire, reminiscing and sharing secrets. it has the expected warm feeling the end of summer would, but you can't seem to fully enjoy it with the way your eyes keep drifting to jay. as the hours tick on, the group starts to break apart around the beach. heeseung and martin had volunteered to get more drinks and jay had hopped up to help, since then the three of them had been seated at the table a few feet away. they're talking quietly but you don't miss the not so discreet way one of them would point in your direction.

viv and mia only make it worse, shoving and hitting your arm wildly when jay finally stands to head toward the coolers. “okay, okay. go now.” you hear one of them say, nearly shoving you off of your chair. and you don't miss the kissing noises they make as you're walking away.

the coolers sit near one of the set up of kayaks that jaehyun swore he'd get put away before sundown. it was ten pm. jay is already crouched beside one when you approach, pushing aside melting ice as he searched for another drink. “hi,” your heart is pounding so rough against your chest, it's all you can muster. you catch the way his hand stills, body stilling for just a second before he's shaking it off – pulling two wine coolers from the ice before standing to face you. he hands one over with the prettiest of smiles.

“hey.” he says through one of his nervous laughs you've gotten so familiar with.

“i liked your speech,” it's all you can think of saying because it's all you can think about. his gaze drops to the sand, a hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck. and for the first time all evening, all summer even – jay actually looks embarrassed. the past three months, you've been the one blushing, the one caught staring, you've been so sure you've been making a fool out of yourself with your loud crush. when it reality, he's been noticing you this entire time too. he was just so much better at hiding it.

his shoulders lift in a slight shrug, “i was just being honest.”

“honest? you were flirting with me,” you accuse playfully and that has his cheeks going pink. “oh my god,” he laughs and it's a real pretty one, it has a smile lifting on your lips almost immediately. his eyes find yours for a moment, but he's quickly finding something else to focus on. and then he's slowly coming back, allowing himself to actually look. his stare is so intense that it has you shifting, searching for something to say, anything to fill the silence. your lips part, but he's beating you to it. “i meant it. i really like you, yn. but...”

he's getting ready to reject you, you can just tell. jay didn't like loose ends and despite all the quiet glances, subtle flirting that you're now just realizing was flirting, he was still leaving in the morning. he was starting a whole new chapter of his life and there could be no maybes left behind. so he needed a clean break. you're interrupting him before he has the chance. “and you said i was pretty in all my dresses. you know, i knew you were staring every morning... you'd always act like you were look at your bon jovi poster,”

jay is letting out a low laugh, “it's a nice poster!” he defends. “but yeah, it was you.” it feels so weird to say out loud, he had been so careful all summer and admitting that he had been admiring you this whole time didn't feel like him. “you looked good in every one. extremely distracting by the way.” he's twisting the cap off of his drink as he speaks, taking a long sip from it.

and you realize why he's not holding back anymore, the semi permanent flush of his cheeks and glossy look in his eye. “every one?” you prompt with a grin, following his lead and taking a sip from your drink too.

he nods without a moment of hesitation, “all of them.” the confidence in his voice catches you off guard, because this was jay we were talking about. the same jay that spent three months carefully putting distance between you every time you got too close. who would find excuses to rush away whenever you'd start flirting with him. the same jay who'd look away whenever you caught him staring, spouting off nonsense facts about bon jovi instead of saying what he truly wanted to.

that jay was looking at you through hooded eyes, gaze dragging over the curves of your body. and a lazy smile stretches on his face that makes your stomach twist. he's nodding his head as if he's confirming a question he had asked himself. “yeah, all of them.” he says quietly. “the long blue one with the slit on the side,” your lips part slightly, the exact morning flashing in your mind. it was only the third day and he called you in early to do one final sweep before the campers were arriving later that day. you remember just throwing the dress on, annoyed that you were up before sunrise when everyone else was sleeping in.

“you remember that?” he's nodding before you're even done speaking. “yeah, you wouldn't stop giving me attitude all day.” he's laughing with a shake of his head. he's taking a step closer, turning so he's facing you fully and you feel your stomach twist. “the white one you wore to the talent show,” he continues, lip tucked between his teeth. he had stood on the other side of the room the entire show, barely speaking two words to you when it was over.

“and...” his head tilts slightly, eyes dragging over you in the way that makes it so painfully obvious that he's been forcing himself not to look at you all summer. he's grinning. “the short orange one you're wearing now,” you actually feel the way your brain short-circuits, eyes wide as your jaw drops. it's usually the other way around, you coming onto him and him ignoring you. so now that the roles were reversed, you have no idea what to do with yourself.

“okay, stop.” you're laughing, hand lifting to slap his shoulder. “what? i can't compliment you? you compliment me all the time.” you shake your head quickly, “tit's different when you do it. especially now.” you point out and jay goes quiet, because he knows you're right. it is different. everything is. summer was over, all the campers were gone, he was leaving tomorrow morning and everything just felt... heavier?

before either of you can say anything else, a scream cuts across the beach. both of you turn at the sound to find sunoo pealing his shirt from his body, sprinting toward the water. “LAST SWIM OF THE SUMMER!” he shouts as he runs. chaos breaks out within seconds, your friends abandoning their drinks and kicking off their shoes. shirts and shorts fly through the air as they reveal the swimsuits they'd been wearing all night.

the firelight flickers across the beach as everyone runs toward the lake. viv jumps on jaehyun's back, his hands clutching her thighs as he runs. jungwon, martin, sakai and lex have already started climbing up a nearby cliff. mia and heeseung are in search of a beach ball. it's so obvious that everyone was trying to drag out time, trying to cram in as many 'lasts' as they could before morning was rolling in and all of this was ending.

you're smiling, gaze shifting back to jay. and you find him already look at you, he smiles brightly before tapping his bottle against yours, tipping it back and swallowing the rest down. you do the same. his head tilts toward the lake once you're finished, brow lifted slightly. “race you,” he's running off before you can even register what he's said, bottle ditched somewhere in the sand and you're quick to follow behind him.

jay's laugh is loud and unrestrained as he runs into the water, pulling his shirt over his head in the process. you've never heard him laugh like that, ever and it's incredibly contagious. your dress joins the liter of clothing at the shoreline as you rush in. the lake is freezing and you're squealing the second it hits your legs. jay turns to face you, he's already fully submerged himself into the water and he's reaching a hand out to you.

“you gotta jump right in,” you've been saying that to him all summer. the irony is funny to you. still, you take hold of his hand and he's easily tugging you toward him. the two of you float there, treading water and staring at each other. it's like he was getting in all the looking he had missed out in the past months. “what?” you're laughing and he's shrugging his shoulder slightly. “just remembering...” you hate the way his words make you feel. you don't want to think about it being the last night, or all the time wasted. so you splash him instead, a hard wave that soaks his hair. jay's laughing, hand pushing his hair back out of his eyes to see that you've swam away and he's quick to swim after you.

you're swimming right through the middle of the impromptu game of water volleyball, jaehyun deciding you're apart of his team and sending jay to join heeseung's side. sunoo teases mia about winning now that they had you and she had jay, she rolls her eyes before roughly serving the ball. it hits jaehyun in the chest and viv shouts from the pier for you all to be careful with her man, brin laughing beside her.

across the lake, jungwon, martin, sakai and lex have made it to the top of the cliff. their voices echo as they argue about what actually counts as a flip. martin deciding to shut them all up by launching himself off of the rock, body flipping naturally in the air whooping loudly just before he's hitting the water with a loud splash and lex follows behind him, looking less graceful but gaining a supportive chant from the girls when she resurfaces.

the game of volleyball melts into a shouting match after the first three rounds, arguments about points that nobody had been even keeping track of in the first place, sunoo swearing that he didn't cheat and heeseung and jay going back and forth about something neither of them seem particularly passion about. the beach ball floats away forgotten by both teams.

eventually, you're paddling your way back toward the dock, pulling yourself up beside viv and brin. water drips from your legs as you stretch them out in front of you, back laying against the warm wood. viv immediately scoots closer, grin wide as her eyes drift to where jay and heeseung fight to pull each other under the water. “so,” you feel the heat rise in your cheeks. “does he like you? does he want to kiss and get married and have five kids?” she's asking and you're barking out a laugh.

“yeah, right.” you roll your eyes. “we didn't say much, really. just that he liked me dresses.” you catch the way brin rolls her eyes, letting out a soft huff. “he's hopeless,” she sighs, but is quickly moving to change the subject, pointing across the lake as sakai shoves jungwon into the water before jumping off behind him. “can you believe she's going to be in charge next year?” brin had spent the past three months training sakai on how to run this place and come next year, she'd be the new head counselor.

viv is shaking her head, “wild. this is the same girl who faked pneumonia to get out of cooking duties, by the way.” you're snorting out a laugh. “i'm going to miss this,” the admission settles between all three of you. waking up and not have your friends right outside your door, no more staying up late to watch the stars. this place somehow became home without any of you noticing and in less than twelve hours it all would be over.

the dock shifts slightly, a large splash following and the sound of jaehyun's laughter. viv is rolling her eyes, kicking her foot out to him but instead of hitting him, he's catching it by the ankle. he's tugging her slightly, earning a swift kick with the other leg. he's laughing. “come here,” his thumb traces her ankle, hand slowly dragging up her calf. “i'm having a conversation,” viv says, gesturing between you and brin.

jaehyun is shrugging quickly. “you can have it in the water,” his fingers tighten around her leg, a sly grin spreading across his lips and anyone can guess what he's thinking. “jaehyun, don't.” he's looking up at her, mischief dancing through his eyes. “what? i'm just touching you. i love you. i can't touch you?” they're ignoring the gagging noises that come from beside them just like they always do.

“i can feel you–” she is not even able to finish her sentence before he's yanking his arm toward him, successfully pulling viv off of the dock and into the water. he catches her instantly, arms around her waist as her legs secure themselves around his waist. “say bye to your friends,” he says already swimming further into the water.

a few feet away, heeseung is waving both his arms in your direction. “are you two planning on sitting there all night?” he shouts with his hands now cupped around his mouth. “maybe!” you're shouting back and he's quickly shaking his head, waving you both over. “get in the water!” brin is quickly pointing at you, despite the fact her legs and hair were still dry. “she doesn't want to,”

“what!? you're still dry,” you point out. she's rolling her eyes, slipping in just as heeseung has started swimming over. you follow behind her. the group gathers together slowly, floating in the middle of the lake as conversations overlap. you're all drifting between each other, talking about plans for the next few weeks, sharing excitement for next year, worries. jungwon's group eventually get their fix of cliff diving and join the rest of you in the water. lex puling herself comfortably on sunoo's back, reaching forward to steal his drink. mia starts another argument this time with sakai about who slept in the most.

and somehow in the midst of all of this, you end up beside jay again, without even fully realizing it. at least that's what you tell yourself when your shoulder bumps against his. one moment, he's laughing at something heeseung says, the very next you're stealing his attention away, in your tiny yellow bikini that barely covers yours ass. he knows. he checked.

you're so close to him, but you're completely enthralled in conversations. laughing loudly and engaging freely. your legs brushes against his whenever a soft wave rolls through and each time neither of you move away or say anything about it. you don't realize that the two of you are floating away at first. you were listening to the others, jungwon's laugh carrying across the water as martin exposes him for never really being on duty.

their voices come and go with the ways, but slowly it seems like they're fading into the background. you shift onto your break, letting the water hold your weight as you stare up at the twinkling stars scattered across the sky. jay stays close to you, tanned skin glistening in the moonlight. his hair is wet and slicked back, dark eyes sparkling as he watches you.

“you stare a lot,” you're pointing out with a laugh.

he's quick to nod his head, not even bothering to deny it. his hands find their way underneath you, floating uselessly beneath your back as if he's holding you up – but not actually touching you. just looking for excuses to be close to you, to touch you. even if it was through the water. “you're so different tonight, i'm not used to this jay.” you're saying after a minute and jay's gaze is dragging up to your eyes.

“am i?” he's asking like it's not the most obvious thing. “yes. you're actually looking at me, complimenting me, not rushing away when i get too close. where was this all summer?” besides the time the two of you spent working together in the music lodge, there were very few times where you were alone. no matter how much you wanted to be. “i was trying really hard to be professional. i'm your mentor.”

“not anymore,” you're quick to point out and you notice the way his eyes drag down the line of your neck to to the swell of your breasts all the way down to the curve of your waist. his eyes catch the gold jewelry that dangles from your navel before he's snapping his eyes back up to yours. “not anymore,” he repeats with a nod. you feel the way the palm of his hand grazes your thigh as he floats closer to you.

you're sure the pounding in your chest can be heard by your friends on the other side of the lake. you try to appear as composed as possible. “so, what else have you been keeping to yourself?” jay's lips shift into a smirk, head tilting to the side slightly. of course you want to know what he's been thinking about you since he was first meeting you. and he's kept his cards so close to his chest up until now, it was only fair. “you want the whole list?”

your head tilts so your able to look at his face fully, eyes wide. “there's a list?”

“a long one,” he's nodding quickly. “like how cute i think you look biting your lip when you play the piano. the way i admired how easily you were able to bond with the kids in our class...” he's actually searching his mind for more things to tell you and you find that unbelievably adorable.

but still, something about all of this just doesn't sit right by you. “why'd you wait so long to say something?” he's letting out a soft sigh, stepping back slightly as his hand rubs at the back of his neck. “i'm leaving in the morning, yn. and i'm not coming back. i mean, i liked you from the start but it didn't seem smart to start something with you i knew i wasn't going to be around to finish.” it made sense. he wasn't coming back, this was his last summer before he went to start his life in new york or california or wherever life took him. this was his past now.

“and i knew you had a crush on me too, it just didn't seem fair.” he's explaining with a sigh and you're nodding, because he's right. you hated to admit it, but he was right. now you knew, though. and you still had the rest of the night. there was no sense in moping around about the fact that this would be the last time you'd see each other when you could be reveling in the time you still had.

you're shifting in the water so you're upright again. “you know, i really thought i was embarrassing myself all summer. turns out you were crushing on me just as bad,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him that has him smiling. “no, you were.” he's clarifying and you reach over to slap at his chest. “i was not! you kept a mental inventory of my dress collection,” you're pointing out.

“yeah, but i was subtle. you knocked over an entire box of guitar pics when i touched your hand,” the memory makes him smile, you were wearing a green halter dress than, hair pulled into a sleek bun. and you smelt like caramel. “okay, but-” you try to defend yourself, but he's interrupting you. “and let's not forget the time you spilled juice in your lap when i sat by you,” white dress with red and pink flowers all over it. it was ruined. rip.

you embarrassed yourself in front of him more times than you could count and there was denying that, so you don't try to. “you know what,” you're grumbling, hands pushing the water hard enough to send a large splash toward him. it hits him directly in the face, soaking his hair all over again. and you don't miss the dangerous smile on his lips as he reaches up to wipe the water from your eyes, you're already swimming away before he's opening them.

“oh, you're done.” you hear from behind you and you make the mistake of looking back, catching the way he dips under the water. he's scarily fast. you're letting out a squeal as you rush away from him. he's laughing at how easily he's able to close the distance between the two of you. and you hate this version of him. no, actually that was a lie – you hate how much you like this version of him.

this is the jay everyone else around you apparently knew about it. the one that wasn't watching every word or always stepping back. he was no longer trying so hard to keep up with this stiff image of himself, he was just being. and you hate that it took until the very last day for you to finally experience him this way. you're laughing so hard you can barely defend yourself, screaming when jay is finally catching you. “jay!” you shout as he's easily lifting you over his shoulder and tossing you behind his back into the water.

you're resurfacing quickly, jumping onto his back without a bit of hesitation. jay stumbles forward, laughing as you wrap your around his shoulders trying with all your might to get him under the water. “i'm going to fucking drown you,” the threat comes between laughs, ruined by the fact that you're barely even able to move him. “you?” he says amused, a large hand lifting to wrap around the arm you've got around his neck. “are we sure about that?” the confidence in his voice should've been your warning, but you barely have time to question it before he's shaking you off and right back into the lake.

you're bobbing to the surface with a gasp, shoving wet hair from your face as your eyes find jay standing across from you. he's bent over laughing so hard he's basically wheezing, eyes shut as he clutches his stomach and you're taking the chance. you're jumping on him before he can react, sending both of your bodies under the water. you're quick with swimming to the surface, coughing and laughing as jay wipes water from his eyes. “get over here,” his laugh follows his words, and you're instantly swimming away.

you hear the water shifting behind you. way too fast. and you're swimming straight for the rocks, planning on getting out of the water entirely and getting away from him on foot, but you're barely able to touch them when you feel his arm wrap around your waist. he's pulling you toward him swiftly, your spine colliding with his solid chest – hands braced on the rocks in front of you. you were literally trapped between a rock and a hard place. “i warned you,” his voice is right beside your ear and you're suddenly becoming painfully aware of how close you were.

you can feel the way his breathing has changed against your back, hands dropped down to your hips as he holds your body against his. his grip tightens for half a second as another wave rolls between you. you feel him shift behind you, pulling you close and you're gasping when you realize what he's doing. your ass is pressed right against his crotch, his stiffness pressing against your ass. his head tilts slightly, a hand lifting to push your hair off of one shoulder. “done running from me?” he mumbles but you can't even form a proper sentence right now.

you're nodding, breathless, pulse is racing and slowly you're turning around in his arms, hands landing on his shoulders. he looks like he's ready to devour you. hair dripping into his eyes, cheeks flushed and eyes slowly drinking you in. and for once, he's not looking away when your eyes meet. instead, he's moving in closer. your bodies shift until your back is pressed against the rolls and there is no where else for you go besides into him.

his hand lifts from your body, finger latching onto the front strap of your bikini – right between your breasts. he grins at the sound of your breath hitching, the soft gasp you let out when he's tugging you toward him. the water ripples, your chest hits his and he's backing you back against the rock before his leaning down. you can almost hear his resolve snap before his mouth finds yours and you're immediately melting into it.

overhead, jungwon is launching himself off of the cliff after successfully convincing his group to climb back up. his body rotates easily through the air, the best backflip that he's all summer and he can hear the cheer of his friends as they look up at him. and then he's catching movement, seconds before he's about to hit the water. it's you and jay, further from the rest of the group still. standing a bit too close.

he's eyes are widening when jay is lifting his hand, finger hooking into your bikini top and tugging before he's tugging you toward him. “no way,” the words leave his lips just as he's hitting the water, the splash that follows is huge but he can't even reveal in that as he fights to the surface. he swims to the edge of the lake, pulling himself out of the water as he shoves his wet hair from his face. eyes finding the two of you again, still very much kissing. and when he reaches the top of the cliff again, you're in the same spot.

martin is still standing near the edge of the cliff, sakai trying to convince him to belly flop. lex spots jungwon first, brow furrowing. “you said last jump, why you back?” he nearly slips as he rushes toward the edge of the cliff, pointing aggressively down at the water. “look.” martin follows the direction of his finger, sakai tilting her head to the side as she squints and lex crouches down slightly.

“oh my god.”

jay's groaning against your mouth and the sound shoots straight through you. his mouth moves over your swiftly, tongue pushing it's way past your lips. your brain is reeling, completely drowning in the taste of him. everything in the background just ceased to exist, you were no longer worried about tomorrow, or next summer or even your friends that were right behind you. all you could think, breathe, feel was jay.

your mouth tastes like the blueberry wine coolers you've been drinking, you smell like caramel the way you always do, and the way you feel against him is enough to drive just about anyone insane. your arms are around his neck, chest pressed to his and head tilted as your tongue is rolling into his mouth. he doesn't miss the soft whine you're letting out, the sound muffled by his mouth but his dick responds anyway. pressing firmly against you, you're shifting closer.

jaehyun sits on the dock, hands spread out beside him with viv perched between his legs. she's droning on about her new campus and her new roommate that she was so excited to meet. he's half listening, but his attention seems to drift across the water. a habit he's picked up throughout the summer, sort of like canvasing. checking where everyone had ended up, what you're all doing.

brin is floating in the water by heeseung, talking about their first summer here... six years ago. she had these atrocious bangs and braces, he still hadn't even grown into his nose. it was crazy how to two of them grew up. mia and sunoo sit at the edge of the water, legs kicking in front of them as sunoo gushes about finally being reunited with his boyfriend back home.

jungwon, martin, lex and sakai are still on that damn cliff, but instead of doing flips like they had been all night, they're crouched down staring below them. jaehyun follows their gaze and he's nearly falls over when he's seeing what they see. “oh, no way.”

“baby, i'm telling you a story.” viv says from between his legs, turning to look at her man who was clearly no longer paying attention. his hand reaches for her jaw, turning her head in the direction of you and jay. she's gasping, moving quickly like the queen of gossip he knew she was. she's waving her arms dramatically trying to catch mia's attention and it takes less than a few seconds before she's looking over.

'what?' she mouths and viv is pointing in your direction. her eyes land on the two of you instantly and she's grabbing sunoo's arm, pointing across the lake. sunoo is letting out a loud gasp, leaning forward like he's about to charge right over to you. mia is holding him back just in case. “heeseung,” jaehyun is whisper-shouting, catching the older boy's attention pretty quickly.

'look at jay.' he mouths and heeseung's brows are furrowing before both him and brin are turning around. the grin that spreads on his face can only be described as proud. finally. after three months of pining, finally. he has to hold back from applauding his friend.

jay moves like he's been starving for this. hands dropping to your thighs and squeezing roughly until you're taking the initiative and climbing onto him, legs wrapping easily around his waist. he's sucking your lip into his mouth, teeth grazing it as he presses his hips forward, effectively pinning you against the rocks. your hands have made their way into his damp hair, tangled in the strands.

neither of you have any idea that all of your friends bought front row tickets to your first kiss and it's evident in the way jay is shifting his hips forward, half hard cock pressing against him and you're pressing down just as hard. he's humming out a moan and you feel it throughout your body, heat pooling between your legs. his fingers spread against your skin, slowly sliding up your thighs.

you're pulling back just enough to catch your breath, a soft laugh falling from your lips at the dazed look in his eyes. cheeks flushed pink beneath the moonlight, lips swollen from the kiss, chest rising and falling unevenly. droplets of water fall from the hair that covers his forehead. he doesn't say anything, just stands there taking you in. the sight alone has another giggle falling from you lips and that has his gaze dropping to your lips. he's leaning in again before he can think twice about it.

“let her breathe, let her breathe!” sunoo's voice echoes across the lake and you feel jay's body go rigid against you. his eyes squeeze shut as if he's suddenly remembering where he is and the fact that it wasn't just the two of you out there. “that's it! get your man!” mia is whooping, lifting her drink the air as she cheers for you. your shoulders shake, a horrified laugh escaping you as your forehead falls onto jay's shoulder. the sound is quickly swallowed by the shouts that come from your friends.

jay is letting out a low breath through his nose. his head lifting toward the sky for a second with a shake of his head. and when he's looking back down at you, this is the first time you've ever seen him have his composure rocked. usually so calm and careful, but here he looked almost boyish? obviously blushing as the teasing from your friends filled the air. his hands stayed resting on your thighs the entire time, holding your body close to his as jungwon shouts about having seeing it happen first.

“this is so beautiful!” sakai shouts from the top of the cliff, leaning on martin as tears well in her eyes. clearly more emotional about leaving camp than she let on. martin wraps an arm around her waist before leaning forward where jay is able to see him. “look what y'all did! you made kai-baby cry.” he points down at the girl in his arms who also cried after seeing all the beds made this morning.

“kiss again!” jaehyun is shouting from the dock, earning a supportive whistle from viv. the group erupts at the suggestion, childishly chanting 'kiss' as jay stands there mortified. and you think it's hilarious, he looks so cute embarrassed, trying to hide the fact that his heart wasn't pounding and despite how badly he wanted to kiss you, he was all of a sudden feeling shy.

“come on, the first one didn't count!” brin is shouting through the chants. “how would that not count!?” jay shoots back, finally turning back to look at your friends. his reaction only fueling their chants and you can practically feel the heat coming off of him now. they're all a perfect orchestra. heeseung leads the chants, hands cupped around his mouth as cheers for another kiss. lex is leaning over the edge of the rock, sending exaggerated kissy faces your way. and brin is holding her hands up, making them kiss as her lips pucker.

and despite how desperate jay looks to escape their attention, you're addicted to peer pressure. a laugh slips past your lips as your hand is reaching down, fingers pressing against his jaw gently – just enough to turn his head back toward you. the shouting gets louder instantly. you're leaning down against instantly, mouth slotted against his and he's letting out an involuntarily groan at the feeling. the cheers that follow are obnoxiously deafening and it has your laughs dying against jay's lips.

the cold of the lake slowly becomes unbearable and one by one, you all begin making your way back toward the shore. the like that had been full of shouting and splashing just minutes ago is now quiet behind you, water still. wet footprints trail through the sand, towels stolen and half finished drinks recovered from where they had been abandoned hours ago.

you're settling in front of the fire with jay who swiftly positions himself behind you. the fire crackles in front of you, casting a warm light across the campgrounds. hair and body still wet, but you're settling further into jay's chest until going to find a towel. he doesn't seem to care much either, arm looping around your waist as he holds you close to him.

neither of you seem particularly interested in talking about what just happened, instead you just smile way too wide each time your eyes meet. you can hear brin from across the grounds, hair wrapped in a towel and a large hoodie covering her frame. she's rubbing at her stomach as she speaks. “i'm starving!” heeseung snorts as he walks past, his wet swim trunks in hand a pair of dry short hanging loose on his hips. he's digging through the coolers, without even looking up.

“we still have a bunch of meat left. should we kill it?” he suggests and brin's body immediately perks up. “say swear,” she says, taking quick steps to where he stands. he's letting out a soft laugh, pulling two unopened packets of pork belly from the ice with one hand, three packets of brisket in the other. “swear,” brin is squealing, reaching up to take the packets in hand. “see? this is why you're my favorite.” she says, leading the way toward the grill.

heeseung is rolling his eyes, but following closely behind. “yesterday you said lex was your favorite,” he points out and brin is nodding happily. her hand extends so she's able to boop the tip of heeseung's nose, he's scrunching it immediately. “today it's you.”

you spot sunoo walking toward the fire a few seconds later carrying four drinks, two in each hand. “good news,” he announces in a sing-song tone, lifting the bottles toward his face. “i found a full box,” viv and jaehyun trail behind him, stealing one of the bottles before settling on one of the lawn chairs. sunoo hands you a bottle, before passing the next one to jay and plopping down by the fire. “this is starting to feel final,” you say with a pout and you feel the way jay stiffens behind you.

“we live close! we should plan something, yn.” viv reaches her hands out to you and you're agreeing instantly. you two were only a forty-five minute drive apart, it wouldn't be hard to make plans together before next summer, it was just harder when you weren't just a few doors away. rather than across the country.

lex, mia and jungwon take responsibility for the mess they spent most of the night helping create. jungwon is already collecting empty bottles to recycle, lex is carrying a trash bag that's somehow bigger than she is, while mia complains but about everyone being pigs while she cleans up the leftover food. she's mainly yelling at martin who's pretending he can't hear her from where he still sits at the lake with sakai beside him.

they're sat near the edge of the water in the sand, sakai is wrapped in a large blanket and martin has his head resting on her shoulder, fighting the sleep that's creeping up on him. sunoo is rummaging through his bag for something, his bottle pressed between his knees as he looks. “oh wait!” he's exclaiming loud enough that it catches the attention of the people sitting closest to him.

“what?” jungwon is asking, head peeking up from the trash bag he had been separating.

sunoo is pulling a small stack of envelopes from his bag, holding them up with a wide grin. “we forgot these!” he's standing before anybody call say anything else, shuffling through the envelopes and making his way around the camp to hand them out. they're goodbye letters. you know, because you written eleven of your own. everyone had to, it was camp tradition according to brin.

but as sunoo makes his way through the group, the energy changes, you can feel it. the distribution was like a blaring indicator that it was over. eventually, you'd all have to go to sleep and face tomorrow. the fire was going to die down, heeseung was going to run out of food to make, at some point you'll run out of memories to share, stories to tell. it had to end. and you all had to say goodbye.

“i'm going to miss how you always steal my hoodies, even though you have a man.” sunoo says dramatically to viv while handing her the letter he wrote, he's shooting jaehyun a pointed look at the mention of him and then shuffling to find the letter for him. viv is taking hers with a laugh, tucking it safely beneath her leg. “and i'm going to miss pretending not to notice when you and viv disappear,” jaehyun takes his letter with a roll of his eyes, drink still pressed to his lips.

“you never pretended.” he points out and sunoo is nodding with a laugh. “because you guys are gross,” he sings before turning to continue his rounds.

by the time sunoo is dropping back down beside the fire, you've noticed a handful of your friends disappearing into their cabins and coming back with their own letters. but none of you talk about it, none of you make an announcement to pass them out, it sort of just happens.

the grill sizzles, brin stealing a piece of meat before it's finished cooking and heeseung is meeting her with an individual plate with the letter he wrote her tucked underneath it. she doesn't make a big deal out of it, takes the plate and the letter before plopping down at the picnic table to eat. jungwon complains about people not separating recyclables correctly, pulling glass bottles from the trash bag that should only be filled with food. martin is standing above him, note extended in front of his face.

“if that's another bottle, martin, i'm going to drown you in the lake. and then myself,” jungwon grumbles as he looks up, eyes finding the crisp envelope inches from his nose. he takes it quickly, tucking it into his pocket then goes right back to complaining. martin walks up, making his way back to where he had been sitting with sakai before, only now she's standing.

the blanket he had lent to her folded neatly a sad look on her face as she hands it over, the note she wrote for him resting on top. “i'm going to miss you so much,” she says through a sob and martin is chuckling softly, plucking the note from the top before grabbing the blanket. unlike everyone else, he's tearing into his note immediately despite sakai's protests. his eyes move quickly across the paper before they're slowing, taking in every written word and the meaning behind them.

sakai notices the shift, she recognizes it. “martin?” her head tilts up to get a better look at his face but he's quickly looking away, folding the note and tucking it back into it's envelope. “i'm fine,” he rushes out, wiping at his eyes with his knuckle. “let's go help clean up,”

a note seems to fall from the sky as jungwon passes, hitting your knee and landing on jay's lap. “read it away from me,” he mumbles before disappearing with his trash bag. jay is picking it up with a small smile. leave it to jungwon to literally run from any type of emotional exchange. “let me go put this away,” jay says, nudging at you leg gently and you're standing to allow him to slip from behind you and disappear into his cabin. you take the chance to slip away as well, grabbing the stack of letters you had spent the past week writing from underneath your pillow.

jay catches heeseung on his way to the bathroom, “hyung, wait.” heeseung's turning to the sound of jay's voice, eyes instantly landing on the thick envelope in his hand. “what is that like ten pages?” he asks with a laugh, reaching his hand out to take it. “it's only like seven,” he defends and heeseung is shaking his hand, tearing into the letter before jay can say anything of it.

“you know i have to read it out loud,” he says through a chuckle. jay is rolling his eyes, both hands pushing his hair back on his head as he feels his cheeks darkening. “you're so embarrassing,” he says with a shake of his head, but he doesn't fight it. heeseung would just find him and read it out loud later, he did it every summer for the past six years.

he's straightening his back and clearing his throat before bringing the note up to eye level, reading it like it's a scroll. “hyung. i tried keeping this short...” he lowers the letter to shoot a deadpan expression toward the younger boy. “seven pages?” he teases and jay is waving him off with a roll of his eyes. “just hurry up and read it,” much to his surprise, heeseung continues reading. “thank you for spending the past years putting up with me. though, i've been here longer than you... i never truly had someone to look up to until you arrived. we're the oldest, so everyone looks up to us. but i'm thankful i have you to look up to too.” jay doesn't miss the way the playfulness leaves heeseung's tone. realization that this was the last letter finally hitting him.

“i don't know if anybody else realizes how much this place has your fingerprints on it. you came up with most of the things we know call tradition, you've helped me write more songs than i can count. i even heard martin repeat one of your inside jokes his first week here... half the things the campers think have always existed started because of you, you're the blueprint.” heeseung pauses to grin because he had been screaming that for the past four years and finally he was getting the recognition for it.

the letter continues on like that, highlighting the memories they made together in the past six years, how close they've become. jay's plans for the future and how he promises to keep in touch, though, no one ever really did. but heeseung can tell that he meant it. the only difference is, heeseung was leaving too. not for the summer, forever. they both were on different paths of their lives now and seeing each other every summer was going to be a thing of the past.

he doesn't ruin the moment by pointing that out, though.

“you've been apart of almost every version of my adult life and it's going to be so hard imagining moving into my next phase without you standing ten feet away making an unnecessary comment. i don't really know how to end this, because i feel there shouldn't be an end to us. to our friendship. so i'll just say, thank you for being my friend and i'll see you soon.” heeseung looks up at jay to find him trying to look anywhere else, he's shaking his head laughing softly while flipping the pages over in his hands.

there's a few sentences scribbled on the back of the last one. “oh! there's more,” sarcasm drips from his words and jay's letting out a laugh. “i had a lot to say, shut up.” heeseung continues reading. “ps. stop giving relationship advice. even if you're right 99% of the time, stop it. your 'i told you so' face is so annoying. but, you were right again... i regret not telling yn how i feel. and i regret not kissing her when i had the chance,”

heeseung is looking up with a knowing smirk on his face, brow arched and jay is shoving at his shoulder. “that face! you're so irritating,” he says through a laugh while heeseung is carefully folding the note back up. “you kissed her, though. what changed your mind?” judging from the end of his note, it's clear that jay had no intention to actually make a move with you. but he saw the way jay kissed you in the water and how he's been all over you all night. this jay was very different from letter jay.

jay is clapping his hand on heeseung's shoulder with a shake of his head, “those fucking dresses, man.”

the night officially starts to settle around you. letters distributed and tucked away safely. the fire that had been roaring all evening has started to die down, only crackling whenever a piece of wood breaks. the loud shouts of your friends have dwindled into soft murmurs heard throughout the grounds. each one of you losing the battle against sleep, it was impossible to keep fighting it.

the food is gone, the coolers are empty. jungwon has organized every single piece of trash he could get his hands on. there was nothing left to do, there was nothing left to say. sakai and sunoo disappear first, walking into the bathroom with arms linked to do their skincare routine together for the last time of the summer. brin is a few steps behind them, yawning loudly and rubbing at her eye with the heel of her palm.

viv is curled up in jaehyun's lap, his hoodie working as a blanket as her head rests beneath his chin. every few minutes, she'll mumble something into his chest and he'll reach down to smooth a hand over her hair. jaehyun is still wide awake, talking quietly with jay from across the fire. you still sit comfortably in jay's lap but you're zoned out staring at the burning embers of the fire.

jungwon, martin and heeseung have migrated into their cabin, changed into their pajamas and laying on their beds. they talk softly, finding random things to say as they fight off the inevitable sleep. their voices drift through the open window every so often before dissolving back into sleepy laughter. across the lake, lex and mia have claimed the hammock and have been laying there with the past twenty minutes. neither of them have managed to finish a complete sentence, settling for quiet sighs and toying with each other's fingers.

jay feels you shiver against him for the fourth time and it has him realizing rubbing his hands over your arms was useless in warming you up. “you cold?” he asks, head tilting to the side so he can look at you. you're tired but you're fighting it, long curls pulled in a bun at the top of your head and pretty orange dress doing nothing against the cool night air. you're turning to look at him, head bobbing in a nod.

“i have a sweater in the car, should we...” he says it because he wants to spend more time together, that part is obvious. he could've very much you suggest you go to bed, put on warm sweats of your own and call it a night. but in reality, he wasn't ready for his night with you to end and neither were you, which is why you're standing to follow him.

the walk to his jeep isn't long, he parked close to the entrance out of his need for efficiency. he was set to leave early tomorrow morning, had spent the better half of the day loading up his car. it only made sense that it would be parked a few feet away. his arm settles over your shoulders as you walk, a comfortable silence falling over you and you're finally finding the courage to ask him what you've been wondering for the past hour and a half.

“did you forget to write me a letter?” you try to keep your tone playful, masking the echoing doubts in your mind. everyone had a letter, each passed out one by one and you watched jay hand out a letter to each one of your friends. yet, the one that he should've written for you never came. you don't miss the smile that breaks onto his features, a soft laugh falling from his lips as he shakes his head. “no, god no. i just couldn't stop rewriting it,” that peaks your interest. because, yes there must've been unspoken feelings when he sat down to write it, but actually rewriting it felt different.

it took you a good three hours to decide what you were going to say to him. everything you decided just felt too elementary, but even still you only wrote one draft. and that was the one tucked away somewhere in his cabin. “you did? how many did you write?” you're reaching his car just as the question leaves the lips and he shrugs, pulling the car door open before leaning in.

“nine.” he says it so casually, half his body in his car, your eyes are widening anyway. “nine!? you wrote me nine letters!? jay...” he's standing with a black sweater clutched in his hands. it's one you recognize right away, he's worn it enough for you to. just a simple black hoodie with 'miami' written in bold red letters, the word cut off by the deep-v cut into the neckline. he's easily pulling it over your head, guiding your arms into it.

it's such a simple gesture but it's so jay that your heart flutters. hand reaching down to find the side of his neck as he straightens the hem of his sweater against your thighs. you're gently pulling him toward you, to plant a soft kiss to his lips which he returns instantly, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. “nine letters?” you're saying again as he pulls away and his face breaks into a soft smile.

“relax, you're only getting one.” he's reaching back into his car, rummaging through a bag before pulling out the folded piece of paper. number nine. the final draft of his goodbye letter to you, but it felt outdated now for some reason. still, he's handing it over to you with a sad smile. “read it later,” he feels the need to clarify, traumatized by heeseung's traditional presentation.

you're tucking the letter safely into the pocket of his hoodie and silence falls between the two of you. it's a charged silence that holds the words that neither of you are willing to say. instead his eyes stay trained on you as your eyes drift into the back of his jeep. slowly, you're stepping forward to get a better look. and the sight makes your chest tighten. boxes stacked neatly on top of one another, duffel bags shoved into every available corner of his trunk. his guitar. his backup guitar. binders upon binders of sheet music. seven years packed into the back of a car. your breath catches in your throat as you're eyes shift to look back at him, body leaning against the frame of the open car door.

“so... this is really it, huh?” jay follows your gaze, a soft sigh falling from his lips as he nods. “yeah, i guess so,” you feel the way your heart drops, which is stupid, because you had known he was leaving. for the past three months it's all he could talk about. grad school, apartment hunting, moving dates. the weather in his new city, he was never not talking about leaving. but somehow seeing it packed into the back of the car hit differently. it felt real. “it's like you fit your whole cabin into your car, looks weird...”

jay lets out a quiet laugh through his nose, hand lifting to rest just above your head against the car. “tell me about it. my cabin looks weirder, all empty.” your eyes drift back to the boxes, trying hard not to picture how his cabin would look empty. you poked your head in too many times to see if he was around to now think of the reality of him never being around again.

“you did this all day?” you say it just to make conversation, because you have nothing else to say that didn't feel totally depressing. and jay seems to catch on, because he is playing along. he nods simply, lips pulling into his mouth as his eyes drift back to you. “yeah, some of it yesterday.”

“you cried, huh?” you tease and that manages to pull another pretty laugh for him, “i absolutely did not,” he defends halfheartedly, but you're not buying it. “oh, now i know you cried. you're such a liar,” your eyes narrow up at him and that has him laughing even harder and for a second it almost feels normal again. but then your eyes are drifting back, catching sight of his guitar case again.

you're changing the subject quickly. “you know...” your voice trails off, forcing a smile on your lips. “i thought you hated me for like the first two weeks.” jay's head snaps toward you so fast it makes you laugh, his brows raised high toward his hairline. “are you serious?” he says through a laugh, your hand slaps against his chest. “yes! did you forget about how you'd avoid me? and ignore me, even if i was talking directly to you.”

he's laughing, eventually nodding along. because it was true. the first few weeks he couldn't even be around you without his brain short-circuiting and when he'd try to say something, anything – he found himself getting tongue tied more often than not. but still, “you were impossible to ignore. but, yes. i did try.” he had it in his head if he just didn't talk to you, then his feelings wouldn't grow. he was so wrong.

“you'd walk into a room and all of a sudden everyone's attention would be on you. including mine.” his eyes drop to his hoodie and how it swallows your frame, covering up one of your many pretty dresses. then slowly back up to your face, you're staring up at him with the same heart eyed expression you've been giving him all summer. “you flirted with me constantly too, even when i tried not to look your way,” you're laughing, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

“i had a feeling it would end up being effective,” you grin and he's smiling, hand lifting to rest on the small of your back. “trust me, it was. it was all i could talk about with heeseung,” but never to you. he never gave away to the slightest bit of interest and that drove you insane every single day. it almost bothered you more that he waited until the last day to finally say something. he could've just left you clueless, able to move on and say that you tried. because you did try, so hard.

and for some reason him waiting until there was no time left to meet you halfway just didn't feel fair. the pout is forming on your lips before you can fight it, hand resting on his cheek. “i wouldn't change a second of this summer, truly. i loved meeting everyone and spending my days with you.” it's hard to ignore the sadness in your eyes, the obvious way you're fighting back tears as you speak. “but, fuck, jay... i wish we had more time,”

he knows exactly what you mean without you having to say it. you spent all summer wanting him, loudly. but every time he caught himself wanting you back, he'd find a reason to keep his distance. to walk away, to play it safe. he'd find a reason not too look too long, not too linger in conversations with you. especially if they were about your shared love for music.

he was so strategic in the way he interacted with you, careful not to let himself enjoy the way your fit lit up whenever you spotted him hanging out in his cabin. he had spent months convincing himself that this was the right way, that he was doing the right thing. the smart thing. that all of this would be easier if he kept his distance, and maybe that would've been true if tonight never happened.

because standing here now, knowing exactly what it feels like to kiss you, makes what should've been an easy goodbye feel impossible. “well,” he's saying with a soft smile, arm lifting so his wrist is in view. and you follow his gaze to the watch on his wrist. “it's only... 2:49AM. there's still five hours and eleven minutes until it's over.” he says with a proud smile, probably at his mental math and that has you laughing softly. “what should we do with that time?” his finger taps at his chin and you're tilting your head to the side.

without missing a beat, you're leaning up to press your lips against his. he's kissing back instantly. his hands fall down to grasp your hips, easily pulling your body against his. your worries about tomorrow seem to melt away as soon as his lips are on yours, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as you hold him to you. jay kisses you with a rushed, starved almost desperate need and it makes it difficult for you to focus on anything but him.

his tongue is pushing past your lips easily, brushing against yours before he's changing his mind and catching your lower lip between his teeth instead. you're gasping, the sound pulling a soft chuckle from his mouth. it dies on your tongue. “you're so perfect,” he sighs, hand resting against the side of your face as he leans back enough to look at you. he's easily tilting your head to the side with his hand, revealing more of your neck to him.

his head is dropping to the side, soft lips finding your skin. salty from the lake but he sucks kisses against the length of it. “jay,” you're gasping, hand reaching out to clutch the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him close. and his arm tightens around your waist, holding you tight against him as his lips roam your skin. he's focusing his lips just above your collarbone, sucking the skin into his mouth and it has your head lulling back. his body shifts, hands tracing the curves of your body before he's carefully lifting you into the backseat.

it's cramped between all his bags and boxes, and the idea of his new life. but he's climbing in behind you, letting the door slam behind him. closing the two of you in to your own private space and you're on him instantly. his back hits the door from the force of your lips, a soft laugh falling from both of your lips. you kiss him desperately, every push of your lips screaming finally and all he can do is try to keep up. he groans as your hands sneak underneath the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging over his stomach.

your tongue pushes and twists against his, his hands shoving his hoodie and your dress out of the way. his fingers spread over the skin of your ass, squeezing gently and the moan you let out has his dick jumping. jay is easily pulling you further onto him with the grip he has on your ass. it's so uncomfortable, you've got your legs on either side of his waist, he's hanging half way off of the seat, back pressed against the door. all of the crap from his cabin surround your bodies, making it that much more difficult to move. yet, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

not when you were hovering over him like this, panting into his mouth while pushing your ass back into the palms of his hands. “oh, fuck.” he's sighing when your lips trail down the length of his jaw, you follow the same pattern as he had before. sucking kisses into is skin, before grazing your teeth over it. focusing on a particular sensitive bit while your hips grind down onto his. a low, untamed growl catches in his throat as he feels the way your body moves against his.

the thin material of your bikini bottoms doing very little to mask the wet heat dripping from between your legs and onto his shorts. his head dips down to find your lips, mouth covering yours quickly and he wastes no time with licking into your mouth. jay's easily pulling you into a deep, needy, almost frantic rhythm that has your head spinning. you're moaning, hips pressing roughly against his. the length of his cock presses delicious against your clothed clit and your hips roll toward his, body shuddering as pleasure spreads throughout your core.

“oh my god,” you're whining into his mouth, hips moving frantically against his. he does his best to lift his hips to meet yours, fingers digging in to the flesh of your ass as heat rises up his neck. “you feel so... holy shit,” he's grunting, head falling back to rest against the door as you basically bounce on his lap. through hooded eyes, he watches the way your body moves against his. the needy roll of your hips paired with the look on your face just makes him harder.

you've got your lip tucked between your teeth, head dipped back as your hands travel up your torso. they find your breasts almost instantly and he watches as you squeeze and toy with them through fabric. he finds it hot how you refused to take off his sweater despite how much you probably want to. your hips move swiftly, pretty moans filling the cramped car as his hard length drags between your folds.

his hips lift to meet each one of your movements, using the grip on your body to press you down harder against him. every last bit of restraint has snap, he's no longer able to hold himself back. chest rising and falling in untimed breaths as a flush creeps onto his cheeks. he tries and fails to hold his whimpers back, but the way you're moving just feels too good. or he's just too sensitive, either way the pressure builds at the pit of his stomach and it's impossible to ignore.

and to make matters worse, jay can tell you're close too just from the unfocused timing of your hips and the helpless whines you're letting out. “jay,” you're gasping, fist clutching the fabric of his shirt as he watches the way your eyes roll back, your thighs squeezing together the best you can with his body between them. and he's quickly deciding he'd rather feel you cum, rather than see it.

“wait, baby... wait.” jay is shifting up, hands moving down to your thighs, stilling your movements. and he finds the pout that takes over your features especially cute, he's pressing a soft kiss to it without thinking. “i want to feel you,” he says simply. he's carefully leaning you back, your body resting against the boxes behind you as he moves to hover above you now.

his fingers sneak underneath the hem of your dress, latching onto the strings of your bottoms as his eyes drag up to look at you. you're shooting a nervous smile in his direction that has his heart softening. “is this okay?” he's asking softly, slowly tugging at the strings. you're nodding quickly, “please, jay.” you're breathing out, hips lifting off of the car seat to make it easier for him.

jay's letting out a soft chuckle before dragging your bottoms down your legs, tossing them somewhere behind him. his eyes drop down to catch the way your folds glisten, large hands pushing the hoodie and your dress up toward your belly button. “fuck,” he sighs with a shake of his head and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, feeling unbelievably vulnerable under his lustful gaze. he's leaning forward, nose dragging along the length of your neck before his tongue pushes out to drag against your skin.

his hand slides expertly between your legs as his mouth moves to suck a hickey into your skin. your legs spread almost instinctively, moaning as his fingers trace between your folds. “you're so fucking wet,” he's groaning, fingers pushing slowly past your entrance. the warmth of your pussy surrounds his fingers as he slides in all the way to the knuckle. your hips lift to meet his hand and he's grinning down at you. “does it feel good? having my fingers stretch you out?” he asks softly as he curls his fingers inside you.

your walls clamp down around them, head bobbing in a nod. “yes... f-fuck, jay. it feels so good,” you're admitting. jay's fingers thrust deep inside of you, thumb pressing against your clit before he's rubbing slow cirlces against it. it's not long before he's falling into a steady rhythm, free hand lifting to hold your hips still as his fingers fuck into you. you're whining softly, legs spreading wide for him. “jay...” you're pleading, yet you have no idea what you're asking for.

his eyes lift to find yours, head tilting to the side slightly. “what, baby?” he grins, speeding up the movement of his hand and easily pulling a loud gasp from your lips. the sound of his chuckle follows, his eyes dropping back to your pussy. you're basically dripping around his fingers walls pulsing with each thrust. “i need... more, jay please.” your words break on a desperate cry, his fingers scissoring inside of you as his thumb presses harder against your clit.

“whatever you want,” he says, but the truth was he couldn't wait much longer either. not with this insistent throb between his legs, and the way you were looking up at him, so needy and ready. he had waited long enough for a moment like this with you, he was done waiting. jay pulls his hand away slowly, hands flying to push his shorts out of the way. his wet hand wrapping around his thick length and you watch as he strokes himself slowly, coating his shaft with your arousal.

the sight makes your mouth water. he stays knelt there for a few moments, just rubbing his hand over himself and watching you and the intensity in his stare makes your body hot. “spread your legs for me,” he's saying after a minute and you're separating your knees without a word, pussy clenching at the groan he lets out. “jay. fuck me, please.” you're whining, hand dropping down the length of your body to spread your folds for him, showing him just how badly you needed him.

he's leaning forward quickly, mouth covering yours in a needy kiss as the bulbous head of his cock bumps against your fingers. he takes his time with lining himself up with your tight hole, pushing his hips forward slowly until he's feeling you stretch around him. you have to remind yourself to relax as he pushes forward, breathing through the pain that comes with each inch of him. your fingers clutch his hair the moment that he's bottoming out and he feels the way your body stiffens.

“relax, baby. take your time.” he soothes, hand stroking your hair gently as he watches you adjust. he leans down to press soft kisses against your skin. switching between sucking hickeys into your neck and twisting his tongue with yours. he waits patiently for you to loosen up for him, but the moment he feels you shifting, he's taking that as his go and thrusting his hips forward. “fuck!” you shout, back arching as much as it can and he's pinning you back down with his hips.

slowly, he's pulling his hips back, allowing you to feel every rigid inch of his cock. “you're squeezing me so tight,” he says before he's quickly slamming back in. your body jerks, hips lift, whines falling from your lips as he falls into a steady pace. your hands are on his shoulders, nails dragging against his skin. jay fucks into you slowly and incredibly deep. his grip is tight on your waist, dragging your body down onto him with each thrust. his face remains buried in your neck, mouthing at your skin as his cock splits you open.

you feel him so deeply, he's no longer holding back and the desperate movement of his hips has an electric need shooting through your body. you needed to be closer. needed to feel him deeper. needed his hands on you like this forever. his teeth bite into your skin, muffling the long groan threatens to slip out and you're matching it with a needy whimper. his thrusts become brutal, hips snapping against yours in a overwhelmingly rough pace. your nails drag over the muscles of his back, legs spreading wider for him as desperate cries fill the car.

“jay, oh my god. i'm gonna...” you don't know if you should push him away or pull him closer, heat spreading throughout your body as the knot at the pit of your stomach tightens. jay keeps up with the pace as best he can, hand dropping down to find your clit again and he rubs figure eights into the sensitive bud. his head lifts so he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure.

your orgasm tears through your body, eyes rolling all the way to the back of your head as your back arches off of the seat. it's unlike anything you've felt before, body going numb as his hips continue to move between your thighs – fucking you through it. “god, look at you.” he sighs, burying himself deep inside of you, balls slapping against your ass with each thrusts. he moves until you're coming down for your high, watching the way your body relaxes in his arms. and only then is he pulling back, slowly drawing his hips away from your body and twisting his body so he's sitting upright on the seats.

“fuck,” he breathes, hand wrapping over his cock to keep it from falling limp. “i had the craziest cramp in my leg,” he says through a laugh, eyes shifting to find you. you're half way off of the seat, back resting against a box and hair falling messily around your face. “you okay?” he asks, smiling softly the second you're nodding. his free hand reaches out toward you, beckoning you over with a grin.

you're lifting slowly, allowing his arm to wrap around his waist and for her to tug you onto his lap. “come ride me, i'm almost there,” there's quiet begging in his tone as he lifts your body slightly, enough to pull you into his lap. your heart jumps, body freezing as you stare over at him with wide eyes. “oh, uhm... i've never? i don't think i know how...” you feel the heat rising in your cheeks and jay's brow furrows at your words.

“you've never rode someone before?” he asks because it sounds almost insane. of course you've rode someone before. he takes in the look in your eye, the shy blush that darkens your cheeks. “well, no... that was my first time,” you say sheepishly and his eyes are flying open, his hand falling from his cock to push his hair back on his forehead. “what?” he says it, even though he's positive he heard you clearly.

he just couldn't believe it. didn't even stop and consider it. and now he feels terrible because he just took your virginity like it was nothing. like it was something you could just hand out. it should've been special, he should've made it special. “yn, you can't lose your virginity in the back of my car!?” you're laughing at his distress, the wrinkle between his brow as they furrow in pure worry.

you don't know why you find him so cute this way. your shoulders lift in a shrug, hands settling on his shoulders. “too late?” you're saying through your laughter and he's shooting you a pointed look. “not funny, yn. i should've been gentle,” you're quick to shake your head, hands covering his cheeks as you lean down to press a soft kiss to his lips. he kisses you back slowly, hands resting on your waist much lighter now. you're pulling back slowly, head tilting slightly.

“come on, you already took it. don't clam up now,” you're leaning down to plate a kiss to his lips that has his worries melting away. your tongue wrapping around his, fingers curling in his hair as you lift your hips to climb further up on his lap. his head rests on the back of the chair when you pull away, looking up at you through his lashes as your hand reaches down wrapping around his cock. his hips twitch as you position his head at your entrance, “teach me,” you say with a pout and just like that his restraint is gone.

again.

–

you're not heading back to jay's cabin until the sun is already peaking over the mountains. it's weirdly empty, just like you imagined. his bed made in the middle of the room. he doesn't let you dwell on the look of it for too long, not wanting you to sleep too deep in your thoughts while you're having such a good time. he's pulling you into bed beside him, easily tucking your body into his as the two of you finally drift off to sleep.

and you stay like that in his arms for god knows how long. your head on his chest and his arm wrapped securely around your waist. he doesn't dare move, even when sleep finally takes over. which doesn't last as long as he would have hoped, his alarm blaring at exactly 7:15am. he's careful not to wake you as he slips out of bed, showering and changing his clothes as you shift and pull at his sheets. you don't even budge when he's making his bed, or when he's taking the last bag out of his room and into his car.

there's so much more he wanted to say. and he hated that he had no more time. for a long while, jay just stands there. keys in hand as his eyes scan over his empty cabin, save for you curled beneath his blankets. the morning sun peaks in through his window, golden streaks fanning across the bed. and you don't even shift. you're dead asleep, drooling onto his pillows and the sight has a soft laugh falling from his lips.

“wow,” he's shocked because even like this, smushed face and messy hair – you still look so pretty. he should leave, he needed to get on the road before the gps estimated a different arrival time. there were a list of things that he needed to get done back at his apartment before he was heading to the airport, he needed to leave. instead, he's making his way back into the cabin. setting his keys back on his desk before pulling out the blank notebook from one of the drawers, stealing a page.

he starts writing. the words coming to him much easier now that he's no longer hold back. he's ran out of reasons not to tell you exactly how he feels. he spent the last nine drafts trying to sound reasonable and failed every single time. because, this wasn't reasonable. falling for you was the most unreasonable thing that he has ever done, but he loved every second of it.

jay doesn't stop once as he writes, not a single typo. his feelings hit the page unfiltered, for the first time all summer. he's saying everything that he's wanted to, to you, about you. for you. he doesn't make a single edit. every for sentences, his eyes would drift over to where you lay, curled in his hoodie and drowning in his sheets. and then three more sentences would come to mind, two more after that. he writes until he's filled the entire page and then some more on the back.

once he's finished he's folding it carefully, slipping it into an envelope before scribbling something across the front. he's moving to stand beside the bed one last time, setting the note on his empty pillow before his eyes drift over to you. the urge to wake you up hit him intensely, he wanted so badly to say goodbye properly, to steal one more kiss, one more touch, one more hour. but he knew that was wrong. that he'd end up wanting to stay longer, actually seeing him walk away might hurt you more.

so he doesn't. he just sets his hand on your head softly, brushing your hair back so he's able to press a soft kiss to your forehead. his lips linger there for a moment, silently hoping that you'd wake up on your own. and when you don't, he's standing. he grabs his keys from his desk, takes one final look at you, before he's heading out of the cabin, closing the door tight behind him.

you're stirring awake two hours later. the first thing you notice is that you feel warm, surrounded by jay's familiar scent. you sink further into the mattress, sunlight spilling from the windows and warming your skin and for a few seconds you don't open your eyes. instead, you nuzzle yourself into jay's warmth as moments from the night before flood your memory.

playing with jay in the lake. kissing jay against the rocks. jay holding you by the fire. walking with jay to his car, his arm around your shoulders. jay fucking you in that same car, in so many different ways. you could still feel the stretch of him between your legs. a smile spreads across your lips, remembering exactly how he felt beneath you as you rode him for the first time ever. and you're suddenly filled with the need to try it again. to feel him again.

you're reaching out before your mind can tell you differently, eyes snapping open when your hand is met with nothing but emptiness. your eyes find the clock sat on his nightstand, reading the flashing numbers that stare back at you. 10:17AM. your stomach drops, a deep frown replacing the sleepy smile you had been wearing before. “oh,” you're sighing as realization hits, jay was gone.

you knew he'd be leaving early, he told everyone that he was going to be gone before anyone was really waking up. but despite knowing, not seeing him beside you still stings. slowly you're sitting up in his bed, the over-sized hoodie shifting over your shoulders as you reach to rub at your eyes. everything feels heavy, your heart thumps uselessly in your chest as your eyes scan over the room.

he was really gone. the bathroom had been emptied out this morning, his desk was completely cleared off, posters torn down and folded neatly. there was no trace of him left in this room besides you and the fact that he took everything and left you behind has your throat tightening. your eyes drift back toward his pillow, eyes furrowing at the sight of the crisp envelope that laid on top of his blue pillowcase. you're reaching for it quickly, reading over the words written across the front of the envelope. “make it ten versions,” you read and you don't waste a second before tearing the note open.

❝ yn.

i've written this goodbye letter to you so many times that i almost forgot the point of it. the first few letters sounded like i was giving you a college recommendation... then i got too emotional about leaving the music lodge in your care. the third version was so embarrassingly raw that if you ever somehow read it i'd most likely evaporate where i stand. the one that I gave you, version nine, was the one that felt the most honest to me. at least at that time. now, it just feels like it was written by someone else.

someone that was still pretending he hadn't fell for you. i spent the last three months pretending that i wasn't looking for you in every room. pretending that i was fine with keeping things professional. wasted so much time pretending that i didn't feel the same way that you did and i think i owe you an apology for that. i owe you a lot of apologies, honestly.

i'm sorry that i waited until the last day to make a move. i'm realizing now, seated at my desk and you snoring behind me that, that was the wrong move. i should've said something sooner, i shouldn't have let you wonder if you were the only one with the crush. or at least stuck to my guns, said nothing, and left quietly. because this sucks so much worse. leaving after just one night of getting to know how it feels to be with you feels horrible. but i don't regret it, don't get me wrong. i'm happy that our last night together was every bit of perfect, i just wish i got it together sooner. for the both of us.

and that brings me to my next apology. i'm sorry that you spent all summer being brave enough for the both of us. you were so loud about your feelings, you never hid, you flirted with me in front of everyone despite their teasing. you made your feelings so clear and gave me every opportunity to meet you halfway and i kept coming up with excuses not to.

i convinced myself that keeping my distance would be best for the both of us. there was no point in starting something that i couldn't finish, but i realize now i was too focused on that small detail. because while the future was clear and we both knew this summer would end, we could've still enjoyed each other for three full months rather than one night. that's my fault, i'm sorry i robbed us of that.

for the last seven years, this place has been my home away from home. i know the walls, i know the smells, every last detail is engraved in my brain like a sixth sense. so naturally, i figured no longer having it as a constant would be the hardest thing of all, the thing that i'd miss most. but now i'm realizing (again) that i was wrong, because what i'm going to miss most is you.

i'm going to miss the way your face lights up when you talk about music, the way you manage to make every conversation last twice as long as they should. your laugh, your smile, the taste of your lips. i'm going to miss how warm you felt sleeping against me. and most of all, i'm going to miss all the things that i want to experience with you and now know it's too late.

fuck, i hate that it's too late...

for the first time ever, i have no idea what will happen next. because as you read this, i'm probably already on the road, heading home or toward the airport and even though, i know that has always been the plan, i can't help but wonder if i should be doing something different. or if it's stupid to make such huge life changes over someone you just met. for the first time ever, i don't trust my own plan and that scares the shit out of me.

but i kind of like it, because if there's one thing this summer taught me, one thing that you taught me... it's that all of life's best moments happen when you stop trying to control them. it took me until last night to realize it, that's why i kissed you when i did. none of that was part of the plan, but i'm so happy that i let myself enjoy being with you, even if it was just once.

i know i don't have to tell you this, but don't worry too much about me... enjoy your school year, enjoy your life. go on all the dates, make new friends and be as happy as you can possibly be. i hope that one day the universe will bring us back together, but in the meantime... keep my hoodie safe. it looks better on you, anyway.

jay.❞

forever tags: @noidnoentry @lilpeachgrl @jakeycakeys @str4rxy7 @jaxenberry @noisyjunglegorgon @prettygirlthings-world @yeseoist @rayofsunshineeee @mayawastaken26 @beomluvrr @tinyenha @w2heehoon @rikisonline @reading-wh0re @nodoubtily @lilllslayswanderwoodsan

[sombresoobs]

GENERATIONAL REFRESH PULL

[nishimmortal]

✴︎ after hours (epilogue)

you're mr. park's wife

content: smau ⟡ ceo!jay x assistant!reader ⟡ profanity ⟡ jealousy ⟡ girl dad jay ⟡ jay lowkey a freak ⟡ mature (minors dni!) a/n: this takes place a few years after part 7! also i hope the time skips are easy to understand :) go follow my insta @ nishimmortal ! i post teasers and polls for future posts on there so check it out :)

to be added to my taglist, please visit my taglist post!

NOTICE: second, third, and fourth taglists have been moved to my side blog @ nishimmortalreblogs so please check your tag settings and follow that blog if needed!

masterlist ⟡ part one ⟡ part two ⟡ part three ⟡ part four ⟡ part five ⟡ part six ⟡ part seven ⟡ epilogue

@ nishimmortal ⟡ all rights reserved. permanent taglist: @shaiimuraaa @iuuuugdh @goatedwiththesaucedotcom @almostdelightfuldragon @zurove @wonuziex @house0fballoonz @satorus-slut @hi00000234567 @cokewithcameron @jvngw0nlvr @heesroses @yashiehehehe @luvv1anime @yoanalovesyouuu @hrts4pepsi @drkbl00d @b1scuitwxngss @heartheejake @raebaebears @meowza1 @skteez101 @aslxriki @sstrawbxrry @glizzab3ll @lovleycherryy @vmpiricou @ynnii @jakeycakeys @enhaxlhs @chranassaurus @cinnamonen @heartmira @cherryluvssss @verozkkii @bitemhoon @iluvvvcandy @noritajw @gracesalvatore @enha7beshit @savageislandanchor @vanillaxbambi @xokittye @lilyhaslowiron @hueningaholic @erehkinnie30 @luxynjun @heeluvs-01 @ghostgirll @en1009log

[envanyr]

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐒

── ✧ 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

PAIRING : roommate!riki × fem!reader / roommate!sunghoon × fem!reader

IN WHICH : what started as a simple roommate arrangement with your brother’s best friends quickly transforms into something much more intimate

⚠︎ WARNINGS : explicit content - smut (mdni) including: creampie, unprotected sex, fingering, pussy slapping, degradation, dirty talk, getting caught (kinda), possessive behavior, grinding, cum leaking, nipple play, "good girl", "slut", "baby"

ㅤㅤ

­

A few months ago, you got accepted into the university you had always dreamed of. The campus is hours away from your hometown, which means you have to move.

When you applied for the dorms, they were already full and the waiting list was huge. To make things worse, all the apartments nearby were ridiculously expensive, way beyond what you could afford.

Your older brother, Jake, suggested that you share an apartment with his two best friends, Riki and Sunghoon. Their apartment has three bedrooms and is just a few minutes walk from campus. Jake told you that Heeseung, the friend who used to occupy the third room, had graduated last semester, so the room was now empty.

Splitting the rent between three people would be much cheaper than anywhere else you could find. Still, you hesitated. Riki and Sunghoon have been Jake’s best friends since high school, and you’ve known them for years, but living with them felt strange — too intimate. At the same time, it was an excellent opportunity.

In the end, you had no other choice but to accept. A few weeks later, you packed your things and moved into your brother’s best friends’ apartment.

───

You slam the door behind you harder than necessary, taking out your frustration and exhaustion on the poor door. Riki looks up at you from the couch with that usual smirk.

"Rough day?" he asks, patting the empty space beside him. "Come here."

You drop your bag on the living room floor, kick off your shoes, and walk slowly toward him. "Yeah… rough day. I hate being me sometimes."

He turns to look at you properly. "You look fucking exhausted." It’s obvious from your tired expression, heavy eyelids, and tense body. Anyone could tell your day had been hell.

His other hand rests on your warm, soft thigh, exposed by your tiny skirt. It doesn’t take long for him to slide it higher, carefully moving between your legs.

"Sunghoon isn’t home…" he murmurs, leaning closer. "Let me help you relax."

"Riki…" Your voice falters as your body already reacts to his touch. "We shouldn’t do this without him. You know about our agreement."

He laughs at your weak excuse. "That’s bullshit and we both know it." His hand moves up to gently cup your jaw. "Come on, I just want to help you. What’s wrong with that?"

Your mouth opens, ready to give another excuse, but no words come out. Riki’s smile widens. Unable to wait any longer, he crashes his lips against yours in a hungry kiss.

His hands grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. You let out a small sigh but don’t hesitate. You straddle him, knees on either side of his hips. The kiss grows messier by the second, wet tongues moving in a chaotic rhythm.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groans into the kiss, pulling your skirt up until the fabric bunches around your waist. You understand what he wants and start grinding slowly against his growing erection.

His hand slides down to grab your ass, squeezing it while helping you roll your hips. The friction makes his cock throb inside his sweatpants. He leaves a trail of kisses down your neck and smirks when your head falls back, giving him more access. "That’s it, baby. I’m gonna make you feel good. You just need to relax for me, okay?"

Suddenly, he flips you over. Your back hits the couch and he hovers above you, settling between your legs. He quickly grabs the waistband of your panties and pulls them down, tossing them somewhere in the living room. "Look at this perfect pussy, already dripping for me."

His thumb slides over your folds, moving up and down between your swollen lips, spreading your wetness. With his other hand, he pushes his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free himself. His cock is rock hard and leaking precum. "I’m gonna fuck all that frustration out of you, baby."

He wraps his fingers around his length, stroking a few times before slapping it against your wet pussy, making you gasp and shiver. "Ah— oh my God."

He does it again, slapping his cock against your soaked folds and then against your swollen clit just because he enjoys your reaction. "It’s embarrassing how wet you are just from this."

Without warning, he pushes inside you slowly, watching the way your pussy stretches to take him. When he finally bottoms out, your walls clench around him like his cock is your salvation.

Your hands grab his back as you moan and whimper with every inch that enters you.

"Taking me so well… You were made for my cock, baby." He stays still for a few seconds, letting you adjust to his massive length.

Then, agonizingly slow, because he knows it drives you crazy, he pulls out almost completely before slamming back in hard, making your back arch and knocking the air out of your lungs.

Laughing mockingly, he does it again, pull out until only the tip is inside, then thrust back in brutally. The impact sinks your body deeper into the couch and a broken moan tears from your throat. "Oh my— fuck, Riki."

His cock twitches inside you when he hears you moan. "You love this. You love how I fill you up to the brim." He picks up the pace, fucking you fast and hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. "You feel that? I’m so deep inside you…"

He makes sure every thrust hits that spot inside you that makes you scream and scratch his back. "You sound so good like this."

His hands roam your body. One grips your hip to hold you in place while the other slips under your tank top to play with your sensitive nipple, pinching and rolling the hard peak.

At this point, you can barely think straight. All you can do is moan, your legs shaking uncontrollably as the pressure builds intensely in your core. He hooks one of your knees higher, allowing him to go even deeper.

"I’m gonna cum, I’m so close." Your walls flutter and tighten around him, your toes curling. He laughs, mocking how broken you look. "Then cum for me. Let me feel how much your pussy loves getting fucked like a slut."

Pleasure hits its peak and you cum with a loud moan, your whole body shaking beneath him. Your pussy pulses and squeezes his cock, but he doesn’t stop thrusting, fucking you through your orgasm as he chases his own.

He only slows down when his own orgasm hits. With one final deep thrust, he cums inside you, filling you with his hot load while groaning your name. "Take it, every drop."

He stays buried inside you to make sure you take it all, then slowly pulls out, collapsing beside you on the couch. Both of you are clearly wrecked. You can feel his cum leaking out of you as aftershocks run through your body.

The sound of the front door unlocking makes you turn your head quickly. Sunghoon is standing in the doorway. Everything goes silent as he stares at you and Riki, both still breathless. The air smells like sweat and sex — it’s obvious what happened.

Without saying a word, he closes the door behind him. The click of the lock sounds louder than ever. His expression remains neutral, showing no sign of shock or anger. "My room. Now," he says, walking past you without another glance.

You hesitate, but soon follow him on shaky legs. Sunghoon is already sitting on the edge of the bed, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, looking perfectly calm. You carefully close the bedroom door. Just as you’re about to turn to him, his voice cuts through the silence. "Lock it."

Swallowing hard, you obey and lock the door, then walk slowly until you’re standing between his legs. "Hoon, we—"

He cuts you off with a dry, humorless laugh. "You couldn’t wait, huh? You are such a greedy desperate slut for cock that you could not even wait for me huh?"

You open your mouth to respond, but once again nothing comes out because you have no excuse. You nod slightly. "Use your fucking words."

"I am. I’m a greedy slut desperate for cock." Your voice is low and shaky.

He grabs your chin firmly, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "We had a clear agreement that no one gets to fuck you alone, only when all three of us are together."

Your face burns with both shame and arousal. "It wasn’t exactly like that… I was really tired and Riki was just trying to help me relax."

He raises one thick eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "So he was just being a good friend, huh? By burying his cock deep inside you to help you relax."

Without waiting for an answer, he slides his hand under your skirt and runs his fingers over your folds, feeling how wet and swollen you still are. "Your pussy is still dripping with his cum." Two fingers slip inside you without warning. "How many times did he make you cum, hm?"

Your legs tremble and you hold onto his shoulders to stay standing. "Once… just once, Hoon."

"Just once?" He mocks, adding a third finger, pumping slowly and curling them against that sensitive spot that always makes you squirm. "I’m gonna make you cum so many times that you’ll never want to break the rules again in your life."

He suddenly pulls his fingers out and gives your pussy a firm slap, hitting your clit and sending a wave of pleasure mixed with a little pain through your body. "Hoon, I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again," you beg in a whiny voice.

"Get on the bed. Now." You don’t hesitate to obey, lying on your back with your legs spread wide for him. "Good girl," he praises as he removes his pants and boxers, finally freeing his throbbing cock.

He positions himself between your legs, stroking himself while looking at your swollen pussy still clenching around nothing, begging for more. "So fucking needy." He thrusts into you in one go, not giving you time to adjust to his length.

You let out a loud moan, arching your back off the bed. The stretch burns in the most delicious and overwhelming way, making you writhe beneath him.

His pace is brutally fast, merciless thrusts that reach deep inside you. With one hand he grips your hip while the other presses down on your stomach so he can feel the shape of his cock moving inside you. "Fuck, look at that." He presses harder. "Taking me so deep."

His thumb finds your clit and rubs it in fast circles just to watch you tremble and make those sounds he loves. "Gonna cum? Do it. Cum on my cock."

As if you were only waiting for his permission, you cum hard, creaming around his cock while he keeps fucking you. Your walls squeeze him tightly, making him groan and slam into you messily.

He buries himself to the hilt and cums hard, his cock twitching with every spurt as he fills you up. Your pussy overflows with his load.

Suddenly he laughs mockingly and grabs your cheeks, squeezing them just enough for you to feel it. "I wonder what Jake would think of this… what he would do if he knew his little sister gets her pussy fucked by his best friends every single day in every room of this apartment."

───

NOTE : english is not my first language! I thought about writing a threesome, but I wasn't happy with the result, so I will try again another time

ㅤㅤ

[zerocoded]

DRUNK BOYF DUTIES AT HOME ! mdni

Being in love with Choi Soobin came with a thousand different versions of him to adore, but your favorite was always the one that appeared after a few drinks — warm, clingy, and shamelessly affectionate, wandering around your apartment in socked feet while making you laugh so hard you barely noticed his kisses getting deeper and your clothes slowly disappearing somewhere along the way.

WARNINGS ◦ THEY ARE IN LOVE YOUR HONOR ◦ nsfw content, mdni ◦ do NOT open condoms with your teeth, kids ◦ smut ◦ detailed descriptions of sex ◦ tipsy sex ◦ NOT EDITED ◦ not my proudest work, just wrote this on a whim to get it out of my head :P

10,O99 ━━━━━ part two soobin x reader

۶ৎ 𝓜 , this was supposed to just be a silly short continuation of my drunk soob drabble but it turns out i got too damn excited and wrote 10k words worth of smut. can't blame me since this is my husband we're talking about. also pls spare me from the plot holes in this work because i didn't edit it and i'm not planning to do it teehee >< read part one here.

━━━━━ read on ao3

The ride home is quiet in the best way.

Soobin’s hand never leaves you once you’re in the backseat. Even half-asleep, he keeps you tucked into his side like instinct, fingers warm over your thigh while the city lights smear across the windows. His head tips against yours every few minutes whenever the car slows down, sleepy little apologies falling from his lips each time.

“Sorry,” he murmurs after bumping your shoulder again.

“You’re literally fine.”

“M’heavy.”

“You are enormous, actually.”

His tired laugh rumbles low in his chest, warm through the quiet interior of the car. For a second he just looks at you with those heavy-lidded drunk eyes, dimples appearing slowly like his face is too sleepy to fully smile.

Then his eyebrows lift. “That’s what sh—”

“Babe,” you cut him off immediately, already laughing in disbelief as you shove lightly at his chest. “Stop. You’ve been watching way too many episodes of The Office.”

Soobin’s grin spreads wider instantly, all pleased with himself for getting a reaction out of you. It looks especially ridiculous on him right now—slumped bonelessly against the seat, cheeks pink from alcohol, hair falling over his forehead while he fights to keep his eyes open.

“I’m practicing my English, jagiya,” he says with exaggerated seriousness, words slightly slurred around the edges.

His laugh comes softer this time, quieter, until it dissolves into a sleepy sigh when he drops his head onto your shoulder again. One of his large hands slides lazily over your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth absentmindedly beneath the fabric of your jeans while the city lights flicker across his flushed face.

By the time you finally make it home, he’s visibly running on fumes.

The second the apartment door shuts behind you, the silence wraps around both of you instantly—warm, familiar, private. Shoes abandoned by the entrance, your bag dropped onto the console table, the faint scent of laundry detergent and vanilla from the candle you forgot to blow out earlier lingering in the air.

Soobin exhales deeply like he’s been holding himself together all night. Then the man just… melts. His forehead drops onto your shoulder dramatically, arms sliding around your waist from behind.

“Home,” he mumbles into your neck, voice rough with exhaustion.

You laugh softly, prying his hands loose enough to turn around. His cheeks are still pink from the alcohol, fluffy hair falling into his eyes, lips slightly swollen from unconsciously biting at them all night. He looks unfairly good standing there all sleepy and oversized in his wrinkled button-up.

“You need water.”

“M’kay.” He says it immediately, obedient and soft, eyes already drifting shut again like agreeing to the task was enough to complete it.

He does not move an inch.

You stare at him for a second from where you’re standing while he remains exactly where he is—tall body slumped against the wall, shoes half-kicked off, blinking slowly at absolutely nothing.

“Soobin baby.”

“Hm?” His head lifts just enough to acknowledge you, sleepy gaze finally finding yours.

“The water?”

“Right.”

Still doesn’t move.

You snort, stepping around him toward the kitchen, immediately hearing his socked feet dragging after you. The kitchen light spills soft gold across the countertops while you fill two glasses. Behind you, Soobin leans heavily against the island watching you with hooded eyes, completely silent.

You can feel him staring.

“What?” you ask without turning.

“Nothing.” A pause. “My girlfriend is cute.”

You glance back at him. “You’re drunk.”

“Yeah,” he says easily. “And you’re cute.”

You slide his water toward him. He takes two obedient sips before abandoning the glass entirely the second you step between his legs to put yours down beside the sink.

Immediately, his hands settle on your hips. Warm, heavy, like they belong there.

“You know,” he says slowly after a moment, voice warm with sleep and alcohol, “I think Beomgyu was trying to hit on that staff tonight.”

You glance up at him. “What?”

“Mhm.” His thumbs drag lazily against your sides. “That funny one. Soram-ssi.” He squints slightly like he’s replaying the memory in real time. “He kept filling her drink everytime she was finishing.”

You laugh instantly. “Poor Gyu.”

Soobin hums in agreement, cheek pressing briefly against your head before he looks at your eyes again. “He's the worst at flirting.”

“He’s still trying to recover from his trainee-days heartbreak,” you tease softly, reaching up to smooth his messy fringe away from his forehead. “That boy sees one cute girl and immediately starts planning the wedding.”

A sleepy grin spreads across Soobin’s face. “He really does.”

“He’s probably writing sad lyrics about her already.”

His laughter comes out quieter this time, dissolved into a tired sigh as his arms tighten around your waist instinctively, pulling you a little closer between his knees. The kitchen falls comfortably silent again for a few seconds except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic outside your apartment windows.

Then, completely unprompted, Soobin murmurs against your shirt:

“I’m glad I don’t have to flirt anymore.”

Your expression softens immediately. “Oh?”

“Mmm.” His eyes drift shut for a second. “Too much work.” A pause. “You already like me.”

The smugness in his sleepy voice makes you laugh again, but the sound catches somewhere in your chest when he continues. “Still can’t believe it sometimes,” he admits quietly. His smile turns soft at that. Really soft. The kind that always catches you off guard after all these years together.

He pulls you a little closer until your knees press between his, face getting closer for a second before he looks at you again. His expression shifts slightly then—slower, warmer. Charged.

“You wore that perfume on purpose tonight,” he murmurs.

Your breath catches a little. “What perfume?”

“That one.” His nose brushes your jaw when he leans closer. “The one that I told you I really really really really liked last time.”

“So dramatic.”

“M’serious.” His voice drops lower on the last word, making the room suddenly feels smaller.

You try to look away first, but his hand slides up your side, fingertips disappearing beneath the hem of your shirt just enough to touch warm skin. Lazy, absentminded, possessive.

“Soob,” you whisper, mostly because he keeps staring at your mouth.

“Hm?” His answer comes automatically, eyes half-lidded and fixed on your lips while his thumbs continue their slow lazy circles against your waist beneath your shirt.

“You were literally falling asleep five minutes ago.” You try to sound unimpressed, but it’s difficult when he’s looking at you like that. “Are you trying to get in my pants because this is the first time you’ve been able to sleep in since promotions started?”

The corner of his mouth twitches immediately. You narrow your eyes slightly when he leans forward again like he’s about to kiss you instead of answer properly.

“Don’t you have a schedule tomorrow morning?” you ask, pressing a hand lightly against his chest before he can fully close the distance. “Something about getting drunk on live broadcast all over again?”

That finally makes him laugh, a soft, sleepy sound that vibrates warm against your palm.

“That’s next week,” he mumbles, words brushing against your skin because he’s still trying to sneak closer between every sentence. “Tomorrow we’re off.”

“Convenient, right?” You side eye him.

“It’s true.” His nose nudges your jaw affectionately. “Stop pretending I didn’t send you my whole schedule last night, jagi.”

You blink and then narrow your eyes harder. “You sent me seventeen screenshots and a voice note where you forgot what day it was halfway through.”

“I was tired.”

“You said—and I quote—‘Thursday is either dance practice or dentist.’”

Soobin immediately starts laughing again, shoulders shaking this time.

“That could’ve been accurate.” His dimples deepen when you try—and fail—not to smile back at him. The expression on his face softens instantly at the sight of it, drunk affection settling over his features so openly it nearly melts you on the spot.

Then, quieter this time, his hands sliding a little lower against your waist:

“So can I focus on you now?”

The way he says it—low, sleepy, sincere—sends heat straight down your spine. You laugh under your breath, but it dies quickly when he pulls you flush against him between his knees, burying his face briefly against your chest with a tired groan.

“Missed you all night,” he mumbles.

You run your fingers through his hair slowly, feeling Soobin practically melt beneath your touch. His nose brushes lazily against the warm skin just above your collarbone, lips following a second later in slow absentminded kisses that feel more affectionate than intentional at first. Like he’s kissing you because he missed the feeling of it.

You feel his breathing change before he speaks again. “Hate sleeping alone,” he murmurs softly against your skin, confessing.

Your chest tightens a little at the sleepy vulnerability in his voice. His grip around your waist grows heavier when you card your fingers through his hair again, nails dragging lightly over his scalp in a way that pulls a quiet sound from deep in his chest.

“Couldn’t sleep properly last week,” he admits after a moment, words slower now, almost drowsy. “Kept waking up.”

You tilt his face up gently until his eyes meet yours again. They look glassy with exhaustion, pink-cheeked and soft under the kitchen lights, all the bravado from dinner gone now that it’s just the two of you.

“You should’ve called me,” you whisper.

“Mmm.” His thumb strokes beneath your shirt absentmindedly. “Didn’t wanna wake you.”

You feel the exact moment his attention shifts from sleepy affection into something slower and deeper. His hand slides further beneath your shirt, broad palm flattening against your side while he leans in again, mouth brushing your neck with more intention this time. Not teasing anymore. Not distracted.

His lips press slowly beneath your jaw, warm and slightly parted, and the quiet sound he makes against your skin nearly melts your knees on the spot.

“Soob…” you breathe.

He hums softly in response, still kissing your neck like he’s half-asleep and addicted to the feeling of you under his mouth. His other hand tightens on your hip when you shift closer between his legs instinctively.

He murmurs quietly against your skin, voice rougher now. “Missed this.”

His mouth drifts lower while he speaks, kisses getting slower and wetter now, lingering long enough to leave warmth blooming across your skin. One of his hands slips around your back, fingertips spreading against the base of your spine before pulling you fully flush against him.

You can feel how deeply he exhales at that.

The second you kiss him back properly, something in him changes, his grip tightens sharply at your waist. A low sound catches in his throat before he kisses you again, deeper this time. The kiss turns deep instantly — slow, wet, filthy in that way only years of knowing each other can make it.

“Missed your mouth,” he breathes against your lips, voice gravelly and thick with soju and want. He kisses you again before you can answer, deeper, hungrier, tilting his head to get the perfect angle. He’s so tall that even when bending his torso he still towers over you, shoulders curved forward like he wants to wrap his entire frame around you.

The sound that leaves him when your fingers tug lightly at his hair nearly makes your knees give out.

“Bin…” you breathe against his mouth, already a little dizzy from the way he keeps pulling you closer every few seconds like he’s unconsciously trying to climb inside your space.

“Hm?”

You laugh softly despite yourself, chest rising unevenly while he keeps kissing the corner of your mouth, your jaw, anywhere he can reach without letting you go for more than a second.

“I didn’t shave today,” you murmur between breaths, trying and failing to sound serious. “Tone it down a little, Choi.”

Soobin pauses.

“Be fucking serious.”

You burst into laughter immediately, but it gets swallowed halfway when he crowds back into your space again, huge hands gripping your waist tighter.

“Do you genuinely think I give a fuck right now?” he mutters against your lips before kissing you again, slower this time but somehow even filthier. “I’m trying to get into my girlfriend’s pants because it’s been, like, a whole week since I saw her.”

“Whole week,” you repeat weakly.

“A tragic week.”

“You called me every day.”

“And suffered every second.”

His voice drops lower at the last part, words vibrating against your skin while his mouth drifts back down your neck again. You can feel him smiling faintly against you when your fingers tighten instinctively in his hair.

“Do you know how hard it was sleeping alone after FaceTiming you every night?” he murmurs. “You’d answer looking all comfy in bed on purpose.”

“I literally wear pajamas.”

“Tiny pajamas.”

“They’re shorts.”

“They’re evil.”

You laugh breathlessly again, but it dissolves into a shaky exhale when his hands slide beneath your shirt more fully this time, palms warm against your bare skin while he kisses slowly beneath your jaw. Then his grip tightens suddenly.

“Jump,” he murmurs.

You blink, breathless. “What?”

“C’mon.” His hands slide down beneath your thighs already, sleepy impatience slipping into his voice. “Jump, baby.”

You laugh softly, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. The second you hop up, Soobin catches you effortlessly with a quiet grunt, hands locking beneath your thighs while your legs instinctively wrap around his waist.

And immediately—

“Oh my God,” you choke out, laughing against his shoulder. Because now you can fully feel him. Hard. Very hard.

Pressed directly against you beneath his jeans.

Soobin freezes for half a second as your laughter gets worse.

“Binnie,” you gasp, trying to breathe through your cackling. “You're so hard, baby.”

“Shut up,” he mutters instantly, voice deep and embarrassed against your neck while he starts walking anyway. That only makes you laugh harder.

“You were acting all sleepy five minutes ago and now this!”

“Baby,” he groans warningly, squeezing the back of your thigh hard enough to make you jolt a little. “Please.”

You’re still giggling when he carries you out of the kitchen, one large hand supporting you easily while the other keeps sliding up and down your thigh absentmindedly. His face stays buried against your neck the entire walk down the hallway like he’s trying to hide both his expression and his dignity.

“You think this is funny?” he mutters.

“Yes.”

“Cruel.”

“You literally told me to jump.”

“Because I missed my girlfriend.”

“You missed having sex.”

“That too.”

You laugh again under your breath, arms still looped loosely around his shoulders while he carries you down the hallway. The apartment is quiet except for your giggling and the soft sound of his socked feet against the floor, his hands warm beneath your thighs as he holds you effortlessly against him.

Soobin nodges your bedroom door open with his shoulder.

The room is dim except for the soft amber glow from the lamp near the bed, your half-folded laundry still abandoned on the chair from two days ago and one of Soobin’s hoodies draped over the edge exactly where he left it two weeks ago.

The second he reaches the bed, he lets himself fall forward with you still attached to him.

You squeal, laughing as the mattress dips beneath both your weights, but before you can fully collapse backward, Soobin catches himself with one arm and carefully lowers you onto the middle of the bed instead.

Then he finally straightens up between your legs, hands still resting on your thighs for a second like he doesn’t quite want to let go yet.

Then his eyes drift downward. “Fuck,” he mutters quietly to himself. You follow his gaze instantly and burst into laughter again because his jeans look genuinely painful now.

“Oh, you are suffering.”

“Jagi,” he groans, dragging both hands down his face. “Please have mercy on me.”

Still muttering under his breath, Soobin reaches for the button of his jeans, fingers slightly clumsy from the alcohol while he starts undoing them with a tired sigh. You push yourself upright against the pillows to watch him, entirely too entertained by the situation.

And shameless.

Your eyes drag slowly over him while he struggles with the button for a second, broad shoulders still stretching that button up distractingly well, hair messy from your hands, cheeks flushed pink all the way to the tips of his ears.

God.

The second his eyes flick back up toward you, you pull your shirt over your head in one smooth motion.

Soobin freezes.

Actually freezes.

His half-open jeans suddenly seem completely forgotten while his gaze drops instantly to your chest, the expression on his face shifting from sleepy amusement into something visibly heavier.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes.

The words come out rough, almost reverent. Soobin’s hands drop away from his half-undone jeans like he’s completely forgotten they exist.

He’s on you in a second.

Big hands slide under your thighs, gripping hard as he pulls you down the bed so you’re flat on your back. You yelp at the sudden shift, a surprised little sound that melts into a laugh — which he immediately swallows with his mouth.

The kiss is messy and desperate from the start.

Soobin groans low in his throat the moment your lips meet, tilting his head to slot your mouths together deeper. His tongue pushes past your lips without hesitation, hot and slick, sliding against yours in slow, filthy strokes. He kisses like he’s starving — wet, open-mouthed, a little clumsy from the alcohol but so familiar he still knows exactly how to wreck you. His tongue curls around yours, sucking lightly before he licks deeper, exploring like he’s trying to map every inch of your mouth.

You moan into him and he answers with a wrecked sound of his own, one large hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you right where he wants you while the other palms the buttons of your jeans.

He manhandles you again — suddenly flipping you so you’re straddling his lap, your knees sinking into the bed on either side of his hips. You yelp against his mouth at the easy strength, the way his big hands grip your behind and yank you flush against him. The sound only makes him kiss you harder.

Soobin’s breath is hot and ragged between kisses. While his mouth devours you, his hands are busy — shrugging off his button-up in one impatient motion, shoulders rolling as the fabric slides down his arms and drops somewhere behind him.

You feel the heat of his bare chest instantly, flushed pink and burning against your skin. His broad shoulders flex under your hands as he reaches between your bodies, fingers working open the button of your pants with surprising focus for how drunk he is. The zipper comes down next. He doesn’t even break the kiss while he does it — just keeps licking into your mouth, tongue slow and teasing now, like he’s savoring every little whimper he pulls from you.

“Lift,” he rasps against your lips, voice so deep and hoarse it vibrates through you.

You obey without thinking. The second you lift your hips, Soobin’s hands slide beneath the waistband of your pants, dragging them down your legs with impatient roughness. He groans quietly into your mouth the moment your skin brushes his bare chest again.

“Fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping briefly against yours like he needs a second to collect himself. “Missed this so bad.”

Your hands slide instinctively over his shoulders while he finishes pulling your pants off completely, tossing them somewhere onto the floor without looking. The movement shifts him closer between your legs, enough that you can feel the heat of him again through the thin fabric still separating you both.

You reach down between both your bodies this time, fingers hooking into the waistband of his jeans where they’re still hanging half-open around his hips. You end up brushing your fingers on him.

His entire body reacts instantly.

A sharp inhale. Shoulders tightening beneath your palms. His head dropping briefly onto your shoulder with a low groan that sounds almost pained.

You push his jeans down properly this time, slow enough to make him visibly suffer through it. His forehead stays buried against your neck while he shifts just enough to kick them off the rest of the way along with his socks, one of his large hands gripping your thigh hard the entire time like grounding himself.

The second they’re finally gone, he exhales deeply against your skin.

“Better?” you whisper, unable to stop smiling.

“No,” he says immediately, lifting his head just enough to look at you with drunk ruined eyes. “Worse, actually.”

You laugh softly against his mouth, but the sound dissolves quickly when he flips your bodies and kisses you again.

Your fingers slip through his hair while he goes back to kissing you, mouths parting and meeting again in soft wet presses that grow deeper every few seconds. Somewhere between one kiss and the next, he shifts higher onto the mattress, nudging you backward against the pillows while his broad body settles naturally between your legs like muscle memory.

Years together. Years of this. You can feel it in every touch.

His hand drifts down your side slowly, fingertips grazing your thigh before disappearing briefly off the edge of the mattress. At first you barely notice what he’s doing because he never stops kissing you, but then you hear the soft sound of your left nightstand drawer sliding open.

You break into a breathless laugh against his lips immediately. “Seriously?”

“Mhm,” he hums without shame, still kissing you between words while blindly reaching into the drawer beside the bed. “Know this room better than my own.”

You snort softly, but the laugh catches when his hand finally finds what he’s looking for and he pulls back just enough to glance at the condom in his fingers with sleepy satisfaction.

“There we go,” he murmurs.

Soobin tosses the condom onto the pillow beside your head, then finally lets the drawer click shut. His eyes drag down your body like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again — black lace bra, tiny matching panties, skin already flushed from his hands and mouth. A low, appreciative groan rumbles out of his chest.

“Look at you…” he rasps, voice wrecked. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

Before you can tease him for his corniness, he moves.

Big hands slide under your thighs and he yanks you down the bed in one smooth, powerful motion. You yelp as your back slides against the sheets, but the sound cuts off into a gasp when Soobin settles fully on top of you. He’s so tall and broad he blocks out the low lamplight, caging you in completely. His flushed chest presses against your lace-covered breasts, hot skin against delicate fabric.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust.

With a low grunt, he hooks one of your legs over his hip, then the other, spreading you open beneath him. The manhandling is effortless — years of experience and that quiet strength letting him move you exactly how he wants. He rolls his hips forward and presses right against your core.

The thick, heavy outline of his member in his black boxers slides perfectly against your lace-covered heat, pulsing hot and hard. You moan loudly at the contact, back arching off the bed.

“Goddamn—”

He laughs a little at that and you realize he didn't do it on purpose, which makes everything worse.

He kisses you again, deeper this time, tongue sliding hot and wet against yours while his hips keep rolling in these devastating, lazy circles. Every thrust makes his clothed dick drag right over your most sensitive part, the thin layers between you doing almost nothing to dull the sensation. He’s so big between your legs, the weight of him, the heat, the way he pulses and twitches against your warmth — it makes your already tipsy brain spin.

Soobin groans into the kiss, the sound vibrating through both of you. One of his hands grips your behind, squeezing the soft flesh as he grinds harder, fitting himself even more perfectly against you. The other hand slides up your back instead, fingers finding the clasp of your bra with practiced ease. Even half-drunk and hazy, he undoes it one-handed in a single smooth motion — years of knowing your curves making it effortless.

He pulls the lace away slowly, letting it fall somewhere off the side of the bed, and immediately palms your bare breast, warm and heavy, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple as he keeps grinding against you.

“My pretty girlfriend,” he murmurs hotly against your neck between kisses, voice raspy and full of affection. “So fucking perfect.”

"Bin—"

“So lucky to have you,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours, breath warm and uneven. “Love you so bad, baby… you have no idea.”

His words are slurred at the edges from the alcohol, but they’re so sincere they make your chest ache.

His shoulders shake slightly while he drops his face into your neck again, one large hand spreading across your waist like he needs something to hold onto.

Then, muffled against your skin:

“I’m so fucking hard, Jesus Christ,” he groans. “Feelin' like in our first time again.”

You burst into laughter instantly.

“I’m serious,” he mutters, lifting his head just enough for you to see the genuinely offended look on his flushed face.

Still laughing softly under your breath, your hand slides between both your bodies before he can stop you, palming him through his boxers deliberately this time.

The reaction is immediate, Soobin’s entire body jerks.

“Fucking hell, Y/N—”

The curse tears out of him rough and low while his forehead drops heavily onto your shoulder again, fingers digging into your waist hard enough to leave crescents. You can physically feel the way his breathing stutters when your palm strokes over him once more.

“Oh, you weren’t exaggerating,” you tease breathlessly.

“Baby,” he groans warningly, voice wrecked already.

But you keep touching him anyway. Slow. Curious. Mean.

The second you shift your hips experimentally against him too, Soobin completely loses whatever remained of his drunken patience. A broken sound leaves him instantly.

His hands fly to your hips, holding you still for half a second like he physically can’t process the sensation before another shaky exhale punches out of him against your neck.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters again, sounding genuinely tortured now. “Do not start that unless you wanna kill me.” You laugh softly into his hair, but the sound catches when he suddenly looks up at you again. Completely gone.

All of him focused entirely on you now.

Soobin’s eyes are dark, glassy, and completely locked on your face. His breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling against yours as one of his big hands slides slowly down your body. He cups your breast for a second, then keeps going, fingertips tracing over your stomach until they hook gently under the waistband of your lace panties.

His voice comes out low and raspy, almost shy despite how hard he is against your thigh.

“Can I?” he whispers, eyes flicking up to yours.

You nod, biting your lip.

Soobin doesn’t waste time. He sits back on his knees just enough to peel your panties down your legs, lifting your hips with one hand like it’s nothing. The cool air hits your soaked core and you shiver. He groans softly at the sight of you, completely bare now, then quickly shoves his own boxers down and kicks them off.

The second his cock springs free — thick, flushed dark pink, and painfully hard — it slaps against his stomach. He’s so big it still makes your stomach tighten even after years together. The moment his bare skin presses against yours again, both of you shiver hard.

“Fuck…” Soobin breathes, lowering himself back on top of you. The heat of his cock slides right against you, hot and heavy, pulsing against your wetness. He groans at the same time you do, forehead dropping to yours.

“It’s been a while, baby,” he murmurs, almost apologetic, voice rough. “Can it be my fingers?”

Even drunk and desperate, he’s careful.

"Fuck, yes." You nod.

One large hand slips between your bodies, warm and sure. Soobin doesn’t rush. His fingers glide slowly through your folds, parting them gently, spreading the slickness that’s already accumulated there. The first touch is feather-light — just the pad of his thumb brushing over your clit in a slow, lazy circle.

You inhale sharply.

He gathers a little more of your wetness with two fingers, then brings it back up, using it to properly moisturize your clit, making the glide smoother, slicker. It’s so familiar, so practiced — the way he knows exactly how you like it after years together. His thumb stays there, rubbing slow, steady circles while the rest of his hand just rests warmly against your pussy, not pushing yet.

Soobin watches your face the entire time, that lazy, dimpled grin tugging at his lips even though his eyes are dark and heavy with lust.

“Fuck…” you breathe, biting down hard on your lower lip as a shiver runs through you.

His grin widens, dimples deepening. “You like this, right baby?” he murmurs, voice low and raspy, sweet in that devastating way only he can manage when he’s drunk and turned on. “Feel good?”

You nod quickly, unable to speak at first. Your hand flies up to grip his shoulder, nails digging into the flushed skin as your hips twitch. He keeps the rhythm slow and consistent — perfect little circles that make heat pool low in your stomach. Every time his thumb passes over the sensitive bundle of nerves, your thighs tremble around his waist.

Soobin leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, still grinning against your skin.

Another soft circle, then he gathers more of your wetness again, making everything even slicker, warmer. Only then does he finally slide two knuckles down to your entrance. He teases the tip of the finger just inside, barely breaching you, before pulling back and rubbing your clit again — keeping you on edge, making everything wetter, hotter.

You whimper, gripping his shoulder harder. “Soob—”

“I know, baby,” he coos sweetly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Just prepping a bit, 'most done.”

He finally pushes one finger in slowly, all the way to the last knuckle, curling it gently while his thumb never stops its lazy circles on your clit. The intrusion is perfect, familiar, and so fucking good. A broken “fuck” slips out of you again as your back arches slightly off the bed.

Soobin chuckles softly, the sound warm and fond. His flushed chest presses closer to yours as he watches every little expression on your face — the way your brows furrow, the way your teeth sink into your lip, the way your eyes flutter.

Your boyfriend praises you quietly, adding a second finger on the next stroke, stretching you open so easily.

His fingers move in and out in long, slow pumps, curling just right against that spot inside you while his thumb keeps working your clit in those steady, mind-melting circles. He’s completely focused on you — grinning, flushed, whispering sweet little things between soft kisses to your neck and mouth, completely lost in the way you fall apart under his hand.

Soobin curls his fingers inside you one last time, pressing firmly against that spot that makes your toes curl, before he slowly slides them out. The sudden emptiness makes you whine in protest.

He watches your face with a soft, apologetic smile, his own breathing ragged. His cock is throbbing visibly against your thigh, flushed dark and leaking steadily.

“Sorry, jagi, I'm just…” he murmurs, voice thick and raspy. “Really in a rush right now—” He glances down between your bodies, brows slightly furrowed even through the haze of alcohol.

He leans down and kisses your forehead, then your lips, sweet and slow.

“In the morning I’ll take my time with you properly, eat you out for as long as you want, make you come on my tongue first… but right now—” His hips twitch involuntarily, cock sliding against your slick folds. “I feel like I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind.”

You let out a breathless laugh that turns into a curse when his fingers leave you completely. While he’s still chuckling softly, he reaches down and wraps his long fingers around his cock, using your wetness to stroke himself slowly. The wet sound is filthy in the quiet room. He groans deep in his chest, eyes fluttering for a second as he pumps himself a few times, spreading your slick all over his length.

The sight makes heat flare through you. The ache between your legs is suddenly unbearable, making you needy for something inside you right now.

Your hand fumbles blindly on the pillow beside your head where you remember him tossing the condom. Fingers brush the foil packet and you snatch it up immediately.

Soobin’s eyes widen slightly when he sees it in your hand, but he doesn’t stop stroking himself, thumb brushing over the leaking tip.

You tear the wrapper open with your teeth — a practiced, familiar motion after years together — and pull out the condom. He shifts back just enough to give you room, still hovering over you, flushed chest rising and falling fast.

You sit up a little, reaching for him. He helps guide your hands, one of his big palms covering yours as you roll the condom down his thick length together. It’s smooth, natural, the same little dance you’ve done countless times. He lets out a shaky breath when you reach the base, giving him one firm stroke for good measure.

“Fuck,” he breathes, half-laughing, half-groaning as he presses you back down into the mattress.

Soobin hovers over you, breathing heavy, the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance. Even in his drunk, urgent state, the careful boyfriend in him wins.

“Wait,” he murmurs, voice low and warm. He reaches over to the side of the bed and grabs one of the extra pillows. As he leans, his heavy cock bobs forward and drags right over your swollen clit.

Both of you freeze for half a second, then burst into soft, breathless giggles.

“Shit—” he laughs quietly, shoulders shaking. “Sorry.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you whisper, still smiling as the giggles fade into something warmer, more desperate.

He tucks the pillow under your hips with practiced ease, lifting you gently like he’s done a hundred times before. The new angle immediately makes you feel more open for him. Domestic. Familiar. Safe.

Soobin settles back between your thighs, one hand on your waist, the other wrapping around his cock again. You reach down at the same time, your fingers overlapping his as you both line him up together. The head of his cock presses against your slick entrance, hot and thick.

He leans down and kisses your bare shoulder softly, lips lingering there.

“You sure you don’t want prone tonight?” he asks gently against your skin, voice raspy but sweet. “I know it’s your favorite, I can fuck you deep like that if you want.”

You shake your head, a breathy whine slipping out as you spread your legs wider for him. “No… want you like this,” you murmur, guiding the tip of him just inside you. “Want to see you, Binnie— fuck...”

You try to pull him in with one impatient roll of your hips. A sharp, needy whine escapes you instantly. He’s so big, and it’s been two whole weeks — the stretch is intense, almost too much even though you’re basically soaked right now.

Soobin freezes right away, concern flashing across his flushed face.

“Breathe, baby,” he says softly, voice steady and comforting. One big hand strokes your side. “I already told you to not do that. It can hurt you, jagi.”

He gently takes your left leg and hooks your ankle over his broad shoulder as he's talking, opening you up even more. The new position makes you both moan quietly. He leans forward, folding you nicely under him, and lines himself up again with your help.

“That’s it,” he whispers, pressing a slow kiss to your knee. His eyes stay locked on yours the whole time — drunk, adoring, and a little worried even as his cock throbs against your entrance. He waits, patient, until you relax and nod.

Only then does he start pushing in — slow, careful, and so fucking thick. Soobin’s breath catches as the head of his cock slowly sinks into you, stretching you open inch by inch. He’s so thick that even after the improvised prep, your mouth falls open in a silent moan. The pillow under your hips and your leg hooked over his shoulder make the angle devastatingly deep.

“Shit,” he groans, voice raspy and strained. His eyes flutter shut for a second before he forces them open again, watching your face carefully. “Squeezing me too tight... Just breathe, honey.”

You nod shakily, fingers digging into his broad shoulders as he keeps pressing forward, slow and steady. Halfway in, you let out a broken whimper. The stretch burns in the best way, that perfect mix of too much and not enough.

He gives you another moment, then rocks forward again, sinking the rest of the way in until his hips are flush against yours. A deep, relieved groan rumbles out of his chest when he bottoms out. You can feel him throbbing inside you, so full and heavy it makes your head spin.

“Oh my god, baby…” you moan, back arching off the bed.

He stays there for a few seconds, buried to the hilt, forehead pressed to yours while both of you just breathe through it. His flushed chest is pressed against your breasts, skin burning hot. One of his big hands strokes your hips soothingly, the other holding your thigh against his shoulder.

Soobin’s breath hitches. His grip on your thigh tightens almost possessively as he slowly folds you further underneath him — pushing your leg higher, pressing your knee closer to your chest. The new angle forces him even deeper, and a broken moan slips out of you.

Before you can catch your breath, his other hand slides up your back, fingers threading firmly into your hair. He grips the strands near your nape with surprising strength, tugging just hard enough to tilt your head back against the pillow. His long fingers curl tight at the base of your skull, holding you right where he wants you.

Your eyes roll back instantly.

“S— fuck—” The word comes out shaky, almost slurred. The alcohol in your system basically all gone now.

He lets out a low, satisfied groan at your reaction, lips brushing your jaw.

“You like that?” he rasps, voice deep and rough.

He doesn’t wait for an answer.

He starts moving.

A deep, deliberate roll of his hips that makes you feel every thick inch dragging inside you. With your leg folded high and his strong grip on your nape and hair, you’re completely pinned under him, helpless in the best way. Soobin pulls out almost all the way, then sinks back in with a wet slap, setting a steady, filthy rhythm.

Your hands fly around desperately, not knowing where to hold on. You fist the sheets first, twisting them hard as he bottoms out again, a broken moan tearing from your throat. On the next thrust you reach for the pillow above your head, gripping it tight, but nothing feels steady enough.

Soobin notices. His grip in your hair tightens just a fraction as he leans closer, chest pressed flush to yours, lips against your ear.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice wrecked.

On the next deep thrust you finally settle — one hand flying up to wrap around the thick bicep of the arm that’s gripping your nape. Your fingers dig into the firm muscle there, nails biting into his flushed skin as he drives into you again and again. Your other hand slides across his broad back, scratching down the length of it hard enough to leave marks.

Soobin hisses through his teeth, a shaky groan following right after.

He keeps that steady, punishing rhythm — pulling out slow, then slamming back in deep, the wet slap of skin on skin loud in the quiet room. Every thrust forces a helpless sound out of you. Your nails rake down his back again as he grinds against your walls, and his grip on your hair tightens in response, keeping you right there with him.

Soobin keeps that deep, steady rhythm for a few more thrusts, then suddenly slows. He reaches up, grabs your hand that’s clawing at his bicep, and guides it to the back of his head.

You know exactly what that means.

Your fingers thread through the fluffy strands at the back of his neck and grip tight. The second you tug, you feel your boyfriend's hips stuttering.

He starts giving you shallow, experimental thrusts — little rolls of his hips that let him search for that perfect angle. Not pulling out much, just grinding and adjusting, like he was trying to find momentum or something else your drunken fucked out brain couldn't wrap around it yet. His brows were furrowed in concentration, flushed cheeks glowing under the low light, drunk eyes locked on your face like he’s studying every reaction.

You tug his hair again and his breath catches.

“Fuck—” he murmurs, voice raspy.

He then angles his hips a little higher and gives another shallow thrust.

Your whole body jolts.

A sharp, broken moan rips out of you as he finally hits it — that sweet spot deep inside that makes your toes curl and your vision blur. Soobin’s face lights up instantly, a bright, satisfied grin breaking across his flushed face, dimples deep.

“Fucking finally, baby” he whispers triumphantly, almost giddy even while buried inside you. “Found it.” You want to laugh at his ridiculousness but you're too busy moaning his name out loud.

Soobin doesn’t waste a second. He shifts his weight, one big hand reaching down to fix the pillow under your hips, pushing it a little higher so the angle is even better. Then he hooks your leg more securely over his shoulder, folding you open wider for him.

Now that he’s locked onto your sweet spot, the man turns into a beast so he can focus completely.

His thrusts stay deep but become more targeted — slow, powerful drags that grind right against that patch of warmth on every stroke. The hand that was before gripping your hair, now grips the bed behind your head. The wet, filthy sound of him moving inside you fills the room as he keeps that perfect rhythm, never losing it once he’s found it.

You can only nod and moan, fingers tightening desperately in his skin and back. Every precise thrust makes your eyes roll back again. Soobin groans at the feeling of you pulling his hair, hips snapping a little harder as he chases your pleasure.

He adjusts the angle of your leg one more time, pressing your thigh closer to your chest, and the new depth makes you cry out. Soobin smiles against your neck — proud, drunk, and completely lost in you — while he keeps fucking you with those devastating, focused strokes.

Soobin keeps that perfect rhythm for a few more deep strokes, then suddenly slows again. You're about to curse him out when he gently lowers your leg from his shoulder, letting it wrap around his waist instead. You whine at the loss of the stretch, but the sound turns into a gasp when he slides his long arm underneath your lower back.

“Come here, baby,” he murmurs, voice rough.

With one smooth, powerful motion he pulls your hips up and glues your bodies completely together. Your chests press flush, sweat-slick skin sliding against skin. His arm stays locked around your waist like a steel band, holding you so tightly there’s almost no space left between you. Every breath you take, he feels.

The new angle makes him sink even deeper.

You both moan loudly at the first thrust.

“Fuck— Soobin,” you whimper, legs instinctively circling his narrow hips, heels digging into the back of his thighs to pull him closer. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers threading back into his hair at the nape like you knew he loved. "This is new, baby—"

“Better, right?” he rasps against your ear, voice wrecked. “Dreamt of this last night and wanted to try with you so bad.”

Soobin groans, deep and broken, burying his face in the crook of your neck for a second. One of his arms is still banded tightly around your waist, holding your entire body glued to his. The other arm is braced beside your head, forearm flexing hard as his hand grips the sheets in a white-knuckled fist.

"Woke up so hard and leaking all over my bed, jagi, just thinking about you like this."

Soobin looks devastating like this.

Broad shoulders curled over you, flushed chest pressed to yours, the muscles in his arm standing out as he holds himself up just enough not to crush you. His messy hair falls over his forehead, cheeks and neck still that pretty, deep pink from the alcohol and exertion. Every time he rolls his hips, the flex of his back and shoulders is mesmerizing.

He starts moving again — slower, but heavier, grinding strokes that press him right against your sweet spot with almost no space to pull out. Because he’s holding you so tightly, every thrust makes your bodies slide together, your clit rubbing against his pelvis on every roll. The wet, intimate sound of him moving inside you is filthy and constant.

You cling to him harder, legs locked around his hips, arms tight around his neck like you’re afraid he’ll disappear. Your nails scratch lightly at his scalp and the back of his shoulders.

Soobin lets out a shaky breath right against your neck.

Your moans mix together, breathy and desperate. He keeps that tight, glued-together rhythm — hips rolling in deep, filthy circles, barely pulling out before pressing back in, keeping you full and pressed against him the whole time.

His flexed arm beside your head tightens, knuckles white on the sheets as he fights to keep control.

He turns his head just enough to kiss you — messy, open-mouthed, and needy — while still holding your entire body flush against his, fucking you deep and slow in that perfect, intimate grind.

You’re getting closer.

Every deep, grinding roll of his hips pushes you higher, that tight coil in your stomach winding impossibly tighter. You can’t stop the needy sounds spilling from your lips. Your legs tighten around his waist, heels digging into his back as you pull him even deeper.

Soobin feels it — the way you start clenching around him, the way your breathing turns into short, desperate whimpers.

He grins.

That devastating, dimpled smile spreads across his flushed face, eyes half-lidded and sparkling with drunk affection even as he keeps fucking you slow and deep.

Your lips press messily against his mouth first, then trail across his jaw, sucking lightly at the sharp line there. Soobin’s grin widens, dimples carving deep into his cheeks as he tilts his head to give you more access. You kiss down the flushed column of his neck, open-mouthed and wet, tasting the salt on his skin and the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to him.

Every time your lips or tongue touch him, he lets out a soft, pleased hum, hips never losing their rhythm.

“Fuck… keep doing that,” he breathes, dimples still on full display. His arm around your waist squeezes you tighter, pressing your bodies impossibly closer as he grinds into you. “Love when you kiss me like you can’t get enough.”

You whimper against his neck and bite down gently right below his ear. Soobin’s breath stutters, the arm braced beside your head flexing hard, knuckles white on the sheets.

His arm around your waist holds you even closer, almost lifting your hips off the bed as he drives into you with those perfect, deep grinds. Your arms stay locked around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair while the heat inside you starts to blow up.

“Soobin—” you whimper against his flushed neck, voice shaking.

“I know, baby. I can feel it,” he murmurs, that dimpled grin still tugging at his lips even as his own breathing turns ragged. “You’re getting tighter.”

You bury your face in his neck, kissing and panting against his skin, desperate little moans spilling out with every roll of his hips. Your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling hard, and Soobin groans deeply, the sound vibrating against your lips.

“That’s it… let go for me,” he whispers hotly, voice raspy and sweet. “I’ve got it.”

The coil snaps without warning.

Your orgasm crashes over you hard. A broken cry tears from your throat as your whole body seizes up, thighs clamping tight around your boyfriend's waist. You clench around him in pulsing waves, so intensely that your vision whites out for a second. Your back arches hard against him, pressing your chest even tighter to his as pleasure floods every nerve.

Soobin’s dimples disappear as his mouth falls open in a wrecked moan, but he doesn’t stop moving. He keeps grinding deep and steady through your orgasm, drawing it out, letting you ride every wave.

Your nails dig into his back and scalp as you shake in his arms, whimpering and moaning his name like a prayer. The arm around your waist holds you impossibly closer, almost lifting you completely off the bed while he keeps fucking you through it, slow and deep, making sure you feel every single second.

You’re still trembling, thighs shaking around his waist, when Soobin’s thrusts start getting a little more desperate, his breathing turning ragged against your neck.

“Baby… I’m so close,” he groans, voice wrecked. “Fuck, I’m gonna come—”

Still overstimulated and sensitive, you push at his shoulder and then gently but firmly shove his face away from your neck. Soobin blinks, confused for half a second, dimples still faintly visible as he tries to understand.

Before he can ask, you push him harder, rolling him onto his back.

He gets it instantly.

A surprised, breathy laugh escapes him as he wraps both big arms around you and pulls you with him, never once letting you disconnect. In one smooth motion he flips you so you’re straddling his lap, him still buried deep inside you.

“Shit— okay, like this?” he rasps, eyes wide and dark with lust.

You don’t answer with words. You brace your hands on his flushed chest and start riding him.

Soobin’s head falls back against the pillow with a broken moan, eyes rolling for a second as you sink down on him again and again. The new position lets you take him even deeper, and the way your walls flutter around his oversensitive cock makes him look like he’s about to lose his mind.

“Good fuck, jagi—” His voice cracks. His hands fly to your hips, gripping hard, fingers digging into your skin as you roll your hips in deep, filthy circles.

Soobin looks completely gone underneath you.

Cheeks burning red, neck and chest flushed dark pink, messy hair sticking to his forehead, mouth open in a constant stream of shaky moans. His abs flex every time you sink down on him, and those pretty dimples keep flashing whenever he tries (and fails) to smile through the overwhelming pleasure.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whines, voice raspy and high. “So fucking tight— slow down a little, Y/N, I’m— shit—”

But you don’t slow down. You ride him harder, bouncing on his cock with wet, obscene sounds filling the room. Soobin’s grip on your hips tightens almost painfully as his thighs start trembling underneath you.

His head presses back into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut for a moment before they fly open again, locked on where you two are connected.

“Look at you… riding me so good,” he pants, half-lost in it. “My pretty girl using me after she came all over my cock… fuck, I love you. I love you so much—”

You slap your hand over his mouth, fingers pressing firmly against his lips.

Soobin’s eyes widen instantly, a muffled, surprised sound vibrating against your palm. You don’t let him recover — you grind down harder, faster, rolling your hips in tight, filthy circles that make his cock drag perfectly against your walls.

His breath hitches sharply through his nose. You can feel the hot, desperate puffs of air against your skin as he’s forced to breathe only through his nose, eyes rolling back slightly.

“Mmm—!” The sound is choked behind your hand, needy and broken. His eyebrows furrow, that pretty flushed face looking completely wrecked as you ride him without mercy.

You lean forward, putting more weight on your hand, keeping his mouth covered while you bounce and grind faster. The wet sounds between your bodies get louder, messier. Soobin’s hands fly to your hips, gripping so hard you know you’ll have bruises tomorrow, but he doesn’t stop you. He can’t.

He starts thrusting up desperately to meet you, hips snapping off the bed in short, frantic strokes. His thighs tremble underneath you. Every time you slam down, he drives up, burying himself as deep as possible.

You feel him throbbing violently inside you.

His eyes squeeze shut, then fly open again — glassy, drunk, and completely gone. Harsh breaths keep punching through his nose against your palm as he fucks up into you with everything he has left, muffled whimpers and groans vibrating against your fingers.

A few more hard, sloppy movements and he breaks.

Soobin’s whole body seizes up beneath you. His back arches sharply off the bed, a loud, broken moan tearing through your hand as he comes hard. You feel every thick pulse of his cock as he spills into the condom, hips jerking uncontrollably while he keeps thrusting up into you through his orgasm, chasing every last second of pleasure.

His eyes stay locked on where you're both connected the entire time — wide, desperate, and so full of lust and love it makes your stomach flip.

When the last powerful spasm finally fades, his body collapses back onto the mattress, chest heaving. You slowly lift your hand from his mouth. He immediately sucks in a deep, shaky breath, lips parted and shiny.

“Jesus” he rasps, voice completely shot. His hands slide up your back, pulling you down onto his chest as he pants against your neck. "You're so fucking hot."

His hands slide up your back immediately, pulling you down onto his chest while both of you try to catch your breath. His heartbeat is still hammering wildly beneath your cheek, skin damp and burning hot against yours. You can barely move without feeling the aftershocks still rolling through both your bodies.

For a long moment neither of you says anything.

The room is filled only with uneven breathing and the occasional twitch of Soobin’s thighs underneath you whenever you shift slightly.

Then:

A weak little laugh escapes him.

You lift your head just enough to look at him. His hair is sticking everywhere now, cheeks completely flushed, lips swollen, eyes glassy and half-closed from exhaustion and alcohol.

“Bin?” you whisper. "Are you still drunk?"

“Debatable.”

You snort softly.

Soobin groans when you move to sit up properly, arms immediately tightening around your waist to keep you exactly where you are.

“No,” he mumbles.

“I can feel you in my lungs, baby.”

“Stay there.”

“Baby, we need to breathe.”

“We are breathing.”

Barely.

You laugh quietly again, fingers brushing damp hair away from his forehead while his eyes drift shut under your touch almost instantly.

Drunk Soobin after sex is always devastatingly soft. Especially tonight.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs sleepily against your shoulder. “Feels nice.” A lazy smile tugs at his lips before he suddenly starts laughing under his breath again.

“What?” You look up at him.

“I can’t believe you did that again.”

Your face heats immediately because you know exactly what he means. “You liked it last time.”

“Liked it?” He looks genuinely offended, eyes finally opening properly to stare up at you. “Baby, I begged you to do it again for like three months straight.”

You burst into laughter.

“I’m serious!” he insists, dimples appearing despite how exhausted he looks. “You can’t just do stuff like that and expect me to be normal afterward.”

The memory alone visibly affects him again because his hands squeeze your hips instinctively while he groans dramatically into the pillow.

“Oh my God,” you laugh. “You’re still hard?”

“A little,” he mutters with zero shame. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m drunk and in love with you.”

The honesty in his voice makes your chest ache a little. He notices immediately, because of course he does after all these years. His expression softens. Then quieter now, thumb rubbing slowly along your waist beneath the sheets.

“I hate your idol stamina sometimes,” you mumble, voice muffled against his chest while your fingers lazily trace over the warm skin of his stomach. “I’m really sleepy, Soob. Can't go another round.”

His entire expression melts instantly.

“Aww,” he coos quietly, drunk affection taking over his face so fast it makes you laugh weakly. “My baby’s tired.”

“You literally ruined me.”

“Mhm.” His hand slides slowly up and down your back beneath the sheets, soothing and absentminded. “You did kinda start fighting for your life there at the end.”

You groan immediately and shove weakly at his chest.

“Shut up.”

His laugh rumbles warmly underneath your cheek. The room feels smaller and warmer, filled only with your shared breathing and quiet giggles. Soobin’s arms stay wrapped around you like he has no intention of ever letting go, his big hand still rubbing slow circles on your back.

After a minute, he sighs deeply, the sound content and sleepy.

“Okay… I should probably deal with this,” he mumbles, glancing down between your bodies where he’s still buried inside you, the condom now full.

You hum in agreement but don’t move. Neither does he for a few seconds. He just holds you tighter, pressing one last lazy kiss to your forehead.

With a soft groan, Soobin gently starts to pull out. You both hiss at the sensitivity — you from being overstimulated, him from how raw he feels. The moment he slips free, you immediately miss the fullness, letting out a tiny whine.

Soobin chuckles softly at the sound.

“'Can't go another round',” he mocks you, voice hoarse.

He carefully rolls you onto your side beside him, then sits up with visible effort. His tall frame sways a little as he swings his long legs off the bed. The lamplight catches on his flushed skin, the red still blooming beautifully across his neck and chest, sweat making his broad shoulders glisten.

You watch him lazily from the pillows as he peels the condom off with a tired grimace, ties it, and pads across the room on slightly unsteady legs. Even drunk and fucked-out, he’s graceful in that quiet, giant-boy way — tall, broad back flexing as he tosses the condom into the small trash bin near your desk.

He comes back immediately, crawling onto the bed like a big, clingy cat and collapsing half on top of you again. His head lands on your chest with a dramatic sigh, one arm slung heavily over your waist, leg tangled between yours.

“Done,” he mumbles against your skin, already sounding half-asleep. “Can we stay like this forever now?”

You thread your fingers through his messy hair, smiling.

“Yeah, Soob. Forever sounds good.”

He nuzzles closer, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss right over your heart. His voice is barely a whisper now, warm and sleepy.

“Love you… so much. Thank you for letting me have you.”

You kiss the top of his head, heart full.

“Always, baby. Now sleep.”

Soobin hums happily, already drifting off with his flushed cheek squished against you, dimples still faintly visible even in sleep.

mari's note: had so much fun writing this mwahahahah

[soobvns]

this is the best thing i’ve read in a minute holy shit

[agustmari]

Hey... So I got a request (never did one, but I love ur writing style a lot so I just had to)

Soft dom Yeosang, getting jealous over f!reader being hit on by the waiter, while they're on an anniversary date. Since he's not too confident in public, he doesn't say much besides subtly shooing the waiter away and giving him a constant glare. On the other hand, on the way back he makes it very obvious that he got jealous.

Idk I just crave jealous Dom!yeosang🫠 I don't mind it being fluff or smut, up to you

kang yeosang ; anniversary

synopsis: after a long night of tension, jealousy— yeosang couldn’t resist but show you exactly who you belong to.

pairings: dom!yeosang x subfem!reader

cw: smut, unprotected sex, praising kink

wc: 1.7k

a/n: tysm for the request this idea is so sexy😌 i haven’t wrote smut in a little so i’m sorry if this isn’t the best!! DOM KANG YEOSANG LOVERS UNITEEEE

the restaurant was dim and warm, all candlelight and quiet chatter, but yeosang’s eyes are somewhere else entirely— fixed on the waiter who’s been hovering a little too long.

you can feel it the second the man leans in to refill your glass, his smile a little too casual, his tone too smooth. it’s harmless, really, but you see the subtle change in yeosang’s posture.

the way his shoulders stiffen, the faint twitch of his jaw. he doesn’t say a word, just reaches forward and slides your glass closer to himself as if to create a small barrier.

“thank you.” you said to the waiter, and he flashed another smile before walking off.

yeosang watched him leave. he didn’t blink until the man disappeared behind the kitchen doors. then slowly, his gaze shifted back to you.

“you always attract attention,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting— though it’s not quite a smile. his hand reached across the table, brushing against yours. “guess i should’ve expected that.”

you laughed softly, trying to ease the sudden weight in his tone. “he was just doing his job baby.”

“mhm.” he hummed, unconvinced. his thumb circled your wrist, his expression unreadable under the low light. “he looked a little too eager for a waiter.”

the conversation moved on, or at least you tried to move it, but the tension never really left. every time the waiter came back to check on drinks, to clear plates— yeosang’s eyes followed, sharp and silent.

he didn’t speak up, didn’t make a scene, but the message was there in the small gestures. the protective lean of his body, the subtle way he shifted his chair closer to yours, his hand resting possessively on the back of your seat.

when the dessert finally arrived, yeosang’s tone softened again, but there was still something simmering beneath it.

you could hear it even when he laughed with you, quiet and deep— like he’s holding something back.

the drive home was mostly silent. the city lights flashed across his face, highlighting the tension that never quite left his features.

you glanced over at him. “you’ve been quiet.”

he exhaled through his nose, not taking his eyes off the road. “just thinking.”

“about?”

his lips twitched. “that waiter.”

you bit your lip, fighting a smile. “still on that?”

he glanced at you then— a look that’s more a warning than a question. “you think i didn’t notice the way he looked at you?” his tone wasn’t angry, just low, edged with something possessive. “i don’t like people thinking they can talk to you like that.”

“you’re jealous.” you teased gently.

“maybe.” he doesn’t even deny it. “can you blame me?”

the car filled with quiet again, but this time it felt charged. you can feel his gaze flick toward you at every red light, his fingers tightening slightly around the steering wheel.

by the time you pulled into the driveway, your pulse had already picked up.

inside, the house felt different— quieter, darker, the air heavier than when you left.

you set your bag down on the counter, about to say something, but yeosang stepped in close behind you before you can.

his voice was low, right by your ear. “you don’t even realize what you do to people, do you?”

goosebumps raised on your skin, from his hot breath fanning out onto your neck. you turned slightly, your breath catching when you see his expression— still calm, but his eyes darker now. focused.

“i— it wasn’t—”

“i know.” he cuts in softly. “i know you didn’t do anything.” his hands found your waist, steady but deliberate. “doesn’t mean i liked watching someone else try.”

the silence that followed was thick.

you tried to speak, but he tilted your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. “he wasn’t the one sitting with you at dinner,” he said, voice even lower now. “he wasn’t the one you came home with.”

the words lingered, heavy and certain. you can hear your own heartbeat in the quiet space between you both.

his thumb brushed along your jaw, slow, deliberate. “you have no idea how hard it was not to say something back there.”

your lips parted, but the look in his eyes made you forget what you were going to say.

he stepped closer, closing the distance until there was nothing left between you, but the air you’re both breathing.

the tension that had been simmering all night finally started to crack— not with anger, but something else entirely.

“yeosang…” you whispered, but the sound barely made it out.

his voice dropped again, rougher now. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

the words hung there for a long moment, charged and quiet, before he leaned down just enough that his forehead rested against yours— not a kiss, not yet, just that close.

you can feel the energy shift, the question hanging between you, waiting.

and then he moved swiftly— his strong, muscular, arms sliding around you, pulling you off the ground with a quiet strength that makes your breath catch.

you can hear the faint scrape of his shoes against the floor as he carried you toward the bedroom, every step deliberate, controlled.

the dark of the room swallowed everything— the faint sound of your breath, the creak of the floorboards— until it’s just him and you and the sound of your heartbeat against his.

he set you down on the edge of the bed, eyes locked on yours. the weight of everything unsaid filled the space between you.

yeosang leaned in, hands placed on either sides of you. his tone low, almost a whisper now— calm, but threaded with that same intensity you’d seen flicker in the restaurant.

“now,” he murmured, his gaze flicking to your lips, “tell me i’m wrong for wanting to remind you who you belong to.”

and the air stilled right at that edge, that point of no return.

“answer me, sweetheart.” his fingertips found your bottom lip, gently caressing.

“n—no…”

he let out a low, guttural chuckle, “stand up.” he ordered, his tone steady and demanding.

you obeyed, afraid of what he’d do if you didn’t— although, you were quite enjoying this. as you stood up, he approached your quivering figure. “turn around.”

again, you obeyed. your body was already shaking. whenever yeosang got jealous or angry with you, he’d never yell— he wasn’t that type of man. but, he was the type of man to make you his fuck toy to release all his frustration into.

he placed his vein pumped hands onto your back, forcing you to bend over the bed— face pushed against the silk, bed covers.

he gently lifted up your dress, “you look so pretty bent over like this baby, don’t you think?” his voice rung deep and sharp throughout your ears, as his hands now roamed over your plump arched ass.

you squeezed your eyes tight, the sensation already overwhelming. he always knew the ways to make you tighten up. he knew your body like the back of his hand.

“hmm i can’t hear you darling…” he practically purred.

then, the sound cracked through the air. it was sharp, startling. heat rose on your ass cheek— his hand print bright and red.

you let out a sharp moan, back arching more than before.

“answer me,” he hissed.

“yes!”

“that’s my good girl.” he rubbed the part of your skin that was just spanked, relieving the pain.

your body trembled further, sinking into the mattress.

“you want me inside you, don’t you?” yeosang groaned, his grip now around your waist— getting tighter by the second as his desires are ready to break free from the box he’s had them in all night.

“yes!” you somehow managed to mumble out, so innocently. your face sunk deeper into the mattress.

he swiftly unbuckled his belt, the echo sending shivers down your spine. the swooshing sound of the belt being torn off reverberated in the dark, muffled room.

without warning, yeosang pushed your panties to the side, the tip of his cock teasing your pulsating, wet hole.

“beg for it… show me you can be a good girl, and obey.” his hands moved to your luscious stands of hair, grabbing a handful before tugging sharply.

your breath hitched, knees already buckling. your heat growing wetter by the second his dominance grew.

“please… please fuck me.” you nearly panted out, looking like a mess— a slut ready to be demolished and disciplined.

“good job baby, you’re already doing so well.”

he pushed himself fully into your throbbing hole, your wetness soaking his cock completely. you both synchronized a deep, whiney moan— as if you craved this moment all night.

he thrusted hard, and fast— making sure you felt him filling you.

yeosang’s praises already pushed you pretty far, and now the fact his cock was hitting your g-spot, over, and over again— only pushed you over the edge.

he kept his strokes controlled, deliberate. and that only ruined you more.

you nibbled on the bedsheets, trying to cover up your whimpers. he intentively hooked his hand around your wrists, pulling them up onto your lower back.

“don’t hide them, i want to hear your beautiful sounds my sweet baby.” he condescendingly said. with his free hand, he tugged your hip down harder onto his cock.

yeosang’s praises were really doing a number on you. you melted down slowly, whimpers and messy moans releasing from your precious lips.

he couldn’t help but chuckle lowly as he calculated his strokes.

he knew you were close.

so close to letting loose.

and he loved the fact he could do that, make you come completely undone— underneath him.

he didn’t stop, not for a single second. you were a moaning mess, practically sobbing. your hands curled into the sheets.

“yeosang— p— please—“ your voice cried out.

“squirt all on my cock baby, go ahead, do it for daddy.”

it was like you were under a spell, squirting on his command. he purred as he then filled your hole with his load— warming up your insides completely.

yeosang’s lips hovered over your back, before leaving wet, passionate kisses. “you’re mine. only fucking mine.”

masterlist

[jenoddity]

Jihoon Moodboard ⊹₊⟡⋆

[hoonguin]

꒰﹕﹒botanical anonymity ❀ park jongseong

⌗ in which . . . while you spend spring fair buried in your campus anonymous confession feed, a string of suspiciously specific posts begin surfacing, ones you don’t realize are quietly leading to you and park jongseong

流星 ໑ . . universitystudent!jay x fem!reader

⌗ includes . . . a university au ! fluff, swearing, anonymous confession page shenanigans, campus gossip, flowers as a love language, public spectacle, light emotional tension ♡ purely a work of fiction, none of this reflects reality | wc: 4.5k

⟶ mentioned ⋮ a lot of idols because campus is crowded !

♪ el’s bubble: day one 😎 of dumping all my tweaked up drafts on tumblr . . this felt far too cute not to post because anonymous confession pages, bouquets, and jay own a concerning amount of my heart ! please please please enjoy — likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply appreciated on here ♡ requests are open if you want to see me write something specific ۫ ׅ

tags: @wonscapes @simsimluver @maishee @grdientlips @kristynaaah @psychicdazestrawberry @heesroses @vmpiricou @seungiesdoll @malibluess | send an ask if you’d like to be added ˙𐃷˙

now playing . . . art class by beabadoobee

The cool spring air hit you, sending strands of your hair flying to your face, effectively and deliberately ruining your lip combo you’d spent a few minutes on.

Perfect.

So, so perfect. 

The university grounds had burst into color — you could smell the scent of fresh corn dogs being fried from the row of food stalls near the humanities building, a speaker somewhere blasting Bags by Clairo loud enough for the chorus to melt into the chatter of passing students, laughter ringing out from every direction.

Every year, the graduating batch organized a spring fair as one final send-off before the semester dissolved into deadlines, internships, and goodbyes too heavy to say out loud. 

Festive is an understatement.

Flowers strung along canopies, student booths lined with handmade trinkets and half-melted candles, photo walls stood crowded with squealing friend groups, while games and cheap drinks in plastic cups filled whatever empty spaces remained.

Really, it was one last attempt at wringing sentimentality out of a student body too sleep-deprived, and far too emotionally constipated, to process the fact that the seniors would be gone in a few months.

Not that any of that was your main concern.

Nope, while everyone else was busy pretending to cherish the fleeting beauty of university life, you were far more invested in the one thing spring fair reliably delivered every single year: the campus anonymous confession page losing its collective mind. 

Like clockwork, the submissions came flooding in the second booths opened. 

Confessions.

hello and good moooorning 😍 to the engineering major at booth 6 who keeps fixing his sleeves every thirty seconds FUHHH you’re so damn fine bruh like you’re insane

WHOEVER THE FUCK LITERALLY JUST GOT SERENADED BY THE LEE HEESEUNG FROM THE MUSIC DEPT WITH WOOZI’S GUITAR did you say yes or are we all just gonna die from the heat today 😞

Shameless pleas to visit their stalls.

hi hi hi PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE come to booth 14 🥹 we’re really cool we promise! we have brownies, friendship bracelets, and jake voluntarily (mind you, VOLUNTARILY) doing customer service with a smile ✌️this may never happen again so take the risk or lose the chance and come visit us

send support to booth 9 pls… hot (totally) health sciences major chwe vernon agreed to wear cat ears if we hit the quota (begging on my knees btw)

Missed connections.

to the cute girl in a pink cardigan who helped me pick up the flyers in the library yesterday, i’m so sorry for suddenly running away because Jungwon poked me by the waist 😭 if you see this pls reach out i wanna be friends sb

tysm to kazuha from the performing arts department for buying our cheesecakes and complimenting them 🥹 so so grateful for the love and support, we were too shy to say it in person but you made our entire day ☹️ i hope you see this

Questionable public dares.

yo admin if this gets posted before 2pm i will man up and ask for a picture with sunghoon

my friends said i will never have the balls for this but yolo 😂 but to ningning from the fashion booth, do you wanna check out the book booth by the engineering building…??? ADMIN PLS POST THIS ASAP TY

Suspiciously detailed sightings that sent entire departments into detective mode.

just saw business boy, black tote bag, silver watch, bring in a huge ass bouquet at exactly 10:09 am today (entrance by the accountancy department building) WHO IS IT FOR PLS SPILL

admin pls tell james to stop manning the god damn drink booth like he’s auditioning for boyfriend of the year 😭✌️im crine

Friends exposing friends with absolutely no shame. 

MANNN my seatmate (from lecture hall 4 btw) spent a whole ass hour perfecting her eye makeup for literally no damn reason apparently 💔 “i need to look nice in group photos” but kim mingyu is legit on campus rn just floating around

admin pls post because ik very well my friends just on here rn… seungmin if you see this pls pls PLEASE come to the building by the dorms because you have yet to hand me over the money from last week & im craving allat 🫠

And, naturally, dramatic cries for administrative intervention.

admin can you please confirm whether or not sunoo is single so i can proceed with my day hwhauahahah

TO WHOEVER IS USING THIS PAGE TO PUBLICLY THIRST OVER THE BUSINESS MAJOR BOYS PLEASE KEEP GOING I’M SO DAMN INVESTED 🙏

Spring fair was many things, but above all, it was prime anonymous page entertainment. 

The feed moved like it had a life of its own, too fast to properly keep up with, too loud to ignore, and just chaotic enough that everyone pretended they weren’t checking it every thirty seconds.

You were seated at one of the long wooden tables near the center walkway, half-shaded by a canopy of paper flowers someone had clearly spent too many late nights folding. 

Your friends had run off earlier with vague promises of “be right back” and “we’re getting food,” which, in spring fair language, meant you had at least ten uninterrupted minutes alone with your phone and absolutely zero self-control.

Perfect conditions, really.

Your thumb kept scrolling out of habit more than curiosity now, refresh, pause, scroll, repeat, it’s like the page had become a second pulse in your hand.

The feed was still alive, of course. It always was at this hour, like the entire campus had agreed productivity was optional for the day.

You weren’t even reading anymore; you were just catching fragments of them as they passed. 

YOON JEONGHAN OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS jeonghan literally just walked past me again and ugh i swear he wants to make eye contact 🤣 chill im easy

Admin pls stop approving confessions from the same 7 people flirting with people they saw for less than a minute 😭

to whoever the hell keeps stealing extra fries from our booth: we see you, we respect you, and we fear you (just don’t steal one of the plastic containers bruh istg)

admins just be approving to approve nowadays im hollering

JUST PASSED BY BOOTH 14 AND WTF JAKE IS SO FINE IN PERSON WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME 💔

admin pls why are all the confessions js people admitting they’ve been staring at strangers for 0.2 seconds and calling it fate 🥲

You exhaled lightly through your nose, shifting your elbow on the table.

The feed blurred into itself again — booths, crushes, complaints, people overreacting to everything and nothing all at once.

Then, in between everything else, something newer slipped in.

Not as a thread, not grouped together, not framed as anything important. 

It was just fragments appearing at different points in the scroll, separated by entirely unrelated posts that had nothing to do with each other. 

A complaint about melted ice cream sat above it, followed by a lost phone report, followed by someone asking if it was embarrassing to trip in front of their crush and still think about it three days later.

Buried somewhere after a booth announcement about discounted chicken popcorn came a post that looked more like an unfinished thought than a confession.

okay wait i’m actually going to get exposed for this but i HAVE to get this off my chest cause im so bad at keep secrets 🧍‍♂️… whoever is the lucky girl congratufuckinglations

You kept scrolling.

A meme about Hoshi tripping on his own shoe lace. A student asking if anyone had seen a missing shoulder bag. A rant about how the mathemathics department’s attendance sheet was “emotionally violent on Thursdays.”

Another booth update. Someone selling stickers shaped like fruits. A joke about how no one trusts the engineering department with electrical wiring but still buys from them anyway.

Then, scattered again, further down, separated by posts about croquettes and someone complaining about the heat making eyeliner run, another line appeared.

IF YOU GUYS SAW A BUSINESS MAJOR WALKING AROUND WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS TODAY NO THE FUCK YOU DID NOOOTT 😂 quit playing

A confession about accidentally calling a professor “mom” during recitation. A blurry photo of someone’s drink order labeled “breakdown brew.” A booth owner begging people to stop stealing sample forks.

Then the same voice, not labeled, not connected, just dropped again in a completely different section of the feed, like it belonged to an entirely separate conversation happening in parallel.

he literally walked around with them for like an hour like he was thinking too hard about something that wasn’t even that complicated be so fr right now man

More posts passed between it. Someone losing their wallet. A joke about how spring fair was just capitalism disguised as bonding time. A group asking admin to stop approving confessions written entirely in caps lock.

A review of booth revel bars calling them “life changing and emotionally destabilizing.”

Then another fragment appeared lower down, not adjacent to the others, not grouped, not following any visible order.

i’m his friend btw i’m allowed to say this 💀 he kept stopping near booths like he was waiting for a sign from the heavenly figures or something but then just kept walking again like nothing happened every time i can’t deal with this bitch for longer

The feed kept moving without acknowledging it. A poll about favorite booth snacks. A lost airpod report. Someone asking if anyone had seen the accountancy department boy who always sits slightly off-center in Lecture Hall 5 on Wednesdays because “he looks familiar and I’m losing my mind about it.”

Another unrelated joke about Jake smiling too much at customers.

Then, further down again, almost swallowed by everything else, the final fragment appeared.

anyway if lecture hall 2 psych girl somehow sees this, just know he’s been like this since forever and i’m tired of having to deal with his whiny ass 😭

You stared at the screen a little longer than necessary.

The posts kept moving the same way they always did, too fast to settle into anything solid. Booth updates, complaints about the heat, someone saying their garlic bread fell, and they “emotionally checked out for the day.” A Joshua sighting that apparently caused mild chaos for no reason other than existing.

Nothing about it was structured enough to take seriously.

Your thumb kept scrolling.

A recurring mention of a business major with a silver watch moving between booths kept slipping through the feed, like the page had collectively decided he was now part of the spring fair scenery. 

why does the commerce guy with the silver watch or something keep appearing everywhere like he’s doing a campus tour wtf 👻 companion who are YOU

Then another post a few scrolls down, joking about how he kept pausing near booths like he was trying to decide something important, turning away, coming back, then disappearing again like the fair itself was giving him second thoughts.

“Who even is this guy that he has several posts about him,” you mutter under your breath.

Between those, everything else stayed unrelated. Someone complaining about their groupmate disappearing mid-spring fair to “find themselves” and returning with only fried snacks. A rant about Lecture Hall 11 seats being “designed like medieval punishment devices specifically for Monday mornings,” like some ancient trial method disguised as university furniture. 

bro from business keeps hovering around like he’s waiting for a cue in a movie but refuses to read the script DAMN ITT JUST TAKE THE RISK BROTHER 🫡

A friend-type post followed somewhere else in the feed, joking about someone being seen pacing between booths all day, stopping near crowds, then walking away again like he was waiting for something to align properly before acting on it.

You exhaled lightly through your nose.

“Jeez, what’s all the fuss for,” you muttered under your breath, thumb still moving.

A guy with flowers, some vague sightings, people acting like it was a bigger deal than it sounded on paper.

Your eyes flicked back to the feed, slower now, like you were actually paying attention instead of just scrolling through habit.

Lecture Hall 2, psychology girl.

That detail came up again.

You tilted your head slightly, thinking.

Psych department. Lecture Hall 2. Tuesdays.

Your gaze drifted, not fully focused, just connecting dots as they came.

There were only so, so many girls in your class who fit that routine.

The one who always came in early and chose the same seat without fail. The one who never really joined conversations before class started. The one who stayed quiet, always slightly detached from the noise around her. The one who left right after lectures ended, like she was already halfway elsewhere before anyone else stood up.

You hummed softly to yourself.

“Probably her then,” you said under your breath, more observation than certainty, you were just sorting through possibilities the same way the page was.

Your thumb kept scrolling.

Still no urgency.

After all, it was still just another messy spring fair feed.

Your thumb kept moving, screen half-tilted toward you as you slouched a little further into the wooden bench. 

The feed didn’t care that you were only half-reading it anymore. It just kept giving you more of the same exact things — booth drama, exaggerated confessions, someone arguing about cup noodles superiority like it was a serious academic debate.

You were mid-scroll when your phone dimmed slightly from inactivity, your attention drifting just enough to let the sound of the fair take over again. 

The sound of chairs scraping, distant laughter, and a burst of music from a nearby stall that got swallowed by the crowd almost immediately.

Then something tapped your shoulder.

It was light and direct; it wasn’t enough to hurt you, but just enough to interrupt.

You blinked once, still half in the page, then instinctively turned your head slightly.

Another tap, closer to your other side this time, like whoever it was didn’t feel like waiting for you to fully register them.

“Hello,” a voice said behind you, calm but way too close to ignore.

You finally looked up.

The phone in your hand was still open to the feed, but it suddenly didn't feel important enough to hold onto.

Behind you stood Jay.

The Park Jongseong, mind you.

Not in a dramatic way, no, not like the kind of arrival people would turn their heads for twice. He was just there, close enough that the noise of the fair felt slightly farther away, like the space around him had decided to quiet down without asking permission.

Business department. Silver watch. The same name that kept slipping through anonymous posts like background noise people joked about but never expected to actually stand in front of them.

Shit.

The same guy people apparently kept orbiting in passing, the one with the easy reputation, the one who always looked like he belonged somewhere slightly more put together than wherever he was currently standing.

And yet he was just there.

Right behind you.

Holding a bouquet that looked almost out of place in his hands.

Yellow first, soft and bright like sunlight caught in something real. White flowers layered in between like pauses that didn't need explaining. Pink near the edges, lighter, almost hesitant, like someone had chosen them last but still chosen them anyway.

His grip on it wasn't fully confident either. It’s like he wasn't used to holding something that mattered in a way people could see.

Your brain didn't process it all at once.

It came in fragments.

Silver watch. Jay. Business department. The posts. The running jokes. The vague mentions. The anonymous page chaos that suddenly didn't feel so anonymous anymore.

Your chest tightened before you could even name the feeling.

Not pain, not fear.

Hell no.

Just something sharp and immediate, like your body had recognized him faster than your thoughts did.

Your fingers loosened slightly around your phone without you realizing it.

The screen stayed lit in your hand, still showing the feed, still full of noise that now felt distant and irrelevant.

None of it mattered anymore though. 

Jay was looking at you like you weren't just another passerby at spring fair. As if he hadn't just crossed campus, ignored everything else, and stopped exactly here on purpose.

Your heartbeat did something stupidly obvious then, loud enough that it almost felt unfair.

Heat crept up your cheeks before you could stop it, subtle at first, then worse when you realized there was no way to pretend you hadn't noticed him.

You swallowed slightly.

He still didn't speak.

He just waited.

It’s almost like he was giving you time to fully arrive back into your own moment before he stepped into it with you.

The seconds stretched, and you became acutely aware of every sound around you. 

The distant hum of the fair. The laughter from the food stalls. Someone calling out prices for handmade jewelry four booths away. All of it felt like it belonged to a different world now, one that existed just beyond the strange, quiet bubble you'd somehow fallen into with a guy you'd only ever known through secondhand stories and pixelated profile pictures.

You finally found your voice, though it came out smaller than you intended.

"Hi."

Damn it.

The word barely made it past your throat, and you immediately wanted to take it back. 

Hi? That was what you came up with? 

After seeing his name circulate through anonymous posts, after all the whispers in lecture halls about who he was and who he might be interested in, after scrolling past a post about him just seconds ago without a second thought? Hi?

But Jay's expression didn't shift into the polite, distant acknowledgment you might have expected from someone like him. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, almost like he'd been waiting for you to speak first and was quietly pleased that you had.

"Hi," he echoed back, and his voice was lower than you'd imagined it would be. 

He wasn't in a rush to fill the space between you with unnecessary words.

You glanced down at the bouquet again, as if looking anywhere else might buy you time to figure out what was happening. The yellow flowers caught the afternoon light, and you noticed for the first time how deliberate the arrangement was. This wasn't something grabbed last-minute from a grocery store display. Someone had thought about this. Someone had chosen each stem with purpose.

And that someone was standing right in front of you, watching you not-so-subtly avoid eye contact.

"Those are—" you started, and then stopped, because you weren't sure how to finish the sentence. Beautiful? For me? Completely unexpected from a person I've never actually spoken to before today?

"They're for you," Jay said, and he shifted his weight slightly, lifting the bouquet just enough that it became impossible to pretend otherwise. "If you want them."

Your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat.

If you want them.

He was giving you an out. He understood that this was strange, that showing up out of nowhere with flowers for someone you'd never formally met wasn't exactly standard campus behavior. Yet, he said it so simply, like the question was genuine and not just a formality.

"I—" You looked up at him properly now, and the full force of eye contact hit you all at once. 

He was taller than you'd realized, or maybe you just felt smaller. 

Either way, you found yourself staring directly into the kind of gaze that made you understand why people wrote anonymous posts about him in the first place. There was something unnervingly present about the way he looked at you. He was just so, so focused entirely on you like you were worth the attention.

"You don't have to explain," you managed finally, though your voice still felt unsteady. "I just—I wasn't expecting—I mean, I saw the posts, but I didn't think—"

"You saw the posts?" There was a flicker of something in his expression. Not quite amusement, but close to it. "About me wandering around with flowers?"

The heat in your cheeks intensified, and you were suddenly very aware that you'd just admitted to scrolling through the anonymous confession page like everyone else on campus. "I mean—yes? It's hard not to. People post about everything and anything nowadays."

"That's true." He glanced down at the bouquet for a moment, and you noticed the way his thumb brushed against the paper wrapping. A small, almost unconscious gesture. "Though I wasn't sure if you'd actually see them… or if you'd care if you did."

The admission landed strangely. 

He thought about this.

About you specifically, not just about the act of holding flowers in public while people speculated.

"Why wouldn't I care?" you asked before you could stop yourself, and then immediately regretted it. 

That sounded too eager, too obvious, too much like you wanted him to have a good answer.

But Jay didn't seem to mind. If anything, his smile deepened just slightly, and he stepped closer. Not enough to be overwhelming, but enough that you could smell something faintly clean and warm, laundry detergent, maybe.

"Because you didn't seem like the type to pay attention to anonymous posts," he said simply. "You always looked like you had better things to think about."

You blinked. "You've noticed how I look?"

The question slipped out before you could filter it, and you watched his expression shift again. Something softer. More uncertain, almost, though he recovered quickly.

"I've noticed a lot of things," he admitted, and then he held the bouquet out fully, bridging the last of the distance between you. 

"These are for you. Because I wanted them to be for you. I've… actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, and this seemed like the only way I'd actually do it."

Your hands moved on their own. You reached out, fingers brushing against the paper wrapping, and you felt the weight of the bouquet settle into your grip. It was heavier than you expected. 

The yellow flowers were bright against your skin. 

The white ones looked almost luminous in the afternoon light. 

The pink, god, the pink was softer up close, delicate in a way that made something twist gently in your chest.

No one had ever given you flowers before.

Not like this, not carefully chosen and held by someone who looked at you like you were worth the effort of choosing them.

"I don't know what to say," you whispered, and the honesty of it surprised even you.

"You don't have to say anything." Jay's voice was quiet now, too, matching yours. "I just wanted you to have them. I just wanted you to know."

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere unexpected. 

Not nervous this time, but genuine, warming, and bright and entirely beyond your control. 

You looked down at the flowers in your arms, then back up at him, and the absurdity of the moment hit you all at once. 

"This is ridiculous," you said, but you were still smiling. "In the best way, by the way. Very, very ridiculous in the best possible way."

Jay's shoulders relaxed slightly, like he'd been holding tension he hadn't realized was there. "I wasn't sure if you'd think it was creepy. Showing up like this. I've been walking around for twenty minutes trying to figure out if this was a terrible idea."

"Twenty minutes?"

"Maybe longer." He ran a hand through his hair, and the gesture was so unexpectedly human that you felt another laugh building in your chest. "The posts weren't wrong. I have been wandering around with these. I just didn't want to seem like I was... I don't know… making a scene."

"You kind of are making a scene," you pointed out, but there was no bite to it. Just warmth.

"Maybe." He glanced around briefly, and you noticed a few people nearby stealing glances. Not many, but enough. Enough that you knew this would probably end up on the anonymous page by tomorrow morning. "But I think I'm okay with that. If you are."

You looked down at the bouquet again, at the colors bright against your arms, and felt something settle in your chest. 

"I'm okay with that," you said.

You laughed, bright and unselfconscious, letting the sound carry just enough that it felt like release.

The noise of the fair faded back in around you, but it didn't feel overwhelming anymore. 

Jay watched you laugh, and something in his expression shifted. 

Something softer, fonder, like he hadn't expected this moment to go this way but was grateful that it had.

A strand of hair had fallen loose from wherever you'd tied it earlier, and you didn't notice it at first, too caught up in the flowers, in the absurdity, in the warmth spreading through your chest. 

But Jay noticed. 

His gaze flickered down for just a second, and then his hand was moving, slow enough that you could have pulled away if you'd wanted to.

You didn't want to.

His fingers brushed against your temple, light and careful, as he tucked the strand back behind your ear. The touch lingered just a moment longer than necessary, and then his hand dropped, returning to his side like nothing had happened.

You felt the ghost of his fingertips against your skin, and the sensation stayed with you, quiet and warm and impossible to ignore.

"There," he said softly. "Now you don't have to keep fixing it."

You hadn't even realized you'd been fixing it.

Somehow, that small gesture felt bigger than the flowers in your arms. 

More intimate, more deliberate, like he'd been paying attention in ways you hadn't known anyone was paying attention.

"Thank you," you said, and the words felt inadequate, but they were all you had. "For the flowers, and… for whatever this is."

Jay smiled, and the expression transformed his face in a way that made you understand, suddenly, why people couldn't stop talking about him. 

Because when he looked at you like that, like you were the only person in a crowded fairground worth focusing on, it felt like something worth talking about.

"I should thank you," he said. "For not making this weird."

"It's still a little weird," you admitted, but you were smiling too.

"Like… um—good weird?"

"Good weird," you confirmed.

The afternoon light caught the yellow flowers in your arms, and for a moment, everything felt suspended. 

You held the bouquet tighter, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you'd have to explain this later. 

To your friends, your classmates, and probably your parents if they saw you returning home with flowers. 

To whoever saw the inevitable post on the anonymous page tomorrow. 

That felt far away now, though, separate from the warmth of this moment and the quiet certainty settling in your chest.

Jay tucked his hands into his pockets, watching you with an expression you couldn't quite name but felt, somehow, like it meant something.

"So," he said, and the word was light, easy. "Do you want to walk around? See what else the fair has to offer?"

You looked at him and felt the last of your nervousness dissolve into something warmer.

"Of course," you said. "I'd love that."

You fell into step beside him, flowers in your arms and the afternoon stretching out ahead, bright and unexpected and entirely, wonderfully new.

⭐️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[tinningtus]

𝐿𝐸𝑇 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑀 𝐾𝑁𝑂𝑊.ೃ࿔*:･

C.YJ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɪᴅᴏʟ!ʏᴇᴏɴᴊᴜɴ x ɪᴅᴏʟ!ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꨄ︎ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: Yeonjun is done with having to hide your relationship, he’ll convince you that you should announce it with more than his words

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: established relationship, NSFW, minors do not interact, slight angst, smut, softdom!jun, he’s a yearner(let’s act shocked), praise, dirty talk, fingering, no protection, clothed sex, slight overstim, creampie, pet names, prob incorrect depiction of the industry

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.3k

𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ⚠︎

𝙆𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙨…⋆˚࿔ no labels p2 being recorded already got me thinking a lot about jjun recently so this was created heh idk how he’s gonna top p1 but just know he’s coming for his own crown ^>⩊<^

Also this is my attempt at trying to get better at writing smut idk I think it’s little difficult sometimes so I’m trying to improve ٠࣪⭑

When Yeonjun commits to something, he commits firmly. Holds it like it's his utmost duty-whether it be plans made with other people or work he's set himself out to achieve, the dedication is steadfast. Unwavering. Little room for quarrel or disagreement, his mind knows only one way; never deviate from the path laid out. You, however, were never gifted with same perseverance, sure you devote yourself wholly to your work, that ethic could not be misconstrued about you, yet you were certainly more fluid when it comes to how fixed you commit. If something you previously agreed to no longer felt right in the moment, you had no problem backpedaling, an excuse already forming in the centre of mind.

It was one of the first things that initially attracted you to Yeonjun, admired that fortitude within him, a tenacity to keep himself engaged with whatever he set his mind to, a trait you lacked abundantly.

That's how you knew something didn't quite sit right with the abrupt nature of his return. He'd only left minutes before, grabbing his keys from the bowl with a sharp clank and a twitch in his shoulders from irritability, shuffling to the door like the weight of the universe was slowly suffocating him. Now those keys were thrown back onto the counter callously, ringing through your eardrums at the impact on the marble. Elbows fly on the surface top, tracking his fingers through his hair from the frustration, pulling down to his face like a slap of cold water.

"Fuck this!" He huffs, exasperation wrapping around his throat, cinching tighter with each breath passed.

"Yeonjun?" You peel around the corner and witness the outburst with your own eyes, watch the way his upper arms ripple and tense under the storm brewing inside him. His feline eyes narrow under heavy brows, tapered with a venom diluted under pure exhaustion, it's clear the potency of his malice has been stripped down to pure fatigue, whatever is circulating inside him spent up his last thread.

"I'm sick of this shit. I know what they want to talk to me about. I'm not biting" you know what he's referring to, his company had called him in for a meeting, 'nothing major' in their own terms, just something that they wanted to bring to his attention. You know the industry yourself, it's code for: 'you fucked up but it's fixable'. It's a slap on the wrist. Despite this, Yeonjun never mentioned what the meeting was to be about, you figured he'd do that in his own time, he danced around the subject when you brought it up last night and you didn't push. The apprehension he held when the conversation came up told it was something he was still wracking his own head around, letting it mull and fester and when the time came, he would let that burden free and let you in under a rational mind, as he always did eventually.

Instead, it detonated inside him and this was the blowout.

"You remember that photo I posted of us, the one of us at the event? The one they approved? Yeah? well now my hand is a little too far down your waist" you know the one, of course you do, you felt how searing his touch was in the moment, a blush rising high on your cheeks from the contact, the low cut of your skirt left the skin of your hip open to his invitation.

The public knew you were friends, late night studio sessions and on stage collaborations was the extent of that knowledge, even that you were both respective ambassadors of the brand whose event the photo was taken at. Yet what they didn't know was just how well acquainted the two of you were, that he knew every inch of you, had touched it too, branded you with his lips, tongue, hands, everything he could reach and grab. That most nights he spent buried so deep inside you that your vision blurred and voice cried out his name, etching himself into your bones.

They hadn't known that the apartment you stand in now is shared, a safe haven for you both away from the frenzied scurry of your dorms. That you've spent years watching the boy beside you grow into a man poised and self assured, those boyish features matured into sharp lines and calmer dispositions. All they saw were friendly exchanges and polite glances, it's all you were permitted to show.

"You think it's because of the comments?" You question, it's the only possible explanation to the company backtracking, the post was flooded with heart emojis and approving comments, far more positive than could be anticipated from beloved idols posing together so closely. You could thank both of your mature fans for that, your group and his had curated a supporting community evidently.

"I think it's because they want me on a tighter leash than I'm willing to give. I don't give a shit anymore. I'm sick of it. I can't live like this anymore" his admission is far more loaded than appears, you've had endless conversations together about going public with your relationship, late nights under sheets and over breakfast tables and the conclusion is always the same outcome; you both could not be so selfish to each other. You were not fools, you've seen what mere allegations do to careers and he is not willing to wreck that for you and you for him, let alone your group members. It doesn't stop the heart for wanting what it wants "I just want to hold you and not worry about whose watching and what cameras are flashing"

You pace towards him, hands come up to stroke and lightly massage his shoulders, the tension there partially dissipates under your touch. The unity in your gesture pulls his attention and he breaks away from the counter, turning on his heels to embrace you. His palm holds the crown of your head, cradling you to his chest while his chin rests upon your hair, rocking you slowly to the beat of no music but to the heartbeats facing one another.

There is calm in calamity. You seek out the warmth his body gives to you and bury yourself further in his arms. A safe spot in the world that only seems to throw you trial and tribulation.

Yeonjun, in turn, finds the same solace in you, his head tilted down to pepper kisses along your hairline like a saint worshipped.

"You have no idea what you do to me. Fuck, I think I'd burn it all down just to keep you warm" his words whispered drip devotion, cascades through your hair like his fingers fall to the small of your back, tugging you impossibly closer. And like that day the picture was taken, his hold on you scorches straight through any clothing that barricades his touch to skin, yet now; in your shared apartment, there are no watchful eyes. Not a single onlooker to observe when his fingertips pinch the fabric of your floor length skirt, ever so slowly gathering more of the material until he has a fistful bunched up and his fingers are free to traverse the skin of your upper thigh. He grips at the plush flesh as though it was his last time, desperately greedy to feel.

While his hands occupy themselves, the lips to grace you with revered affection turn hungry when they journey from the sweetness of pecks against your forehead to ardent, open-mouth kisses along your jaw, following the lines of your neck. There's enough room for his passionate assault when you tilt your head back, allowing him as much space as you can offer to his insatiable lips "They can go fuck themselves if they think I'm spending another day hiding you" his words breathe hot against your skin.

You keen towards him almost involuntarily, your body pliantly receptive to his words and his hold on you. He happily receives you inching closer, end up wrapping your leg around his hip to stabilise yourself from falling completely but he's there to catch you, the hand roaming your thigh now supports you with less restriction, fingers dug into the supple skin just under your ass. Tempting enough without being where you need him to be.

This close he can feel the throb of your heart in your chest, even as it travels through your body, lower, down to where you lean against him and where your core flutters in invitation for him.

"Yeah? You'd like that? Everyone knowing that you're mine?" he growls into your ear, teeth grazing your lobe and leaving goosebumps in response.

"You know i want that, Jun" you're pleading for more than that and he knows.

Within a split second he releases you from his hold, spinning you around until your palms hit the counter top and your hips hit the same edge, caging you in with his towering frame above you. When you squeal faintly from the suddenness, he hushes you with a sloppy kiss, holding your jaw in place as you crane sideways to meet him.

He ruts himself against you, feeling the weight of his yearning manifested when he grows hot and heavy between your thighs, pinning you between the counter and his lust.

"Good. Because I want everyone to know I'm yours" his pining persistent, purring pressed to your lips while he continues his fingers exploration around your thighs. Your skirts still gathered up at your hips, allowing him to slip easily past the lace of your panties.

"Want them to know how much I crave this pretty pussy" the filth of his words forces a wild flush on your cheeks but no more than the fingers dipping to the most intimate part of yourself. You don't feel bashful though, he knows you here all the same.

"Fuck, I think you want that too" murmuring into the crook of your neck when he feels the wetness his fingertips collect through your folds "is that what you want, baby?"

He knows your reply without it needing to be spoken aloud, your body is already answering him, but it's ever so fun feeling you squirm beneath him, the way you grind your hips against his in desperate chase, feening for every little sensation "want you, Jun"

If Yeonjun is anything it's an impatient lover, hearing the longing in your voice only makes him eager to give you everything he can so he does just so, two fingers slipping inside you with ease. He's swallowing each whimper and whine that falls from your lips with his own, his hand to spare enclosed around your throat not to constrict but to keep you held exactly where he wants you. There's no complaint from you, it would die in your throat before it ever got chance to vocalise in favour of moaning in response to his fingers picking up speed.

"Please..." you aren't quite sure what you are begging for but you do so anyway and it's then you feel the digits retract from your core that you fuss your complaint meekly, you huff so he knows your high was approaching and you're less than happy. As if he couldn't tell, he knows each and every little tell your body has, knows you inside and out.

"No need to whine, baby, you know I'll always give you what you want" the sound of his belt buckle un-clasping drowns his words out until the only thing you recognise is the sugary honey tone to them, humming it with seduction dripping "when you cum I want it to be with me inside you"

That impatient streak in him makes it's appearance again, you barely even register that your panties fall to your ankles before you feel him pushing inside you, that delicious sting from him stretching you inch by inch "oh fuuuck..." he bites his lip in futile attempt to conceal his whimpers, the sensation of your walls engulfing him all consuming, even after years together.

Your hands fight for stability as he reaches the hilt inside you, flailing until they find purchase behind you gripped to his shirt and clutching the counter, the sheer force of his entry pushing you forward.

"Holy fuck, baby, so tight!" He mewls, lips brushing against your neck, suckling there to pacify as you both adjust.

You rock your hips back once you're ready, as much as you can with the little room between you both and it tilts him to that soft spot inside you, the one that has you choked up with a sob already, arched and leaning over the countertop. It sets him off immediately, spurred on by the sight of you writhing to sputter his hips in hurried pace. He's pursuing the gratification he only receives from being buried within you with frenzied passion, throwing his head back lost in the euphoria of it.

You bring him back, fawning for him with reaching hands and he obliges blissfully, lacing your fingers together and leaning forward so his chest is to your back.

"Want everyone to know how much i love you" he aches, lips nipping your shoulder blade as you melt to his words "fuckin' adore you"

His hips slow to accentuate his point, grinding in tender but needy cadence while the hand that isn't holding yours wraps around your waist, sliding his full arm to hold you and bind you together. It serves as cushion for when he begins to drill himself inside once more, enduring the blows of the sharp counter edge at the rapidity of his movement. He'd shield you from it even if the pain was excruciating, luckily it only marks his arm slightly irritated. Not that he could care at this moment, not with how you look underneath him.

"Maybe they'll imagine me fucking you like this" he hushes close to your ear, his vulgarity in words cause you to flutter around him, squeezing until he hisses and leans up, fully devoted to pounding into you.

"Oh you'd like that, huh?" He chuckles darkly, feeling you claw at his fingers "don't worry, angel, I'm not taking no for an answer. They're gonna agree to it if they wanna keep me" there's nothing in you to argue logic or probability with him right now, he could tell you the sky's red and the grass blue and you'd agree with absolute. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is him consuming you.

“Was thinking about this when they took the picture anyway” he admits like you couldn’t tell, like the sly smirk that graced his lips after the shutter clicked meant nothing.

Tuned into your frequency, he can feel when you try to run from his hips ever so slightly, that twitch you get just before reaching the state of dreaming so he plummets with all his might, you feel every ridge of him with each drag while his hand flies to your lower back to hold you in place for him.

"Gonna cum, baby? Me too, so close, wanna cum inside" you nod feverishly, head dazed to everything but him.

He's panting, sweat forming on his brow line but it's all ignored in favor of chasing his peak, pace slightly jerky now from eagerness. A few more pumps and he's spilling his seed so deep it forces your legs to shake, tipping over the edge yourself. His hearty groan grows in decibels at the feel of you gushing around him and mirrors your own howls, both astray in the space between lucidity and ecstasy.

The after tremors wrack through your thighs and you loose stability despite still being laid out on the counter, chest heaving against the marble now steamed with condensation. You’d definitely need to clean later, you make note of it as best you can before releasing everything else from your consciousness.

You both remain exactly as you are for a while, gathering the air back to your lungs to feed enough oxygen back to your brain in order to become functioning once more. Occasionally he leans down, his lips kiss bruised but still planting more along your spine, devotion filling you in abundance. His fingers drift over the curves of your waist, using it as perch to slowly and steadily pull out. Any other time he’d want to remain inside you for as long as physically possible, why would he want to depart from the heaven between your legs voluntarily otherwise? Yet the quivers in your legs persist as he can hear your knees knocking the wood.

You manage to stand for second before he lets loose your skirt and scoops you into his arms, compliant and moulding to his shape with an arm in support around his neck. His belt rattles as he walks you to the couch, the fly of his jeans still open and hardly decent but you remember, there’s no cameras here.

He rests you along the cushions but never relents his hold around you, kneeling on the floor to remain facing you and in your touch. He feels the pads of your fingers stroke his cheek, circling around the beauty mark just under his eye and every other indicator that he is here with you, calm in your presence.

“Yeonjun… I meant what I said before. I really do want people to know. I’m tired of hiding” you concede, you expect now that lust no longer clouds his decision making he might have some sort of reasoning, perhaps some that you should listen to considering how much it’s been drummed into the both of you ever since you came forward to your companies with your relationship. Somehow those countless meetings and damage control messages did little to curve your mind against it right in this moment, staring into your lovers eyes.

He looks to contemplate your admission for a brief moment, a warming, bright smile forming in the absence of the silence.

“I meant every word too” you beam back once you observe the joy fill out the corners of his lips “I knew I was gonna call for a meeting as soon as I walked out of the door this morning. Came back to get your blessing” he brushes away the stray, ruffled hair from your face, matted from your previous escapade and you’ve never looked prettier, disheveled from his touch and the promise for all to know.

“Aren’t you scared?” He looks so sure to you, like the hundreds of previous conversations on the topic were insignificant.

“Fucking terrified” the elated chuckle spewing from him refutes his words, head dipping to your knees where his forehead rests. It’s raw; human for him to admit and even that doesn’t scare him off this time. Now only his determination takes seat, that trait of dedication you admire so boiling to the surface “but that’s not gonna stop me from letting people see us. The real us”

Yeonjun lifts his gaze to you, the man you’ve grown with smiles before you now with the same delight as when he first called you his, perhaps now only with mischief. He stands on his knees, rising to meet the shell of your ear with his lips “I think I’ll fuck you one more time before that happens though. They can know soon but this is only for me”

he whispers like a secret, tugging you down the couch with an infectious giggle in your throat that quickly turns to a moan when he hikes your skirt up once more.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @nota10butadefinite8 @buttersoob

[nishimmortal]

practice makes perfect

sunghoon is looking for a figure skating partner

content: smau ⟡ figureskater!sunghoon x figureskater!reader ⟡ bestfriend!jake ⟡ sunghoon has fumble rizz

a/n: part 2 coming very soon ofc

part one ⟡ part two ⟡ part three

@ nishimmortal ⟡ all rights reserved.

[hoonieluvz]

are we just friends?

juju.

───────────────────────

context: heeseung has always treated you like a little sister, but things start to change when you become a junior in highschool while he is a senior.  pairing: reader x heeseung, non!idol heeseung, non!idol reader, high school au, reader is jake's little sister, fwb? ⋮ ⌗ ┆notes: sorry for not being consistent with my work and sorry if its confusing or ass, lowk wrote this at 1 am while being sleep deprived 🫩🫩 i miss heeseung and life is booty rn. im abt to slime evb out

masterlist prev next

───────────────────────

───────────────────────

a few minutes later, you arrived at his apartment and is now standing in front of his door, you knocked on it, 3 times and waited. 

you can hear footsteps shuffling around inside, then his voice called out 

“coming!” 

you heard footsteps growing louder as they approached the door. 

the door opened to reveal heeseung standing on the other side, hands in his pockets. he had changed into a white t shirt with grey sweats, and a pair of black framed glasses that complimented his eyes, he looked so fine without even trying. 

he smiled when he saw you. 

“hey, come in.” he said, stepping aside for you to enter his apartment. 

his apartment was clean, minimalistic and quiet, you stepped farther into the room, heeseung shut the door behind you and started walking towards the living room. you followed him in and he plopped down onto the couch and patted the empty space next to him. 

you moved to the couch to sit next to him, close enough that your shoulder brushes against his with every movement, he leaned back against the couch, one arm resting on the cushion behind you. 

he picked up the remote and scrolled on a streaming service.

“what you wanna watch?” he asked 

“mhm.. something scary?” 

he nodded and continued scrolling until he got on the horror section. you shifted on the couch to get more comfortable, leaning against him slightly. just then his arm went around your shoulder pulling you more against his side. 

you placed your head onto his shoulder as he continued to scroll, trying to find a decent movie to set the mood.

a few minutes past, he finally decided on a movie called Abigail. 

the movie started and you snuggled closer to him, he pulled you closer and leaned his head on top of yours, you guys sat in silence for a few minutes throughout the movie until he asked quietly.

“you hungry? i can order food, i also got some snacks if you want some.” he asked gently looking down at you. 

you looked up at him and shook your head no. “not really.” 

he nodded at your answer and looked back at the screen, focusing on the movie. 

his hand was absentmindedly playing with your hair as he watched the movie. your head was still settled comfortably against his shoulder, your legs curled under you as you focused on the screen and just being in the moment with him. this was perfect you thought. just you and him. together, cuddling on the couch, after years of secretly being in love with him, he was finally starting to acknowledge you and maybe, just maybe you guys will officially get together soon. 

-

a few moments later, a series of rapid knocking came at the door, causing you and heeseung to jump slightly. 

“who the fuck..?” he said quietly, he shifted you off him gently and stood up 

“im gonna go see who it is. stay here.” he said softly and started walking towards the door, he looked through the peephole and let out a heavy sigh, the knocking became more aggressive. 

“heeseung! i know you’re home!” a girls voice yelled, which sounded awfully familiar.

heeseung yanked the door open, blocking the entrance, not letting her enter. he crossed his arms leaning against the frame.

“what are you doing here?” he asked, voice clearly irritated

you looked towards the hallway heading to the front door and saw juju standing there, sobbing as she reached for him, but heeseung backed away 

“juju, seriously we broke up weeks ago, what do you want?” 

she doesn’t answer him, instead she hugged him tightly, not letting go of him as she looked into the apartment and her eyes landed on you. her grip tightened. 

“what the— get off me!” he tried to push her away, but she wouldn’t budge.

“no,” she sniffs “don’t leave me. don’t throw what we had all away.” 

she started walking them more into the apartment, the door shutting behind her, heeseung was wiggling around trying to escape her grip.

“get off! and we didn’t have anything! nothing was worth it in that relationship! you always pushed me away whenever things got hard and you never tried to fix it!” 

he tries to pull her arm off of his waist but she pushes him against the wall, leaning her head on his chest, she wasn’t letting go any time soon. 

her head was turned to the side looking at you, a small smirk was visible but she quickly erased it and went back to sobbing. 

you stood up slowly from the couch and gathered your things, you walked towards the hallway leading to the front door, heeseung eyes widen. 

“uh im gonna.. yeah” you quickly opened the door and sped walk away towards the elevator, you can hear heeseungs voice struggling and yelling after you. 

“yn! .. fuck,” then he finally pushed her hard, making her stumble back, “what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he grabbed her purse that fell to the ground and shoved it in her hands, he opened the door and shoved her out, her protests becoming more intense as she was getting pushed out. 

“no hee! let me explain please! don’t leave—“ the door slammed shut in her face. she banged on it repeatedly, after each bang was a protest.

bang. 

“OPEN THE DOOR!”

bang. 

“I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME.”

bang. 

“LIAR!”

bang. 

she stayed at the door, banging on it repeatedly, not giving up. she was determined to win him back, to get back with him. but inside his apartment heeseung was looking for his phone, and when he found it and dialed the apartment’s security number. it started to ring, and he waited until he heard a voice call out. 

“hello? this is security how may i assist you?” 

“hello? yeah there’s a crazy lady outside my apartment door and she won’t leave. please come get her away from my place as soon as possible, thank you.” he said politely and hung up the phone when they finished with the confirmations. 

a few minutes later, he waited by the door listening quietly until he heard voices calling out to her.

“ma’am you need to leave, this isn’t your complex.” the man said

“this is my boyfriend’s apartment, i’m not leaving if i don’t want to.” she was sat on the floor, her back against his door, not caring about security at all. 

the man sighed and walked over to her and grabbed her arm, she shrieked 

“don’t touch me!” 

the man ignored her protests and pulled her up, she yelled, crying out as she got dragged away, other people in the complex heard her and stuck their heads out of their door, wondering what just happened.

heeseung waited for a long moment until he knew that she officially left. that’s when he pulled out his phone and went to your contact, preparing to text you.

───────────────────────

───────────────────────

taglist: [ CLOSED ] @jakesbaedae @vicsstaa @ivehan @woninlove @jetaimz @jvngw0nlvr @shining-won @rikischromehart @dina-10s-blog @mel-reads @yv4nn @psychicdazestrawberry @ddolleri @jjay4a @nishmuraa @lovenha7 @shaiimuraaa @iiunique @sugaryemma @acute4ngel @ni-k1ttie @4ngelest @nataliasdiary @ajijakey @jngwonning @kalospia1 @jungwonsdimplesxo @ilobhee @arelyvn @aengelicalangel @s1mplyl0vely @simjyyyn @ezekiel-bublz @laikaonline @anudre07 @gyuzies @lilyhaslowiron @en-love-1009 @yjwluvs @aer1z @pix3lkitten @hoonie-luvr @astronomicalastro-blog1 @k-4ttiee @82sim @twinklingsparkling @seungiesdoll @tessa365 @urmotherlvr @hoonicon

[tinningtus]

𝐴 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝑅𝐸𝑇𝑈𝑅𝑁 𝑇𝑂 ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃 HN.K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɪᴅᴏʟ!ʜᴜᴇɴɪɴɢᴋᴀɪ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: returning home from tour, Kai wants for nothing more than to return to your arms

ꨄ︎ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: established relationship, light petting, lots of kisses, mostly just soft

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 900

𝙆𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙨…⋆˚࿔ haiii guys so this is my first post and although I’m not the best at it I really enjoy writing and thought others might like to read these stories too maybe so yeah >ᴗ<

There really aren’t enough fics for Kai and although I plan to write more for the rest of txt, Kai is my ult bias so I’m here to do my service .ᐟ.ᐟ This is just a quick drabble while I’m working on some longer fics, if there’s any mistakes just let me knowᢉ𐭩

Kai returned while the city outside still slept, the early hours of morning before the dawn had even broken. From beaming overhead lights of the airport luggage collection to the hum of the taxi ride back, the only thing that greets him and the rest of the boys as they step inside the dorm is a comforting ambiance. The lights off and a hushed silence clung in the air. Mostly it felt like home at last.

The boys say little to eachother as they all stagger towards their respective rooms, the exhaustion of a long tour finally catching up to them. With his bag already dropped, he only had to tumble his body into his room, albeit on the balls of his feet to avoid any exaggerated noise as to not wake the sleeping form tucked up under his covers. He stumbles trying to put comfortable sleep pants on, forgoing a shirt in order to climb into bed quicker.

The mattress dips under his weight, careful and safe, fingertips delicately reaching out to find you under the sheets. It's soft how his hands wrap around your waist, pulling himself in, face slotting in the crook of your neck where he takes a deep breath. Your scent fills his senses, a washed out coconut shampoo and something so irrevocably you. The breath in his throat hitches from pure euphoria, after weeks of being apart the distance had created a hole in his heart; his sanity, that only you could fill.

Somewhere along the way of basking in your presence, you shift against him, seemingly still fast asleep, snuggling backwards subconsciously into the warmth. He knows he should be more considerate, more careful with his movements but he finds he can't help himself, lips attaching to the bare skin of your shoulder, lazily dragging open mouth kisses along the juncture of your neck to your jaw, no longer any sense of trying not to wake you.

"Kai..." a hushed sigh escapes you, barely audible if not for how close he was cuddled into you. For just a second he feels a pang of guilt for disrupting your sleep, but it's quickly subsided when he realises you’re still completely under. His heart swells knowing that even asleep it's him you seek.

"I'm here, angel" there's a honeyed timber to his voice, fingers tightening into your shirt that seems to be an old one of his. They all swamp you yet he thinks you are at your most beautiful wrapped up in him, much as you are now. His breath shudders once more as you shuffle back, taking the opportunity to bury his face in your neck, feeling the emotion of finally having you back in his arms wash over him.

"Kai?" Your tone is unbelieving and soft, slightly more raised than when you mumbled in your sleep yet still quiet in the dark of the room, almost as if speaking his name too loud would make him disappear.

"It's me"

He hums, vibrating against your skin. As if a woman possessed, you flip in his arms despite him never fully letting go, grip constricting around you once more as you now faced him. Your eyes snap open, trying to adjust to the low light in the room but you have to see him.

Fingertips dance over his cheek, his brow, his jaw, mapping his skin as if to commit him to memory. The smile hung on his lips is involuntary, observing the way utter surprise takes over your features. Once it finally begins to settle that he is in fact in front of you once again, you lunge toward, pressing your lips to his. The kiss is rushed and desperate but not devoid of emotion, everything unspoken since he left weeks ago.

"I thought you were suppose to get here tomorrow?" You manages to question through a breath as you briefly break the kiss, unable to contain your joy to see him so soon.

"Manager got us an earlier flight, thought I'd surprise you"

he's quick to close the gap between your lips once more while his hands roam your waist, gripping as much as he can, desperately hungry for any inch of skin.

"I missed you so much" your voice cracks, as if the emotion of holding him again is too much, grounding yourself by threading your fingers through his blonde locks.

"I missed you more"

it's a simply easy reply yet it lacks no honesty.

And when your legs wrap around his waist and it pulls his body impossibly closer, the whine he releases is delectable, a low grunt in the back of his throat follows the more friction that’s created between you two. Breathlessly you pull away from another kiss but you don’t miss the way his eyes are dazed over. He’s conflicted, an internal battle to rake his gaze over your form much like his hands are currently or fight off the dizzying spell you seem to have him under from a few kisses. You make the choice for him as you reconnect your lips, dragging him willingly further into hypnosis. He could address the growing desire to have you whining for him, the creeping fatigue in his bones seemingly prevails though as the kisses tempo slows and lulls into something softer. Something closer to sleep. It’s okay, though, there’s time now.

He’s home.

[recklesscakeuu]

practical

★ synopsis: a day before valentine's day, kang taehyun notices your lingering gaze on couples with roses and chocolates. he teases you about practicality, his logic sharp as ever, yet the next day unfolds with deliberate surprises that blur the line between reason and something deeper. what begins as a calculated escape ends in warmth you never expected—subtle, intimate, and undeniably his.

★ pairing: boyfriend!taehyun x fem!reader

★ genre: fluff, romance, eventual smut (18+ mdni!) with a plot, established relationship

★ song reco: bad - wave to earth

★ status | word count: completed | 6.8k

★ao3: practical

note: first taehyun fic! a valentine's day inspired one for our february baby <3

i added the word count because someone asked me to add word counts to my posts! i’ve added it to past works and will continue moving forward! (i didn't know it was helpful to readers so thank you to the one who asked me to add it!)

happy valentine's day and enjoy! <3

The late afternoon sun slanted through the tall glass windows of the café, turning the wooden tables into warm amber patches. 

Outside, the streets of Seoul buzzed with an unusual energy for February 13th—couples everywhere, laughing, arms linked, carrying those telltale red-and-pink paper bags from florists and chocolatiers. Bouquets of roses wrapped in cellophane rustled against coat sleeves; heart-shaped boxes peeked out from under scarves. 

It was as if the city had decided to rehearse Valentine's Day a day early, everyone eager to beat the crowds tomorrow. 

You sat across from Taehyun at a small corner table, your iced Americano sweating rings onto the coaster. He was slouched comfortably in his chair, legs stretched out under the table so his sneakers brushed yours every now and then. His black button-up shirt  was pulled up his elbows just enough to show his veins whenever his hands flexed as his observant eyes flicked toward the window every few seconds.

A young couple passed right by the glass, the girl clutching an enormous bouquet of white peonies and red tulips like it was a trophy. The guy beside her balanced a gold-foil box of chocolates in one hand and her waist with the other. They were giggling about something, heads bent close.

Taehyun's gaze lingered on them for a beat longer than necessary then he leaned forward, elbows on the table, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"They're a day early, aren't they?" he said, voice low and amused. "Valentine's isn't until tomorrow. What's the rush?"

You followed his line of sight, watching the couple disappear around the corner. "Maybe they just couldn't wait. Or they hate lines."

He snorted softly, the sound more exhale than laugh. "Still. Flowers wilt in like, twelve hours if you don't put them in water right away. And chocolate? Melts if you carry it around too long in this weather. Not practical at all." 

He tapped his fingers once against the table, decisive. "Waste of money if you ask me."

You couldn't help but chuckle, the sound bubbling up warm and familiar. It was classic Taehyun—cutting straight through the sentimentality with that razor-sharp logic of his. Always observing, assessing, and deciding what actually made sense. No fluff, no wasted effort.

He'd always been like this, ever since the early days when he'd show up at your door with a single rose and a box of dark chocolate truffles, eyes bright with that boyish excitement. Back then, you'd smiled politely, thanked him, and after a few dates gently nudged him toward practicality.

"You know I'd rather you just... got me something useful," you'd told him once, laughing to soften it. "Like coffee. Or that new phone case I needed. Flowers are pretty for a day, but then they're just trash."

He'd looked at you for a long second, processing. Then he nodded once, sharp and final. "Got it."

And that was that. The flowers stopped and the chocolates became rare treats only on your birthday or when he felt like spoiling you with zero occasion.

Instead, he started showing up with your favorite iced latte on stressful days, or a new pair of wireless earbuds when yours broke, or tickets to that indie band you'd mentioned once in passing. 

Practical. 

Efficient. 

You never regretted saying it because you were the same as he was. Practical. Thoughtful in the way that actually lasted.

But sometimes, on days like today when the city smelled like roses and sugar, a tiny, secret part of you wondered what it would feel like to be one of those girls carrying armfuls of petals home.

Taehyun caught your expression—the slight softening around your eyes as another couple walked by with matching red heart balloons. He tilted his head, studying you the way he studied everything: quick, thorough, no detail missed.

"What?" he asked, voice teasing but gentle. "You want one?"

You rolled your eyes, nudging his foot under the table. "Don't start. You know I'd just complain about the pollen."

"True." He grinned, all teeth and mischief. "You'd sneeze for three days straight and blame me."

"Exactly." He leaned back again, stretching his arms above his head until his shirt rode up just enough to show a sliver of toned stomach. Casual. Effortless. The kind of movement that still made your pulse jump after all this time.

"Anyway," he said, dropping his arms and picking up his own drink, "we're not doing any of that tomorrow."

You raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"Nope." He set the cup down with a soft clink. "Got something better planned."

"Better than flowers and chocolate?" you teased.

He met your eyes, steady. "Way better."

There was no elaboration. Just that quiet confidence, the kind that came from already having everything mapped out in his head. Taehyun didn't do vague promises; when he said something was handled, it was.

You let it drop, content to let the mystery sit. That was another thing about him—he loved surprises, but only the kind he controlled. The kind where he could see the variables, calculate the outcome, and know it'd land perfectly.

The two of you finished your drinks in comfortable silence, his foot still brushing yours every so often like an absentminded anchor. When you stood to leave, he automatically grabbed your bag before you could, slinging it over his own shoulder. 

Outside, the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of street food and exhaust. Couples were still everywhere, posing for photos with their bouquets, laughing as petals caught in the wind. Taehyun slipped his hand into yours without fanfare, fingers threading through yours with the ease of long habit.

"Tomorrow," he said as you walked, "wear something comfortable. No heels."

You glanced at him sideways. "Mysterious."

He just smirked again. "You'll see."

That night, you lay in bed replaying the café moment, the way his eyes had flicked to those couples, the quick logic that dismissed the romance as inefficient, the easy way he'd shut down any hint of wanting it himself. 

It didn't sting, exactly. You knew him. Knew he showed love in actions that stuck around longer than a vase of flowers ever could. Still, as you drifted off, you let yourself imagine—just for a second—what it would be like if he ever decided practicality could include a little impracticality.

The next morning was Valentine's Day and it dawned cold and clear and you woke to the smell of coffee already brewing in your kitchen. 

Taehyun must have used his spare key; he did that sometimes when his schedule let him steal early hours. You padded out in oversized sweats and fuzzy socks, hair still messy from sleep. He was at the counter, pouring two mugs, wearing a black hoodie paired with dark jeans and sneakers that looked ready for walking. His hair was slightly damp, like he'd showered recently, and the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows.

"Morning," he said without turning around. "Coffee's ready. Black, like you pretend to like when you're trying to be healthy."

You laughed, sliding onto a stool. "I do like it black sometimes."

"Sure you do." He turned, sliding your mug across the counter. Then he leaned against the edge, arms crossed, watching you take the first sip.You noticed the small paper bag on the counter beside him—simple brown kraft, no ribbon, no hearts. Practical packaging.

"What's that?" you asked, nodding toward it.

He followed your gaze, then shrugged one shoulder. "Open it later. After we eat."

Breakfast was quick with toast, eggs he'd scrambled with precision, and fruit sliced into neat pieces. He ate standing up, scrolling through his phone with one hand, occasionally glancing up to make sure you were eating too.

When the plates were cleared after he insisted on washing them himself, he finally picked up the bag and held it out.

"Here."

You took it curiously, noticing how it was heavier than it looked. Inside, nestled in tissue paper was a pink thermos, matte finish, the kind that kept drinks hot for twelve hours or cold for twenty-four. Engraved on the side in small silver lettering was your name.

You looked up at him, eyebrows raised and he rubbed the back of his neck, a rare flicker of something almost sheepish crossing his face. 

"You always complain your coffee gets cold when we're out. Figured this would fix it."

You turned the thermos over in your hands, feeling the solid weight of it. It was exactly your style—minimal, functional, thoughtful. 

"It's perfect."

"Good." He nodded once, satisfied. "Now grab your coat. We're leaving in ten."

The surprise unfolded piece by piece, the way Taehyun liked things: controlled reveals, each step building momentum. First, he drove you to a quiet park on the outskirts of the city, a small wooded area with winding trails and a frozen pond that reflected the sky like glass. He pulled a backpack from the trunk and slung it over one shoulder.

"Hiking?" you guessed.

"Sort of." He took your hand again. "Trust me."

The trail was easy at first, crunching leaves underfoot, the air sharp with pine. He walked ahead sometimes, pointing out little things like a bird's nest tucked in branches, a frozen stream that looked like twisted glass, his voice low and excited in that understated way of his.

.Halfway up, he stopped at a clearing. Someone had set up a small pop-up tent—nothing fancy, just insulated walls and a portable heater humming softly inside.

A folding table held a spread: sandwiches wrapped in parchment, fresh fruit, a thermos (that matched yours, but in a sky blue color) of hot chocolate, and—unexpectedly—a small Bluetooth speaker playing soft music.

You stared. "You planned this?"

He shrugged, but his eyes were bright. "Scouted it last week. Owner lets me use it sometimes when it's empty. Figured it'd be better than fighting crowds downtown."

Inside the tent, it was warm, cozy. Blankets on the floor, cushions. You sat cross-legged, watching him unpack everything with efficient movements before he reached into the backpack again.

This time, he pulled out a bouquet. It wasn’t huge nor extravagant. Just a tight bundle of deep red camellia and a few sprigs of eucalyptus for green contrast tied with plain twine.

Your breath caught as he held it out, casual as if handing you a water bottle.

"For you."

You took it slowly, fingers brushing his. "Taehyun..."

"Don't make a big deal," he said quickly, looking away toward the heater like it needed adjusting. "They're not roses. Roses are cliché and overpriced. These last longer, don't smell, won't make you sneeze. Practical."

You stared at the flowers, then at him. He was still avoiding your eyes, jaw tight like he was bracing for teasing but you didn't tease. 

Instead, you set the bouquet carefully on the blanket beside you, then leaned forward and kissed him—soft at first, then deeper when his hands found your waist and pulled you closer.

When you pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, breath uneven."You said you didn't like flowers," he murmured against your lips.

"I said I didn't like wasteful ones." You touched the camellias gently. "These... aren't wasteful."

He exhaled a laugh, low and relieved. "Good. Because I wasn't sure. I kept thinking about yesterday—how you looked at those couples. Figured maybe I was missing something."

You shook your head. "You weren't. You just... you always give me what lasts."

He studied you for a long moment, then nodded once. "Yeah. But sometimes lasting includes a little stupid romance, right?"

"Right."

He kissed you again—this time slower, hands framing your face like he was memorizing it. When he pulled away, he reached into the bag one last time. A small box of dark chocolate truffles. The expensive kind he used to bring in the beginning of your budding relationship.

"Last surprise," he said. "Not practical. Just... because."

You laughed, the sound muffled against his shoulder as you leaned into him. "You're ridiculous."

"Logically ridiculous," he corrected, wrapping an arm around you.

Outside, the wind rustled the trees. Inside, the heater hummed, the music played softly, and the camellias sat bright against the blanket—proof that even the most practical heart could bend, just a little, when it mattered.

The rest of the day passed in lazy perfection: eating, talking, stealing kisses between stories. He told you about scouting the spot, how he'd tested the heater twice to make sure it wouldn't fail. You teased him for over-planning a "spontaneous" date and he just grinned, unbothered.

As the sun dipped low, painting the snow gold, he packed everything up with the same efficiency he'd arrived with. But before you left the tent, he picked up the bouquet and pressed it into your hands again.

"Keep them," he said. "Even if they die eventually. At least they lasted longer than the cliché ones."

You smiled, holding them close. “Of course,” you murmured, smiling small and soft. “I’m not letting these go anywhere.”

He nodded once—sharp, satisfied—then bent to zip the backpack. But he didn’t stand right away. Instead he stayed crouched there for a beat, looking out through the open tent flap at the trail disappearing into the shadowed trees. The first stars were already pricking through the violet sky, faint and cold.

“I wanted to stay longer,” he said suddenly, almost like the words had slipped out before he could catch them. “Watch the stars come out properly with you. Lie back, point out constellations, the whole thing.” 

He huffed a short laugh, self-deprecating. “But the trail’s not lit. No markers past the first bend. If we wait too long we’ll be stumbling around in the dark, and I didn’t bring headlamps. Or a map. Or backup batteries.” He rubbed the back of his neck, the gesture quick and familiar. “Not worth the risk. We’d end up cold, lost, and then I’d have to carry you out piggyback while you complain on my back.”

You laughed—the sound bright against the quiet—and reached out to tug lightly on the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Always planning three steps ahead.” 

He squeezed your hand once. “Next time,” he said, voice low and certain, “we stay for the stars.”

You smiled, holding the camellias a little tighter. “Next time,” you echoed.

His decision was practical, yes. But also, undeniably, romantic in the way only Taehyun could be: deliberate, thoughtful, and surprising.

The walk back down the trail felt different—not just because the light had shifted to that soft, bruised purple of late winter dusk, but because the camellias were still in your hands. Their petals caught the last slivers of sun like small dark flames. 

Taehyun walked beside you, his pace deliberately slowed so you didn’t have to hurry. One hand was in his pocket, the other holding yours as he squeezed every few minutes like he was checking if you were still there.

He didn’t speak much on the descent but it wasn’t awkward. Silence was normal for him after something emotionally high-stakes. He processed in silence, turning the afternoon over in his head the way he’d turn a Rubik’s cube until every side matched.

You could almost see the gears moving behind his eyes—did the heater stay warm enough? Was the chocolate too bitter? Did the flowers feel like too much after all these months of steering him away from them?

You broke the quiet first. “You really planned all of this in a week?”

He glanced over, mouth quirking. “Ten days, technically. Had to wait for the owner to confirm the tent wasn’t booked.” A small shrug. “Wanted to make sure everything lined up. Weather forecast, sunset timing, how long the trail takes at your walking speed.”

You laughed under your breath. “You timed my walking speed?”

“Rough estimate.” He tapped his temple. “I pay attention.”

Of course he did. He always did.

He noticed you shivered when iced drinks sat too long, so he bought the thermos. 

He noticed you always forgot gloves in winter, so last December he’d slipped a pair of thin, touchscreen-compatible ones into your coat pocket without a word.

The parking lot was nearly empty when you reached it. Only two other cars, both with couples still inside, windows fogged, probably stealing the last few minutes before heading home to whatever Valentine’s dinner they’d booked.

Taehyun unlocked the doors with a quiet beep and opened the passenger side for you out of habit. Before you could slide in, he stopped you with a light touch on your elbow.

“Wait.” 

You turned. He was looking at the camellias again, then at you, expression unreadable for a second.

“I almost didn’t bring them,” he admitted. Voice low, like the confession cost him something to say out loud. “Kept thinking about what you said back then—how you’d rather have something practical. I didn’t want to… I don’t know. Make you feel like I wasn’t listening.”

Your chest tightened. “Taehyun—”

“But then yesterday at the café,” he continued, cutting himself off before you could interrupt, “you looked at those people with the big stupid roses and I could see it. Not jealousy, exactly. Just… curiosity? Like maybe part of you wondered what it felt like to be given the cliché thing anyway.” 

He noticed that too, you thought.

He exhaled through his nose, short and sharp. “So I figured—worst case, you laugh at me and we use the flowers as kindling later. Best case…” He gestured vaguely at the bouquet. “You smile like that.”

You hadn’t realized you were smiling until he pointed it out.He rubbed the back of his neck again—the same nervous action from earlier in the tent. 

“Anyway. Point is, I’m not gonna make it a habit. Flowers every week would be wasteful and you’d get sick of them in like, two months. But once in a while? When it actually means something?” He met your eyes, steady. “I can do that.”

The cold air stung your cheeks, but you barely felt it.

“You’re allowed to want things that aren’t one-hundred-percent logical, you know,” you said softly. 

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well. Working on it.”

You stepped closer, rising on your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. For all of it. Even the illogical parts.”

He caught your waist before you could pull away, kissing you properly this time—slow, thorough, the way he did when he wanted to make sure you felt every second of it. When he finally let go, his forehead rested against yours for a beat.

“Get in,” he murmured. “Heater’s already on. Don’t want you freezing while I’m trying to be romantic.”

You laughed and slid into the passenger seat, cradling the camellias carefully on your lap like they were made of glass. 

The drive back into the city was quiet again, but comfortable. Taehyun kept the radio low—some chill R&B playlist he’d made months ago because he knew you liked certain tracks. Every so often his fingers would find yours over the center console, thumb brushing your knuckles absentmindedly.

When you reached your apartment building, he parked but didn’t turn off the engine right away.

“Still early,” he said. “You hungry for actual dinner or…?”

You tilted your head. “You didn’t book anything?”

“Didn’t want to lock us into a time slot in case you hated the tent idea and wanted to bail early.”

Of course he’d think of that too. Contingency plans for everything. 

“But there’s that ramen place you like” He continued, “the one with the spicy broth that makes your nose run. Or we can just order in. Your call.”

You considered it. The idea of sitting in a crowded restaurant right now, surrounded by other couples doing the full Valentine’s performance, felt suddenly exhausting. You wanted more of this—the two of you, no audience, no pressure.

“Let’s order in,” you decided. “And you’re staying, right?”

He looked almost offended that you’d asked. “Obviously.”

Upstairs, the apartment smelled faintly of flowers from the candle you’d burned last night. Taehyun kicked off his shoes by the door, hung both your coats, then disappeared into the kitchen like he lived there. 

Which, functionally, he practically did.

You set the camellias on the dining table, arranging them in the only vase you owned—a plain white ceramic cylinder he’d bought you last summer because ‘your old one leaked and stained the wood.’

While he scrolled through the delivery app, muttering about how the restaurant always forgot extra chili oil unless you wrote it in all caps, you slipped into the bedroom to change. 

Comfy sweats, one of his old oversized hoodies he left in your apartment months ago, and fuzzy socks. When you came back out he was already on the couch, legs spread, phone balanced on his thigh, looking completely at home.

He glanced up. Paused. His gaze did that slow sweep it always did when you wore his clothes—possessive, appreciative, a little smug.

“Looks better on you,” he said simply.You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the flush.

“Flattery isn’t practical.” you huffed.

“Doesn’t have to be.” He patted the cushion beside him. “Come here”

You curled into his side, head on his shoulder, legs draped over his lap. He wrapped one arm around you automatically, thumb rubbing slow circles against your upper arm through the fabric while the other kept scrolling until he hit submit on the order.

“Twenty-eight minutes,” he announced. “Plenty of time.”

You blinked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “Plenty of time for what?”

He didn’t answer with words.Instead he surged up, one hand cupping the back of your neck to hold you exactly where he wanted, the other sliding to your hip with a bruising grip, and kissed you hard.

It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming—teeth catching your lower lip hard enough to sting sweetly, tongue sweeping in deep and wet and possessive, stroking against yours in slow, deliberate drags that made your head spin.

You made a small, helpless sound into his mouth; he swallowed it greedily, tilted his head to take the kiss even deeper, licking into you like he was trying to taste every corner.

His hands then started roaming.

Everywhere.

One palm shoved up under the hoodie you were wearing, rough fingertips skating over the soft skin of your ribs, then higher, cupping one breast fully through the thin bra.

He squeezed firmly, his thumb unhurriedly circling the already-pebbled nipple until it ached, then pinching just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. The other hand slid down the curve of your spine, fingers splaying wide over your ass, kneading the flesh before pulling you down harder against the thick, insistent ridge of him straining behind denim.

You rocked instinctively, grinding down on the hard length of him; he groaned low and guttural against your tongue, the sound vibrating through your chest and straight to your core. He broke the kiss only to drag his open mouth along your jaw, down the sensitive column of your throat, teeth scraping over your racing pulse before he sucked a mark there—hard enough to bloom purple by morning, soft enough that you arched into it instead of pulling away.

“Plenty of time,” he repeated against your skin, voice rough and wrecked, lips brushing with every word, “to get you so wet I can feel you soaking through my jeans before the food gets here.”

The bluntness delivered in that calm tone sent a fresh gush of heat between your legs. He shifted you in one fluid motion, flipping your positions so your back hit the cushions and he loomed above you, one knee braced between your thighs, the other planted on the floor for leverage.

The hoodie rode up to your ribs and he didn’t bother fixing it, shoving it higher with both hands, bunching the fabric under your armpits, exposing the lace of your bra and the way your chest rose and fell in shallow pants.

His gaze dropped, dark and ravenous. “Look at you,” he muttered, more to himself, voice thick. 

One hand closed over your left breast again, kneading slowly while the other yanked the bra cups down in a single rough tug. Your breasts spilled free into the cool air, nipples already tight and flushed. 

He made a low, appreciative sound in his throat before leaning down and took one peak into his mouth. Tongue flat and hot, he circled once, twice, then sucked—hard, rhythmic pulls that matched the slow, deliberate roll of his hips down into yours. 

The rough denim scraped against the thin barrier of your sweats, friction brutal and perfect against your swollen clit. You threaded your fingers into his dark hair, tugging hard. He growled around your nipple, before switching sides—teeth grazing the sensitive bud just enough to make you cry out before soothing it with slow, wet laps of his tongue.

His free hand slid lower, under the waistband of your sweats and past the damp lace of your underwear, straight to where you were already slick and throbbing. Two fingers parted your folds, slid through the wetness with obscene ease, then pressed flat against your clit in a slow, firm circle that made your hips buck.

“Fuck,” you breathed, head falling back against the cushion.

“Language,” he said against your breast, voice muffled and dark. “But I’ll give you a pass since that’s the response I want.” 

He rubbed again—tighter circles now, pressure steady. “Twenty-five minutes left.” He breathed. “Plenty of time to map exactly how many times I can make you come before the doorbell.”

He sounded almost proud of his own ruthless efficiency. You would have laughed if your breath weren’t already coming in short, desperate pants. 

You arched harder, chasing his fingers. He rewarded you by slipping one inside—slow, deliberate—curling immediately to that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

“Another,” you managed, voice cracking and hee didn’t hesitate. Second finger joined the first, stretching you beautifully, pumping in a steady, deep rhythm while his thumb took over your clit—small, relentless circles that never faltered. 

The wet, filthy sounds of his fingers moving inside you filled the room, louder than your own ragged breathing. He lifted his head to watch your face—eyes locked on yours, pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of iris remained.

“Twenty-two minutes,” he rasped, voice wrecked but still steady. “You’re clenching so fucking tight already. Gonna come for me like this? All over my hand before the noodles arrive?”

You could only nod, words gone, hips rocking desperately onto his fingers. He kissed you again—messy, open-mouthed, swallowing every broken whimper as he worked you faster. Fingers curling deeper with every thrust, thumb pressing harder, the rhythm never faltering. 

Practical.

Precise. 

Devastating.

When you shattered it hit like a freight train, your back bowing off the couch, thighs clamping around his wrist, a choked cry tearing from your throat as pleasure ripped through you in sharp, blinding waves. He didn’t stop, just slowed his movements, curling gently to draw it out until you were trembling, oversensitive, gasping against his shoulder.

Taehyun withdrew his fingers slowly, glistening with your release, and brought them to his mouth—licking them clean with slow, deliberate swipes of his tongue while holding your dazed gaze shamelessly satisfied with what he’d done. Then he glanced at his watch.

“Eighteen minutes left,” he said, already working his belt open with one hand, the metal clinking softly. “Enough time to fuck you properly… and still have time to wash my hands before I tip the delivery guy.”

You laughed—breathless, dazed, thighs still shaking. He leaned down, kissed you softer this time, almost tender as he reached for the waistband of your sweats, tugging them along with your soaked underwear—down your thighs in one efficient motion.

“Lift,” he instructed, voice rough with want and you followed.

He shoved his jeans and boxers down just enough, freeing his cock—thick, flushed dark at the tip, already leaking. The sight of him made your mouth water, made fresh heat coil low in your belly. 

He notched himself at your entrance, rubbing the head through your slick folds once, twice, coating himself until he glistened.

“Condom?” you asked, even as your hips lifted toward him instinctively.

“Already on the table,” he said, nodding toward the small foil packet he’d apparently placed there sometime in the last few minutes—because of course he’d prepared. “But if you want me bare tonight…”

You swallowed hard. “Yes. Please.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, something almost feral flashing in his eyes.Then he pushed in slowly, letting you feel every thick inch as he stretched you open, until his hips met yours and he was buried to the hilt.

You both groaned—low, broken sounds that mingled in the quiet room.He stayed still for a heartbeat, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “So tight… so wet… so…perfect.”

“Language” you teased, repeating his words earlier and he just groaned.

Then he started moving.Slow, deep rolls at first—pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, grinding against your clit with every thrust. Each stroke dragged against that sensitive spot inside, building the pressure again impossibly fast.

“Feel that?” he rasped, voice wrecked. “How deep I am? How you’re taking every inch?”

You could only whimper, nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt. He picked up speed—harder now, hips snapping forward with controlled force, the couch creaking under you both. One hand braced beside your head, the other slid between you, thumb finding your clit again, rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts.

“Fourteen minutes,” he growled against your ear. “Gonna make you come on my cock before the timer runs out. Then I’m gonna fill you up so deep you’ll feel me all night.”

The filthy promise tipped you over the edge, coming with a cry, walls fluttering and clenching around him, milking him as wave after wave crashed through you. He fucked you through it, hips stuttering only when your spasms pulled a low, guttural moan from his throat.

When the aftershocks finally faded he slowed, grinding deep instead of thrusting, letting you ride the lingering pleasure.

Then he pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the loss, and flipped you onto your stomach, tugged your hips up, and slid back in from behind in one smooth stroke.

“Last one,” he murmured, voice strained. “Gonna come inside you now.”

He thrusted hard then—fast, deep, one hand wrapped around your hip, the other sliding up your spine to fist in your hair, pulling just enough to arch your back. The new angle let him hit even deeper, the head of his cock dragging against that spot with every brutal thrust.

You pushed back to meet him, desperate, needy sounds spilling from your lips.He reached around, fingers finding your clit again—rubbing fast, merciless circles.

“Come with me,” he ordered, voice breaking for the first time. “Now.”

You shattered a third time—harder than before, vision whiting out, body shaking as you pulsed around him. He followed seconds later—hips slamming forward one last time, burying himself deep as he came with a choked groan, spilling hot and thick inside you, pulse after pulse until you were both trembling. 

He stayed buried inside you for a long, suspended moment, chest heaving against your back, forehead pressed to the nape of your neck. His lips found your skin there—soft, reverent kisses scattered along the sweat-damp curve, as though grounding himself in the aftershock. His arms bracketed you, one hand splayed wide over your stomach, holding you close while the other braced beside your head to keep his weight from crushing you.

Then he exhaled a long shaky breath and glanced at his watch one final time.

“Three minutes to spare,” he murmured, voice hoarse but satisfied. “Plenty of time to clean up… and still answer the door like nothing happened.”

He pulled out slowly—carefully—both of you hissing sharply at the sudden emptiness and the flare of oversensitivity. The slick heat of his release immediately began to slip out, warm and thick, trailing down your inner thighs. You felt it—intimate, messy, undeniable—and a fresh shiver ran through you at the sensation.

Taehyun noticed instantly.

Without a word he shifted back just enough to reach the side table. He’d already placed everything he might need within arm’s reach earlier—because of course he had: a small stack of soft tissues, a clean hand towel folded neatly, and an unopened bottle of water.

Practical. Ruthlessly prepared. Always three steps ahead.

“Stay here,” he murmured, voice still rough around the edges but steady again. “Don’t move yet. I’ll get the food. And a towel. And water.”

You nodded weakly, limbs heavy, body humming with aftershocks. The couch cushions were cool against your flushed skin as you collapsed fully onto your stomach, cheek pressed to the fabric, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne that clung to everything he touched.

He moved with that same efficient grace—jeans tugged back up just enough to be decent, belt loosely buckled, hair still a beautiful disaster. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and you heard the faucet run, the soft rustle of a fresh towel being pulled from the cabinet. Then, he was back, kneeling beside you on the floor.

He draped the warm, damp towel over your lower back first then gently guided it between your thighs, cleaning you with careful, unhurried strokes.No awkwardness, no hesitation; just quiet focus, like this was simply the next logical step in the sequence he’d already mapped out.

“You okay?” he asked softly, thumb brushing a soothing circle over your hip where his grip had left faint pink imprints earlier.

“More than okay.” You managed to say, releasing a small, blissed-out hum.

Without a word, he reached for the rucked-up fabric bunched around your ribs, now twisted high enough that your breasts and stomach were fully exposed to the cool air of the apartment. His fingers gathered the hem gently, tugging it downward in one slow, careful motion.

The soft cotton slid over your skin like a whisper—first covering your breasts, then gliding past your navel, finally settling at mid-thigh where it had always belonged on you. He smoothed it flat against your sides with both palms, fingers lingering at your waist for a second longer than necessary, as though making sure every inch of you was shielded again. The gesture was simple, almost absentminded, but the care in it made your chest tighten.

“There,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, voice low and rough from overuse.

He leaned down, kissed your temple, then stood again. The doorbell rang right on cue as he glanced at his watch, a tiny satisfied quirk to his mouth. 

“Right on time.” he said, voice steady again, though his hair was still a complete disaster and there were faint red crescents from your nails on his shoulders. He adjusted himself one last time, smoothed his shirt down, and headed for the door—calm, collected, utterly composed.

You watched him go, boneless and blissed-out, legs still weak, a stupid, happy smile tugging at your lips as the scent of spicy ramen began to drift in from the hallway.

He set everything on the coffee table, then came back to you with a bottle of water already uncapped.

“Drink,” he said, sliding an arm under your shoulders to help you sit up slowly. “Hydration first. Then food.”

You took the bottle with shaky fingers, sipping while he arranged the containers—chopsticks, extra chili oil (he’d remembered to request it in all caps), napkins fanned out neatly. Only when you’d taken a few solid swallows did he finally let himself sit beside you, pulling you gently against his side.

The ramen was perfect—broth spicy enough to make your eyes water, noodles springy, extra chashu because he remembered what you liked, and it was still steaming as he handed you your bowl first, then took his own. 

You ate in a companionable quiet for a while, the only sounds were the soft slurp of noodles and the occasional satisfied hum from him when he got a particularly good bite. Halfway through your bowl you caught him watching you again.

“What?”

He shook his head once. “Nothing. Just… glad you liked today.”

“I loved today.”

“Good.” He set his chopsticks down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Because I was ninety-two percent sure you would, but there’s always that eight percent margin for error.”

You snorted. “You’re such a nerd”

“Maybe” He leaned back, stretching both arms along the couch behind you. “But it made today successful. I calculated the weather, your mood after work yesterday, whether you’d think the tent was weird instead of cozy, whether camellias would feel like a cop-out compared to roses…” He ticked them off on his fingers. “High confidence overall.”

“You’re insane.”

“Logically insane,” he corrected, the smirk returning—slow, self-satisfied, the same one he’d worn when he’d announced the twenty-eight-minute countdown earlier.

You leaned over and kissed the smirk right off his face, tasting the lingering spice of chili oil that still clung to his lips from dinner. He hummed into it, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing the soft skin just below your ear in a gentle, absent rhythm.

When you finally pulled back, foreheads resting together, his breathing was steadier but his eyes were still dark, pupils blown wide in the dim lamplight.

Even when the practicality included making sure you came three times, came inside you exactly as promised, cleaned you up efficiently with warm towels and careful touches, and still had the ramen piping hot when it arrived—he’d managed all of it without ever breaking that calm, deliberate focus of his.

You shifted then, swinging one leg over to straddle his lap properly again, thighs bracketing his hips. The bowls were already safely on the coffee table; there was no risk of knocking them over. The hoodie he’d tugged down earlier bunched comfortably at your waist now, soft cotton riding up just enough to let his hands settle on your lower back, palms warm through the fabric, holding you close without any urgency.

He exhaled softly against your mouth, the sound almost a sigh of contentment.

“Still think flowers are impractical?” he murmured, voice low and rough, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.

You laughed—weak and happy, the sound muffled against the crook of his neck where you’d tucked your face.

“I think you’re allowed to be a little impractical sometimes,” you whispered back, fingers threading lazily through the damp strands at his nape. “Just… don’t make it a habit. I’d hate to lose the version of you who times everything down to the second.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, the vibration rumbling through his chest and into yours. “Deal,” he said simply.

He leaned in and kissed you once more—slow, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world now that the countdowns were over, the ramen bowls sat empty on the coffee table, and the apartment carried the quiet, intimate perfume of spicy broth, lingering sex, and the clean notes of camellias drifting from the side table. 

His mouth moved against yours with deliberate tenderness— lips brushing, parting, tasting, no rush to deepen it further. Just savoring. One hand slid up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking the soft skin beneath your ear in lazy, soothing arcs; the other stayed splayed at the small of your back, fingers pressing just firmly enough to keep you anchored against him, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

When he finally drew back only far enough that your breaths mingled, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded and dark with something softer than hunger now. The lamplight painted warm shadows across his sharp features, turning the faint red marks from your nails into quiet proof of everything that had come before. 

He didn’t speak right away but exhaled once, long and steady, like he was letting the last of the day’s careful calculations slip away.

Outside the window, the city glittered with Valentine’s lights in pink and red and white. Couples were probably still walking around with wilting bouquets and half-eaten chocolate boxes but you didn’t care.

You had camellias on the table that would last another week at least, a thermos that would keep your coffee hot until next winter, and a boy whose heart operated like an extremely well-calibrated machine—precise, efficient, ruthless in its logic and still, somehow, capable of the softest, most surprising acts of love when it mattered.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby” he said, voice barely above a whisper, like the words were just for the space between you. 

You rested your forehead against his again, breathing him in.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Taehyun.”

And for once, he didn’t bother calculating the odds.

He just held you tighter.

[sleeping-sirens]

Can you please make an imagine where taehyun and y/n go for a long night walk and taehyun confesses. With sky full of stars and his eyes sparkling. Your works are amazingggg!! Thank you 💓

galaxies in your eyes 𓂃 𖤐˚. kang taehyun

pairing : taehyun x fem reader.

genre : friends to lovers!au, mutual pining, fluff.

summary : the stars were beautiful that night. but not as much as taehyun’s eyes as he confessed his love to you, wearing his heart on his sleeve.

word count : 2276 words.

warnings : none 🫶🏼

a/n : thank for your request anon! i was so happy when i saw it in my inbox because it was my first time ever receiving a request so know that you made my heart all warm and fuzzy anon 😭 also sorry i took so long 💀 anywaysss hope you like it!! <;33

masterlist

buy me a coffee 🥹🫶🏼

taehyun loved many things.

he loved when he'd wake up without setting an alarm in the morning. just by feeling the warm sun rays caressing his cheeks softly and signaling the beginning of a brand new day.

he loved to go on a walk during those mornings. he'd happily put on his running shoes and favorite pair of sweats and go on a long walk alongside the han river. he'd stretch his vision far beyond the waters and gaze at the tall buildings littering the city that look like small figurines from afar.

on days where he wouldn't feel like going on a walk, he'd love to hit the gym. boxing being one of the things that kept him alive, as he'd say. he'd just stand in front of the sandbag and take off all the stress from his body. losing himself in the moment and letting his mind take control, finding his peace with each throw of his arms.

there was another way for taehyun to find his peace. another reason for him to just be a drowning mess in his own feelings. something, or rather, someone whose smile was enough to make him forget about any minor inconveniences he may meet in his life.

you.

he wanted to experience everything with you. he wanted to wake up in the morning with you, go on walks with you, work out and finish his day with you by his side. because out of all the things he loved, you were his favorite.

he loved you so much but he never found the good timing to confess. it was tragic, because with each day, his heart would tighten more inside his chest at how down bad he was for you. how you smiled, how you talked about what excited you and especially how you treated him.

taehyun was humbled by how you treated him and how you respected him. how you always made him your priority in your every day life. when you’d be around people, he’d be the only one to steal your gaze, your breath and all of your attention.

in your darkest nights, when nobody was around, you would call each other on the phone and talk about everything and nothing. he was your source of comfort as much as you were his.

when deep breaths are mingled and long sighs are shared, taehyun would know, again and again that he was head over heals in love with you.

“do you wanna go for a walk?” he whispered through the phone, breathing slowly, afraid to disturb the calmness of the moment if he ever let out a sound.

you pulled your phone away for a second to check what time it was, before quickly placing it on your ear, afraid to miss any words coming from him. “right now?”

“yes, i feel a tightness in my chest. i wanna breathe some fresh air.”

taehyun would rather just confess right now. he would rather admit to you right this second that his heart was full to the brim of feelings for you, and if he stayed like this any longer it would overflow and he might not be able to control himself around you.

“really? is it that bad?” you worried about him. you have never heard him say something like that. taehyun was always healthy, never the type to get sick or feel anxious if anything happened. his feelings and emotions would always be calculated, his entire life was planned. if anything would ever happen, he’d be prepared for it right that second.

“nothing a small night walk with you can’t fix,” he responded. and you could hear a hint of a smile under his breath. “i’ll be there in fifteen. dress warm and wait for me, okay?”

“okay,” you shared a long breath before you ended the call.

the thing was, you were so infatuated with taehyun that anything he did made your heart swarm with butterflies and to say that you were nervous was a understatement. your fingers trembled as you put on your coat and a large wool scarf around your neck.

and you waited.

at the fifteen minute mark, he sent you a message that he was outside your door and you took a second to regain your composure before you went out to him.

if i were to describe anything specific that happened in that moment, it’d be how taehyun’s pupils widened when his gaze landed on you, followed by a big and bright smile.

“hi,” he almost choked on his breath, opening his arms wide for you to be engulfed in his hug.

“hi,” your voice was muffled by his coat, your breath softly and sneakily hitting the sweetest spot in his neck and the hug went a bit tighter than normal. you didn’t complain, you let him squeeze you in his arms, no words shared, except for your heartbeats.

once you pulled away from him, he didn’t seem like he wanted to let go of your warmth any time sooner, so he quickly grabbed your arm and linked it with his.

“it’s a great night,” taehyun spoke and you didn’t miss how his head lifted towards the sky, eyes big and shining.

“look!” you pointed out, excitement bubbling in your chest. “the sky is full of stars!”

he instantly followed your pointer finger before averting his gaze down to catch your big smile, always mesmerized at your antics. you loved the stars, you loved gazing at the stars with taehyun.

you loved everything you did with him.

“they’re twinkling like crazy!” you breathed out, almost knocking taehyun to the side at how excited you were.

“do you know that stars don’t actually twinkle?” he asked, deep voice cutting through the air and awakening butterflies to go crazy in your belly.

“facts time with taehyun, we love,” you joked and he laughed with you.

“i think it’s something that should be common to know. they just appear to be twinkling because of some turbulence in the earth’s atmosphere. when the light of a star passes through the atmosphere, it goes through the many layers of it, each layer has its own density. so when the light travels through them, it deflects according to each layer so our eyes catch it as if they’re twinkling. but they’re not.”

taehyun explained as you walked by each other’s side, bodies occasionally bumping into each other as he still had his arm secured around yours. as he talked, he tried to convey his words into movements too so he kept moving his free arm around and flailing it up into the air to point out at the sky.

you hummed as you watched him. dazzled by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled with each tug of his smooth mouth.

“i’d still like to believe that they twinkle.”

your simple answer was too cute for taehyun to handle. but he tried to ground himself.

a few more minutes passed as you kept walking around the park, until you found a small bench surrounded by many cute flowers that bloomed in winter. without turning to say anything, taehyun knew that you wanted to take a little break. and it was an opportunity for him as well to take in everything that was happening around him.

you and him, and the stars.

as you sat down, you had the dark canvas of the sky dotted with a plethora of stars in front of you and it was a moment worth millions of bucks. you guys kept quiet for a moment, silence lingering around over tongue tied words that were dying to come into life. hearts melting and flooding your entire bodies with uncontrollable emotions. you knew each other too well to recognize the meaning behind your silence.

it’s been happening a lot lately, the fact that you would go silent a lot when you’d be together. it’s been happening ever since you blindly started falling for each other. none of you was able to break the curse of silence, but right now, taehyun have had enough.

“i love being with you,” he didn’t stutter as he said those words and you didn’t dare to look at him, afraid to morph into a blushing mess under his scrutinizing gaze.

“me too,” you whispered, not quite trusting your voice. out of the anxiousness, you started tapping on his knee, as if you were creating a melody that went in sync with your tumbling heart.

taehyun didn’t miss the chance to put his icy fingers over yours, wrapping your entire hand in his. his touch was delicate, therapeutic even. it was soft and you liked the feeling of it.

he took a deep breath before sitting straight and turning to you. you bit on the inside of your bottom lip, your heart beating like crazy.

“look at me, would you?” he chuckled, using his free hand to grab your chin lightly, tipping your head towards his direction.

when your eyes met, everything stopped. and you immediately discovered that there was another thing that twinkled just like the stars, or even better; his eyes. but only when he was looking at you.

“i’ve been keeping my feelings inside my chest for so long that it started to hurt. and though this is as cliché as it’s gonna get, but i believe that you accepting my love is the only thing that could heal me.”

you couldn’t talk upon hearing his sincere words, tears quickly glossing over your eyes. your body was floating on cloud nine and you have never imagined that he was going to confess one day.

“i know that what i’m feeling inside my heart is not something to be taken lightly. and i know that i’m not imagining scenarios in my head. your body language is a great enough sign that my feelings are reciprocated. over the months of discovering the sweet taste of falling for you, i couldn’t but feel the bitterness of not being able to confess to you any time sooner. not because i was not confident enough to do so, but just because i wanted to see how things are going to develop and i wouldn’t have been able to survive if you rejected me. so i kept my feelings shadowed, hinting at them with any action i did around you and your responses were always positive. the way you smiled at me longer than anybody else, the way you always thought of me first in whenever plans you made, the way your body naturally leans towards me…everything you did and still do gave me the strength to hold onto my feelings, and to love you even more each day.”

at this point, tears were silenty streaming down your face. you couldn’t believe your ears and your fingers were getting a cramp under his touch for not receiving enough blood flow in them. you took a shuddering breath, just like someone who was drowning and suddenly got pulled out onto the shoreline.

taehyun brought his fingers to your face, wiping away the tears that were blocking him from seeing your smile.

“i would be the happiest version of myself you’ve seen until now if you accept to be my girlfriend and i promise i’ll love you and take care of you just like how you deserve.”

“taehyun oh my god,” you cried and he quickly took you in for a hug. “i love you so much and i love myself when i’m with you. thank you for taking it slow and not rushing into anything, thank you for respecting my boundaries and giving me the chance to explore my feelings towards you before you made a move.” you sniffled as you confessed in the embrace of his arms, his hand softly caressing your shoulder and back as a form of comfort, to you and to himself.

he was so proud that you both could walk on a new path together, stoked to see what this adventure had in store for you. he was happy to be loved by someone like you and he made a simple promise to the stars that he’d always look out for you, always.

he gently peeled you off his body, keeping a close proximity of your faces. yours was flooding with tears and he couldn’t help but emit a small laugh. he wiped your face with his hands before he placed a soft peck on your forehead.

“don’t cry, please.”

“i’m crying happy tears, taehyun. i’m so happy i don’t think i’ll be able to stop crying.” you laughed, triggering another stream of happy tears to go down your cheeks.

his eyes teared up as he looked at you. and you saw stars inside them, more beautiful than the ones in the sky. and you wondered how many galaxies his eyes held.

“on a second thought, i’d like to take back what i said about stars. your eyes shine the most, taehyun and i’m so in love with you, your eyes, your lips, your hugs, you. just you and with everything that you are.”

“on a second thought, i don’t mind my eyes being compared to stars coming from you, and i don’t mind saying that the stars twinkle in the sky, as long as we are under it.”

“taehyun, i’m gonna kiss you,” you couldn’t control yourself and you didn’t wait for his answer before your lips crashed on top of his and a millions of fireworks bursted from your bodies.

that night, you and taehyun fell more in love with each other and the stars were the only witnesses.

a/n : hope you enjoyed this anon! 💘 tell me what you think through an ask, i’d LOVE to hear how this made you feel because it certainly made me hold my breath the entire time i was writing 😭 i’m so in love with taehyun i wanna be reader SO bad and kiss his lips and receive his hugs and be loved by him☹️☹️

[filmsbyun]

Love, in Translation || Choi Soobin

There are loves that blossom silently, and there are loves that consume. Love chose him as its sole vessel the moment you stepped into his still life and made it breathe. Because you were not merely the person he loved.

You were the garden and the grave where Soobin would bury himself. Willingly, ardently, and without return.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 21k

pairing: florist!Choi Soobin x afab!reader

tags: florist au, friends to lover, slice of life, mild slow burn if you squint, mutual pining, simp!soobin, portrayal of feelings through flowers, lots of yearning, mild jealousy because why not, somehow even became a sick fic, SOOBIN WEARS GLASSES! [probably missed some]

[MDNI] smut warning: explicit sexual content, munch!soobin, oral (f.), fingering, tummy bulge, subspace (but it's soobin being pussy drunk), cumming in pants, pathetic!dom!soobin, spit as lube, praise kink if you squint, multiple orgasms, missionary, unprotected sex (not huzzah!), creampie (please don't) [definitely missed some]

so umm. somehow it became 21k. NOW IN MY DEFENSE—IT WAS GOING VERY WELL UNTIL I STARTED THE SMUT! i might have went extremely overboard with it guys it was an out of body experience. but hey on the bright side, you have 3k words worth smut of soobin being pathetic! it's a win, right? *laughs nervously* alright jokes aside, i hope you enjoy reading this story as much as i enjoyed writing it <33 Reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!

© filmsbyun ── please do not copy, translate, or repost my work without permission.

Time flew in a strange way on SUNDAYS.

There was a jar of lemon candies near the cash register that no one ever touched, except for you. He kept refilling it anyway. Once, you’d told him that sour things make you feel awake. He didn’t like lemon candy, never has — but now the shop feels incomplete without that bright little jar amidst the plethora of greens.

Soobin liked being a florist. He loved flowers more. Perhaps it was because the shop stopped feeling like a shop and rather a person to him. It woke up with him every morning, breathed with the breeze when he slid the door open, and hummed softly when he watered the hanging plants. He worked there most days, except for Tuesdays, when his employee took over so he could attend his classes. For the remaining days of the week, Soobin arranged his schedule meticulously so that he could finish his classes early in the morning and put his entire focus on flowers. The arrangement’s practical, he liked to believe. 

The shop sat below his apartment, which is really just one big room pretending to be three. His uncle handed it to him when he moved here for university, saying, “It’s old but it’ll love you back if you take care of it.” Perhaps that’s what got him thinking about flowers in the first place.

Why flowers, specifically? — because the most romantic thing about flowers is that they could say what people couldn't. Flowers, to him, are translators. They turn the things people mean into color and shape, into scent and softness. He liked to imagine that every arrangement he made carried a small story.

He didn’t always know what it was, but he liked guessing — a confession with roses, an apology wrapped around white lilies, and carnations carrying gratitude for the loved ones. He took joy in translating those feelings and that’s what drew him in; the thought that he’s helping people say things they can’t always phrase. He liked that flowers never lie. They just bloom, fade, and start again. In their short lives, they manage to say everything worth saying.

In the middle of tending to a new shipment of red gerberas, Soobin blinked back into focus when your distant laugh drifted inside. Realizing he’d been standing still for a while with a pair of shears in hand, staring at nothing in particular, he clipped the stem he was holding. 

There was a quaint nursery at the back of the shop. Once an unremarkable yard attached to his uncle’s apartment now repurposed into rows of neatly aligned pots and every colour of flowers one could imagine. You were there, showing the elderly couple around and explaining differences between varieties with the knowledge you got from Soobin after months of hanging around. They were regulars, always appearing on Sundays, and they’d long decided they preferred you over him when it came to choosing plants though you didn’t even work there.

He liked the friendly company you brought, as he liked to tell himself, but each time he looked through the windowpane to catch you smiling — that conviction thinned. You looked impossibly beautiful standing there among the green, pointing something out to the old woman who was nodding along with delight. There was dirt on your fingertips, probably your sleeves too, but you were radiant nonetheless. 

The sight made him feel a strange tug somewhere in his chest, which was funny, because it resembled what one would call envy. Soobin was envious that sunlight got to touch you first. 

When you led the couple back inside, he quickly turned his gaze to the counter, focusing on trimming the stems before the flowers lost too much moisture. Your voice was honey to him, your presence the sun.

“Soobin, they’re thinking about keeping some plants in their kitchen. They want to know which ones will last.” You placed two small tubs of chrysanthemums in front of him, their leaves still wet from misting.

The old man gave a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as if the admission embarrassed him. “My wife says the kitchen looks too plain without a bit of life.”

“I told him,” the old woman interrupted fondly, “that if we’re going to cook every day, we might as well have something nice to look at while we’re doing it.”

Soobin smiled, leaning forward to inspect the tubs. “You could try pothos,” he said after a moment. “They don’t need much light, and they’ll forgive you even if you forget them for a few days. Basil too, if you want something useful. It grows better near a window, though.”

The old woman’s eyes brightened. “Basil sounds lovely. I could use it for our soups.”

“Soup!” You chirped when you came back from washing your dirt smeared hands. “Oh, Mrs. Park, I need to know how your soup tastes.”

The couple laughed at that, the sound pulling Soobin’s attention as he stole a glance at you with a smile of his own. “I will make sure to give you kids some the next time we come by!” she promised. 

“Then it’s settled,” you said warmly, turning back to Soobin. “You won’t regret getting the basil. Everything grown and cared for by Soobin in this shop is full of love.” 

The wife smiled, cheeks crinkling. “You’re as sweet as these flowers, dear.”

Sweeter than any of them, Soobin thought. Prettier too.

He wordlessly passed you a towel and you took it with a murmured thanks while he went back to arranging the couple’s purchase. As he packed, the woman’s gaze caught on the gerberas beside him.

“Those are lovely,” she said, eyes softening at the red bloom. “It’s been years since I’ve seen them this bright.”

You followed her gaze. “They really are, aren’t they?” you said, tapping your finger lightly against the counter. “Maybe you should take a few stems home too. They’ll add some color to your living room.”

“They would,” the husband agreed, already pulling his wallet from his coat. “Let’s take a few.”

There was this magic in you. Some people didn’t need flowers to speak for them — their presence was already poetry, their laughter already a language. You were one of them. And you were his exact opposite. Soobin, who could shape meaning through petals and stems but stumbled when it came to words, was terrified of letting his thoughts spill unchecked from his heart to his mouth, terrified that they might reach you and ruin the ephemeral beauty of what already existed between you. So he relied on flowers, always.

He held up a single red gerbera between his thumb and index finger. His eyes drifted to where you stood beside the elderly couple, now showing them the tulips on display. The flower symbolizes a passionate and profound declaration of love, representing a love that filled every part of the soul until it became difficult to breathe. It made him wonder what it would feel like to hand the bouquet to you instead, to let the flower say what he couldn’t. The idea itself was enough to trip his pulse.

The old couple soon gathered their plants and bouquet as they bid farewell to you both. Gerberas suited them — he thought as he watched them leave — still vibrant after all these years, their love so full of life. A love like that, he hoped, was not beyond him. A love like that, he wanted to be capable of giving and also worthy of receiving.

 That want, that wish of his didn’t seem to be so far off because his brain came to a comforting pause when the same words were spoken out loud, by you.

“Arent they wonderful?” you sighed dreamily, watching the couple disappear down the street. “I hope a love like theirs finds me.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” he murmured, arranging the leftover stems. “You’re very lovable. People tend to love you without needing to be asked.”

You blinked, caught off guard for half a second before recovering with a teasing smile. “Do they, now?”

He nodded, still not looking up, but the corner of his mouth lifted. “Even Mr. and Mrs. Park. They barely let me talk to them anymore.”

You gasped softly in realization and snapped your fingers. “Right! They never ask for your help, do they?” You leaned in across the counter and it took everything in Soobin not to fold right there. “Watch out, Soobin. At this rate, I might just learn enough to open my own shop across the street. Then what will you do?”

Soobin chuckled, dimples deepening as he pushed his glasses up with the back of his wrist. “I’ll have a scary competitor then.”

You giggled, amused by the thought. “You think I’m scary?”

He narrowed his eyes just enough that the look read more fond than fierce, and then, by a measure that felt modest because he was taller, he bent at the waist until his face aligned with yours. He leaned forward the barest fraction. 

“Terrifying.”

He whispered the words with a cheeky squint of his eyes and let his gaze find yours with a small, almost solemn smile. For a fleeting second, Soobin allowed himself the luxury of memorizing you up close as you burst out into a fit of laughter. 

Time flew in a strange way on Sundays. It stretched and folded in ways that defied reason. With you in the shop, time seemed to slow just inside that shared space surrounded by flowers for him. Nothing more than your mere presence, not even the brilliance of the fresh floras and their honeyed fragrance, could make him feel alive. Yet at the same time, the hours slipped from his grasp because it is never enough. The day always ended too soon, and every time you reached for your bag Soobin found himself wishing for just one more hour with you. One more exchange that he could replay in the stillness of his mind when night fell.

He never asked, of course. Love, to him, was a quiet thing — a bloom meant to be nurtured, not confessed too soon. So he contented himself with the gentle ache you left behind until you came by the next day to heal him. 

When you finally left that evening, he tucked a single red gerbera stem into your bag, wrapped in paper the colour he knew you adored. 

MONDAYS were rather boring.

Everything was as it always was, except it wasn’t. It was the only day when your schedule didn't align with his, meaning, when Soobin’s classes ended and he began his shift, yours started. Even in a place overflowing with color and life, with beauty and extravagance, your presence was what always made life vibrant in his eyes. Without you, everything paled inside the shop. Even the new batch of flowers he’d receive for the day refused to liven up as if they were waiting for you to show up and breathe life into them. Soobin was like the flowers.

He missed you more than he could justify. To the point he’d foolishly perk up — like a bunny perking up in the gentlest alarm, as you’d like to call him — whenever the shop door’s bell jingled. Every time, he flt like a part of him slowly died whenever he’d see it wasn't you but rather a customer. 

On such days, Soobin felt like a machine serving its purpose. Greet the customers, tend to the flowers, make arrangements and repeat. To be fair, the monotony used to comfort him once. Two years ago, that had been his entire life. It used to be only him and the flowers, and sometimes his part-time employee taking turns behind the counter so he could balance his studies and tutoring. That changed when you became friends with him. 

Soobin couldn’t remember when or how it began but he really enjoyed it when you started showing up in his humble shop like this. You expressed genuine interest when he first told you about his little business, and he couldn't forget the look on your face when he first took you to the shop. No flower could rival the raw look of enrapture you had on you. You started coming by more often — at first to talk, then to help, then simply to exist there. You loved flowers as much as he did. So there was no reason for him to stop you from showing up.

He doubted he could ever ask you to stop showing up. Frankly, it’s something he always looked forward to because you manage to bring comfort with you. You had a way of making the space feel lived in; of making him feel seen. So now your absence, even if for one day, felt tortuous to Soobin.

Whenever his employee Jisoo showed up, Soobin would manage the shop together with him. The lunch brought by Jisoo was shared between the two of them. Some days, Soobin would almost hear your phantom nagging at him for never learning how to cook. On others, when Jisoo happened to bring the dishes you loved, Soobin would simply stare at them for a moment too long, thinking of how you’d probably hum with satisfaction after the first bite, your expression glowing with unguarded joy that made his heart ache in the most tender way.

On such a monday, after Jisoo left finishing his shift, Soobin brewed himself a cup of tea as he put on some song in the background. Leaning against the counter he took a sip of his tea and stared out of the window. Outside, a pair of children ran past, their laughter echoed down the path. Soobin’s gaze drifted toward the doorway. The space looked too still without your movement. 

The only movement that tugged on the edges of his thoughts was the gentle sway of the daffodils by the breeze that came from the open nursery door. The bright yellow flowers beckoned him to caress them. 

Daffodils, known for their ability to emerge after the darkness of winter symbolizes hope and the promise of better times, alongside joy and happiness. He wondered, as he gently brushed his across one of the petals, if in another life or in some other universe entirely — these daffodils were growing inside his chest, their roots weaving through his lungs, their golden blooms stealing his breath. Perhaps that was why his heart ached this way every time he thought of you. He decided he wouldn’t mind suffocating, not if it meant the air that left him was filled with your name.

Love had made its home in him long ago. Flowers of love bloomed in his chest, threatening to slip out of him whenever he looked at you which he disguised as breathless laughters, as words, as the ineffable fondness that ran through his veins at your mere existence.

Another chime from the bell. Again, he looked up. Again, it wasn’t you.

He hated Mondays for how long they felt, for how they made the absence of you stretch into hours he could count by the way the sunlight changed. Still, there was a strange comfort in missing you. It meant you existed somewhere beyond these walls, and tomorrow, when the bell chimed again, it might really be you.

Until then, he had the flowers. He had the scent of the daffodils. He had the echo of your voice stored in memory. And for a boy like Soobin who loved through petals and silence, that was sufficient to keep breathing through the slow, pale hours of Monday.

From morning lectures to late afternoon tutoring, Soobin’s hours always blurred into a monotony of words and fatigue on Tuesdays. Other than that, these days were simply to say, pretty uneventful.

But it was such a TUESDAY that reminded him that even ordinary days could bloom.

Soft morning light pooled across the courtyard benches where Soobin sat with Taehyun and Kai. The three of them huddled together as they discussed writing their reports, but it was mostly them and not Soobin who engaged in the conversation. Soobin found his attention drifting to the faint rustle of leaves above them. 

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw you waving. You appeared in a rush of sunlight and apologetic smiles, which made him sit up straighter. He almost did the foolish act of fumbling to catch his heart because it skipped a beat so hard, Soobin truly felt like it was about to leap out of his ribcage. 

“Soobin!” You called, already halfway to them. You were visibly out of breath but why was it him who felt breathless? The way your eyes caught the sunlight made it impossible for him to look anywhere else. “I don’t have time to stay—I’m already late for my lecture—but here.” You held out a paper bag toward him. “Don’t skip lunch, okay? I’ll see you later!”

Before he could say much beyond a thank you,you were already stepping back, waving to the other two. “Bye, guys!” — and running off toward the building.

For a second, everything surrounding him seemed to still in the wake of your absence. He opened the bag, saw the croissant sandwich wrapped in neat folds and a water bottle nestled beside it. You were his friend, yes, what you were doing was nothing more than just a friend looking out for another. You’d always been thoughtful, always been a loving and caring person. Still, he couldn’t stop feeling warm by this small act of care because you knew Tuesdays were hectic for him and went out of your way to make sure he gained the energy to push through.

Kai’s malicious groan disturbed his sweet bubble of thoughts. “Must be nice having someone like that,” the younger said, gesturing lazily at the bag. “You’re lucky, man. I’d kill for a lunch delivery mid-day and— ow!”

It was Taehyun who smacked the back of Kai’s head to hush him, signalling him with a single stare that translated ‘read the room’. The two then turned to Soobin who still looked lost in his head, glasses slightly dropping down his nose by the way his head was tilted downward.

Taehyun softly cleared his throat, trying to mask his question as friendly as possible. “Are you two together?”

Soobin flinched. He could have said no, a neat dismissal that left nothing to broker between them. Instead he found himself saying, “We’re just friends.” The phrase came out tasting bitter and wrong on his tongue, betraying him with a half-second’s hesitation between just and friends that suggested how the truth refused to fit into any box.

“Ah,” Taehyun said simply, leaning back in his chair. “Alright.”

Kai, rubbing the back of his head, tried to reclaim the moment, about to offer some light commentary that would have widened the circle of awkwardness, but Taehyun’s small, admonishing look cut him off. There was nothing for Soobin to explain anyway, or maybe there was too much. 

By evening, the exhaustion sat heavy in his bones. Lecture after lecture had chipped away at him until all that remained was a dull ache behind his eyes. He had texted you out of habit in the afternoon between class breaks.

Not feeling very uplifted today.

He hadn’t meant for it to sound like a plea. Your reply came almost instantly.

I understand. I’ll be around if you need anything. Don’t push yourself too hard.

Typical of you — never intrusive, always there in the way only you could be. He appreciated it, but the distance between you remained, as it always had.

After finishing his last tutoring session of the day, he walked down the nearly deserted hallway. He hadn’t thought about you much during the time he spent wallowing in stress and fatigue. But when he turned the corner toward the elevator, the sight before him stopped him in his tracks.

There, just outside the elevator, sitting on one of the chairs by the wall, was you.

For a moment, he simply stood there, the dull exhaustion inside him replaced by something wordless and vast. You looked up, and when your eyes met his, a small smile, tired yet radiant at the same, bloomed across your face.

What are you doing here? — was all he could think, though words deserted him for a few more seconds after approaching you.

“You’re still here?” he managed. “Your class ended hours ago.” 

You stood stretching slightly, your smile widening just a fraction. “Figured you’d need someone to walk home with.”

He blinked, dazed, as if the meaning of your words had to travel through too many walls before it reached him. “Didn’t you have somewhere to go?” he asked, trying to reason.

“No,” you replied simply, “I wanted to make sure you weren’t walking home alone.”

His pulse thrummed with an inexplicable ache that felt too alive for his exhausted body. It wasn’t like you to wait around this long, especially when you could be using this time to focus on anything better. Anything or anyone better than him. But you had waited for him because of a single text.

He didn’t know what he had done to be worthy of your patience, nor did he know how to articulate the reverence that rose in him now, the fierce, aching wish to deserve it. He wondered whether his heart could bear much more of you before it gave itself away entirely.

“Oh? Um. Thank you,” he murmured, the words far too meager for all he wanted to say.

The elevator chimed. You gestured toward it with a small nod, and he followed, still unsure if his gratitude was delivered to you properly. You leaned back against the wall, and let out a sigh that relaxed your posture. He took his place against the opposite wall. Now, with the distance of the day collapsing between you he noticed the weariness clinging to you which he had missed when he first saw you sitting outside. He still couldn’t fathom the fact that you waited for him, all because he expressed feeling a little blue. 

“Did you eat everything?” Your voice was soothing and gentle that in his overflowing love fueled headspace, he almost felt like he could fall asleep listening to you. “The croissant—was it alright?”

“It was better than alright,” he, too, spoke in a low tone to match your cadence. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I opened the bag.”

You smiled, eyes meeting his for the briefest second before drifting toward the faintly glowing floor indicator. “I knew you needed it. I know how hard you work all the time.”

He felt a drowsy calm settle over him. If either of you noticed the way his eyes were locked onto you after your admission, neither you nor he made a comment about it. He wanted to take your tiredness and scatter it away, to cup your face and let his gratitude pour through his touch just as a way to give back, to make you feel the way you made him feel. The impulse to kiss you was so overwhelming that it startled him though not because it was new, but because it had never been this close to breaking through. His hands twitched at his sides, every instinct begging to bridge the distance, yet reason kept him still.

Nevertheless, what he felt for you had already outgrown the safety of words. It was already too alive, too consuming, blooming inside him like a garden that asked only to be watered by you.

When the elevator doors opened, the spell broke. Soobin turned his head, meaning to speak, to say thank you again in a way that might capture what you had done for him but the words withered again before they could take shape.

If love could be measured by waiting, then you had just rewritten every definition he knew.

By the railing near the exit, a row of potted forget-me-nots watched in blue silence, as though they, too, understood what it meant to wait and to be remembered.

If affection could take form, Soobin learned that WEDNESDAYS could be its sunlight.

When he orders for a shipment, it is mostly on Wednesdays that the new batch of fresh floras arrive. It wasn’t necessarily a constant occurrence, but it had happened often, which is why Soobin liked to keep important shop related agendas particularly on this day. 

Two weeks later on a Wednesday. Soobin stood behind the counter with sleeves rolled above his forearms, a clipboard in hand, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose as he ticked off names and numbers. The bell jingled — and of course instinctively he looked up —  smiling brightly with his dimples deepening at the sight of you.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a cheerful smile.

He reached for the glass jar beside the register, fished out a lemon candy, and rolled it across the counter toward you.

“Morning,” he greeted, his smile softening. “You’re here earlier than usual.”

“Prof was feeling generous today, I suppose. She ended the class early so I came as soon as I could,” you replied, picking up the candy. The lemon filled your mouth with a tangy sting, a small burst of summer. Behind him, Jisoo was sorting tulips with exaggerated concentration, pretending not to eavesdrop. You waved at him anyway, earning a sheepish smile before he ducked his head.

“Everything arrived fine?” you asked, glancing toward the mountain of crates by the window.

Soobin followed your gaze, pushed his glasses higher, and exhaled as though only now realizing how much work still lay ahead. “More or less. The supplier mixed up a few labels again—I might have accidentally ordered twice the usual number of sunflowers.”

“Accidentally?” you repeated, your brows arching in suspicion.

He met your look with one of his own — a small smile of oops before setting the clipboard down. “Maybe not entirely. Actually,” he began, pausing because he wanted to choose his words with care, “do you have plans for the day?”

“Nope,” you said at once. “Why? Planning to put me to work again?”

“Something like that,” he said, straightening a small stack of receipts only to set them down again. Soobin felt a tender warmth in his chest as you stared at him expectantly. “How would you feel about coming with me to the sunflower farm? I need to sort out the delivery issue in person. Could use the company.”

The candy nearly slipped from your tongue. “A sunflower farm?” you echoed, disbelief giving way to delight. “You’re asking me to go to a sunflower farm?”

“Unless you have something better to do,” he teased lightly, though his hand still brushed the edge of the counter with a nervous anticipation.

You shook your head far too quickly. “Even if I did, I’d cancel it immediately. Who in their right mind would say no to a sunflower field?”

You said those words so earnestly that Soobin couldn’t stop the bright laugh from escaping him. He hadn’t meant to react so openly, yet your enthusiasm had a way of undoing his restraint piece by piece until all that remained was this foolish, giddy pulse under his ribs that refused to calm down.

“You’re right, no one in their right mind should say no to that,” he humored you, adjusting his glasses to mask the giddiness still threatening to spread. “Give me around ten minutes and we’ll go, yeah?”

You saluted him playfully before turning toward the doorway. Behind you, his voice followed, threaded with an affection he didn’t bother to hide. “And grab a hat—it gets hot out there. Jisoo will show you where we keep them.”

He didn’t really need to solve the delivery issue in person — he could’ve just sent an e-mail clarification and been done with it. But Soobin, being Soobin, saw the outing as a chance to “deepen professional ties.” That was how he phrased it in his head at least. Both work-wise and, well… you-wise.

He told you it was for work, and he told himself that too. And technically, it was true. He was going for work. But what his mind could justify, his heart refused to understand. His heart had long stopped behaving like something he could reason with. It thrashed and pleaded, spinning songs out of nothing whenever you were near and lured out all the thoughts he’d buried in the farthest corners of his head. It told him things his reason wouldn’t dare put into words. Things like asking you to accompany him to a sunflower farm was the equivalent of asking you on a date. Scratch that, it wasn’t really a date because, again, work. Except his heart couldn’t care less.

If sunflowers yearned toward the sun, then his heart tilted helplessly toward you. You had your fingerprints all over his heart, left on his thoughts, his gestures, the smallest habits he could no longer call his own. You touched him without touching him, and he felt it deep in his bones.

By the time they arrived at the sunflower farm, the late afternoon light had turned syrup-thick, golden and drowsy, coating everything it touched. It took less than half an hour for him to settle the shipment issue which he was most thankful for because it meant he could spend more time with you looking around. He carried the paperwork in one hand checking the state of the flowers as they walked, though his mind was far from logistics.

You walked a few steps ahead, the hem of your shirt catching in the breeze and sunlight glancing off your hair as you did. Every few seconds, you’d turn back to point something out with a smile — a stretch of wildflowers, a crooked fence post and each time you did, he felt that same small collapse inside him, the one that whispered he could spend a lifetime looking at you and still not feel full.

He wanted to reach for your hand. God, how badly he wanted to. It wasn’t even about the touch — it was about what it meant. It was to feel your pulse beneath his thumb, to know that the warmth in his chest had somewhere to belong. But do friends hold hands like that? With the kind of longing that burned holes through reason and plagued his senses?

Soobin noticed a patch of young sunflowers and bent before them, one knee pressed into the dirt, eyes tracing the fragile stems swaying in the mild breeze. His fingers brushed the soil with care, tracing the tender line of roots that had begun to weave through the earth. The ground was still warm from the afternoon sun, faintly damp against his skin.

You came to stand beside him, your shadow falling across the flowers. “Are these newly planted?” you asked, crouching a little to match his height.

He nodded, flicking a bit of soil from his fingers. “Mm. A few weeks old, maybe.”

You tilted your head, smiling at the shy blossoms. Then you glanced at him with a grin that glowed warmer than the light itself. “How pretty.”

Though you meant the flowers, the words seemed to settle somewhere deep in him. He didn’t dare look up. He could still feel you there, your presence bright beside him. The weather’s heat was a little tacky but your warmth felt heavenly. Then, all at once, your weight beside him vanished.

“Soobin,” you called sweetly from somewhere behind him.

He looked up and was met with a sprinkle of cold droplets landing across his cheek. He blinked, a startled laugh escaping him. You stood a few steps away with the watering can in both hands, trying to hide your grin.

“Oops,” you said lightly. “Got confused for a second—which one was the real flower.”

“Oh my god.” He raised his brows, disbelief flickering across his face. “You’re not usually the type for corny lines.”

“What can I do when you’re so pretty?”

That made him stop. The laugh died halfway through his throat, dissolving into a soundless exhale. You said it so easily, without any awareness of what it did to him and maybe that was what made it worse, that you could wound him so sweetly without even knowing.

He rose to his feet, slow enough to steady himself. Reaching for the watering can, he caught your wrist gently before he dipped his hand into the water. When he lifted it again, droplets slid between his knuckles, catching sunlight as he flicked them in your direction.

You gasped, a small sound that made his stomach twist, your lashes catching stray drops.

“Guess I’ll have to water you too,” he said, tapping his wet fingers once against your cheek, eyes dipping for a second too long. “You look parched.”

And the moment they left his mouth, his heart raced in his throat. He could almost feel the words replaying in his own head. What are you doing? What are you saying? His mind scrambled to fix what his mouth had already done. He hastily drew his hand back.

You seemed to still for a moment before wiping your face with the back of your hand, eyes narrowing playfully. “It’s flattering to know you think I’m pretty, Soobin.”

He hesitated — a heartbeat too long — before forcing a grin and patting your head. “I think you need water to grow taller,” he countered steadily though his pulse was anything but.

“Wow,” you said flatly, dragging out the word. “How rude.”

Soobin had to look away and laugh, which sounded way too nervous to be called one. He tugged at the top button of his shirt before it came undone and a low exhale slipped past his lips. He was already in some sort of trance. Maybe the sun had found its way into his bloodstream, making him reckless enough to muddle reasons. Because blaming his erratic need to lose control in front of you on the sun was easier than to admit he was truly losing it. 

One moment you were standing in front of him then the next you moved in front of a bigger batch up ahead. "You really shouldn’t be talking about height here," you said, pointing to a sunflower that swayed slightly in the breeze. "That one’s taller than you. In fact, most of them are towering above you." 

Soobin, caught in the moment, let his traitorous heart take control and began humoring you. “Is that so?” He moved beside the flower. It towered impressively, yes, but the top of his head passed the blossom by only a few centimeters. His shoulders straightened with faint defiance as he glanced down at you, half a smirk playing on his lips. "Seems I still win."

You squinted up at him. "Don’t cheat by standing on your toes," you teased, reaching out to tug lightly at his sleeve.

The sunlight spilled across your face in such a way that made you look otherworldly. He was already far too gone in the trance put on him by the magic of you, and right at that moment, Soobin forgot how to stand. He forgot the line between reason and impulse (nothing to be surprised of), between what he should do and what he wanted. 

He leaned down before he could stop himself, close enough for his shadow to blur with yours on the road. “Is it better this way?” he murmured.

It was a mistake. He knew it the moment his voice reached your ears, when your laughter stilled and your eyes flicked up to meet his, wide and startled and so alive that his breath trembled. How easily he could close that last distance between you and him. How impossible it truly was.

Then his senses caught up to him all at once. He straightened abruptly, hand flying to the bridge of his glasses — his oldest defense — adjusting them even though they hadn’t slipped. It gave him a moment, just one, to hide behind the pretense of composure. His jaw clenched faintly as he looked away.

But even as he stared forward, he could feel your gaze on him — the soft burn of it trailing along the curve of his neck, tracing the space he had left between you. He didn’t dare look at you. If he did, you’d see everything he’d been hiding, everything that now pulsed under his skin like fever.

“Do you—” he paused, clearing his throat as the words got caught, “do you want to take pictures? Before the sun goes down.” he sounded a little too careful but it did what he needed it to — it changed the air.

You glanced toward the horizon, where the light had begun to mellow into amber. “That’s a good idea,” you said after a beat. “You can take photos for the catalog too—the blooms look perfect today.”

He nodded, grateful for the excuse. Grateful to have something to do with his hands. He unzipped the canvas bag slung across his shoulder and pulled out the small, cream-colored Polaroid camera — a gift from you months ago, when you’d told him to capture memories before they faded. He took his time to capture everything he deemed beautiful but every few seconds, his gaze flickered to where you stood among the taller sunflowers, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear which kept swaying by the breeze.

He raised the camera again, this time framing you against the wide sky.

When the film slid out, he watched it develop in his hand, the color slowly blooming into form. You tilted your head, watching him. “That’s not for the catalog,” you remarked with a gentle smile. 

He met your gaze then. It was only for a second but enough to betray himself. He still wanted to indulge a little.

“No,” he admitted softly, “this one’s for me.” As well as be honest a little.

You let out a soft chuckle. Taking a few steps closer, you reached for the camera.

“Then this one—” you said, holding it toward him, “—is mine.”

He blinked, almost unmoored, before breaking into a helpless smile that could only exist when you were around. Hiwever, it was genuine.

As the photograph emerged, you held it by its edge beside the one he’d taken. Two fragments of the same light, caught forever in the same field of gold.

The metro was far more crowded than it had any right to be at that hour. Soobin stood near the door, one hand around the pole, the other hovering just behind your shoulder to keep anyone from bumping into you. You looked uneasy, shoulders drawn in, trying your best to fold into yourself without seeming rude.

Soobin knew you never liked standing amidst people in a densely populated place. He should’ve known better than to suggest the metro. And though it wasn’t entirely his fault, the sight of you pressing into the corner made his chest twist in guilt. So, without thinking much, he reached out and guided you gently by the elbow until you were tucked between him and the wall.

You fit there perfectly, shielded from the crowd completely by the breadth of his frame. You blinked up at him, a little startled. He looked down, suddenly aware of the closeness. His hand dropped back to his side almost immediately, flexing. 

“Sorry,” he spoke in a hush tone. “I just thought you’d be more comfortable here.”

You shook your head with a smile, the corners of your eyes folding with quiet affection. “Dont be sorry. I appreciate you for always looking out for me, Soobin.”

He exhaled a soft laugh that came out more self-deprecating. “I’m not doing a great job right now. This was my bright idea, remember? Now you’re stuck here because of me.”

Your reply came with a small huff but still smiled. “I’m doing just fine. You're worrying too much.”

That shut him up in the gentlest way possible. You leaned your head back against the cool metal wall, eyelids fluttering shut. The sway of the carriage rocked your frame ever so slightly which seemed to lull you into a momentary calm. The tension in your shoulders eased little by little, and Soobin felt like he could rest assured now, eyes drifting to the reflection of the lights skimming across the glass.

The train lurched forward again and Soobin instinctively braced his hand on the wall beside your head to steady himself — and you. He was acutely aware of how close you were, of how the space between seemed to shrink with every passing second.

He debated whether to speak, to ask if you were all right just npw, but the question felt redundant. So instead, his free hand stayed close to yours, fingers twitching with the faintest restraint, close enough to offer balance if another sudden jolt came, but not near enough to betray the thought behind it.

Soobin didn’t like how your head was softly but repeatedly bumping against the wall with the vibration of the carriage. He at once balanced his hand on the handrail attached to the pole and the wall beside him, and angled his body in such a way that separated you completely from the crowd.

“Lean on me,” he said, with a faint trace of hesitation, almost shy.

Your eyes fluttered open, drowsy and questioning. “What?”

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” he reasoned though his heart was thudding in his chest. “Might as well be comfortable.”

You laughed under your breath, the sound sleepy. “What if your arm starts to cramp?”

He shook his head once, smiling faintly. Your protests fell deaf to his ears when the least he could do right now was to offer you even the slightest form of comfort. Even if it meant at the cost of his own.

“It won’t,” he simply stated. “I don’t mind.”

You studied him for a second longer before giving in. Slowly, tentatively, you tilted your head until it found its place against the crook of his arm. The weight was light but real, it was you and your warmth, and it sent a quiet tremor through him that he tried to swallow down. The realization that you trusted him enough to rest there so freely did wonders to his feelings. 

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you hummed, content. A few beats later, in a mellow tone, you added, “I had a really good time today.”

Soobin couldn’t help — and didn’t really fight — the glow of fondness from showing in his face. From anyone else’s eyes, the sight might have looked like a simple, affectionate tableau between lovers. But to him, it felt like standing on the edge of a dream he could neither step into nor wake from. The thought of being yours, even in some alternate world, felt cruel in its sweetness. It filled him and hollowed him out all at once like a heart beating for what it could never hold.

The vision of you as his lingered even when he dropped you off at your home. When you stopped in front of your door, he did too, his hands deep in his pockets, trying to mask the restlessness running through him. You waited for a few moments, causing him to question if everything was alright. 

You didn’t use words. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

Soobin’s body went rigid before his instinct — no, longing — took over, and his hands found their way out of his pockets, hovering uncertainly. You fit so perfectly against him that it almost hurt. He prayed you couldn’t hear the chaotic thrum of his heartbeat. He was feeling so exposed, so bare in your embrace. After what felt like eons, he steadied himself before returning the embrace.

“What’s this? Are you missing the sunflowers already?” He joked despite feeling like he was on cloud nine.

It earned him a soft scoff from you before you mumbled a ‘oh, shut up.’ He wanted to breathe in your scent but he didn’t dare. Because if he did, it wouldn’t just be longing anymore. It would be surrender.

With your head still resting on his chest, you said with a smile, “Thank you for today, Soobin.”

It was the gentlest of words and yet it split him open cleanly without mercy. He felt, absurdly, as though the gods had reached into his chest and taken his heart between their hands, just to remind him what it meant to feel alive. You should never have to thank him. Being with you was never something that demanded gratitude.

When you pulled away, it was almost too much. He managed a smile, steadying his voice though it trembled at the edges. “Of course,” he said, meaning every word like a vow. “Anything for you.”

You lingered for a heartbeat longer before stepping inside. Soobin remained where he was, hands back in his pockets, watching as the door closed and the warm light spilled into the dusk for one final moment.

He felt like he could mimic a sunflower just fine.

Who knew that his love could deepen so irrevocably on an ordinary Wednesday?

There was a stem sitting in a chipped vase by the window. Once, it held a bloom — a pale carnation he’d forgotten to include in a bouquet he sold. Now it drooped, half-leaning toward the glass as though yearning for the outside light. He should throw it away, he thought, but didn’t. Instead, he watered it every morning, knowing it will never stand upright again.

Soobin never dreaded THURSDAYS until they became the most sorrowful day of the week.

The reason wasn’t because you stopped coming (that would have been easier to bear, he thought) but because you started bringing someone with you. A friend, who looked way too close to you than to Soobin’s liking.

His name was Choi Beomgyu.

When you first brought him over, Soobin’s smile faltered in the smallest way, mimicking a petal folding in on itself before falling. You’d introduced him brightly, and Beomgyu had offered a handshake and a grin that reached his eyes. He complimented the shop, the flowers, and the careful order of the bouquets but Soobin found himself unable to match his tone. Normally, such praise would have filled him with pride; after all, he loved his flowers and he loved it even more when others saw their worth and the effort he put behind his shop. But this time, every kind word felt like a stone dropped into his chest, until he could no longer tell whether it was jealousy or shame that weighed more.

Out of habit, Soobin reached for the jar near the counter to fish out a lemon candy, the way he always did whenever you came by. But as he was about to offer it to you, this Choi Beomgyu guy went, “Woah, lemon candy? I love those! Mind if I take one?”

And without waiting for an answer, he plucked one straight from the jar — your jar — and tore the wrapper open with his teeth, tossing the candy into his mouth. Soobin could only stare at the audacity, the scene unfolding before him like an intrusion into a world he thought was private. You laughed softly beside him, eyes bright as you turned to Beomgyu and said how glad you were to find someone else who liked lemon candies just as much as you did.

Soobin had a dozen things to say to you. He had stories to share, small and ordinary things of the mundane, and most importantly, you were supposed to talk his ears off as he worked. But with Beomgyu there, every thought dissolved on his tongue before he could speak it, melting away like the candy itself — leaving behind a bitter aftertaste he couldn’t swallow.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen you this giddy before, this radiant joy that came when you walked in every Thursday now with Beomgyu trailing behind as you show Beomgyu around, repeating the flower meanings Soobin himself had taught you. Maybe it was because when you explained how yellow carnations meant rejection and disappointment, you were unaware of how the words sat cruelly poetic in his chest. Maybe it was because on Thursdays, you two sat side by side, working through your assignments while Soobin watered stems that no longer needed tending.

It was ridiculous, he knew; you were right there, just a few feet away, but each passing moment made it feel like he was watching from behind glass, separated by a barrier invisible yet impenetrable.

He didn’t expect jealousy to feel like this smoldering ache that crawled up from his ribs, until even breathing felt like torment. So he looked away from where you sat with Beomgyu and fixed his eyes instead on the vase in front of him — a vase full of yellow carnations — and wished the water would somehow saturate the burning ache within him.

Even if he had you to himself for the rest of the week, this single Thursday without you felt like an emptiness that could not be reasoned with.

By the fourth Thursday, Beomgyu had somehow folded himself into the routine. The first few times, Soobin told himself it was temporary, that your friend would grow bored of tagging along to a flower shop but no. It wasn’t even surprising anymore to hear his voice before yours. Soobin was going to need a while to get used to it.

Soobin had tried, for a time, to dislike him on principle. But Beomgyu was unfairly difficult to hate because in all honesty he was a really nice guy. Even Jisoo liked him — especially Jisoo, which only made Soobin’s quiet resentment feel more childish. His morals acted up quickly and Soobin started to feel ashamed for even trying to villanize that poor dude.

Sometimes, at lunch, the four of them ate together. Jisoo would bring pasta or kimbap, Beomgyu would start talking about anything and could turn a dull story into something worth listening to. And you would laugh until your eyes disappeared into crescents. It should’ve been a pleasant routine — it was pleasant — but to Soobin, every laugh sounded like a reminder that the world was far too eager to share you. As stupid as it sounded, but oftentimes, it made Soobin feel like an intruder in his own shop.

On such a Thursday, they gathered around the small table full of disposable boxes, eating lunch and chatting. It wasn’t like Soobin wasn’t participating; he was. With everyone, just to be clear. Even Beomgyu, who for some reason had taken an immense liking to him, declaring him an honorary holder of the “platinum bro code card” and insisting they were now bound by friendship. Said friendship was in the stage where it was mostly Beomgyu landing actual good jokes. And to his inner horror, Soobin actually took them — found himself laughing along, responding, even joking back.

Amid the easy back-and-forth, Soobin’s gaze landed on you for the briefest moment, and his breath caught at the sight of you smiling softly — at him — like you were proud of something he’d said or done without realizing. The sight scattered his composure so he averted his eyes too quickly and, to cover the moment, picked up a forkful of pasta from Beomgyu’s box and shoved it straight into the other’s mouth. Beomgyu squawked through a laugh, nearly choking, while you laughed behind your hand.

By the time the food had dwindled to scraps, Jisoo was the first to excuse himself to check on the nursery. Beomgyu started helping with the clean-up, handing Soobin the empty boxes, and the three of you continued to talk about everything and nothing — university projects, the upcoming rain, some movie Beomgyu insisted you both needed to see.

Soobin stood up from his chair with the boxes when he noticed a smear of sauce at the corner of your lips. He looked around for some tissue to grab but his mind went static when he heard Beomgyu talk. 

“Hey, you’ve got—wait, here,” Beomgyu said, pointing at his own mouth, laughing. “You’ve got something right there—”

That — that imagination of Choi Beomgyu wiping sauce off your lips, right in front of him as he watched it happen, was immensely and totally wrong on many levels. It didn’t sit right with him. He would be one of the biggest fools to walk on earth if he allowed it to happen.

Soobin had already grabbed your chin before Beomgyu could even lift one finger. His knuckles curled beneath your chin, guiding your face toward him before tilting your face up to look at him. Soobin’s eyes were unreadable when he gently wiped the smudge of sauce from the corner of your lips with his thumb — when he brought that thumb to his mouth and licked it clean.

If someone dropped a pin at that moment, the sound would resonate through the entire place.

Without a word, Soobin walked away toward the sink at the back of the shop. He dumped the boxes into the bin, pressed both hands to the edge of the sink with his head bowed and exhaled hard.

He couldn’t explain what possessed him. His pulse was loud in his ears, his thoughts a mess of disbelief and heat. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, trying to erase the phantom feeling of your skin beneath his thumb. Your lips were so soft. Fuck. 

It shouldn’t have felt that good. It shouldn’t have felt like anything at all.

He stood there in disbelief realizing how much he wanted to feel it again.

Behind him came the sound of you choking slightly on your next bite of pasta, Beomgyu’s startled voice asking if you were all right followed by the scrape of a chair. Soobin shut his eyes and cursed under his breath, feeling the heat crawl up his neck. 

Despite feeling like his entire body was on fire, Soobin’s lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smirk forming before he exhaled and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling.

 He couldn’t believe he’d done that. But God, it felt good.

It was a Thursday like any other. Except this time, when the bell above the door chimed, it wasn’t you who entered. It was Beomgyu, and he was alone.

His mind needed an extra beat to process that the space beside Beomgyu was empty. Soobin’s first thought was something’s happened to you. He hastily checked his phone to see if he missed any texts or calls from you, but there was none.

His focus was momentarily pulled away from you by Beomgyu’s greeting. Soobin, still thrown, returned it with a polite nod while fixing his glasses. But the question pressed insistently behind his composure — what was he doing here, and alone of all things? He never came without you. 

“You can wait in the shop until she comes over. It should be another hour or so.” His hand was already moving toward the small fridge at the corner. “Want anything to drink? I’ve got—uh, iced tea. Coffee, too, if you’d rather—”

A low chuckle interrupted him, stopping him mid-step. “Oh, no.” Beomgyu shook his head. “I’m not here for her. Well—technically, I am.” Then, after a pause that sounded too intentional to make Soobin turn, Beomgyu added with a grin, “But not in the way you think.”

Soobin frowned faintly. “I would appreciate it if you could elaborate on that, Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu didn’t answer right away; he drummed his fingers against the counter, gaze sweeping across the room as if admiring the shop. “I wanted a bouquet made.”

The words, on their own, were harmless. Soobin had heard them countless times before. Yet, paired with the conversation’s earlier turn, they carried a strange undercurrent that made his chest constrict. Still, he defaulted to familiarity, grasping at professionalism. “That can be done,” he said, pulling the small catalogue closer and flipping it open to the section on mixed arrangements. “Any idea what kind of flowers you’re thinking?”

“All her favourites.”

The catalogue stilled between his fingers. It took a moment for the words to truly register, and when they did, Soobin felt devastation sinking in his chest. He looked at Beomgyu hastily, mortified. “What?” he blurted out without schooling his tone.

Beomgyu gave a small shrug, his hands slipping into his pockets as if this entire conversation weren’t splitting Soobin open from the inside out. “You know her favourites better than anyone,” Beomgyu said lightly, like that explained everything. “So, really, asking you just made sense.” Then, he tilted his head slightly, that same grin curving into a sly smirk. “I’m thinking of asking her out.”

For a brief, excruciating second, his entire world swayed. Everything around him dissipated until all that remained was white noise that rested upon his eyelids. All he could hear was that sentence repeating itself over and over in the confines of his skull. I’m thinking of asking her out.

“She’s not—” The rest of the sentence collapsed, leaving the words half-born and useless. You weren’t his to defend, and yet, how could he stop the instinct? You were the unreachable star he loved from afar because he thought loving you silently was the only way to keep you safe from his inadequacy and the cruelest part was that it had been entirely his choice. But now, hearing Beomgyu say those words aloud — words that should have belonged to him if he weren’t so terrified of deserving you — was like standing at the edge of a cliff.

“She’s what?” Beomgyu pressed. He straightened, his expression open but his eyes glinting. “What’s stopping me? Unless—” He let his voice trail off, pretending to think, before leaning his elbows on the counter with an exaggerated look of realization. “Unless you’ve got a problem with it.” 

Soobin’s fingers curled against his palms until his nails bit into skin. He had no claim, no right — you were not his, not an object to be guarded or possessed but every fibre of him still burned with the injustice of it. Because his heart always refused to obey what his mind already knew.

“You had your chance,” Beomgyu leaned closer, his voice dipping into a quiet, almost friendly murmur. “You didn’t take it. So tell me, Soobin—why shouldn’t I?”

A terrible and hollow realization dawned upon Soobin that he was standing on the edge of that same invisible cliff again, staring into an expanse where only your name existed, carried faintly by the wind. The room had gone still again; Beomgyu’s words still echoed in the air, but vaguely now. It was almost like Soobin had lost grip on reality.

His love for you had always been immense, alive and untamed, too large for the body that tried to hold it. But what if it wasn’t enough? What if Beomgyu could give you something more deserving than the silent devotion of a man who couldn’t even say the words out loud?

He loved you — so much, so fervently, so ardently — that sometimes he feared his heart might tear itself apart from the strain of it. His love spilled through the cracks of him, too much to hold in his cupped hands. It drenched every part of him, soaked through every thought, and yet he could never seem to give it shape. He was a florist, and perhaps that was why his love had always been wordless. He loved in petals and stems, in silent acts of care hoping you’d somehow see his heart in the language of flowers.

But that was never enough, was it?

He wasn’t a poet, and he was barely a lover. Just a man hopelessly in love, drowning in devotion he could neither voice nor abandon.

When he spoke, his voice sounded unfamiliar to his own ears. “Just—give me a moment,” he murmured to Beomgyu, in almost the same voice he used with customers. “I’ll start on your bouquet right away.”

He turned toward the rows of flowers. Blooms in every shade of tenderness and grief — and he stood there for a long time without moving. Part of him thought, absurdly, that he could be cruel. That he could choose the wrong flowers, something mismatched, something unworthy of you, and hand it to Beomgyu. It would’ve been easy — so heartbreakingly easy — to let pettiness bloom where love had once been.

But his hands wouldn’t listen. Even now, even when his chest ached like an open wound, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He could not arrange a bouquet meant for you with the wrong flowers. He could not betray his love by staining it with spite.

So his hands reach for the stems with memory, with love. He picked the soft pink roses first — the only shade of rose you adored — and paired them with tiny clusters of baby’s breath, white and blush-pink, your favourite of them all. A few sprigs of lavender followed, delicate and faintly fragrant, the scent you always said reminded you of calm. He filled the spaces with greens to make the bouquet feel whole. When it came to wrapping, he didn’t even hesitate to choose a transparent paper, you loved it because it let the colours breathe.

He tied it all together with a thin white satin ribbon, hands steady despite the tremor beneath his skin. By the time he was done, his heart stopped thrashing but there was still a small, sad smile on his lips. When he slid the bouquet across the counter, his voice was distant. 

“It’s done.”

Beomgyu looked at the arrangement, eyes scanning the blooms before smiling almost kindly. “Ah,” he sighed, eyes still on the roses. “These are her favourites, huh? Figures. You really do know her best.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a few bills and placed them neatly on the counter — but before Soobin could reach for them, Beomgyu nudged the bouquet back across the counter. “Keep the bouquet.”

Soobin’s head lifted, his brow creasing faintly. “Stop the crap, Beomgyu, why would I—”

“You really are hopeless,” Beomgyu muttered, clicking his tongue. Over the counter he jabbed a finger at Soobin’s chest looking him dead in the eye. “You think she doesn’t notice the way you look at her? Take it, before I change my mind.” Beomgyu straightened with an exasperated sigh before softly, like an afterthought, added, “You make it too easy to feel sorry for you, hyung.”

Soobin did not get a chance to ask for an explanation because Beomgyu was already half out the door, then paused with a thoughtful glance over his shoulder. “But I’ll still ask her out,” he said easily. “Because I don’t like losing, or stepping back from a challenge.”

With that, he was gone. 

Soobin stood there in the silence that followed. His eyes lingered on the bouquet that still rested on the counter, petals trembling faintly in the draft that came from the open door.

Somewhere behind him, from the vase crowded with yellow carnations, a single bloom loosened from its stem and fell soundlessly onto the shelf below.

It was the first time Soobin ever kept the shop closed on a FRIDAY.

He stood in the university courtyard, eyes vacant and upturned to the sky as the first drops of rain slid through his hair and seeped into his collar. Yesterday’s encounter with Beomgyu left him grappling with his haywired emotions and then, a few hours later, your text came.

soobiiiin im sorry i cant come by today :((

That simple line added insult to injury. It felt like confirmation of every fear that had been gnawing at him since he saw Beomgyu. He imagined the two of you walking home together under a sky that should’ve been his to share with you. Soobin had spent the rest of that Thursday staring at the same page of the shop ledger, pen idle in his hand, unable to make sense of numbers or words. 

Now, as he came out from his early morning class and stood under the dismal sky, it was as if the sky too understood the depth of his grief and let down its showers in hopes of washing some of it away. He should have looked for shelter but he lingered instead, watching the way water gathered in the cracks between cobblestones, how it carried fallen petals and bits of paper into small streams.

It was, admittedly, not a wise decision to walk home in it. By midday, his throat burned with every swallow, and his nose prickled from the chill. The fever was faint then  — a warning he ignored. It became by afternoon, one of the reasons he had to keep the shop closed. When Jisoo offered to take over for the day, Soobin refused, insisting on locking up entirely and sending him home.

Isolating himself when he was at his lowest was one of Soobin’s many flaws. Despite granting him the space to think, it did nothing to help the fact that he was sick and most of his consciousness had now become a slave to drowsiness. Paired with heartbreak, Soobin was not in the right state of mind to be greeting customers with a smile in a place full of beauty that only reminded him of you.

Had he known you before this? In some other life, were you someone he had loved and lost over and over again? Because none of this made sense. This ache didn’t belong to the present — it felt older, as though it had lived in him long before he ever met you. How long had he been without you to feel this way now?

The fever came and went, mostly in the evenings, leaving him weaker each time it ebbed. One moment he was shivering under the blanket, and the next, heat licked through his skin until even breathing hurt. On the bedside table sat a half-empty glass of water and a few crumpled tissues, a tableau of his own negligence. The medicine packet lay open, though he couldn’t remember if he had taken the next dose or not. His head throbbed too much to care.

He lay sprawled on the bed, hair damp against the pillow. His throat scraped with every swallow, raw from hours of coughing. He’d given up on sitting upright hours ago — even lifting his head felt like work.

Through the blur of half-sleep, he caught sight of the camellias on his balcony swaying in the wind. Their petals were bright even under the grey sky. He stared until the colors melted into the haze of his fever. You liked camellias. He wondered if you were with Beomgyu. The idea soured his stomach and before he realized it, his eyes were watering. He sniffled, pressed the back of his hand to his nose and turned over, trying to will himself into sleep.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep before through the haze, he thought he heard his name. Hallucinating, he decided dimly. Fever dreams, that’s all. But the sound came again, clearer now, closer, and when his eyelids fluttered open, the blur at the edge of his vision focused into… you? 

What were you doing here?

You were standing in the doorway of his room holding a closed umbrella. Your eyes were wide with alarm. For a long second, he wondered if this was still part of the dream. Your voice sounded too real though for it to be a dream. Panicked, even. 

“Oh my god—” You crossed the room in an instant, dropping your bag somewhere near the chair. Your hand landed on his forehead, then his cheek. “Soobin, you’re burning up. What the hell, why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice broke off mid-sentence, tangled with disbelief. “Okay, okay, it’s fine, um—just… just wait for me, okay?”

You disappeared into the kitchen. He picked up a few distinct sounds like the clatter of cupboards, the rush of water from the tap and your hurried footsteps. The mattress dipped beside him, and the next thing he knew, you were pressing a damp towel against his forehead. The shock of it made him flinch, but the relief that followed was enough to draw a small, strangled sigh from him.

You exhaled shakily, wringing out the towel in the bowl you’d brought. “Did you even drink water? Have you taken your meds?” You glanced around at the bedside table, frowning at the open packet. “You probably didn’t take the next dose, did you? Of course you didn’t.”

He tried to speak, but it came out as a rasp, and you shushed him while adjusting the towel again. “Shh, don’t talk,” you said, hand brushing damp hair from his eyes. “You’re such an idiot. You could’ve just called.”

He would have laughed if his throat didn’t hurt so much. He forced his eyes open a little wider, though the effort drained what little strength he had left. It didn’t matter because he wanted to see you properly. 

He must still be dreaming. The fever might have reached its cruelest peak, gifting him a hallucination so gentle it hurt to believe in it. Because how could you be here — in his apartment, taking care of him — when he had spent the past day convincing himself you were better off somewhere else? With someone else.

“I didn’t…” he started weakly, voice little more than a whisper. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

You stared at him for a beat, lips parting as though to speak. Then you exhaled sharply, almost a laugh but not quite. “Bother me?” you echoed, shaking your head. “You idiot, you—” The words tripped over a breath and you bit them back, your shoulders sagging as if scolding him required more strength than you had. “God, Soobin.”

He closed his eyes when you pressed the cold cloth to his neck this time. You kept changing it, wiping his forehead, brushing damp strands of hair away, murmuring half-thoughts under your breath that he could barely piece together. He caught fragments: too hot, should’ve called, stupid boy, what if. 

After a long silence, he whispered, “Are you mad at me?”

You seemed to still completely, towel halfway to the bowl. Your head turned, confusion written across your features. “Mad at you?” you repeated softly, the disbelief in your voice almost tender. “Soobin, why would I be mad?”

“I didn’t answer your texts,” he mumbled. His voice cracked halfway through. “I thought… maybe you’d—”

His words fell apart midway as a cough wracked through his chest until his ribs ached. You were already reaching for the glass, one hand steadying his shoulder as you lifted it to his lips. “Slowly,” you said, coaxing him to drink. “Small sips. You’ll choke otherwise.”

He obeyed, taking in just enough to ease the burn in his throat. When he settled back, he found you watching him, your expression softening that made his heart twist. You let out a quiet sigh and caressed his temple, fingertips cool against his fevered skin.

“Don’t be stupid,” you said, this time without any sharpness, just a weary affection. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He looked at you, eyes glossy from fever, and for a moment he felt like he fell in love with you all over again. Te realization that you were — in fact — still there and close enough for him to see the faint tremor of your lashes, to count the breaths you took as each one anchored him to this specific moment. 

“Can you stay?” His hand found yours, clumsy and shaking. “Please? I know you’d rather be—”

“Nowhere else.”

Your fingers tightened around his as your thumb traced steady lines over his knuckles. Then your other hand threaded gently through his hair, brushing it back from his damp forehead. 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you,” you murmured, cupping his cheek. 

He thought he might cry again from this strange, fragile joy that flooded his chest. The room soon dimmed, your presence the last thing he felt before sleep dragged him under.

When Soobin woke, the light filtering through the curtains had turned a pale gold that made him squint. His throat still felt scraped raw, but the fire beneath his skin had cooled into a dull warmth; more tolerable now than torturous. He blinked toward the window, then at his phone on the nightstand that read 10:03 a.m.  

The sight should have been comforting had it not been for suddenly seeing your sleeping figure on the couch. You were still in yesterday’s clothes, a blanket draped clumsily over your legs, your head tilted toward your shoulder in an uncomfortable angle. A book lay facedown beside you and on the table next to it sat a glass of water gone flat. You must’ve skipped class, or worse, missed it completely because of him.

He tried to sit up, a poor decision that immediately sent a rush of dizziness through him. He reached out blindly for the bedside table, his palm knocking against the glass and sending it rattling against the wood. The sound startled you awake.

You straightened abruptly, blinking against the light before your eyes snapped to him. “Soobin—hey, what are you doing?” You were already up, the blanket falling from your lap as you crossed the small space between the couch and his bed. The book hit the floor with a dull thud.

He gaped at you, disoriented. “You’re gonna be late,” he said again, fumbling for the blanket as if he could somehow usher you out. “You should go—it’s morning already—you have class—”

You caught his wrist before he could push himself up again, guiding him back to prop up against the headboard. “Soobin,” you lowered your voice, as if coaxing a restless child back into bed. “It’s Saturday.” You pressed a hand to his shoulder, keeping him from rising again.

“Oh,” he said lamely, eyes dropping to the blanket pooled at his waist. “Right. Saturday. Sorry, I still feel a little out of it.” He remembered, belatedly, that you didn’t have classes on Saturdays. 

“Clearly,” you muttered, moving to pick up the fallen book from the floor. “You scared the hell out of me last night.” You set the book down on the nightstand this time, glancing at him over your shoulder before coming to sit at his side on the bed. Soobin scooted away a little to make space for you. 

You stayed seated at his side for a while, waiting until the uneven rhythm of his breathing steadied again. He felt the need to talk to you; didn’t know about what but he still wanted to. You, however, beat him to it.

“Yesterday…” you started, drawing your knees up onto the edge of his bed, “you weren’t answering any calls. I thought maybe you fell asleep early, but then it got late, and you still didn’t text back. So I panicked—a little,” you added quickly, though the faint crease between your brows said otherwise. “I grabbed my umbrella and ran to the shop, thinking maybe you were still there, only to find the door locked and lights out.” You gave a small, humorless laugh, shaking your head.

He did not interrupt you, letting you spew out everything.

“I stood there for five minutes like an idiot before remembering you gave me a spare key, and thank god you did.” You exhaled sharply, pressing your lips together. “I was honestly pretty terrified seeing you like that. You were burning up, Soobin. I know a fever’s supposed to be harmless most times, but it didn’t look harmless to me.”

“It was raining,” he tried to weakly argue but his resolve faltered when you narrowed your eyes. “You could’ve caught a cold. You didn’t even know if I was at home.”

“Even if I knew,” you shot back with a small frown. “What did you expect me to do? Just text ‘feel better’ and go to sleep?”

He let out a small, rough laugh that broke too easily into silence. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“You didn’t mean to,” you echoed softly, glancing down at your hands, “but you still did. Next time, just send a message, alright? It takes two seconds. My heart can only take so much near-death panic.” 

He thought about how easy it was to fall into silence, to let the days fold over him until people stopped asking if he was fine. He’d told himself solitude made things simpler, but looking at you now, eyes still red from lack of sleep and worry, he felt the truth of what it cost.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, voice thin as paper. The words weren’t only for last night; they bled from deeper parts of his heart for all the times you were made to go through exhausting situations for him.

You leaned forward, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. “Apology accepted,” you said softly, slipping them on him with care. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I’d hate it if something happened to you and I didn’t know.”

Your fingertipss brushed against his skin before you drew your hand back. His soul felt like it was cleaved wide open. 

The moment was disrupted by the doorbell.

Soobin met your eyes for a brief moment. He had a feeling you both already guessed the identity of your uninvited visitor. Sure enough, Jisoo stood at the door. He was visibly fuming with smoke coming out of his ears. In one arm, he balanced two paper bags, the other occupied with pointing an accusatory finger behind you before you could even greet him.

“Do you have a death wish?” he demanded, stepping inside without invitation. “Because that’s the only logical explanation for this level of idiocy. You look like a dying Victorian child!”

“Good morning to you too,” Soobin muttered from the bed, waving a hand. 

Jisoo ignored that entirely and instead turned back to you to greet you with a smile. He set the bags down on the table, tearing one open. “Breakfast,” he announced, though it sounded less like generosity and more like punishment. “Because apparently I’m surrounded by idiots who forget they are human.”

You tilted your head, assessing the situation. “Soobin, did you tell Jisoo to leave early last night?”

“Oh, he did,” Jisoo fired back, dropping into the chair beside the bed. “he said, and I quote—‘I’m fine, Jisoo, go home, I’ll lock up.’” He deepened Soobin’s voice with painful accuracy. “And now look at him—he looks like he’s been through hell and back!”

Soobin exhaled through his nose, rubbing a palm over his face as if that could erase both fatigue and embarrassment. “I didn’t think it was that bad,” he said, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

Jisoo scoffed, pulling out a thermos from one of the bags and unscrewing the lid with unnecessary force. “That’s the problem—you never think it’s ‘that bad’ until someone has to carry your half-dead body off the floor.” He poured steaming porridge into a bowl and shoved it toward Soobin.

You stifled a laugh behind your hand, murmuring, “He’s not wrong.”

Soobin gave a weak shrug, though his mouth curved slightly. “I’m sorry for making you worry. But I really am fine now.” He hesitated, eyes flickering from you to Jisoo. “I really don’t deserve you guys.”

Jisoo groaned. “You’re damn right you don’t,” he said, though his hands betrayed him by reaching over to pull the blanket back up to Soobin’s chest. He glanced at you briefly, muttering under his breath, “You spoil him too much.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Someone has to. He nearly cooked himself alive yesterday.”

Soobin felt his lips curl into a smile when he saw you and Jisoo exchange a look then — shared exasperation wrapped in affection. Jisoo gave him the stink eye.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re banned from the shop until you can stand without wobbling.” Jisoo straightened his posture and jabbed a finger toward Soobin’s nose, trying to summon authority in front of his boss. Soobin decided to let it go this once. “I’m running it till you’re back, and I don’t wanna hear a single word of protest.”

Soobin raised his hands in surrender, that same faint smile growing genuine. “I wasn’t going to argue.”

“Good,” Jisoo muttered, snatching up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “Because I’ve already hidden the spare keys. Don’t even try to look for them.”

You snorted. “He will, you know.”

“Then I’ll move them again.” Jisoo huffed, shooting Soobin one last warning glance before heading for the door. He paused, turning back just long enough to add, more softly, “Just rest, alright? You can’t run a shop if you drop dead first.”

The days blurred into each other after that. You came every day, sometimes with food, sometimes with books and the only difference was that before, it was you coming over to his shop, and now, in his home. In a sense, nothing really changed at all.

He had told you it wasn’t necessary, more than once, but you never listened. And though he tried to keep a respectable distance in fear of spreading his flu to you, standing by the counter while you moved about the stove, he couldn’t stop the thoughts that crept in. the same treacherous ones that painted pictures of you staying longer than you should, of your books finding space beside his, of a life that wasn’t temporary.

A vision of you living with him; something he wanted to coin as ‘forever’.

He had to snap out of his daydreams before the longing killed him. 

One afternoon, you appeared holding a small stack of papers bound together with a paperclip. You placed it on his lap where he was sitting on his bed reading a book.

“What’s all this?” he asked, pushing his glasses up and flipping through the pages.

“Notes,” you replied, as if it were obvious. “I asked your classmates to send me what you’ve missed so far.”

He glanced from the stack to your face and back again. He was stunned by your thoughtfulness, and perhaps he looked like a gaping fish at a loss of words because you took one look at him and snorted.

You didn’t look particularly pleased with yourself. You sat cross-legged on the floor near the coffee table and uncapped your pen with a click. “It’s not a big deal. You’d do the same if it were me.”

He didn’t say anything to that but you both knew you weren’t wrong about it. Yet, Soobin learned that being around you makes him want to do better, and be more outspoken with his feelings. And he wanted to be better for you.

He let out a soft, “Thank you.”

You waved a hand, already bent over your workbook. “Don’t get sentimental on me. It’s barely anything.” A pause, the faint scratch of your pen against paper, and then you added almost absently, “Oh—Beomgyu’s coming by to help at the shop.”

The back of his neck stung. “Beomgyu?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, not looking up. “He offered. Said he could help restock and handle the counter till you’re better. You should hurry up and recover soon—the flowers are starting to sulk without you.” 

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “The flowers are fine.”

“No, they’re not,” you countered softly, still writing. “They miss you.”

There was a pause — long enough for him to think that was the end of it, and his mind started to wander to unpleasant territory after hearing beomgyu’s name. Before he could think of what to say, your pen stopped moving, your eyes still fixed on the page.

“I miss you.”

Soobin’s gaze stilled despite the storm that began to brew behind his eyes. Beomgyu’s words resurfaced in his mind— you think she doesn’t notice the way you look at her? — and for a fleeting second, Soobin thought maybe you did know. Maybe you had known all along.

Because the things you said to him, the way you treated him, they lifted him to the heavens and gave him hope. Hope that he feared might betray him if it was misplaced. However, the question still hung unspoken in his mind — about Beomgyu, about what he’d said, about whether he’s going too ahead of himself and reading your intentions wrong and if your words just now were only friendly. Because Soobin couldn’t really tell.

Thinking about the devil brings him to your doorstep — Soobin should’ve believed that phrase by now.

“Yo, boss,” Beomgyu drawled from the doorway, grin wide and infuriating. He was leaning one shoulder against the frame. “Still alive, I see.”

You turned, delighted. “Beomgyu! You’re here early.”

He flashed you a smile too clean to be sincere. “Jisoo needed help with the new shipment, didn’t he? Why don’t you go lend him a hand? I’ll keep Soobin company.” His tone was harmlessly casual.

Soobin only gave a mild nod when you glanced his way, though the faint crease between his brows betrayed his suspicion. Beomgyu’s grin dwindled into a smirk the moment you left. He even had the audacity to wink at Soobin.

Soobin exhaled through his nose, setting his book aside. “If you’re here to bother me, just say so.”

“Not bother,” Beomgyu said, moving toward the windows and flicking open the latch to let in a stream of morning air. “Motivate!” He plucked an apple from the fruit bowl on the cabinet, turning it over in his hand as though appraising its worth. “So, did you miss me?”

Soobin wanted to get to the point. “Did you succeed then?” He regarded him dryly. 

Beomgyu sank into the couch across from him, taking a bite of the apple. “In taking her out? Yeah.” He let out an exaggerated sigh, placing a hand over his heart. “But the entire time—” he waved the apple vaguely in the air, “—she talked about you.”

Soobin blinked, the words slipping past him at first — until they didn’t. “What do you mean ‘talked about me’?”

“I meant exactly what I said,” Beomgyu spoke around another bite, before standing up and pacing slowly around the room. “Couldn’t get two sentences in without your name popping up. I knew right away I didn’t stand a chance. Gotta say, though, it bruised my ego a little.” He pointed the apple at Soobin. “So maybe, y’know, man up and take your chance already. You’d do everyone—and their mothers—a favour.”

Soobin could only stare off in space. His thoughts ran in frantic circles, every word Beomgyu said setting off sparks behind his eyes. You talked about him? That much? He tried to picture what you might’ve said, what parts of him you thought worth mentioning — and found the idea too delicate for his overjoyed heart.

Beomgyu snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Hey. Earth to Soobin.” He squinted, then pointed the apple again. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me you’re daydreaming right now. Look at you — you’re totally fantasizing about her. Ewwwww~”

“What— no!” Soobin spluttered, grabbing the nearest pillow and hurling it across the room.

Beomgyu ducked, laughing so hard his shoulders shook. “You totally are! Look at you, all flushed. You’re hopelessly in love.” he managed between breaths.

Soobin groaned into his hand. “Did you ever like her?” The question slipped out. He looked up again, cautious but curious. “You said you did.”

Beomgyu’s laughter died down to a few huffs as he sank into the couch again, still grinning. “Alright, fine. Serious talk.”

Soobin frowned, getting up from bed. “Did you?” he repeated as he fetched a glass of water from the kitchen.

“Oh. Uh, not like that.” Beomgyu chewed on his lip, then shrugged. “I like her, sure — she’s a good person. But romantically? Nah.” He gestured loosely toward Soobin, eyes glinting with mischief again. “You were giving me such a look that day, so I figured I’d rile you up a little. Didn’t think it’d work that well.”

Soobin frowned, recalling the unease he’d felt that Thursday when Beomgyu had mentioned asking you out. The irritation resurfaced, though now mingled with reluctant embarrassment. “That’s not what you said last Thursday.”

Beomgyu smirked, tossing the apple core into the bin. “What, you thought I was serious?”

Soobin stared at him, words slipping through his grasp. Nothing about him moved except the faint twitch in his jaw.

Beomgyu hesitated. “Hey, don’t look at me like that,” he said, laughter bubbling up again. “You can’t tell me it wasn’t funny.”

It wasn’t. For days, he had been haunted by that single conversation, replaying it in the back of his mind. He could still feel the echo of every unnecessary thought he’d had since. Soobin came to a conclusion right then and there that if there’s anyone who could test his patience to an excruciating extent, it’s Choi Beomgyu. How ridiculous, he thought. How utterly, painfully ridiculous to have spent nights overthinking when Beomgyu had only wanted a laugh.

Soobin gently put the glass down on the table before taking a deep breath. The next thing Beomgyu knew, he was caught in a headlock.

“HEY—WAIT—SOOBIN—!”

Their shouts and laughter resonated through the apartment; Beomgyu shrieking for his life while Soobin held him in place, spewing half-hearted curses until it felt less like a sickroom and more like the friendship that was bound to take root.

SATURDAY made Soobin ricochet between certainties and doubts until you gently cradled his heart in your palms and kissed it.

Jisoo had dragged everyone out on the excuse of celebrating Soobin’s recovery, but the moment the bill arrived, all eyes turned to him with suspicious coordination. Beomgyu was the first to pat his shoulder and declare that the boy who lived should at least buy lunch. Jisoo nearly choked on his drink from laughing, and you—of all people—hid your grin behind the rim of your glass as if your loyalty could be bought with a smile. Soobin had sighed, pulled out his wallet, and decided that maybe feeding his friends was still preferable to the silence of his empty apartment.

When the meal ended, Jisoo announced that he’ll return to the shop, encouraging Soobin to ‘enjoy the rest of the day’. Beomgyu stayed behind for a moment, leaning closer to Soobin under the pretense of fixing his shirt. “If you don’t say something today, I swear I’ll do it for you,” he threatened with a smile. “You’ve had two years, Soobin. Make your move.” Then he gave Soobin a shove that nearly made him stumble into you, and left before Soobin could even retort.

That left you and him standing under the awning. He, too, wanted to make the most of the time and was unwilling to let the day end. “Do you want to do anything else before heading home?” he asked, trying to sound casual but praying you wouldn’t say no.

You tilted your head slightly and smiled as if you were already one step ahead of him. “Actually, yes,” you said, unlocking your phone and holding it out for him to see. On the screen was a poster for a lantern festival not far from the riverside. “It says it starts at sunset. We could go check it out?”

“Of course. I’ll take you there.”

The venue was a mosaic of color and sound. Children ran around with paper lanterns shaped like stars and rabbits; vendors shouted over each other selling skewers, candied fruit, roasted chestnuts. You reached for his sleeve more than once, tugging him toward stalls that caught your eyes — an old man folding paper cranes, a painter who would draw quick portraits in ink. Soobin bought you skewered fishcakes and handed one over before you even asked, his lips tugging up when you took it with an exaggerated hum of approval. At one point, you dragged him toward a photo booth tucked between two food stalls. The flash caught the softest smile he’d worn in weeks.

By the time the sun began to fall, the crowd had thickened. Soobin had his height advantage but he was worried about you since you didn't do well in crowds. While he was thinking of taking you to a much less crowded place, his entire mind came to a static stop when he felt your hand slipping into his. You looked up at him, eyes reflecting the orange of a hundred paper lanterns. Your fingers slowly intertwined with his. You didn’t say anything, but the small curve of your smile was enough to make him forget every other noise around him.

When the call came for everyone to light their lanterns, Soobin took one and handed it to you. Together, you crouched near the edge of the riverbank, the paper glowing faintly between your palms. Around you, the first wave of lanterns began to rise, painting the twilight sky with gold.

“Make a wish,” you giggled, your eyes falling shut.

Soobin looked at you instead. The wind lifted a strand of your hair; the light touched your face in a way that made every thought blur. He could have wished for many things but all that came to him was you.

When you opened your eyes again, you smiled and released the lantern. It drifted upward, joining the others until it became just another glowing dot among others.

“Hey, Soobin?” You kept watching the sky. “Do you worry too much about expressing yourself all the time? specially with me?”

He turned to you, brows drawing together. “What makes you say that?”

You chuckled softly, the sound easing into the evening air. “Because I like every side of you. Even when you’re quiet. Some silences feel empty, but ours never does. You know how people say certain silences are so comfortable that you could sit in them forever? I feel that with you.”

Soobin suddenly thought of the bouquet Beomgyu made him make, the one he never gave you. “Can I take you somewhere before you go home?” he asked suddenly. It had to be now. 

“Sure,” you said, curious. “Where?”

“My shop.”

Jisoo’s shift ended earlier so the shop was empty.

Soobin gave you a dimpled smile as you perched yourself on the stool near the counter. Witht the same devotion and love, his hands put together a bouquet of you rfavourite flowers. You watched him fondly, it was that intensity of your gaze that made it hard for him to keep his hands steady. He felt like he put extra care into making this one, tracing every micro expression on your face when he held the bouquet in front of you.

“What’s all this?” you asked, laughing softly as you took it.

“My way of saying thank you,” he said, pushing his glasses up. “And my way of saying I’m sorry. For making you worry when I was sick… and for everything else. For everything you’ve done for me.”

You held the bouquet close, nose brushing against the petals. “They’re beautiful,” you said sincerely. “Thank you, Soobin.”

He smiled but what he wanted was to close the space between you, to hold you instead of the air. The thought stayed caged behind his ribs, fluttering restlessly as you smiled at him over the flowers.

He walked you back home that night. It was truly a miracle he hadn’t fallen apart already when everytime your knuckles brushed against his. As stupid as that sounded because, matter of fact, he’d held your hand before, more times than he could count, and yet here he was again, reduced to a mess by a passing touch. There were flowers that withered slower than the way he fell apart in your presence. 

When you stepped inside to put the bouquet away, he stayed by the door, listening to the faint sounds of your movement within. The hallway was hushed and in that quietness, Soobin tried to steady his thoughts. He didn’t know what to say to you anymore. What could he possibly say that wouldn’t ruin this? Loving you in silence was torture, but maybe it was safer than the ache of losing you. He leaned his head back against the wall, exhaling slowly, watching your shadow spill through the doorway. 

Maybe this was enough, he told himself. Maybe loving you in silence was safer.

After you returned, the sight of you made that illusion crumble all over again. He could tell you were tired. He wanted to reach out, to brush his thumb under your eye and tell you to rest, to promise you the whole world if it meant keeping that light in your face. Instead, he said, “It’s been a long day. Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

He shifted his weight when you only stared at him. He couldn’t read what you were thinking, and that scared him more than he wanted to admit. So, true to habit, he did what he always did when he got too close to the edge — he started to walk away. It was easier to retreat before the ground gave way beneath him. Easier to run from what his heart kept whispering.

“Can I tell you something?”

Your voice cut through the silence, a little hesitant. Soobin froze mid-step, the air catching in his throat. He turned around slowly, afraid of what you might say yet hoping it would be everything he’d been wishing for.

“Since meeting you,” you began, then paused for a brief moment to collect your thoughts, “I actually began wishing for more time. I want more time with you. Every time I’m with you, you make me feel so happy, just by being you.”

Soobin’s lips parted slowly. His mind went blank, completely overtaken by the rush in his chest. Were you saying what he thought you were? Confirming everything he had buried under restraint and fear? His pulse thundered, and he could feel it in his throat, in his fingertips, in the space between you. 

You were nervous. He could tell the way you pressed your palms together and averted his eyes. “Gosh, I must sound insane right now,” you murmured, your voice dipping into a hesitant chuckle, “but I can’t think of a single thing I’d rather do right now. I just want to be close to you.” You glanced down, then lifted your eyes back to him, a tiny, resigned smile finding your lips. “Are you going to make me wait much longer?”

All he could think was — were you asking him not to run anymore? Were you telling him it was safe to fall?

Soobin couldn't take it anymore. All this time he’d known you, he wanted nothing more than to freely love you. He wanted more than just yearning gazes and fleeting brushes of touch. He wanted to let himself have you, to allow the current of love rush through him.

In two strides he closed the distance, his hands cupping your face before he dipped his head. When his mouth met yours, the force of it stole the breath from both of you — lips colliding with a hunger that had been building up for months.

The poets were so damn wrong because kissing you didn’t feel like setting off fireworks; it felt like returning to his rightful home. 

A sigh passed from you to him at the first contact, followed by a broken sound from the back of your throat when he slid his hand into your hair to pull you closer, closer, closer to him. The noise was so small yet ruinous that it made him want to fall to his knees.

Soobin had to hold onto the doorframe above your head when you arched into him, when your hand had to scramble for the same doorframe behind you while the other clutched at the front of his shirt, knuckles white, as holding him was the only thing keeping you upright. He could feel the rapid flutter of your pulse beneath his thumbs as they brushed along your jaw. And gods, he’d been right — your lips were soft, impossibly so. Now that he got a taste of your lips, Soobin had to figure out later how not to get addicted to them. 

Every thought in his head dissolved into the warmth of you. All those nights he had spent trying to reason with himself, all those what-ifs and not-yets, burned away in the press of your mouth against his. He’d never known what it was to want something so wholly, so ruinously, until you. He knew already that he could never go back from this, that he didn’t want to.

You broke the kiss first, your breath brushing against his as you whispered, “Stay the night. Please?”

Holy fuck. You really had no idea what you did to him, did you? Soobin dazedly stared at you and thought, if this woman tacked on the words please onto any request, he would find a way to fulfill it. 

He muttered a curse under his breath and went back to devouring you. His pulse roared in his ears as he pushed you inside, the door clicking shut behind him with his heel. He hadn’t broken the kiss once as you stumbled backward, your shoes slipping off in your scramble to match his pace, both of you breathing hard as if you had run a mile to get here. His hands were everywhere; holding your face, slipping into your hair, grabbing the back of your neck, running down your sides, back, hips — they couldn’t decide on a destination because every road led to you. 

He still couldn’t believe this was happening as he kissed you even deeply, he still couldn't believe you were kissing him back with equal amount of passion. He licked into you, but not too much or too fast, just enough to ask permission and you opened your mouth. The heat of your tongue gliding over his made him whimper, feeling high already from so little. 

It was a good thing the sofa was near because any more minute and he’d collapse into a puddle. When the back of your knees hit the sofa, he caught you, guiding you down gently. You sank into the cushions, looking up at him as he towered above you. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen, and your gaze pulled him in until he felt dizzy with it. For a suspended moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your laboured breathings.

His gaze moved over you in a haze of disbelief, the rise and fall of his chest uneven as if his body was struggling to keep up with his heart. He had imagined this too many times but imagination had nothing on the way to finally feel you like this, to have your scent clinging to his skin, to taste your lips. It felt surreal, intoxicating, overwhelming in every sense.

“Two years,” he roughly said as he leaned down, his words trembling against your skin. “I tried—God, I really tried not to want you like this.”

His hand found the back of the sofa beside your head for support, his other resting against your cheek. He slid one knee in between your thighs as it dug into the cushion. He did an experimental press up against your heat, watching the way you jerked up with a hitched breath, your eyes falling shut once before opening again as one of your hands came to rest on that knee. 

“You’re all I’ve been thinking about,” he confessed, his voice breaking between each word. “Every damn day.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then the curve of your cheek, before finding your mouth again. The way your fingers slipped into his hair tugging slightly made him shudder, and he groaned against your lips at the sensation, his breath catching in the space between one heartbeat and the next. But he kissed you with a slowness that contradicted the rush inside him; he kissed you as if he were learning the world all over again, as though every touch of yours rewrote what he thought he knew about longing.

“I’m so tired of pretending I’m fine around you,” he murmured against your skin, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hand found your cheek again, his thumb tracing beneath your eye. “Every time you smiled at me, it hurt. Every time you said my name, I thought I was going to lose it. And I kept telling myself it was better this way—that I could handle it—but I can’t. I can’t anymore.”

You laughed softly. You looked beautiful. It made him smile too. 

“I know, Soobin,” you said, biting your lip to suppress the growing grin. Your hand traced the line of his jaw, gentle and familiar. “You’re not really good at pretending. I’ve always known, more or less. But I didn’t want to act on my gut feeling alone. I had to be sure.”

His expression faltered. He felt and probably looked like he might actually cry, he couldn’t believe he’d been so stupid. “I’m sorry,” he whispered earnestly. “I should’ve said it sooner—should’ve done something—but I was so damn scared of ruining us. And now I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to waste the time we have. Not one more second.”

Your smile softened, eyes shining as you nodded. “Me neither.”

His heart was full as he shared a tender smile with you. Then he held your hand and pulled you up with him before changing the position, pulling you back down again. He hauled you easily onto his lap — running his hands along your sides before gliding them over your back, then down to the small of your back before pressing you against him. If he could he’d hold you closer until no one could tell apart where you began and he ended.

He’s trailing kisses down the torrid skin of your jaw, your neck, your collarbones before biting down on the supple flesh, eliciting a strained moan from you. You tilted your head back and gave him full access, which he took without hesitation. His glasses bumped into your skin, which made him irritated and swiftly took it off with a ‘tsk’ before putting it aside somewhere on the sofa.

“Let me love you,” he whispered. He felt your throat bobbed against his mouth when you swallowed and nodded, letting out another soft sound that had his mind reeling, and he felt his cock twitch at the thought of just how much louder he could make you. “Let me take care of you, please.”

His name fell from your lips as you screwed your eyes shut when he held you by the hips and made you grind against him. He looked up at you from this angle and he thought this is probably what heaven looked like. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, more than just feeling you rub against his growing bulge through all these damn layers of clothes. 

In one quick motion he set you down on the sofa, cracking a smile at your dazed yet confused look. Soobin exhaled before sinking to his knees in front of you.

You gave him a shy smile as you got into a more comfortable position, letting his hands rest on your thighs. This sight — he gazed up at you from where he’s kneeling — he’s willing to worship for the rest of his life. He kissed each of your thighs, then his hands trailed over to the waistband of your jeans.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” he was begging you. He didn’t think he could ever stop though. “I’ll stop if you say it. I swear.” “Dont stop.” You reached down to unbutton your jeans. “Please, Soobin. Don’t stop.”

He reached back up to clash his mouth to yours again as his hands yanked your jeans all the way down with a little bit of your help. By now Soobin was already heady, and when he sat back on his heels to come face to face with the sight of your dampened panties, translucent from the slick pooling in between your thighs, he nearly ruined his own pants. Soobin hadn't even touched you directly and you were already a mess.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, thumb circling your clit over the fabric as he drank up all your twitches and gasps. A sense of pride filled him at the fact that this was him who drew you over to this crest. It was all him — the reason behind this sopping pleasure of yours. 

“Soobin—oh fuck, ah,” you arched, throwing your head back when he ran his tongue up the length of the wet spot you made. 

The first taste through this barrier filled his senses to the brim, shockwave travelling to his fingertips before returning and plummeting his sanity somewhere down to his dick. Soobin couldn’t fight the moan that got muffled against your heat, following that line with the flat of his tongue, then again with the point. He gripped your thighs and hips desperately, urging you to grind on his face as he ravished you through the flimsy cloth. 

The sound of your pleasure, the taste of you, and your, fuck — there was your hand gripping his hair. He was huffing and taking short breaths, impatience getting the best of him before he almost ripped your panties off of you and threw it somewhere behind him.

There was a ringing in his ear as he looked up at you through his lashes, eyes wide and obedient because in this moment, he felt like he was made to kneel at your feet. You were flushed and breathing heavily but looked extremely beautiful like this. He grabbed your hips and tugged you closer to the edge making you yelp softly.

“I promise I’ll be good for you.” He guided your trembling thighs over his shoulders as he lowered his face to your pussy, never taking his searing eyes off of yours. “So promise me you won’t stop looking at me. Please?”

You nodded quickly, a shaky hand taking purchase in his hair again. “I promise.”

The moment those words left you, he dived into you, his tongue licking a long stripe along your folds, lapping up your arousal — fuck. Fucking hell this is what you tasted like? You tasted so divine, so intoxicating that Soobin had to gather himself after the first lick. It felt like a sin that he only tasted you through a barrier earlier. It felt like a heinous sin that he’d been deprived of this pussy for so long. You were all arounf him. His name coming out of your lips in between gasps and cries, and —

“Oh, God. Fuck, Soobin, you’re so good—yes, yes, just like that—”

— oh.

You were praising him. His vision blurred through the eye contact — the one you promised to not break and true to your words you’ve never once did — and he felt like a flower blooming and meeting the light for the first time. Soobin buried himself deeper into your heat, nose bumping against your sensitive bundle of nerves while he tongued your entrance and drank up every drop of your essence. He was drunk, so high on you as he watched you let out a high pitched gasp when he eased in two fingers, feeling your folds stretching then clamping around his thickness.

He promised you he was going to be obedient so he picked up every micro reaction you gave at every thrust of his fingers, every tremble of your body when he sucked on your clit before swriling the tip of his tongue over it until he figured out what was going to take him to guide you over the edge. But looking at you, it didn’t seem like he was going to need to do much work anyway. 

He could feel you spasming around his fingers, your moans falling faster and needier as your thighs closed around his head. He was suffocating but it felt excruciatingly good that his eyes rolled back but no — no, he had to hold your gaze, needed to watch you fall apart and amidst that all Soobin palmed himself, groaning into you. With one final stroke up your sweet spot, he brought you over a mind shattering orgasm — for you, and him.

It was the scrape of your fingers in his scalp that made him cum, his release lifting off an invisible burden from his shoulders as he felt himself slipping into a state of pure bliss. Soobin came to his senses belatedly when you said his name. He was unmoving, mouth still attached to your quivering pussy when he swallowed, feeling you dripping down his throat. 

You looked utterwly wrecked. Skin glistening with sweat as your chest heaved. It brought a shy smile to face as he sat back up on his heels. “Was it alright?” he meekly asked, wiping his chin.

You breathlessly laughed, pushing yourself up on one hand. “It was everything I've ever dreamed of.” 

Soobin’s eyes darkened slowly when you touched his jaw and pushed your thumb on the plump of his bottom lip. You smeared your release over his lip before pushing your thumb inside his mouth. He moaned around your finger before sucking, letting you thumb down his tongue as saliva pooled around it. He felt his dick twitch again, shamelessly getting hard once more. 

“Kiss me,” you said, and who even was he to deny your request? 

He pushed his tongue past your lips, letting you taste yourself and the sensation was so overwhelming that it drew out a groan from you. It was messy and hot, it was downright filthy but Soobin would give up on anything to experience this for the first time ever again. 

“Soobin,” you softly whined against his lips, pulling back to look at him with a hunger that mirrored his, “I don’t want to stop yet. I need more. I need you.”

He was as desperate as you were, maybe even more. “I could spend the rest of my life making you feel good.” and then his hand was slipping under your shirt, gliding over the hot skin and tracing every dip, every curve before he hoisted you up easily. “Let’s get comfortable first, yeah?” he spoke against your mouth as your legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, never once separating from your lips.

Once he reached your bedroom, he placed you down gently on the bed before settling himself in between your legs. The rest of your clothes messily came off, neither of you wanting to waste another second and only wanting to feel each others’ naked skin. Soobin had to pause and sit back on his heels as he admired you, unable to fathom that he was truly seeing you in the way he had only ever dreamed of. 

He grabbed a moundful of one of your breasts, your perky nipple peeking in between his long fingers while he dipped his head down and took the other one in his mouth. How come you tasted so good everywhere? Soobin was going to become gluttonous because of you. Not that he minded. He loved hearing your little gasps. You were so sensitive from just moments ago but you were already gushing again. 

“Soobin, please, please,” you cried out when he stroked you slowly betwen your folds. Despite how wet you were, he was worried his size was going to be too much for you. He had to make you pliant as much as possible. 

“Tell me if it gets uncomfortable. Tell me if I hurt you, okay?” He panted as he pumped himself slowly. It wasn’t like Sooobin had his calm either. He was flushed and sweaty, trembling in every movement he made. He’s been thrumming with the electricity of want himself. He didn’t know how long he could keep going before his brain turned mushy too. He watched the way your glazed over eyes took in his size; it filled him with equal amounts of pride and worry. “Tell me what you want, alright? I’ll do anything.”

His cockhead slid in between your folds as the tip bumped your clit, restinf over your abdomen. A guttural groan escaped his chest when he realized he was almost touching the underneath of your navel. Shit, will you be alright? He had no time to overthink when you reached out to wrap your hand around him, making his entire body twitch in pleasure. He was hot and hard in your hand as you guided his tip back to your wet entrance.

“I trust you.” You laid back and smiled at him. Soobin, again, felt like he was falling in love with you all over again. 

He held your thighs more apart, large hands massaging the supple flesh of them. Soobin used his thumbs to spread open your pussy before directly letting a glob of spit fall onto your hole. You squealed, clearly surprised, but seeing how you clenched around air desperately made him learn that you could be into it. He made a mental note to explore this more some other time.

He lathered his saliva with your slick as he nudged his leaking tip along your slit, making you whimper and jerk up your hips to get more friction, but Soobin placed a large hand over your abdomen and held you down in place.

“Come closer. I want to hold you,” you mumbled, making him comply easily.

He kissed you, so deeply, so fiercely, that the gasp you let out when he slowly sheathed himself inside you was entirely devoured by his mouth. Soobin’s mouth hung open, puffing against the hot skin of your neck as he couldn’t decide where to focus; the sheer euphoric wave of pleasure as your warmth enveloped him or on the fingers clawing his back. Even with the thick slick of your combined orgasms, he could tell you needed time to accommodate the stretch. 

“I’m sorry—ah, I'm so sorry, love,” he kept apologizing softly, giving you time to adjust as he slowly sank into your aching core. He gritted his teeth, jaw clenching as he had to fight the urge to cum from just feeling your tight walls clench around him. You were a gasping mess, writhing beneath him as you dug your nail across his back. “T—Take all the time you need.”

He bottomed out fully as he held himself up on his arms around your head, face resting in the crook of your neck where he peppered soft kisses to help you relax. You were fluttering madly around him. After a moment Soobin felt you squeeze his bicep as he looked at you, and when you nodded at him through the haze of pleasure, he began to set a careful languid rhythm. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, and finally started to loose his already fraying composure. If he planned to fuck you slowly, it was going to take a lot of willpower to do that. Your moans rang sweetly beside his ear as you clung to him tighter with every thrust. Soobin tried to hold on to sanity when he felt your hand trail up to the hair on his nape, curling and tugging on a fistful. He whimpered, pathetically so, picking up the pace of his thrusts. 

Soobin’s head reeled when he stared at where his cock slid wetly in and out of your sopping pussy. It wasn’t just that sight that set his mind and every part ablaze. It was the visible outline of a bulge growing in your abdomen at a specific angle every time he thrusted up into you.

Your hands travelled from the back of his neck to cup his face as you made him look at you instead. The smile you wore, so fucked out and dazed, sent his already racing heart thudding painfully in his chest. “You feel so good, Soobin,” you breathed out through choked pants. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this before.”

He shuddered at your praises, one hand sliding down your thigh before pushing it up to your chest. This angle made you feel more open and made him hit even deeper. And yet, Soobin was holding himself back in fear of hurting you and he could tell you knew that too. You felt that too.

So when you kissed him and mumbled against his lips, “You don’t have to hold back—it’s okay.” — he let himself fall into your plea. 

Your faces were near, passing breaths between that small space before claiming it again, and again, and again. The depraved sound of skin against skin along with your mingling groans and gasps resonated off the walls of the room. He could feel you clenching around him, your moans getting louder and needier.

“Soobin—’m close,” is all you managed before crying out, back arching and pressing onto him flushed.

You gripped him like a vice, your body quivering when you finished, his name spilling from you so sinfully that it drove him over the edge. It caused him to become the louder one then — groans and grunts as his thrusts became sloppier, helping you ride out your orgasm before he buried himself to the sheath in one last deep thrust and spilled inside you. 

There was a beat of silence as you both chased for air. Soobin panted through his mouth, eyes blown wide as he relived the entire situation in his mind again. He brushed your hair out of your sweaty forehead, fingers threading to your scalp as he pulled out of you. The feeling made you whimper as you buried your face into his arm, eyes screwed shut. You were seriously going to be the death of him. He saw the way his cum leaked out of you in bulk waves, feeling his dick twitch at the sight. Shit, shit, shit was this okay?

“I’m safe if you’re worried about it,” you gently assured him, then patted the space beside you. “Lie down beside me.”

“I will,” he promised before linking your fingers with his and kissing your knuckles. “I need to clean you up first. Give me a moment, love. I’ll be back.”

True to his words he returned with a damp towel. He pressed it softly against your skin, wiping away the sheen of sweat, cleaning you thoroughly before helping you go to the bathroom. 

His eyes, dark yet brimming with adoration, never once strayed from yours. In their depths lived every confession he had ever swallowed and every longing he had buried that had bloomed in the spaces between your shared glances. Soobin took in the gentleness of your gaze, the way it mirrored his own, and let himself smile. He reached out, his hand brushing against your wrist before tugging you gently down beside him on the bed. The bed dipped beneath your combined weight, and he gathered you against him, drawing the covers over your bodies until only your breaths filled the air, warm and uneven.

For one fragile second he still wondered if this could be a dream, some mercy granted to a man who had spent too long convincing himself he didn’t need what he did. But then you looked up at him, eyes shimmering like dawn breaking through, and whispered the words that undid every doubt. “I love you.”

He tilted his forehead against yours, eyes closing, before capturing your lips in a kiss that trembled with everything he could not say fast enough. He sealed the words against your mouth before murmuring them back to you.

“I love you. Until the end of time.”

The roses you’d placed on the shelf of your room — the bouquet he made for you — bore witness to this undying love. They would fade with time, but he knew this night, this joining of breaths and words and souls, would not.

Time flew in a strange way on SUNDAYS.

There had been a time in Soobin’s life when he felt that way because you were there under the same roof, guiding the old couple around the flower shop and still, you felt impossibly far from his grasp. He used to fill that distance with his longing in silence. Back then, the hours spent beside you seemed to stretch endlessly and vanish all at once. Sundays used to hurt in their beauty.

Soobin bowed to a customer leaving with a bouquet wrapped in paper the shade of cream roses, he straightened and glanced toward the nursery. Beyond the windowpane, warmth spilled in from the morning sun. You stood there with Mrs. Park, tracing your fingers over the petals of the sunflowers, saying something that made her laugh.

It was still Sunday, still the same hour, but the time passed differently now. Because when you turned, when your eyes met his and you smiled that unguarded smile that reached him like light through a break in clouds, he no longer had to hoard his love in silence. There was a space now for his love to rest, a place for his yearning to call home. Every emotion now spelled your name; every heartbeat found its answer.

You, you, you.

The seconds no longer slipped away; they held still in their sweetness, suspended in their fullness. It felt different — so achingly different — because Soobin finally knew he had all the time in the world with you. Love was no longer something he waited for; it was the air he breathed, the sunlight that kept finding him every new day. He could finally call this forever.

There are loves that blossom silently, and there are loves that consume. Love chose him as its sole vessel the moment you stepped into his still life and made it breathe. Because you were not merely the person he loved.

You were the garden and the grave where Soobin would bury himself. Willingly, ardently, and without return.

THE END.

Taglist; @fancypeacepersona @seungminnieinthebuilding @soobinieswife @yystarz @whoisgami @xylatox @sami-dear @bamgeutori @nanilis @xodidarks @buttersoob @kooland7 @candyflossgum @swangyu @saccharinezennie @younbeanz @tteokbunni @smellofbrownies @beckeey @ice-bread4 @angelhyuka @vanillakirstein @gigitastic @leehannextdoorr @itspalaly @hanscanine @one-chance-pls @r1hanna123 @soobintopfan @chbq2