── .✦ (🥥) who would've thought that a late night tutoring sesson with the schools biggest nerd, soobin, turned into a night even more exciting. turns out, he has an even bigger surprise than his brain.
pairing: big dick virgin!soobin x fem!reader
word count: 4.8k
"content warning 18+ [ MDNI! ], switch!soobin, fem reader, big dick virgin!soobin, nerdy dirty talk, he researched ab sex, nerd!soobin, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, riding, creampie, aftercare”
you invited him over because you were failing math.
there wasn’t anything romantic or flirtatious about it at first — just a silent cry for help written in red marker across your test papers, the kind of desperate slope only someone like choi soobin could pull you from.
he was quiet in class, but always had the right answers. you’d never seen him speak above a whisper, never seen him look anyone in the eye for more than a second, and yet he always left the lecture room with perfectly annotated notes and the air of someone who carried his self-worth in decimal points and weighted averages.
so you messaged him one night — a simple, “can u tutor me?” — and he agreed with alarming speed.
showed up three days later at your apartment like a boy heading into battle, papers in one hand and a mechanical pencil tucked behind his ear, even though you weren’t going to a classroom.
he barely spoke as he stepped inside, his oversized hoodie swallowing his frame and his backpack clutched so tightly in his hand you worried the strap might snap.
“hi,” he said, voice soft, and then added, “i brought… some topic breakdowns. just what i thought would be most helpful.”
you took the stack of papers from him, letting your fingers brush his as you did — just enough to make him freeze.
“thanks, soobin. you’re a lifesaver.”
“it’s no problem,” he replied, though his voice cracked a little halfway through, and he cleared his throat like it embarrassed him.
he stood awkwardly in the middle of your room until you gestured toward the bed. “we can work there. my desk’s a mess right now.”
he nodded too quickly, walking over with that stiff, careful posture that always made him look like he didn’t know what to do with his limbs.
he perched on the very edge of the mattress, knees pressed together, bag in his lap like a shield.
you were already sprawled out beside him, legs crossed, chin in your hand, flipping lazily through the printouts he brought. he’d highlighted things in different colors — pink for formulas, green for common mistakes, blue for examples — and even used sticky tabs to mark each section.
you smiled a little. “damn. you really prepped for this, huh?”
“i didn’t want to waste your time,” he said, not meeting your eyes. “i mean, you’re busy. i figured i should… y’know. make it count.”
your gaze lingered on his profile for a second — the soft curve of his cheek, the glasses sliding slightly down his nose, the way his lashes caught the light like they didn’t belong on a boy. “you’re cute when you’re nervous,” you said.
his ears flushed pink immediately, and he opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t find the words.
instead, he ducked his head and pulled out a worksheet from his bag, mumbling something about “starting with derivatives.”
for a while, you worked. or at least, you tried to. he was focused, explaining things in his soft, careful voice, gesturing with a pen as he talked.
but the more you listened, the less you heard — your brain slowly replacing the numbers and variables with the warm hum of his voice, the gentle slope of his mouth, the way his fingers tapped the edge of the paper like he needed the rhythm to keep from spiraling.
you weren’t sure when it shifted.
maybe it was when he leaned in to correct your equation, his shoulder brushing yours, and didn’t pull away. maybe it was when your knees touched under the blankets, and neither of you moved. maybe it was the way the air felt heavier now — less like study session, more like waiting for something to happen.
soobin must’ve felt it too. his words started stumbling. he explained one formula three times and still got lost halfway through, cheeks flushed, pupils dilated.
his hand hovered a little too long when he passed you the pen. when your thighs pressed together again, he sucked in a breath and didn’t let it out for four seconds.
you turned slightly to face him, setting your notes aside. the room was quiet now.
just the soft tick of the wall clock and the low buzz of tension coiling between you like a wire being pulled tighter and tighter.
he was looking at your mouth.
you didn’t speak. neither did he. the moment didn’t need narration — it just hung there, charged, inevitable.
and then it snapped.
your lips met his like gravity had pulled them there — sudden, unspoken, too natural to be a mistake. his breath hitched immediately, eyes fluttering shut like a reflex.
he tasted like vanilla and nerves, soft and shaky against your mouth, and when your hand came up to cup his cheek, he made a sound, barely audible, like the beginning of a whimper, and leaned into it like he’d been waiting all night.
you deepened the kiss slowly, letting it unfold, letting him adjust. he responded with this aching softness, fumbling but eager, his fingers curling into the bedsheets like he didn’t trust himself to touch you yet.
he wasn’t practiced, his lips moved like he was still learning. but he kissed you like he meant it. like he felt it.
you pulled back just slightly, breath tangled with his, your foreheads nearly touching.
his eyes stayed shut and he swallowed hard. “is this okay?” he whispered.
you nodded, brushing your thumb over his flushed cheek. “mmhm.”
he opened his eyes then, wide and vulnerable, and you could feel how hard he was trying to stay calm. how the tension in his shoulders hadn’t fully left. like he was waiting for the next step but terrified to ask for it.
but you didn’t rush. you just leaned in again, slower this time, and kissed him like there was nothing else you wanted to do tonight.
and this time, he kissed you back like he believed it.
but the kiss had unraveled something in both him and you.
he was still leaning into you like he hadn’t realized it was over, lips parted, breath catching at the edges, glasses slightly fogged from how close you’d been. you could see the color bleeding up his neck in slow-motion, creeping past his collar like his whole body was flushing from the inside out. he looked dazed. pink. utterly stunned.
you wondered, for a moment, if he’d ever been touched like this before.
but then he blinked, slow and heavy, and something in him cracked open.
he kissed you again, unsure, but full of need. like he’d been holding it back for too long. his hand twitched, then moved up — resting on your waist like he was afraid he’d break something, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt.
you climbed into his lap without thinking. not rushed. not performative. just a natural shift, a quiet surrender to gravity and tension and everything that had been simmering between you all evening.
he made a noise, sharp and startled when your weight settled on him, and his hands flew to your hips like instinct.
you could feel him underneath you already, half-hard and growing fast, and the realization sent a low throb through your stomach.
“fuck,” he whispered before he could stop himself.
you stilled. “hm?”
he looked horrified. “n-no, i mean— i wasn’t— that wasn’t—”
you tilted your head, amusement curling at your lips. “you okay, soobin?”
his throat bobbed. he didn’t answer. just stared at you like you were something holy and terrifying.
then, voice barely a whisper: “i’ve never done this before.”
you blinked. “like… never?”
he shook his head. “n-no. not even close.”
you felt your expression soften, and you leaned in to kiss him again, gentler this time. “you want to stop?”
he hesitated — not with fear, but with something more fragile. like he was trying to trust himself to speak.
“…no. i want to—” he paused, breath shaky. “i want to. just— it’s my first time, not my first time… knowing.”
you blinked again and chuckled slightly. “what?”
he turned bright red. “i… studied.”
you stared.
he flailed. “not in a weird way! i just— i didn’t want to be bad at it. s-so i read stuff. books. forums. diagrams— i even watched videos sometimes but only for like— like educational purposes—”
you blinked again. slowly. “…so you watched porn. like, for science.”
“i wanted to take notes,” he said, sounding genuinely defensive.
you laughed. couldn’t help it. he looked so earnest about it — like he’d genuinely sat down with a browser tab open and a pen in his hand, analyzing thrust angles.
“you’re unreal,” you said softly.
“i just didn’t want to disappoint anyone,” he mumbled, eyes downcast.
you reached down and took his hand, guiding it under your shirt. he froze, mouth open slightly, and his fingertips trembled against the skin of your waist.
“you won’t,” you promised. “you’re already not.”
his breath hitched. he looked up at you like you’d just rewritten the rules of the universe.
you started to grind your hips, slowly, experimentally — not enough to overwhelm, just enough for friction.
just enough for your shorts to tug against his sweats and for the growing heat between you to become unmistakable.
and god, he was big.
you could feel it — not in a vague, flattering way, but in a real, holy-shit-how-are-you-expected-to-fit-inside-me way.
every roll of your hips brought him further into focus, your body reacting before your brain could even catch up. he was so hard already, twitching beneath you, and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet.
“s–shit,” he gasped, eyebrows scrunched. “this— this isn’t in the articles—”
you snorted. “what, grinding?”
“n-no— i mean— yes, but not— not like this—”
you kissed him again, harder this time, swallowing the way his voice caught in his throat. your hands pushed his hoodie up slowly, palms skimming over warm skin, and he shivered when you reached his chest.
he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. like every second of contact was tripping a wire in his system.
you whispered against his lips, “you’re gonna let me ride you, right?”
his eyes rolled back so fast it was almost funny. “god— y-yeah. anything. anything you want.”
you reached between you, slipping your hand under his waistband — and what you found made your breath stutter.
he was thick. heavy. the kind of size that made your thighs clench just imagining it. no wonder he’d studied. no wonder he was scared.
you looked at him, slightly stunned. “jesus christ, soobin.”
he blinked, confused. “w-what? is it— is it weird? i read that some people have curve—”
you cut him off with a kiss, messy and open-mouthed, and his hands clutched at your waist like he was trying not to fall off the earth.
“it’s big,” you muttered. “like… really fucking big.”
he made a sound you couldn’t describe — somewhere between a choke and a moan.
you stripped slow, teasing, sliding your shirt off and watching his eyes widen as more skin revealed itself.
he stared like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look. like he wanted to memorize it but felt guilty for trying.
you helped him out of his clothes next, pulling his hoodie over his head and tugging his sweats down far enough for him to spring free.
he gasped when the air hit him. flushed deep pink from tip to base. twitching slightly in time with his heartbeat.
and yeah. huge.
he tried to say something, but it came out garbled. you didn’t let him speak — just kissed him again, sweeter this time, pressing your body against his until he was whining into your mouth.
“lie back,” you whispered, and he did.
you climbed on top of him slowly, positioning yourself, and when the tip nudged against you, both of you gasped.
you took your time, letting him feel every inch of you — the stretch, the slide, the warmth — and his jaw dropped like it was all short-circuiting him.
“ohmygod,” he moaned, hands flying to your thighs. “ohmygod, it’s so warm— it’s— fuck—”
you bottomed out and paused, letting him breathe. he was gripping you like he was afraid he’d float away, eyes glassy, hips twitching up just barely.
“you okay?” you whispered, brushing his sweaty hair from his face.
he nodded, but he looked wrecked already.
“i-it’s so much,” he choked out. “i d-didn’t think it’d feel this good— i thought— i thought i’d last longer—”
you started moving, and he whimpered.
“oh— oh fuck—” he cried, head falling back against the pillow. “you’re s-so— it’s too good— oh god— i’m gonna— i’m—”
you weren’t even bouncing yet. just rolling your hips, slow and deep, letting his cock drag against every inch of your walls. his eyes fluttered, his chest heaved, and he let out a sound that didn’t even sound human.
“such a good boy,” you whispered, to which he moaned in response. the prettiest noises leaving his mouth as you praised him.
he couldn’t stop shaking underneath you. soobin was all heat and trembling muscle, wide eyes flickering open only to shut again in dazed desperation.
his chest heaved with every shallow breath, slick with sweat, lips parted in a silent plea as your hips rolled down again — slow, deliberate, like you were memorizing the way he stretched you open.
his hands had settled at your waist, not gripping, not guiding — just holding, fingers splayed across your skin like he didn’t want to forget the shape of you. like he wasn’t sure this was real.
every time your cunt dragged down his cock, his stomach fluttered, tightening like a wire being wound tighter and tighter with no end in sight.
he was deep. impossibly so. every inch of him filled you, pressed inside with this perfect fullness that made your vision blur. the curve of his cock nudged something devastating with each movement, and yet the stretch never dulled — not even as your walls grew slicker, your legs trembling from the slow pace.
you rode him with patience. not because you needed to go slow — but because he looked so wrecked.
his eyes glassy, his thighs twitching, mouth caught in a half-moan that never made it out. his expression was nothing short of reverent. overwhelmed. ruined.
you leaned over him, skin sliding against his as your hands braced at either side of his chest. the shift made your angle deeper, pulled a broken sound from his throat that made your core throb.
he tried to lift his hips, just a little, just to chase the feeling, but he couldn’t get the rhythm right, too stunned, too overstimulated, too caught up in the sheer reality of you.
the head of his cock dragged against your walls again, and your mouth fell open with a gasp — because he filled every inch, every curve, as if he was shaped for you alone. he was pulsing inside you already, and you hadn’t even given him permission to move yet.
his hands twitched, your body ached for more, and so you let him.
you shifted, just barely — lifting your hips until only the thick head remained inside you, holding there for a breathless second, watching his jaw slacken as if he’d lost something vital — and then you dropped down again, full weight, taking him all the way in one smooth thrust.
his back arched.
the sound that broke from him was nothing short of guttural — low and soft and strangled at the edges, like he didn’t know what to do with the sensation.
“mmh, i-it… it feels so good… don’t stop… please”
his fingers finally tightened on your hips, not hard, just grounding — and you felt him thrust up.
it was shaky. clumsy. but the strength behind it was unmistakable. he met your next roll with a sharp buck of his hips, and it landed deep, sudden, deliciously raw. your breath caught. his face contorted, eyes fluttering closed, lips trembling.
he did it again. and again.
beneath you, soobin moved like he didn’t even know he could. the soft whimpering boy who’d watched porn for research was gone — replaced by something unfiltered, frantic.
he thrust up into you with so much need, so much pure instinct, that you nearly collapsed against his chest.
he was so warm. so deep. every time you sank back down on his cock, it filled you to the hilt. every motion sending waves of heat through your spine, your stomach, your lungs.
you clenched around him without meaning to — too full, too sensitive — and he gasped like he’d been punched, arms tightening around your waist. he sounded like he was breaking. like it was too much.
you rolled your hips down hard, once, and he cried out.
not loud. not dramatic. just this fragile, broken sob of pleasure that slipped out past gritted teeth as he tried to keep fucking you through it. tried to keep his pace even as his body started failing him.
he was close. you could feel it. his whole body trembling beneath you, stomach fluttering, cock twitching deep inside like he was aching to let go.
“w-wait… im gonna cum… p-please… don’t stop…”you ground down harder, deeper, faster — and he fell apart.
his hips jolted once, then twice, then lost all rhythm. his cock pulsed violently inside you, and then you felt it — thick, hot, the warmth of him spilling into you as his body seized and shuddered.
he buried his face in your neck, arms clinging to you like a lifeline, thighs shaking uncontrollably beneath yours as he came.
every pulse of his cock pushed his cum deeper, filled you more, the mess gathering between your thighs like he couldn’t help it.
his breath hitched, his mouth opened against your skin, and then the tiniest sob escaped — cracked and soft and overwhelmed.
he was crying again.
you held him through it, rocking your hips just slightly to ease him through the aftershocks. he twitched inside you, whimpering, helpless beneath the weight of it all. his hands gripped you like you’d disappear.
his cock throbbed inside you, overstimulated and soaked in your slick, and he just kept whimpering.
you pulled back to look at him.
his eyes were glassy, unfocused. his cheeks damp. he looked like he’d been cracked open from the inside out.
you leaned in and kissed his forehead, then his cheek, then finally his lips — soft and slow, grounding him.
his voice was barely there. “i— i didn’t mean to—”
you shushed him. “you did perfect.”
his lashes fluttered. his arms loosened. his body finally relaxed beneath you, sinking into the mattress, flushed and tear-streaked and filled to the brim.
he looked at you again, and you held his cheek. “you wanna go again?” you said, brushing your thumb across his face, catching a tear that fell earlier.
he nodded slowly, and he was still inside you when he started to move again.
his cock hadn’t even softened fully—still thick, still flushed a deep pink at the base, still twitching inside you from the overstimulation, but now he was shifting, testing, thinking through the daze. and that was the moment you knew, he wasn’t done.
his breath still caught every time your walls clenched, but he was moving—hips subtly lifting, grinding into you in soft, sticky rolls. the cum from his first release had made everything slick, slippery, messy—your thighs wet, your inner walls coated.
he was still nestled so deep you could feel him twitch against your cervix, and when he pulled back a few inches, a broken gasp slipped from your lips.
he froze, like he didn’t expect that sound. you felt his hands tighten at your waist.
“…i wanna try something,” he whispered.
before you could ask, he pulled out with a soft squelch, and you both moaned at the loss. but he didn’t waste time—didn’t even stop to overthink it—he just reached for you and flipped you, slow but firm, until your cheek was pressed against the pillow and your back arched, hips raised just enough.
you turned to glance over your shoulder, heart thudding.
soobin was flushed all the way down to his chest, hair stuck to his forehead, lips pink and parted—but his eyes had sharpened. still soft. still shy. but there was something new there now.
something focused.
his hand settled on your lower back, then drifted down to your ass, squeezing once like he was testing a theory. when he spoke again, his voice was low. almost dazed. “theoretically… this angle should stimulate the anterior wall more consistently.”
you blinked.
“…are you quoting a textbook right now?”
he pushed back in without warning—one slow, gliding thrust, his cock stretching you open again with a wet slide—and you choked on your own breath.
the stretch burned now, fucked-out and sore, but god, he felt so full. the second his hips pressed flush to yours, you felt your arms go weak.
“yeah,” he whispered. “i read about this. from the back, hips raised… it’s supposed to— oh fuck—”
he started moving before he could finish the sentence.
his thrusts were deeper this time. not rough, not fast—intentional. heavy. every motion angled slightly upward, every roll of his hips hitting that same devastating spot, over and over again.
you realized—somewhere between gasping into the sheets and gripping the pillowcase like it might save you—that he meant to do that.
“feels… right?” he panted, voice breathless. “am i… hitting it right?”
you couldn’t speak. could barely even moan. your body was melting around him, dripping slick and cum with every push, your mind already fraying at the edges from how deep he was.
his cock dragged against your walls with obscene precision—too precise, like he was adjusting his angle mid-thrust to line up with your reactions.
every time your thighs trembled, he leaned in further. every time you gasped, he whispered a frantic, “there—like that?” and did it again.
“fuck,” you managed, voice hoarse. “you— god, you feel so fucking good—”
he moaned behind you, and then his fingers curled around your hips to pull you back onto him harder.
the pace stuttered for a moment, but when he found it again, it was relentless. sloppier now, louder. the wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, each thrust jostling you further up the bed.
“read once,” he gasped, “that the g-spot’s like… five centimeters in… angled toward the belly button—f-fuck, wait—”
he adjusted again, slightly upward, and this time you cried out, legs buckling beneath you.
“there,” he whispered. “t-there it is. fuck.”
your entire body clenched. he felt it, gasped again, and leaned over you. now his chest was against your back, his breath warm and fast against your ear, hips still pistoning into you as he pressed you down with the weight of his body.
“you’re so—tight,” he breathed. “s-so warm— i can’t— i c-can’t stop—”
you weren’t stopping him.
your brain had shut off halfway through his nerdy monologue, somewhere between “g-spot location” and “angle of friction”. all you knew now was the way his cock dragged against your walls, the obscene squelch of your mixed arousal leaking down your thighs, the sound of his voice trembling as he kept going, even as his rhythm began to falter.
you could feel him close again. his thrusts started to stutter—less controlled, more desperate.
every breath came out choked. his grip on your hips turned vice-like, and his weight pressed you harder into the mattress.
“g-gonna cum again,” he whimpered, voice cracking. “inside, please, i can’t— i want— fuck, please—”
you let him. you even tightened around him on purpose. and that broke him.
his hips slammed forward one final time—deep and hard, burying himself to the hilt—and then he snapped, groaning into your shoulder as he came again, harder this time.
hot and messy, cock twitching wildly as his cum spilled out in thick spurts, dripping back down your thighs with every shudder.
he didn’t move for a long moment. just panted against your neck, body trembling, arms around you like a blanket.
still buried deep, still twitching from the aftershocks, still too full of sensation to pull out.
you were shaking too. used. sore. stuffed.
he kissed the back of your shoulder, then your spine. slow, reverent.
“…did i do good?” he asked softly, voice hoarse and breathless.
you turned your head enough to look at him.
he was flushed. swollen. smiling—barely.
you cupped his cheek, pulled him down into a kiss, and let him melt into you again.
you didn’t move for a while.
your body felt… gelatinous. boneless. like you’d been poured out, reshaped, and forgotten on warm sheets.
your thighs were trembling, too slick to close properly, your breath still shallow as you stared blankly at the headboard, brain empty except for the faint memory of being absolutely ruined.
and behind you—still pressed close, still inside—you could feel him twitching softly. Soobin’s arm was curled around your waist, his forehead damp against your shoulder, and his chest rose and fell in uneven waves as he tried to catch his breath.
“…i think i broke you,” he whispered.
his voice was so soft, so tentative, that you let out a shaky laugh despite yourself.
“maybe just… a little,” you mumbled, voice hoarse.
he didn’t respond right away. just let out a breath that was almost a whimper, and very slowly, he pulled out.
the sound was obscene—wet and slow and too much. his cum spilled out in thick, creamy rivulets, already smeared down your inner thighs, soaking the backs of your legs and your sheets.
he groaned under his breath the second he saw it, like even looking was too much for his nervous system to handle.
“oh my god,” he said, eyes wide. “i—fuck, i didn’t mean to—there’s just—so much—”
you flopped onto your back with a wince and watched him sit up on shaky legs, completely naked, flushed red from head to toe, hair a mess. his dick was still red and slightly twitching, glistening at the tip from whatever hadn’t managed to stay inside you.
he scrambled for his hoodie, dragging it on clumsily and then half-tripping as he grabbed his backpack off the floor.
“d-don’t move,” he babbled. “i’ve got—uh—one sec—”
you blinked. “soobin… what are you doing.”
he held up a pack of wet wipes.
“…why do you have those?” you asked.
he looked mortified. “i-it’s for glasses! and, um. keyboard dust.”
but he was already kneeling between your legs, gingerly nudging them apart with the back of his hand.
his face flushed impossibly deeper at the sight—your swollen folds, the sheer amount of cum, the fact that he put it there.
you watched his throat bob as he took a breath and started cleaning you.
gently, carefully.
he touched you like you might break, using slow, soothing strokes, barely applying pressure.
when the wipe brushed over your entrance and another trail of cum spilled out, he made a tiny noise in his throat and mumbled, “oh my god—i’m so sorry—”
you couldn’t stop smiling, too wrecked to be shy, too full of affection to care. “you’re apologizing for fucking me now?”
“i-i just—i should’ve warned you. or slowed down. or—” he paused, looking deeply concerned, “—maybe done a few more warmup exercises—”
you reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping the endless spiral of his thoughts. “soobin.”
he froze. eyes wide.
“you were perfect.”
he blinked, like you’d just told him he aced an exam he forgot to study for.
“…r-really?”
“really.” you tugged him closer. “come here.”
he climbed onto the bed clumsily and wrapped his arms around you.
you let your head rest on his shoulder, body melting into the warmth of him as his fingertips gently traced circles over your spine.
he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. then your cheek. then, with shaky hesitation, to your lips.
“…you feel okay?” he murmured against your mouth.
“sore,” you admitted. “but in a good way.”
his ears went pink. “i didn’t think it’d… i mean, you were so tight, and i thought—i mean, i calculated it before, but actually being inside—”
you laughed again, too tired to tease him. “soobin.”
he looked at you, dazed and flushed and in love with you, probably.
you kissed him again.
and this time, he smiled against your lips. soft. warm. nerdy.
“…can i write about this in my notes?” he asked suddenly, like he couldn’t help it.
soobin lets you slide onto him while he’s soft so you can feel him slowly grow hard inside you.
❛ content 2.8k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, power bottom!male reader, nerd!soobin, getting hard while inside, big dick!soobin, unprotected sex (p in a), cockwarming kinda, riding, creampie, praise, lots of kisses.
"can we put it in soft and feel it grow together?"
the question hangs in the air of soobin's dimly lit room, completely severing the comfortable silence that had settled over them like a well-worn blanket.
soobin's pen freezes mid-annotation over his biology textbook, and for a solid three seconds, or maybe just a little more, his brain — usually so quick, so sharp when it came to memorizing diagrams and reciting historical dates — completely short-circuits.
he hears your words, processes each one individually, but putting them together into a coherent concept feels like trying to solve a calculus problem underwater.
beside him, you're already wiggling with barely contained excitement, your phone abandoned face-down on the mattress. you're watching your boyfriend with those eager eyes, waiting, practically vibrating.
soobin slowly turns his head, and he can feel the heat creeping up his neck, flooding his cheeks. his glasses have slid down his pretty nose slightly, and he pushes them up with one finger, a nervous habit.
"what?!"
but you're already leaning into him, your hand finding his knee through the soft gray fabric of his sweatpants.
"i'm serious! think about it, babe."
your voice is that special kind of excited, the one soobin usually hears when you're explaining a new game you're completely obsessed with or suggesting a takeout place you've been dying to try.
"we've never done it like that. it's always, you know... we're both already hard, and it's kind of rushed and intense. but this..." you squeeze his knee, your thumb tracing a small circle. "this would be different. slower. we could just... be together. and feel everything."
soobin's heart is doing something erratic in his chest.
he's still holding his pen, still surrounded by highlighters and flashcards, and his ridiculously attractive boyfriend is sitting on his bed, talking about his dick like it's the most natural thing in the world. which, okay, it is, they've been together for eight months, they're past the awkward stage. but this is... new.
"you want to..." soobin swallows, his throat suddenly dry. he glances down at his own lap, then back at you, his cheeks impossibly pinker. "you want to sit on it? while it's... you know?"
"soft, yeah."
you nod enthusiastically, scooting closer, and your thigh presses against his.
"i just keep thinking about what it would feel like. the sensation of it... waking up inside me. getting harder because of me, because of us," your voice drops a little, losing some of its excited energy and gaining something warmer, something more intimate. "i think it would feel really good, babe. really close."
and that's the thing.
soobin has never been able to deny you anything when you look at him like that, when your voice goes soft and you say his name like it means something more than just letters strung together. he's completely, utterly gone for you, and you know it. you use that power sometimes, but never cruelly. always like this — to pull him closer, to bring him into a moment with you.
he sets his pen down carefully, marking his place in the textbook with a sticky note; a small, practical gesture that's so distinctly him that it makes your heart clench.
"you really want to?" soobin asks softly, his voice quieter now, a little shy.
"yeah, more than anything right now," you admit, and it's the truth.
the textbook, the phone, the outside world — it's all completely faded away. there is just soobin, in his ridiculously soft-looking oversized white t-shirt and those grey sweatpants that you've told him a hundred times should be illegal, his dark hair falling over his forehead, his glasses framing those warm, curious eyes that are currently fixed entirely on you.
soobin bites his lower lip, a telltale sign that he's thinking, he's considering. then, slowly, he shifts on the bed, putting his textbook on the nightstand. he leans back against the headboard, the wood creaking softly, and his long legs stretch out, then bend slightly, creating a space for you, an invitation.
"okay," he breathes out, the word carrying a mix of nervousness and genuine curiosity. "let's... let's try."
and oh, you don't need to be told twice.
you're moving immediately, crawling over the messy comforter to settle between your boyfriend’s legs. soobin watches you, his hands coming up to softly rest on your hips as you straddle him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs.
you're face to face now, close enough to see the tiny mole under his eye, the way his eyelashes flutter.
"hi," you whisper, a stupid, giddy smile spreading across your face.
a matching smile tugs at soobin's lips, despite his obvious embarrassment.
"hi," he whispers back. his hands are warm through the thin fabric of your pajama pants. "this is so weird."
"good weird or bad weird?"
"just... weird. different."
soobin ducks his head slightly, looking at where your bodies meet, at the tentatively interested bulge in his own pants that's nowhere near full attention.
"are you sure you're gonna be comfortable? what if—"
you cut him off with a kiss; it's soft, just a brush of lips, simply meant to soothe.
"we'll go slow. if it's weird or uncomfortable, we can just stop. okay?"
soobin nods against your mouth. "okay."
you kiss him again, deeper this time, and you feel his huge hands tighten on your hips. you rock forward experimentally, just a small shift of weight, and soobin makes a tiny sound against your lips.
you break the kiss to sit back slightly, your hands finding the hem of his oversized t-shirt. "can i?"
soobin lifts his arms without a word, and you pull the shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind you, and your breath catches, like it always does.
you've already seen him naked countless times, but the sight of his pretty bare chest, the smooth expanse of pale skin, the subtle definition of muscle from carrying heavy books and the occasional gym session with his friends — it never gets old. he's beautiful in a way that feels accidental, unassuming.
soobin doesn't seem to fully realize how hot he is, and that, somehow, makes him even hotter.
your fingers find the waistband of his sweatpants, and you look at him for permission. once again, soobin gives a small, shy nod. you tug them down, along with his boxers, just enough. his cock lies soft against his thigh, and you feel a fresh wave of heat pool in your stomach. it's still him, still soobin, still the part of him that makes you feel so incredibly full and complete.
it's just... resting.
you shimmy out of your own pajama pants and boxers quickly, not wanting to break the moment. when you settle back on his lap, it's skin-to-skin, his soft length pressed against the curve of your ass. soobin hisses in a breath, his fingers digging into your hips.
you position yourself carefully, one hand on soobin’s shoulder for balance, the other reaching down to guide him. your eyes meet his.
"ready?"
he looks terrified and thrilled in equal measure.
"ready."
you shift your weight, lowering yourself slowly. the head of soobin’s soft cock presses against your entrance, and for a moment, it just... sits there. it's an odd sensation, really — the familiar pressure, but without the familiar hardness. it feels almost impossibly soft, pliable.
you take a breath and push down gently.
the slide is different; way slower. there is no resistance in the same way, because he's soft, but your body still has to accommodate his size. even soft, soobin is... well, considerable. you feel yourself stretching around him, taking him in inch by inch, and the sensation is so unique, so new, that a shaky moan escapes your lips.
soobin's eyes are wide.
"oh," he breathes. "oh, wow."
"you okay?" you manage to ask, pausing when you're about halfway seated.
soobin nods frantically, his hands softly stroking up and down your sides.
"y-yeah. it's just... it feels so warm, and so tight. but it's also different. it's like... i can feel everything. i can feel every part of you."
you lower yourself the rest of the way, and then you're fully seated, his soft cock buried completely inside you. you sit there for a moment, just breathing, just feeling; the weight of him, the fullness, the strange, intimate knowledge that he's inside you but not hard inside you.
it's like a secret, a moment stolen from time.
you're both still for a long, breathless moment. soobin's hands are splayed across your lower back, warm and grounding, and you can feel his heartbeat, or maybe it's yours — it's hard to tell anymore when you're this close.
"how does it feel?" you whisper, your forehead resting against his.
"warm," he repeats, his voice soft with wonder. "and... tight. but it's like..." he struggles for words, his brow furrowing adorably. "it's like i can feel you holding me. not like... fucking. just holding."
you smile, pressing a gentle kiss to soobin’s lips.
"yeah. that's what i wanted."
you start to move, but not in any real rhythm.
just small, subtle shifts of your hips. you were rocking, more than anything, simply testing the sensation. with each tiny movement, you feel him, soft and pliant, moving inside you, and it's incredibly intimate in a way you hadn't tully anticipated.
soobin's hands roam your back, your sides, his touch full of reverence. your boyfriend is looking at you like you're something so precious, something he can't quite believe is real. his cheeks are still flushed that pretty pink you love so much, his lips slightly parted.
"you're so beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself.
you feel a flutter of warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with where you're connected.
"so are you."
you kiss him again, deeper this time. your tongue slides against his, slow and exploratory, and soobin’s hands come up to cup your face, holding you close. the kiss deepens, becomes more urgent, more hungry. you feel his hips twitch beneath you, a small, unconscious thrust.
and then, finally, you feel it — the slightest change; a thickening, a growing weight inside you. you gasp against his mouth at the very new sensation, pulling back just enough to look at him.
soobin’s eyes are hazy, his pupils blown wide.
"soobin," you breathe. "i can feel you."
he looks down, as if he could see through both your bodies to where they're joined.
"it's you," soobin whispers, his voice wrecked. "it's because of you. you feel so good."
another small, unconscious thrust. another surge of growth. soobin’s cock is filling out inside you, pressing against your walls in a way it couldn't when it was soft. the sensation is really overwhelming — the gradual stretch, the increasing fullness… you can feel every ridge, every vein as they become more pronounced.
you can feel soobin getting harder because of you, because of the way your body is wrapped around him, because of the kisses, because of the closeness.
"oh—my god," soobin pathetically whimpers, his head falling back against the headboard. his hands grip your hips tighter, his knuckles white. "oh my god, that feels... that feels so..."
"i know," you groan, and you start to move with more purpose now, rolling your hips in a slow circle. each movement seems to encourage him, to draw more blood, more hardness. "i can feel every second of it. you're getting so hard inside me, babe."
soobin makes a sound that's somewhere between a moan and a whine, high-pitched and desperate.
"d-don't stop. please don't stop."
you don't. you keep moving, keep kissing him, keep whispering praise against his lips.
"feel how good you feel. feel how perfectly you fit."
"i can't—" soobin cuts himself off with another whine, his hips starting to thrust up in small, jerky movements that meet your rolls. "it's too much. it feels too good."
"it's not too much," you assure him, your hand coming up to card through his soft hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "you're doing so well. just feel it. feel me."
soobin is fully hard now, thick and heavy inside you, and the transition from soft to hard has left you both breathless and shaking. you've never experienced anything like it — the gradual, inexorable filling, the knowledge that his arousal is a direct response to you, to this moment. it's really intoxicating.
"i wanna move," soobin begs, his voice cracking. "please, baby, please can i move? i need—i need to—"
you simply nod, unable to form words properly. you lift yourself slightly, and soobin thrusts up, a real thrust this time, deep and sure. you both moan, the sound mingling in the small space between you.
"y-yeah," you gasp. "like that. just like that—"
soobin sets a rhythm, slow at first, still overwhelmed by the newness of it all. his thrusts are deep, deliberate, each one punching a soft sound from your lips, and his hands are everywhere — your hips, your back, your face.
he can't stop touching you, can't stop looking at you.
"you're so perfect," soobin babbles, his words tumbling out between kisses and pretty moans. "so perfect for me. i love you so much. i love being inside you. i love—ah!—i love feeling you."
you capture his mouth with yours, swallowing his words, his every sounds. you simply love him like this — open, vulnerable, completely undone by you. the pretty nerd who annotates his textbooks and makes color-coded study guides, reduced to a whining, desperate mess because of how you feel around him.
you start to meet his thrusts, matching his rhythm, making it deeper and harder. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound joining the wet, obscene noises of your bodies coming together.
"i'm close," soobin warns, his voice tight.
he's gripping you so hard you know there will be bruises tomorrow, and you can't bring yourself to care.
"i'm so close, baby, where do you want—"
"inside," you moans. "stay inside—wanna feel you come inside me."
soobin’s eyes roll back slightly at your words, and his thrusts become erratic, losing their rhythm. he's chasing his release, but he's also watching you, making sure you're with him. your boyfriend’s hand snakes down between your bodies, finding your cock, stroking you in time with his thrusts.
it only takes a few more strokes; you come with a broken cry of his name, your body clenching around him, and that's all it takes to push soobin over the edge. he follows with a desperate, high-pitched moan, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and deep.
for a long moment, neither of you moves.
you're both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same humid air. soobin's hands are still on you, but they've gone soft, just resting.
right now, you can feel him softening inside you, the reverse of the sensation from before, and it's just as incredible in its own way.
finally, you shift, wincing slightly at the oversensitivity, and soobin's hands immediately try to hold you still.
"wait," he murmurs. "just... wait a second. i'm not ready to not be inside you yet."
you smile, pressing a kiss to his nose.
"okay."
you simply stay like that for a long time, connected, breathing together. soobin’s thumbs trace absent patterns on your skin, and your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck.
the room slowly cools around you, but you're both warm, wrapped up in each other.
"that was..." he trails off, searching for the right word.
"incredible?" you offer.
"yeah," soobin laughs softly, a little puff of air against your lips. "incredible. you always have the best ideas."
"i know," you tease, but you're smiling too.
eventually, you have to move.
the practicalities of cleanup, of bodily functions, of reality intruding on the perfect bubble you've created. but even as you disentangle yourselves, even as soobin disappears into his attached bathroom and returns with a warm, damp washcloth to clean you both with gentle, careful hands, the intimacy doesn't break.
when you finally settle back into bed, both of you having pulled on fresh boxers, soobin immediately pulls you against his chest. he's warm and solid, and you can feel his heartbeat, still slightly elevated, against your cheek.
"so," you mumble against his skin. "worth interrupting your study session?"
soobin laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest.
"my biology textbook can wait. this was..." he pauses, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. "this was the best kind of practical application."
you snort, elbowing him gently. "such a nerd."
the room falls into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes after moments of profound intimacy.
outside, the city continues its endless hum.
inside, in soobin's small, cluttered bedroom, there's just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, sated and sleepy and utterly, completely in love.
#SYNOPSIS » you are mostly into girls. everyone knows that. soobin knows that. but that never stopped him from watching you like he knew something you didn’t. he’s your favorite boy, your quietest tension, you flirt with him because you think it’s fun. until one night, a horror movie, and a question you weren’t ready for — are you really not into guys? and maybe it was never about boys. maybe it was just about him.
✰ pairing: soobin x bi!fem!reader … ﹒smut, slowburn, friends to something, power play, pwp ✰ w/c: 15k #nowplaying 1980s horror film - wallows
✰ warnings: explicit sexual content (mdni!!), power dynamics, dom! soobin, oral (m receiving), praise + degradation kink, cum eating, consent is clear but push-pull tension, light pain, confusion around sexuality, reader is bi but leans heavily towards girls
you never really liked boys anyway. except for choi soobin, of course.
which was annoying. infuriating, really. because he was the one boy you let yourself like, just a little, back when college was still new and everything felt like it could be a movie. he was cute in a lazy, floppy-haired way. laughed too loud. had that smug look on his face like he knew girls liked him, and you hated boys like that.
but you liked him, just a little. you liked the way he always saved you a seat. liked the way he looked at you when you talked, like you were saying something important, even when you weren’t. and maybe, once or twice, you thought about kissing him. maybe, if he kissed you first, you wouldn’t have stopped him. and soobin, well, he’s just your friend. even if you’re always in his lap. even if you always call him baby when you’re drunk. even if sometimes he looks at you like he wants to ruin you.
but then you hooked up with that girl from your lit class and remembered: oh. right. you like girls. you’ve always known you were mostly into girls. since before you even had a word for it. barbie made out with other barbie. you had crushes on your best friends. and when you finally kissed a girl for the first time, it felt like everything made sense. you’re bi, technically. but girls were always easier for you. guys were… well, guys. loud, messy, handsy. they talked over you. and every time you tried to “give it a shot” with one, it ended in disappointment. sometimes disgust. you got tired of being disappointed, so you stopped trying.
but then there was soobin.
your friendship with him is… complicated. you watch movies together all the time. mostly 1980's horror films. bad ones, always. you eat from the same bowl of popcorn and scream at the same jump scares. he lets you paint his nails while you ramble about some bullshit while you’re high, and he acts like it doesn’t hurt when you say things like i think i’m into her.
but also, you caught him staring once. not in a gross way. more like… sad? like he wanted to ask something, but didn’t know if he should. well, you didn’t ask either. you just laid your head on his shoulder and said, “you’re my favorite boy, you know that?” and he said, “i better be."
you’ve seen him shirtless more times than you can count. not on purpose, just sleepovers, gym selfies, pool days. but still, his stupid abs live rent-free in your head. and maybe you’ve thought about kissing him. maybe you wonder what it’d feel like to let him touch you, like, really touch you. maybe your brain goes quiet when he calls you pretty. maybe you’re scared of what that means.
maybe you don’t know if you’re confused about him, or just confused about yourself.
and soobin? oh, soobin wants you in ways he can’t say out loud.
it is not sweet, nor soft. no, he wants you in the most carnal way a person can want someone. wants your thighs around his face. wants to hear you whimper. wants to fuck the brat right out of you. and it’s hell, you know, being your friend.
because you’re always touching him. always looking at him like he’s just soobin, your favorite pillow, your emotional support boy. you straddle his lap like it means nothing. call him baby when you’re tipsy. you whisper in his ear at parties like you’re telling him secrets, when really it’s just to feel your lips on his neck. he knows what you’re doing. or maybe you don’t. maybe you’re just like this. maybe you really don’t know what you do to him.
but he does, because he thinks about it way too often. you on your knees. you moaning his name. your lipgloss smeared across his skin. and he hates himself for it, for the way his cock aches just from being around you. for the way he jerks off after you leave his apartment, like some sad, pathetic, friendzoned loser. he wants to blame you, but he can’t. it’s not your fault you’re like this.
and tonight’s the worst. today is taehyun’s birthday party. everyone’s sweating through their clothes and the floor’s sticky and someone’s already puked in the sink. but you look unreal, you always do. little black skirt, bare thighs, something sparkly on your chest. and of course soobin wants to bite you.
you’re drunk, but not too drunk. just buzzed enough to be mean about it. to smile at him with that lipglossed mouth and say shit like: “you know you’re stupid hot, right?”
he freezes. “what?”
you grin. lean in, real close. “you heard me.”
he tries not to react. tries to keep his eyes on your face and not the way your fingers trail down his arm. but his skin’s buzzing, and you’re everywhere. your perfume, your voice, your thighs on his. you’re pressing into him like you want him to do something. and fuck, he almost does. but you’re gone again, like you always are. off to refill your drink, or to dance, or to do whatever the fuck you do when you’re tipsy and glowing and unstoppable.
he finds you later in the kitchen. kissing some girl against the counter, all teeth and tongue and fingers knotted in hair. and he shouldn’t be surprised. he’s not surprised. he’s just, well. soobin is hard.
and ashamed. and dizzy with it. so he turns away. drinks whatever’s in his cup. vodka? piss? who cares.
an hour later, you sit on his lap like nothing happened. like you didn’t just let some other girl bite your neck while he watched. like he isn’t the one unraveling.
“hey,” you whisper. one arm around his shoulders, nails grazing the back of his neck. “you okay?” he doesn’t answer. you tilt your head. “what’re you thinking about?”
he says it before he can stop himself. “don’t know what to say to you,” he breathes. “i feel… you’re always on my mind.”
you freeze for a second. then your face softens. not in the way he wants. “soobin…” you laugh, too gentle. “i’m really not that into guys.”
the words hit like a blade to the gut. or maybe like a jump scare in one of those shitty 1980s horror films you always make him watch. the kind where someone’s about to get gutted, but the music’s still cheerful. like the world doesn’t know something awful is happening.
and he’s sitting there, hard as a rock, hands on your waist, and he can’t even move. just smiles, swallows it down. lets the blood drain from his chest to somewhere lower. because fuck it, right? because he wants you so bad he’ll take anything. even this.
but after that night, things started to change inside you.
you didn’t want to admit it, not even to yourself. you played it off, laughed it off, because that’s what you always do when things get a little too real. but something shifted, something you didn’t know how to name. but you weren’t stupid. you knew what you were doing that night. you were drunk, yes. but not that drunk. just loose enough to let your hands wander. just tipsy enough to call soobin pretty and pretend it didn’t mean anything. just bold enough to climb into his lap and act like you belonged there.
and god, the way he looked at you. he always looked at you soft. like you were something delicate, something sacred. but that night? something in his eyes was darker. heavier. something that made your stomach flip and your thighs press together just a little.
you liked it, you fucking liked it. and then you said it — i’m really not that into guys — and watched it hit him like a punch to the face. you weren’t lying. well, not entirely. you are bi. you always have been. but it’s been a long time since a man made you feel anything. it’s been years since one touched you and your body responded like this. and it’s not like you didn’t try, you did. dates, hookups, situationships. they all fizzled out into nothing. no spark. no heat. just another guy thinking he deserved something just for showing up.
but soobin isn’t like them. soobin is sweet. soobin holds your hand when you’re hungover and makes playlists for your moods and never pushes, never assumes, never demands. he’s soft-spoken, polite, too damn good for his own sanity. and maybe that’s why you liked teasing him so much. maybe that’s why you started testing your limits.
you knew he liked you. he never said it, but it clung to everything he did. the way he lingered when you touched him. the way he looked away when you changed clothes in front of him, but not too fast. the way he let you flirt and flirt and flirt, and never told you to stop.
and well, you’re a little fucked up, you know that. you like playing with fire just to see how long it takes to burn. and with soobin? soobin had this face, all soft lashes and pink lips and that stupid shy smile, and yet you knew he wasn’t innocent, no, not really. you’d catch him looking sometimes, like really looking. not just at your face, but at your thighs. your chest. your mouth. the hunger was there, hiding behind the sweet boy act.
and it did something to you, something ugly. something hot.
so you started to lean in closer when you talked to him. started calling him baby more often, just to see how his ears turned red. you wore shorts that barely covered anything when he came over. you let your fingers linger a little too long on his hand when you passed him things. and when you caught him staring, you smiled.
but you told yourself it was just fun. you told yourself you were figuring things out, seeing if your body could still want a guy. if your brain could still go there. and if it was anyone else, you probably would’ve pulled away already. but it’s soobin, and you trust him. and that’s what makes it worse. because now every time you’re alone together, you can feel it crackling between you. every laugh, every brush of skin, every too-long stare— it all builds and builds until you feel like your bones might snap from the pressure of not doing anything.
you wake up thinking about his mouth. you fall asleep wondering how he tastes. you touch yourself and pretend it’s still just curiosity. you don’t know what this makes you. don’t know if you’re into him, or just into how he makes you feel. don’t know if you want him because it’s him… or because your body is begging for something and he’s the first person to really look at you like he’s starving.
and maybe that’s the scariest part. not wanting him, but not knowing why you want him.
so you text him two nights later.
[you]: hey, movie night?
[you]: u owe me horror and gore
he answers in under five minutes.
[soobin]: omw
you stare at the message longer than necessary, because you don’t know what you’re doing. but also— you know exactly what you’re doing.
you pick the movie carefully, not something classy. the slumber party massacre. a cult slasher soaked in tits and blood and bad acting. the kind of movie that makes you feel sticky just watching it. the kind of movie you’d make fun of together. the kind of movie where sexual tension is part of the plot, of course
you throw on a hoodie and tiny shorts. not for him, not really. you just want to be comfortable. or you just want to see what happens.
and when soobin shows up, he looks like he always does. hoodie, sweats, his hair slightly messed up from the wind. but his eyes flick to your legs when you open the door. just for a second. and that’s all it takes. that second burns straight through you.
“hey,” he says, voice a little too low.
“you brought snacks?” you ask, already turning your back to him, pretending your skin isn’t hot.
“yeah,” he says, and when you glance back, he’s still standing there, holding the chips awkwardly, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
“you ever seen the slumber party massacre?” you ask, flopping onto your bed.
soobin blinks. “uh, yeah. tits and blood, right?”
you grin. “exactly.”
you settle on your bed with the laptop open, lights off except for the screen’s dim glow. he kicks off his shoes and joins you, back against the pillows, a little too far from you. he swears his heart skips. or maybe it’s his dick. hard to tell.
you don’t say anything, you just press play. and the movie starts. basically: girls scream, clothes come off, fake blood splashes across the screen. it’s stupid. you’ve seen it before. but you don’t care. because all you can feel is the space between your bodies.
you stretch your legs out and let one brush against his thigh. you pretend it’s accidental. it’s not. he stiffens a little, but doesn’t pull away. fifteen minutes in, you shift closer. your bare thigh fully pressed to his now. he still doesn’t move, but his breathing changes, though. a little shallower. you don’t look at him, not yet. you lean your head back, neck exposed, hoodie slipping off one shoulder.
you’re not watching the movie anymore. you’re watching him watch the movie. he’s tense and quiet, too quiet. and then one of the girls on screen moans — loud and ridiculous and obviously fake — and you can practically feel soobin’s whole body flinch beside you.
you turn to him, finally, and your voice comes out low. teasing. “you okay?”
he nods, too quickly. “mhm.”
you smile and lean in a little closer. “you’re so jumpy. it’s just a dumb movie.”
he swallows hard. “yeah, i know.”
and then silence again. well, except it’s not silence. it’s the sound of his breath catching every time you shift. the rustle of sheets when your leg slides higher against his. the creak of the bed when you lean into his side and pretend not to notice how he holds himself like he’s about to explode. you rest your chin on his shoulder. your lips brush his neck. again— just pretend.
your eyes are half-lidded as you stare at the screen, though you’ve long since stopped registering anything happening in the movie. he’s so still beside you it’s almost funny, like he thinks if he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe too loudly, the tension will somehow break on its own. but you feel him. the way his thigh tenses beneath yours. the way his hands are clenched, fingers digging into his own leg. the way he keeps his eyes on the screen like he’s being tested. like this is some exam he has to pass.
“you still think this movie’s just tits and blood?” you ask voice low, teasing. your lips graze the curve of his neck just slightly as you speak, enough to make him flinch.
he lets out a sound, half a laugh, half a breath he’d been holding. “that’s literally all it is,” he says, but his voice is tight, a little hoarse, like it’s caught on something he’s not saying. “plot? never heard of her.”
you grin, slow and lazy. “right. because you only watch movies for the plot.”
“i do, actually.” he turns his head a little, just enough to glance at you, and you catch the flicker of something in his eyes, maybe amusement, restraint, a quiet kind of want that makes your stomach flip. “that’s why i’m here. for the deep narrative of slumber party massacre.”
you laugh, you can’t help it. “mm, yeah. so insightful.”
“exactly,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping (not very subtly) to your mouth. “truly… cinematic.”
there’s a beat of silence where neither of you speaks, where the only sound is the girl on screen screaming as a power drill tears through a door. you shift closer again, just barely, and his breath catches. you can feel the way the air between you is thick. the push and pull of something neither of you wants to name.
you smile, almost wicked, and lean into him fully now, your weight settling half across his chest, your hand resting on his stomach, too casual to be casual at all. you can feel the tension in him, the way his body is coiled tight, like he’s holding himself back from something. “hey..” you whisper, voice syrupy and low. “you uncomfortable?”
he swallows hard. “no,” he says, way too fast. “why would i be?”
you let your fingers drag slowly, lazily over the hem of his hoodie. “dunno. you just seem kinda… stiff.”
you know you’re being cruel. you know exactly what you’re doing, and part of you hates yourself for it. and the other part (the louder one) is trying to make sense of the chaos inside you, the confusion, the heat, the sudden ache that’s been gnawing at you ever since that night at the party. you tell yourself this is about clarity, you just want to know.
he exhales sharply, like he’s trying to keep himself from combusting. “you’re really playing with fire right now,” he mutters, half under his breath.
you tilt your head again, wide-eyed and fake-innocent. “me? i would never.”
he turns to you then and suddenly he’s close, so close that his nose almost brushes yours, and all the tension from before condenses into a single, dangerous moment. “are you really not that into guys?” he asks, low and careful, like he’s trying to sound casual but can’t quite pull it off. “or are you just… not into me?”
the words hit harder than you expect. you blink, thrown for a second. you were playing a game, but suddenly you’re not sure what the rules are anymore. and he doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. he’s not teasing now, he’s just waiting. you open your mouth, then close it again. because what the hell are you supposed to say? you could lie. you could laugh it off. you could flirt your way out of it like you always do. but you don’t. because suddenly you feel a little sick, like something’s lodged in your chest.
“i…” you start, but your voice cracks, and you have to look away. you pull back just slightly, your hand slipping off his stomach, and the loss of contact makes you feel cold. “i don’t know.”
and that’s the truth, and it’s the worst answer you could give. but soobin doesn’t respond right away. he just watches you for a moment, eyes sharp, mouth tight. “you know,” he says finally, voice low and calm in that dangerous way, “i can’t keep pretending this is nothing. that you don’t know what you’re doing.”
your breath hitches. “i didn’t mean to—”
“yes, you did,” he cuts in, not harsh, but not gentle either. “you did mean to. you do it all the time.”
you want to argue, but you can’t. because he’s right. “i don’t know what i want,” you admit, your voice small now. “it’s not about you. it’s not— it’s not because i don’t think about you. i do. i think about you more than i should.”
he exhales slowly. “then stop acting like it’s a joke.”
you look up at him, and suddenly he’s too close again, and the space between your bodies feels like it might collapse. “i’m just... scared,” you whisper, and it’s the first honest thing you’ve said all night.
his expression softens, not completely, not enough to erase the frustration and the want, but enough to remind you who he is. that it’s soobin. that he’s not going to take advantage. that he just wants you to be sure. “then say that,” he says gently. “don’t play with me.”
you don’t say anything at first. you just sit there with your hands in your lap like some kind of penitent virgin, like you weren’t half on top of him five seconds ago whispering in his ear like a tease. it’s funny, in a pathetic kind of way. you don’t even realize how obvious it is, how you’re still pressed up against him, still breathing like you ran a mile, still watching his mouth like it might do something terrible. and soobin? soobin’s done pretending he doesn’t notice.
“you know what your problem is?” he says, voice calm in a way that’s somehow more dangerous than yelling.
you blink. “um—”
he leans in just slightly, not enough to touch, but close enough to make you feel it. “you think you can keep playing these games with me and i’m just gonna sit here and take it.”
your stomach flips. “i wasn’t—”
“you weren’t?” he cuts in, tone sharp now. “what was that then? just casual flirting with your friend since you are 'not that into guys’? calling me baby and crawling into my lap and rubbing up against me during a fucking slasher movie? just normal behavior?”
you open your mouth. close it again. because yeah. yeah, okay. you have no argument. he laughs, humorless. “you want to know what i think?”
you don’t, you really don’t, but you nod anyway. he shifts his body, finally, his legs opening just slightly, taking up more space, spine straighter now, eyes locked on you like he’s finally tired of pretending he’s not starving. he doesn’t touch you, not yet, but every inch of his posture says he could. would, if you let him.
“i think you like pretending you’re in control,” he says. “i think you like pushing me just far enough to feel powerful. but you never let it go further, because then it’s real. and if it’s real, you can’t hide behind your sexuality crisis or your drunk-girl flirty bullshit.”
you suck in a sharp breath. “wow.”
“yeah,” he says. “wow.”
there’s a long pause. you don’t move, but your skin’s buzzing, your thighs pressed together like that’ll help. it won’t. your whole body’s betraying you. and the worst part is that he knows. because he continues: “but here’s the thing,” he continues, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “you’re not in control. not anymore.”
“oh?” you shoot back, voice a little thinner than you want. “and you are?”
he tilts his head, eyes dark now, smile lazy. “wanna find out?”
you hate him. you hate that your legs feel weak and your face is hot and your stomach is doing flips like you’re seventeen and he’s the first boy who ever looked at you like he meant it. you swallow hard. “you think i’m scared of you?”
“i know you’re scared of how bad you want me,” he says, and it’s not cocky. it’s not a guess. it’s a goddamn fact.
and you hate that he’s right. so you laugh, mostly to cover the way your heart is slamming in your chest. “you’re full of yourself.”
“maybe,” he shrugs. “but you’re still sitting in my lap like, so.”
you blink. your brain short-circuits a little. “jesus christ.”
“say the word,” he says, voice dropping just enough to make your spine tingle. “say it and i’ll stop. we can finish the movie, you can pretend you’re totally unbothered, and i’ll go home like nothing happened.”
you look at him, and he’s still soobin. your sweet, smart, quietly hot friend who lets you paint his nails and listens to your drunk girl rants and always brings the right snacks. except now his eyes are blown wide, his lips are parted, and he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. you’re not used to this version of him, but god, it’s doing something to you.
“i’m not saying stop,” you whisper, and it sounds like a confession.
he grins, slow and dangerous. “didn’t think so.”
you don’t have time to think before he moves. he’s grabbing your waist and pulling you into his lap like you weigh nothing. just grabs you, shifts you over until you’re straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs, face inches from his. like it’s easy, like he’s done it before.
your breath catches in your throat. your hands find his shoulders out of instinct, grounding yourself, but your head is spinning, because he’s so close. his hoodie smells like laundry detergent and something distinctly him, and you’re hyper-aware of how warm his hands feel on your hips, how his thumbs drag slowly against the waistband of your shorts like he’s barely restraining himself.
“you okay?” he asks, but there’s no softness in his voice this time. just control. “still playing?”
you blink at him, wide-eyed. “i’m not—”
“don’t lie,” he cuts in, eyes dark and steady on yours. “not now.”
your lips part, but no sound comes out. you can feel the tension in your own body of the pull, the ache, the raw want that’s been building for weeks, maybe months, maybe longer than you care to admit. and now it’s all boiling under your skin. he leans back slightly against the pillows, relaxed now, one hand still heavy on your hip. his other arm stretches behind his head, the picture of composure, like he’s not losing his mind with you sitting like this on top of him.
“so,” he says, almost lazily, like this is just another dumb conversation between friends. “what do you like?”
you blink. “what?”
“sexually,” he clarifies, casual as anything, like he’s asking what your favorite color is. “what do you like? do you even know?” you swallow hard and he tilts his head, watching you. “you’ve been playing this game for weeks. teasing me, acting like you don’t notice when i’m hard because you’re grinding on me. so i wanna know. is it just for fun? or do you actually get off on this?”
your cheeks burn. you should get up, you should say something. instead, you shift slightly in his lap, barely, and his hands tighten on your waist in warning. “don’t do that unless you’re ready to take responsibility,” he says, voice lower now, dangerous. “you wanted to know how i feel? this is it.”
you bite your lip, heart pounding. you feel too exposed, even fully dressed. like he’s peeled something open inside you and now there’s nowhere to hide. “you’re being mean,” you whisper.
he grins, sharp and slow. “good. someone’s gotta stop letting you play dumb.” you stare at him, chest tight, skin buzzing. “so,” he says again, voice softer now but no less intense. “what do you like?”
you hesitate. not because you don’t know, but because saying it out loud would make it real. and he watches your face, expression unreadable. and then he leans in again, voice low in your ear. “tell me what you want,” he murmurs. “or nothing happens. i’m not gonna touch you unless you ask for it.”
you don’t mean to move, not really, but your hips shift slightly, like your body’s trying to answer for you. your lips part, and for a second, you just breathe. you’re not sure where your voice went. everything’s tight in your throat, but soobin doesn’t rush you. he just waits, watching you from below with a look that’s way too composed for someone whose thighs you’re currently sitting on.
“i…” you start, barely above a whisper. “i like…”
he arches an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at his mouth. “yeah?”
you glare at him, cheeks burning. “don’t be smug.”
“i’m literally just sitting here,” he says, all innocent, like his fingers aren’t gripping your hips like a fucking anchor. “you’re the one grinding on me.”
you huff, exasperated, but your body betrays you again— your thighs tighten, your nails dig lightly into his shoulders. you lean in closer so you don’t have to look at him full in the eyes when you say it. “i like…” you pause, then exhale hard. “i like being in control. usually.”
he hums. “yeah?”
“with girls,” you clarify, quieter now. “it’s just always been easier. they… let me lead.”
soobin’s eyes flicker darker, but he keeps the same calm expression on his face, his voice steady. “so you’re a top,” he says, teasing, like he’s just making an observation about the weather.
you roll your eyes. “not like that.”
“no?” he tilts his head. “how then?”
you bite your lip, struggling for the words. “i mean— i like the dynamic. i like girls with that…” your voice drops. “with that… innocent face. it’s hot.”
you feel soobin’s breath hitch under you, just barely. it makes your heart spike in your chest. he laughs softly, but there’s something sharp underneath it. “so is that how you see me?”
you finally meet his eyes. they’re unreadable now, but locked onto yours with a focus that makes your stomach twist. “no,” you say, and your voice is firmer this time. “you’re not like that.”
he hums again, this time low and slow. “so what am i like, then?”
you swallow, your hands sliding slightly down his arms. “you’re… harder to read. you play along, but i know you’re not passive. you pretend you don’t care, but i can feel it when you touch me.”
“yeah?” he says, fingers tightening just slightly at your waist. “and what does that make you?”
this time you don’t look away. “i don’t know,” you admit. “i like… control. but sometimes—” you pause, frustrated at how hard it is to say. “sometimes i like giving it up.”
“why?” he asks, and his voice is quieter now. not mean, just curious. like he genuinely wants to know what makes you tick.
you think about it. “it depends,” you say slowly, choosing your words with care. “on how the person treats me. if they make me feel safe or wanted. if they deserve it.”
his gaze doesn’t waver. “and am i treating you like that right now?”
that question hits somewhere deep, somewhere between your lungs and your core, and you can’t tell if it makes you want to run or stay forever, so you nod. and he smirks, not cruel, not cocky. just knowing. “good,” he says, voice low. “because i’m not trying to play pretend with you anymore.”
you nod again, smaller this time, your breath shaky. “i don’t want to play either.”
his thumb strokes gently along your side, slow and steady, grounding you. his other hand moves up to rest lightly against the back of your neck, just holding you there, close enough to feel his breath against your lips. “you like being in control,” he says, like he’s repeating it back just to make sure you know he heard you. “but you don’t need to be.”
you don’t answer out loud. your body answers for you, because your hips are rolling forward slightly without permission, the friction making you gasp. his grip tightens instantly, holding you in place. “ah ah,” he tuts, voice like velvet. “you still haven’t told me what you want.”
your head drops forward, forehead resting against his. “you’re so fucking annoying.”
he grins. “am i?”
you’re burning. your whole body is vibrating with need and frustration and anticipation. you feel like you’re going to scream if he doesn’t do something, or let you do something. “i want you to touch me,” you whisper, barely audible.
he leans in just a bit more. “gonna have to say that louder, baby.”
you grit your teeth. “fuck you.”
he smiles sweetly. “you wish.”
your fingers tighten in the fabric of his hoodie. your thighs are trembling now, and you’re so wound up you feel like your skin might split open. you inhale shakily, close your eyes, and say it again. louder this time. clearer. “i want you to touch me.”
you feel the way his breath catches, like even he wasn’t prepared to hear you say it like that. and then his voice drops, low and hot in your ear.
“good girl.”
you almost moan at his words, but you bite your lips and hold yourself back. his hands rest on your thighs like they live there. his thumb draws slow, absent circles against your skin, barely noticeable if your entire nervous system wasn’t screaming at you. his eyes are on you like he’s watching a storm roll in. and you’re trying not to come apart over a fucking stare. you shift a little, chasing friction, and he smirks immediately.
“comfortable?” he asks, voice too soft to be innocent.
you glare. “you’re enjoying this.”
“obviously,” he says. “you’re so easy to read it’s kind of adorable.”
you roll your eyes, annoyed and flustered, which only seems to please him more. his thumb trails higher, a little closer to the hem of your shorts, but doesn’t go any further. he’s doing this on purpose. you know he is.
“you’re not gonna kiss me?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
he raises an eyebrow, gaze flicking from your mouth to your eyes. “is that what you want?” your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. he smiles, slow and cruel and so fucking pretty. “then kiss me.” you freeze. his voice drops, lower now. “what? don’t get shy now.”
you want to hit him. you want to kiss him. you want to melt into him. mostly, you want him to stop talking. but you don’t move. so soobin leans in and exhales. “or do you just want me to do everything for you?”
you swallow hard. “you’re insufferable.”
he hums, grinning. his hand moves again, dragging up the back of your thigh, slow and deliberate, until he’s cupping the underside of it, holding you just a little tighter. “you gonna kiss me or what?” he asks again, voice practically a purr. “or are you scared of that too?”
“i’m not scared.”
“then what’s stopping you?”
you stare at him. you can feel your pulse everywhere — in your neck, your wrists, between your legs. he’s right there. he’s asking for it. and still, you hesitate. so he keeps going. “you want it to be me?” he asks, fingers now pressing into your thigh a little rougher. “you want me to make the first move? pin you down? take it from you?” you shiver. “i could,” he adds. “but i won’t. not until you ask for it.”
his words hit low and deep, and you can’t tell if your thighs are shaking from nerves or want. maybe both. so you reach up, slow and hesitant, and brush your fingers along his jaw. he doesn’t move, he just waits. and when you finally lean in and kiss him, it’s like biting into lightning.
he doesn’t move at first. lets you kiss him, tentative, searching, like he wants to see how far you’ll go on your own. but when your fingers curl into the collar of his hoodie and your hips shift forward instinctively, he groans low in his throat and grabs your waist tight. his mouth moves against yours like he’s been waiting. like he’s been holding back for weeks and now he’s finally letting himself want. well, because he is. so he kisses rougher, deeper, his tongue slipping into your mouth like it belongs there. and when you whimper, he pulls back just barely, breathing hard.
“that what you wanted?” he asks, voice ragged now. you nod, dazed. he kisses the corner of your mouth. your jaw. down your neck. everywhere but where you’re begging for it. “you’re gonna have to be more specific,” he murmurs against your skin. “i wanna hear exactly what you like.”
your hips grind down again. he grips your thighs harder, holds you in place. “you like being on top?” he asks, almost amused.
you nod, biting your lip. “sometimes.”
“but not tonight?” he asks, tilting his head. “you want me to take over, baby?” you can’t speak. you just breathe and nod. he grins. “you know what to do then.”
you press your forehead to his, shaky and desperate and so ready to say it. “please,” you whisper. “i want you.”
“how bad?” he asks.
“i can’t think,” you breathe. “i need you to do something.”
he chuckles — low, smug, wrecked. “good. now we’re getting somewhere.”
his hand is on your throat before you even process it. not squeezing, just resting there, firm enough to feel the beat of your pulse against his palm. he holds your gaze steady with his, like he’s daring you to pull away. you don’t. your breath comes out shaky and uneven, and his thumb strokes just once along the column of your neck. “say it again,” he murmurs, voice low and unforgiving.
you swallow hard. “need you to do something. please.”
he nods once, like that’s all he needed. his other hand slides up under your hoodie, knuckles brushing the bare skin of your waist. his fingers are cold at first, but the way they move is purposeful, not searching, not unsure. he knows what he’s doing. he drags his hand up slowly, deliberately, until his palm rests just under your bra.
“like this?” he asks, thumb teasing the edge of the fabric. “or do you want more?”
you gasp, breath catching. “more.”
he grins, lazy and infuriating. “thought so.”
he slides your hoodie up, not bothering to take it off, just pushing it out of the way enough to get what he wants. his hands move with a kind of patience that makes you ache, like he’s got all the time in the world to make you lose your mind. he cups your breasts through the thin fabric, thumbing over your nipple until it hardens beneath his touch. you arch into it without thinking. “you like that?” he asks, voice close to your ear.
“yes.”
“say it.”
“i like it.”
his hand dips lower, sliding down your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts. his fingers toy with the edge like he’s still deciding if he’s going to keep going. “you want me to take these off too?”you nod, dizzy. he clicks his tongue. “use your words.”
“yes. take them off.”
he drags them down slowly, watching your face the whole time. he wants to see everything— the way your lips part, the way your body tenses when he touches you, the way you shiver when the fabric brushes down your legs. you kick them off and now you’re in nothing but your underwear, straddling him, your hoodie still half pushed up, breath coming in shaky bursts.
“fuck,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “you’re really just gonna sit here looking like that and expect me to behave?”
“i like it,” you manage to say.
he smirks. “of course you do.”
his hands slide down slow, fingers splaying wide as they skim the sides of your thighs, tracing the shape of you like he’s memorizing it. and then they’re under your ass, lifting you just enough so he can shift your panties to the side, fingers brushing over where you’re wet and aching. he whistles low, mouth curling into a grin. “fuck,” he mutters. “you really needed this, didn’t you?”
you let out a shaky breath, gripping his shoulders like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. your whole body jolts at the first real contact, the drag of his fingers through your folds, slow and sure, like he’s testing what you can handle. “so wet for me already,” he murmurs, circling your clit with maddening precision. “and i haven’t even done anything yet.”
he rubs slow circles with the heel of his palm, watching you squirm. your hips jerk instinctively, but his hands pin you down. he keeps you still, makes you feel every slow movement, every teasing glide. he’s not in a rush. you might be desperate, but he isn’t. not anymore. still, he slips a finger inside you, slow, deliberate, and your whole body tightens around him. he groans low in his throat.
“tight,” he mutters, adding a second finger without warning. “jesus. you’d fall apart if i fucked you right now.” you moan, breathless. “you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” he says, curling his fingers just right. “after all that teasing.”
“yes—”
his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight, lazy circles as his fingers fuck into you deep and steady. you can’t breathe, can’t think, just clutch at him like you’re drowning. and then he leans in close, voice a growl against your ear. “you need someone to put you in your place,” he says. “you act like you’re in charge, but look at you now. look how easy it is to break you.”
your thighs tremble around his hips, pleasure building sharp and fast, overwhelming. “you like being handled like this, don’t you?” he asks again, his tone dark, laced with smug delight.
“yes,” you gasp, hips twitching.
“of course you do,” he says. “you like being fucked slow. deep. with a hand on your throat so you remember who’s in charge.” his other hand slides up again, fingers wrapping gently around your neck and your whole body tenses in response. “you make everything so difficult,” he says. “all your mixed signals, all your little games. but this? this is simple. this is what you really wanted.”
your walls clench around his fingers as your body tips over the edge, sudden and hard and overwhelming. your mouth falls open in a moan you can’t stop, hips jerking despite the grip he has on you. he doesn’t let up. just keeps fucking you through it, watching your face the whole time.
“look at you,” he breathes. “so fucking pretty like this. i should’ve done this a long time ago.” your body’s shaking when he finally slows down. he pulls his fingers out and brings them to his lips, licking them clean like he’s tasting something expensive. “mm,” he says. “sweet.”
you stare at him, wrecked and speechless, still trying to remember how your lungs work. then he leans in, takes his fingers back to your clenching cunt again, his voice rough in your ear. “tell me how it feels.”
you grip his shoulders tighter, fingers digging into the fabric of his hoodie. “it feels good.”
“how good?”
“i don’t know—fuck—soobin—”
he presses a little harder, the friction just right now, and your hips jerk again. “you like when i touch you here?” he asks, eyes locked on yours, no trace of softness in his voice.
“yes,” you breathe. “yes, i do.”
his fingers slide between your folds, slick and warm, and he lets out a low groan. “fuck,” he mutters again. “you’re soaked.” you whimper, forehead dropping to his shoulder. his fingers move with ease, finding your clit again and circling it with infuriating slowness.
“look at me,” he says. you lift your head, barely. your eyes meet his, and the intensity there nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. he curls his fingers inside you, hitting just the right spot, and you cry out before you can stop yourself. your hips grind down, chasing the pressure. “needy little thing,” he says, amused. “so much for being in control.”
you whimper again, half shame, half desperation. he’s relentless now, thrusting his fingers in and out while his thumb circles your clit, pushing you higher, closer. “soobin—”
“tell me you’re close.”
“i’m close,” you breathe, eyes squeezing shut.
he leans in again, lips ghosting over your ear. “then say please.” you hesitate, and his pace slows. “come on,” he murmurs. “you’ve been bossing me around for months. let me hear you beg.”
you’re shaking now, thighs trembling around him, every nerve on fire. “please,” you whisper.
“louder.”
“please, soobin—please don’t stop.”
his mouth curves into a grin, and he gives you exactly what you asked for. “good girl,” he says again, and this time, you fall apart in his fingers, and god, this feeling is smoothing, something you don’t remember feeling it before.
you’re still in his lap, limbs loose, head buzzing, the movie’s looping on the laptop like background noise at a bad dream rave. his hand is parked on your waist—heavy but not pushing, more placeholder than threat—and you can’t decide if you’re melting into him or trying to keep from slipping clean off the planet.
he’s the one who breaks the hush. “you’re thinking again,” he says, voice low.
you don’t look at him. “i’m recovering.”
“that’s what i’m worried about.” his thumb taps a slow beat against your skin. “every time you start thinking, you talk yourself out of wanting me.”
you snort, tired and raw. “i literally just made a mess on your hand. i think the wanting part is confirmed.”
“for now,” he says. “in ten minutes you’ll start reciting the ‘i’m not that into guys’ speech again, and i’ll be back at square one.”
you lift your eyes, glare half-heartedly. “square one was me calling you pretty in a kitchen full of tequila fumes. i’d say we’ve upgraded.”
“fine,” he admits, lips twitching. “square two, then. still a demotion from where i’m sitting.”
you finally meet his gaze, and it is clear, unflinching, annoyingly perceptive, and something inside you trips. the room tilts a millimeter. because you realize he isn’t holding you tighter, he isn’t trying to start round two, he’s just… waiting.
the silence stretches. your brain tries to sprint off a cliff, but your body’s too heavy to follow. so you talk, because you can’t not. “i’m not gonna pretend i’m suddenly into guys again,” you say, words slurred around honesty. “and i’m definitely not in love with you, so don’t get weird.”
“bold of you to assume i want either,” he shoots back, all teeth.
you blink. “you don’t?”
“i like you messy,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “in love is boring. this—” he gestures to the tangle of limbs and shame you’re both stewing in— “this is entertaining.”
you should probably punch him. instead you laugh, breathless. “you are absolutely dirty.”
he smiles, small but real. “dirty keeps you on my lap, apparently.”
you roll your eyes, shift, realize he’s still hard beneath you and freeze. he notices, of course he does, and tilts his head, studying your face. “thinking again,” he murmurs.
“wondering,” you correct, voice thin.
“about?”
“if i should, um… help you?”
his brows lift. “help?” he echoes, amused. “sound mighty altruistic of you.”
“shut up,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “i’m new at this.”
“new at what?”
“wanting a guy enough to… you know.”
he hums, all fake contemplation. “we could have a symposium. ‘introduction to blowing choi soobin.’” you smack his chest; he laughs, catches your wrist, threads your fingers through his. the joke dissolves, but the warmth sticks. “we can slow down,” he says, quieter now. “or stop. or order pizza. i don’t care—just don’t ghost me.”
you stare at him, throat tight. “i don’t want to stop,” you whisper.
his thumb strokes the back of your hand. “good. then tell me how you want to start.”
the question hangs there, simple but also terrifying. your pulse trips a little faster. “kiss me again,” you answer, voice steadier than you feel. “but slow.”
“slow.” he nods, serious. “any further instructions, boss?”
“don’t call me boss,” you mutter.
“princess?” you glare.
“soobin,” you warn.
his grin spreads, wolfish. “see? thinking stopped. progress.”
he leans in (slow, like requested) and kisses you softer than before, mouths parting, breath catching, no rush. your hands slide up into his hair, anchor there; his free hand cups the back of your neck, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. and when you finally pull back, you’re trembling again, but it’s a quieter shake.
his eyes search yours. “so?”
you laugh into his shoulder. “shut up and keep going.”
“sure,” he whispers, mouth brushing yours, “but remember—if you want more, you ask.”
you nod, firm. “i will. i promise.”
you don’t remember when his hands started moving again, but they’re under your hoodie again now. his mouth is still pressed against yours, but the kiss has changed. it’s deeper and slower. and he’s not letting you lead anymore. he tilts your chin up with one hand, holds you there like he’s adjusting the angle of something he owns. his other hand slides along your spine, dragging heat everywhere it touches.
his hands slide back down to your hips, pulling you toward him until you’re close enough to feel everything again. he shifts his leg just slightly between yours and applies the lightest pressure, forcing you to roll your hips against his thigh. your mouth falls open without meaning to.
“feels good?” he asks, low.
“yeah,” you whisper.
he hums, unimpressed. “what was that?”
“yes,” you say again, louder.
his hand moves to the back of your neck. not rough, just enough to hold you still. to keep you looking at him. “you’re gonna do what i say,” he says. “because you want to. not because i make you.” you nod. “say it.”
“i want to,” you whisper.
“you want what?”
“i want to do what you say.”
he smiles. “then take your hoodie off.”
your hands move before your brain catches up. you pull it over your head, toss it to the floor. your chest is rising and falling too fast, and he’s just sitting there, watching you like you’re a puzzle he’s already solved.
his gaze drags over your body, slow and hungry, but he still doesn’t touch. instead, he leans back slightly and says, “take off your bra.”
your fingers fumble a little, but you do it. it joins the hoodie on the floor. he exhales like it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to. and then he looks you in the eyes again. your body’s humming, nerves and heat and need all tangled together. his hands slide up to cup your chest, thumbs brushing over your nipples, slow and deliberate. he watches every twitch of your face as he touches you.
“you like being told what to do?” he asks, voice low, dragging.
“yeah.”
he raises an eyebrow. “say it.”
“i like being told what to do.”
he kisses you slow one last time before pulling back. “then get off,” he says quietly.
you blink, breathless, already lightheaded. “what?”
he tilts his head. “off my lap. on your knees. on the floor.”
you stare for half a second. then your body moves before your brain can argue. you climb off the bed and drop down onto the floor between his legs, palms pressing into the hardwood for balance. your knees hit the floor, and the air shifts.
he exhales like the sight alone is enough to wreck him. his legs spread wider, slow, deliberate, and he leans forward a little, one hand cupping the side of your face. his thumb drags along your cheek, down to your lip. “look at you,” he murmurs. “you ever been on your knees for a guy before?” you shake your head. he smiles. smirks, really. “good.”
his thumb presses against your bottom lip, slipping inside just slightly. your mouth parts for him on instinct. “open,” he says, and you do. he pushes his thumb in deeper, then pulls it out just as slow. “good girl.”
your breath stutters. he leans forward more, one elbow resting on his thigh as he looks down at you. “you’re doing so well for me. on your knees, waiting for what i give you. you don’t even know how pretty you look like this.” his other hand slides into your hair, not hard, but firm. guiding and steady. you can feel how calm he is—like this is just natural for him. like having someone kneeling between his legs is a position he was meant for. “hands behind your back,” he says.
you obey, slowly, feeling the shift in your own body when you do. your balance changes. your chest pushes forward slightly. your breath feels deeper and needier. he smiles. “you want to do something for me?”
“yes,” you whisper.
“then ask.” your throat tightens. he leans closer, almost nose-to-nose, his voice a quiet threat. “ask me what you want, baby.”
“can i…” your voice breaks. you swallow. “can i touch you?”
he leans back, sits up straight, eyes heavy on yours. “you want to touch me?”
“yes.”
“where?”
your cheeks burn. “your cock.”
his breath hitches. he doesn’t show much, but that gets him. a shift in his jaw. a slight flex of his thigh. “say it again.”
you breathe in. “i want to touch your cock.”
he smiles. “then take it out.”
you move carefully, your hands now free again, fingers working his waistband, slow and precise. you don’t rush. he watches you the entire time, like you’re a performance made just for him. and when you finally pull him out, hard and heavy in your palm, his breath leaves in one long, quiet exhale.
you look up, eyes wide. “now what?” you ask, voice barely there.
he smirks again, hand back in your hair. “first, you keep those pretty eyes on mine the entire time,” he says, voice low and dark. his hand tightens just slightly in your hair, not painful, just present. like a reminder: he’s the one leading. “start slow,” he says, voice steady. “get used to the way i feel in your hand.”
you swallow, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. he’s warm and heavy. hard enough to make your pulse spike just from the weight of him in your palm. you glance up. “like this?” you ask.
he nods once, but doesn’t say anything. just watches. the corner of his mouth lifts a little. proud, curious and patient. you start to stroke, slow and careful, your thumb brushing over the head like you’ve done this before—you did, but it’s different with him. he makes it feel deliberate, like every movement matters.
“good,” he murmurs. “tighter. don’t be scared.”
you adjust, hand squeezing a little more, sliding down and back up in a steady rhythm. you’re learning how he twitches, how his breath catches, how his thighs tense a little under your arms when you get the pressure right. he lets out a quiet groan.
“yeah. just like that,” he says, hand sliding to cradle the side of your face. his thumb traces your cheekbone. “you’re so fucking good at this, fuck—” you blush, ridiculous considering the situation, and he smirks. “you like hearing that?” he asks.
you nod. “yeah.”
he hums, thumb brushing your lips again. “then earn more of it.”
your hand speeds up slightly, bolder now. you’re watching him just as much as he’s watching you, studying every reaction. every flicker in his eyes, every tiny breath that tells you yes, this.
“spit on it,” he says suddenly, and your stomach flips. you glance up again. he looks right back, unblinking. “go ahead. don’t be shy.” you lean in, let spit fall from your lips, and he groans when it lands just right, messy and perfect. “fuck, that’s it,” he mutters, hips jerking slightly. “that mouth’s gonna ruin me.”
you stroke him again with your now-wet hand, and his jaw clenches. he leans forward, hand sliding back into your hair, this time with more grip.
“open your mouth,” he says. you do, lips parting obediently. he taps the tip of his cock against your tongue, slow, dragging it over your bottom lip, and you hold still, waiting, not rushing. letting him guide you. “don’t take me yet,” he says. “just taste.”
you lick him, slow and soft, and his eyes flutter half-closed. “again,” he says. his voice is lower now, strained. you lean forward more, lips wrapping around just the tip, sucking gently. “fuck,” he breathes, thumb brushing your cheek. “you keep looking at me like that and i’m gonna lose it.”
you moan softly around him, just enough to make him shudder. his hand tightens in your hair. “you want to keep going?” he asks. you nod, mouth still full, eyes wide. he groans again. “then you’re gonna take what i give you.”
and you do. you let him guide the rhythm, slow thrusts, shallow, letting you get used to the weight, the stretch. his grip is steady, voice low as he talks you through every inch. “you’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “look so fucking pretty on your knees like this. taking it like a good girl.”
you press your thighs together, pulse pounding in your ears. your whole body’s on fire, but you don’t stop. you keep your eyes on his. you let him control the pace. you listen. because nothing’s ever felt quite like this. he’s barely holding himself back now, his hips rolling deeper into your mouth, hand fisted in your hair, jaw clenched tight. your throat’s sore, your lips stretched, spit dripping from your chin, but you don’t stop. you don’t want to stop.
“fuck, that’s it,” he growls, voice sharp. “you like this, don’t you? like being used like this.”
you hum around him, and his whole body jolts. his other hand grips the edge of the bed like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. he’s panting now, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours as your head bobs with the rhythm he’s set.
“look at you,” he hisses. “so fucking obedient now. you’ll take anything i give you, won’t you?”
you nod, gagging just a little as he pushes deeper. his thumb brushes your cheek again, almost tender, but not soft. “shit, baby,” he groans. “just like that. don’t stop. don’t you fucking stop.” his breathing gets rougher. his thighs tense. his grip tightens. “you’re gonna take every fucking drop,” he says, voice low and wild. “don’t even think about pulling back.”
and when he comes, it’s with a broken, wrecked moan, his head falling back, his whole body shuddering. he holds you there, deep in your throat, as his cock pulses between your lips. you stay still. obedient. take every drop, exactly how he told you to. he pulls out slow, panting hard, watching you swallow every bit like it’s a reward.
“fuck,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “you’re dangerous.”
your legs are shaking, your body’s buzzing and your throat hurts. but your eyes are still on him. and he smiles.
he leans forward, grabs your arms, and pulls you off the floor like you weigh nothing. places you back in his lap, one hand still wrapped in your hair, the other gripping your thigh. his voice is calmer now, but darker.
“so?” he asks, breath still a little ragged. “you like praise better?”
you blink. “what?”
“you like when i call you a good girl?” he says, fingers brushing your jaw. “tell you how pretty you look on your knees?”
you nod, a little dazed. “yeah…”
his hand tightens suddenly on your thigh. “or do you like it more when i talk to you like a fucking toy?” your breath catches. his eyes narrow. “like when i say you’re only good for your mouth? that you were made to take cock and nothing else?” you gasp. your body tenses, and he sees the reaction instantly. his smirk spreads slow. “that’s what i thought,” he says.
your voice is barely a whisper. “i like both.”
he raises a brow. “yeah?”
you meet his gaze. “you can do whatever you want.”
his eyes darken completely. something in him shifts. he leans in close, voice like a promise against your skin. “you don’t know what you just agreed to.”
he hasn’t let go of you. your legs are thrown across his lap now, arms limp around his shoulders, your chest pressed to his. and still he’s got one hand curled around your jaw like he’s not done claiming it. he tilts your face up and studies you. not like you’re fragile, but like you’re fascinating.
he chuckles, meanly. “you look wrecked, baby. wrecked and all fucking mine.” his fingers trail down your neck, slow and soft. “you like when i say that?” he murmurs. “that you’re mine?”
you nod, small. “yeah.”
he kisses the edge of your jaw. “you like being good?”
“yes.”
he smirks against your skin. “but you also like when i treat you like a dumb little toy.” your whole body tenses. he chuckles again. “you fucking melt when i talk like that, huh?” he says. “wanna be praised and spat on in the same breath.”
he pulls back just enough to look at you. your face flushed, lips swollen, eyes wide and glassy. “fuck, you’re pretty when you don’t know what to do with yourself,” he says, almost admiring. “bet you don’t even know who you are when i touch you like this.”
his hand slides down your stomach—over the curve of your hip—back between your thighs, over your ruined underwear. you gasp and twitch. he grins. “yeah. that’s what i thought.” he presses just a little harder, fingers rubbing through the fabric. “still this wet for me? even after everything?”
you nod, biting your lip. he tsks, shaking his head. “you don’t learn, do you?”
you swallow, trembling. “i wanna be good.”
he chuckles. “you are. but you’re also a little desperate. greedy. filthy.” his fingers tug your panties to the side and slide against you again, slow, controlled, so light it makes you ache. “should i finger you again like this?” he says. “while you sit in my lap like a good girl? or should i bend you over and fuck the brat out of you?”
your breath catches in your throat. “or maybe i shouldn’t touch you at all,” he adds, tilting his head. “maybe you don’t get to come unless you beg.”
“soobin—”
he grabs your chin again, eyes sharp. “say it.”
you’re panting now. hot and flustered and completely under him. “please,” you whisper. he waits. “please touch me,” you say again, voice cracking. “please make me come.”
his smirk is slow. cruel. gorgeous. “that’s more like it.”he slides two fingers back inside you without warning, and your whole body jolts. “you’re gonna take everything i give you,” he murmurs. “and you’re gonna say thank you when you come.” your legs shake. your grip on his shirt tightens. “say it.”
“thank you,” you breathe.
he kisses you—filthy, fast—and then breaks away, breath hot against your mouth. “don’t come yet.”
he’s not moving fast. he’s not giving you what you want, not really. and that’s the point. he’s watching you, studying you, like he’s waiting for something specific. a crack. a shift. the moment where your body stops trying to lead and just listens. he leans back slightly, his fingers inside you don’t speed up, and they don’t slow down either. just deep enough to tease, never enough to let you lose yourself. he’s giving you nothing and everything at once.
he watches your face closely, eyes scanning your mouth, your eyebrows, the way your breath catches. you’re close, he knows it. he can feel the way your body tightens around him, the way your thighs shake just barely. you’re trying to hold back. trying not to move too much. it’s cute, in a way. respectful, obedient even. but he doesn’t want nice right now.
“you’re doing it again,” he says, voice low, calm.
your eyes flutter open, confused. “what?”
“holding it in,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your waist. “trying to be good in the wrong way.”
you blink, breath trembling. “i thought you wanted—”
he cuts you off with a quiet laugh, not mocking, just amused. “i want you to be good, yeah. but not quiet. not frozen. not careful.” his fingers slide deeper and you gasp, hips twitching. “good doesn’t mean silent.” he leans in, mouth near your ear. “if i wanted a doll, i’d buy one.”
your breath stutters. your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in just slightly, and that makes him smile. “there you go,” he murmurs. “there’s my girl.” he moves his fingers again, just a little faster now, just enough to make your whole body jerk. you bite your lip hard, trying not to cry out. “still fighting it?” he says. “you think i don’t notice how tight you’re clenching around my hand? you think i don’t feel how close you are?”
you shake your head, desperate. he pulls back slightly to look at you. “look at me.” you do, barely. your vision’s blurry, and your mouth’s open, and you’re so close it almost hurts. “you wanna come?” he asks, calm. direct.
“yes,” you breathe.
“you sure?” you nod. his voice drops lower. “you ready to say thank you when you do?”
you nod again, more frantically. he keeps his eyes on yours as his thumb finally finds your clit, rubbing slow circles while his fingers thrust deeper. your whole body reacts at once, tensing, jerking, then unraveling.
“come for me,” he says, and you do.
it hits hard, sharp and blinding. your legs tremble. your fingers dig into his arms. your mouth opens but nothing comes out except broken gasps and a soft, choked sob. and through all of it, his hand doesn’t leave you. he works you through it, slow, steady, like he’s memorizing every second.
your body slumps against his chest. he holds you there for a moment, his hand still resting between your legs but not moving anymore. you’re breathing hard, face pressed into his shoulder. then his mouth finds your ear again. “thank me.”
you whisper it without thinking. “thank you.”
he exhales, satisfied. his fingers slip out of you, slow and careful. he brings them to his mouth, licking them clean without breaking eye contact. you watch, dazed, and he grins. “good girl.”
he lifts you gently, shifts you until you’re straddling him again, your knees on either side of his hips, your body still shaky. his hands hold your waist firmly, steadying you like he knows you can’t do it on your own yet.
he tilts your chin up, and there’s something new in his eyes now—still dark, still dominant, but softer around the edges. like he’s trying to decide something. “you were made for this,” he says, quiet. “you know that, right?”
you swallow hard. “yeah.”
his thumb brushes your cheek, and then he leans back, legs spread, hands resting on his thighs like he’s just relaxing, like he’s not watching every single twitch in your body. you’re still on his lap, still catching your breath when he says, low and steady, “get on.”
you look at him, confused, dazed. “what?”
he grabs your hips, drags you forward slightly, then leans in just enough for you to feel his breath on your jaw. “you like being on top, right?” he says, voice calm but full of something sharper underneath. “so ride me.”
your heart stutters. your thighs are still shaking. he knows.
“go ahead,” he says. “show me how good you are.”
you shift back slowly, thighs trembling, one hand steadying yourself on his chest while the other wraps around his cock. he’s already hard again—how is he already this hard?—and thick in your palm, warm and heavy. you hold him there, just under the tip, as you line yourself up, and for a second, you hesitate.
you bite your lip. your body’s still sensitive, your legs sore, your mind fogged, and there’s a pressure building low in your stomach that has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with the way your heart starts to race. it’s been a long time since you let a guy inside you. since you even wanted to. and even now, it feels foreign. like your body’s remembering something it forgot on purpose.
but you want this. you want him. so you press down slowly, barely taking the tip, and your breath catches in your throat. he doesn’t say anything, just watches. his hands resting on your hips, not moving, not pushing. but he’s tense and alert. like he knows you’re struggling and he’s waiting to see how far you’ll go on your own.
you lower yourself more, inch by inch, and the stretch makes your eyes flutter shut. it burns. not unbearable, but tight, too tight. your thighs start to tremble harder, and your fingers dig into his shoulders for balance. his grip on your hips tightens.
“breathe,” he says, calm. “take your time.”
you nod, shaky, and try to relax. you ease down another inch, and your whole body reacts—hips twitching, core clenching, thighs starting to cramp. it’s too much all at once, and not enough at the same time.
he cuts you off gently, one hand lifting to brush your hair from your face. “don’t stop now. you wanted to ride my cock, right? prove you can take it.”
you whimper, breath catching again, and finally sink lower, slowly taking more of him. your legs feel weak. your cunt clenches tight around him, and the stretch still burns, but underneath it, there’s something else. a pulse. a heat that starts to take over the discomfort.
he groans quietly, his jaw tense. “shit. you’re so tight.” you press your forehead to his collarbone, trying to stay steady. “don’t hide,” he says. “let me see you.” you lift your head, barely, and his eyes lock on yours. “good girl,” he mutters. “you’re almost there. just a little more.”
you shift again, forcing your hips down further, until you’re fully seated in his lap. he groans, deep and low, his fingers pressing harder into your skin. “fuck. there you go.”
you’re breathing hard, thighs trembling, everything inside you stretched to its limit. “hurts?” he asks. you shake your head. he smiles, not sweet. “good.” you glare at him, but there’s no strength behind it. “you’ll get used to it,” he says, voice low. you sink down slow, body trembling, and his grip tightens on your hips. “that’s it,” he mutters. “fuck—look at you.”
you start to move, unsure at first. he lets you find your rhythm, lets you work for it, but his hands don’t leave you. he keeps you steady, fingers digging into your waist. his eyes never leave your face.
“you like being in charge?” he says, breath rougher now. “then don’t fucking slow down.” you moan softly, trying to keep the pace, but your legs are tired, your body already wrecked. your movements falter, and he notices immediately. “what’s wrong?” he says, lips curling. “getting tired already? thought you liked being on top.”
you try to keep going, bouncing slow, your hands braced on his chest.
“keep your eyes on me,” he says. you do, barely, and he grins when he sees the look in your face. “you’re falling apart,” he murmurs. “and you’ve barely done anything.”
he doesn’t slow down. he grabs your chin again, makes you look at him. “ride me like you mean it,” he snaps, thrusting up into you suddenly, making your whole body jolt.
“fuck, soobin—”
“no. don’t whine. you wanted this. show me.” you try. you move your hips, faster this time, trying to match him. he watches you closely, hands on your ass now, guiding your movement, controlling the depth. “that’s better,” he says. “now you’re working for it.”
you gasp, leaning forward, forehead on his shoulder. he grabs your hair and pulls your head back up. “no hiding. i wanna see you struggle.” your thighs are shaking so hard it’s hard to keep the rhythm. your breathing’s uneven, your nails digging into his arms. “you can take it,” he says, voice lower now, almost gentle. “i know you can. you’re my good girl, remember?”
you moan again, louder, and he smiles. “there she is,” he murmurs. “knew you’d come back to me.” your hips stutter again, and he slaps your ass once, not hard, just firm enough to make you move. “don’t stop until i say,” he says. “and if you come first, you’re doing it with my name in your mouth.”
your fingers grip his shoulders harder, your thighs are burning now, trembling with effort, but you force yourself to keep going. up, down, again. you’re trying to stay focused, but the stretch of him inside you, the heat building low in your stomach, the pressure of his hands guiding you—it’s all too much, and not enough at once.
he watches you the whole time, eyes fixed on your face. you can’t hide anything from him like this. not the way your brows pinch together, not the way your mouth keeps falling open with each bounce, not the quiet, broken sounds that slip out no matter how hard you try to hold them in.
“you wanted this,” he reminds you, calm. you nod, desperate, hips moving faster now, sloppy and uneven but still trying. he lets you ride him, lets you feel like you’re in control, just for a second, until he shifts beneath you and fucks up into you hard, once, and your whole body folds forward with a gasp. “thought so,” he mutters.
your forehead falls against his collarbone, and he pulls your hair, tilting your face up again. “no hiding.” his mouth brushes yours, not quite a kiss. “you look like you’re gonna cry.”
“i’m not,” you breathe, though your voice is shaking.
“you will if i tell you not to come yet,” he says, like it’s just a thought. you whimper. his hand moves from your hip to your throat, loose but solid, just enough to hold you still. “you like this?” he asks. “being used like this?” you nod quickly, eyes fluttering shut. “don’t lie.”
“i’m not.”
he leans in, lips by your ear again. “you gonna come for me?”
“yes.”
“say my name.” you pause, too close to think. “say it.”
“soobin…”
he groans, deep and low, and that’s all it takes for his rhythm to break. he grabs your waist hard and starts fucking up into you, fast now, with purpose, like he’s chasing the end and dragging you there with him. “come on,” he mutters. “come for me. make it count.”
you do. your whole body shudders, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent moan. everything inside you pulls tight and snaps all at once, and you collapse against him, shaking. he holds you through it, breath heavy against your ear, his arms wrapped tight around your waist like he’s trying to keep you from slipping through his fingers.
then he moves. he lifts you off him slowly, carefully, lays you down on the bed like you weigh nothing. you’re still catching your breath, blinking at the ceiling, when you feel the mattress dip again and his weight settles beside you. his fingers slide down your stomach, soft now, slow. “you like praise,” he says, almost casual. “but i think you like it more when i’m mean.”
you glance at him, lips parted. he leans in close. “so tell me, baby,” he murmurs. “you want me to ruin you with my mouth or just make you cry again first?”
“i can’t,” you breathe, voice shaky. “i can’t take it anymore.”
he tilts his head, like he’s not sure he heard you right. his hands are already back on your thighs, spreading them open again, his body moving lower, slower, like this is nothing for him. like he’s just getting started. “can’t?” he repeats, tone light, mocking. “you sure, baby?”
you swallow hard, legs twitching under his grip. he presses his mouth to your inner thigh, kissing slow, warm, soft, too soft. like he’s pretending to be sweet again. and it only makes the tension worse. “you looked so fucking confident riding my cock,” he murmurs, right against your skin. “and now you’re what? tapped out?” you shake your head weakly, but he keeps going, lips trailing higher, breath hotter. “you want me to stop?” he asks, voice low.
“no.”
“then don’t say can’t,” he says, and bites down on the inside of your thigh, sharp enough to make your hips jerk. “say please.” your breath catches. “say it.”
“please,” you whisper, barely audible.
he smiles against your skin. “thought so.”
he kisses higher, right between your legs now, and you gasp when his mouth finally finds you again, tongue slow, deliberate, dragging over your sensitive skin with zero mercy. you’re already overstimulated, every nerve lit up and shaking, but he doesn’t stop. he knows you’re right there again, and that’s exactly what he wants.
“you’ve teased me for weeks,” he says, voice muffled against you. “walking around in those tiny fucking shorts. sitting on my lap like it’s nothing. saying shit like ‘you’re my favorite boy’ with that little smirk on your face.” you whine, twisting under him, but he holds your hips down with one arm and licks a slow circle around your clit without touching it directly. “you think i didn’t notice? think i didn’t see you bite your lip every time i looked at you too long?”
you’re panting now, legs trembling again. “and now you wanna act all shy?” he scoffs. “now you can’t take it?” his mouth finally closes around your clit, sucking slow and deep, and your hips buck hard, but he doesn’t stop. “you can take more,” he mutters. your fingers find his hair, tugging, trying to anchor yourself to something while your body starts to come undone all over again. “i’ll be gentle,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you, mouth wet, eyes dark. “but only if you fucking ask.”
you stare down at him, dazed, lips parted. “go on,” he says. “ask for it.”
“please,” you gasp, voice breaking. “please, soobin—be gentle.”
he grins against your skin, slow and cruel. not because he wants to be mean. because he can. because you gave him permission. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he murmurs, lips brushing your thigh. “knew you could ask nicely.”
then he moves again, mouth right where you need him, tongue flat and slow against your clit this time, no teasing now. just heat, rhythm, and pressure. your hands grab at his hair, your back arching off the bed, and he doesn’t stop. doesn’t even pause. “fuck, you’re so wet like this,” he says, voice low, fingers gripping your thighs to keep you wide open. you moan, louder now, hips trying to move against his face, chasing the rhythm. “good girl,” he mutters. “you want to come for me like this?”
“yes—yes, please—”
“then keep your legs open.”
you do. you try. your whole body’s tight, burning, desperate. he knows exactly how to keep you right there, his tongue curling just right, lips pressing just enough, his hand slipping lower, fingers teasing your entrance without going in. “you close?” he asks, voice rough and muffed now.
you nod frantically. “so close—please don’t stop—”
he groans into you, and the vibration alone almost pushes you over the edge. his fingers finally slip inside, two of them, smooth and deep, curling just right, and that’s it. you fall apart.
your whole body spasms, legs trembling violently, a loud moan breaking from your throat as you come hard, everything clenching tight around his fingers. your vision goes white for a second, and you barely register the way he keeps going, slow now, helping you ride it out, dragging every last wave out of you until you collapse into the sheets, twitching and breathless.
he finally pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then crawling up over you, eyes dark and satisfied. “you’re so fucking hot like this,” he says, voice low. “all soft. all mine.” you can’t even speak yet. your chest rises and falls, skin flushed, lips parted. he leans down. “now,” he says, tone shifting—less gentle, more commanding again. “turn over.”
you don’t speak. you just move. your body shifts slowly, limbs still weak, and you roll onto your stomach like he asked, like he told you to. your face sinks into the pillow, and you feel his eyes on your back. you know what he sees: the curve of your spine, the way your legs part instinctively, the way you arch your back so he sees your ass available for him to take it. you hear him exhale, sharp through his nose. a pause, then the bed dips as he moves behind you, knees spreading yours a little more, hands running down your back with purpose, not care. he doesn’t soothe. he positions.
soobin stays still at first, taking his time. watching how you lay there for him, waiting. looking how your shoulders tense like you don’t know what’s coming next, but you want to. he likes that. he likes that a lot.
his hands drag down your back, not to comfort, but to arrange. he touches you like he’s correcting something. a tool out of place. a painting hung crooked. “lower,” he says. you sink deeper into the mattress. his palm lands between your shoulder blades, keeping you there. “stay.”
then nothing. just the weight of his hand. the silence. he takes a deep breath. “you have any idea how long i’ve waited for this?”
you don’t answer. he leans down, lips barely brushing your ear. “how many times i pictured you just like this?” his voice is calm, almost bored. “on all fours for me,” he mutters. “but you talk too much. always making jokes. always pretending like you’re not dying for me to shut you up.” his fingers slide down your side, pausing at your hip. “you don’t get to pretend now.” his grip tightens. “so stop fidgeting.” he forces your hips up, adjusts the angle himself like your body’s just another thing to be handled. “just like that,” he says. “good girl.”
he doesn’t rush. doesn’t say more than he needs to. because he knows you’re listening to every breath, every word, every shift in tone. and when his cock teases your cunt and he watches the way your body twitches. the way you don’t stop him. “still so sensitive,” he mutters. “but you’ll take it.” he presses slow, watching you squirm, watching you try to be still. “don’t you dare move.” you breathe out hard. he can hear it. feel it. “that’s what i thought.”
he pushes deeper. drags it out. makes sure you feel every second of it. then he leans back, sitting tall behind you, hands steady on your waist. this isn’t about what you want. not anymore. so he aligns his cock with your drooling entrance again, and smacks his hand in your ass, and you whimper, a whiny whimper. he chuckles, low and provocative. “you’re not gonna come until i say,” he says. “and if you do, i’ll edge you ‘til you cry.”
you whimper into the pillow. “but if you listen?” he continues. “i’ll let you come so hard you forget your own name.” he rolls his hips forward, just once, just enough to make you scream. his cock makes you feel so full already, especially in that position. your legs shake. “choice is yours. not mine,” he adds. “yours.”
he pauses again. then pulls back, only to snap his hips forward harder this time, controlled and deep. again. again. his pace isn’t rushed. it’s mean. efficient. every thrust timed with precision. he watches your hands claw at the sheets. hears the sounds you’re trying to hold back, and it makes him smile. “you were so sure you didn’t like boys,” he mutters. “but look at you now.” another thrust, harder. “fucked out like a bitch.”
his hand slides to your throat from behind again, just resting there. “you’re mine tonight,” he says. “say it.”
“i’m yours,” you whisper.
he grins. “louder.”
“i’m yours, soobin! please!” you choke out.
his grip tightens, choking slightly, just containing you, grounding you to the moment. then he leans in, breath hot against your ear. “yes, yes,” he says. “you are fucking mine.”
if anything, now that you’ve said it—i’m yours—he settles deeper into it, into you. into the full weight of what it means to have you like this: pliant, spread out, quiet except for the sounds you can’t hold back. it’s not just about the physical now. it’s the power. the permission. and he’s going to stretch it as far as it can go.
his hands stay locked on your hips, thumbs pressing into the dip of your waist as he fucks into you slow and heavy, no urgency in his pace, just control. all of it his. he watches your shoulders tighten with each movement, the way your back arches when it’s too much, the way your face twists into the sheets to muffle sounds you don’t want him to hear. he hears them anyway. he loves them.
your hand reaches for the pillow, gripping tight, but you don’t fight him. you don’t even ask him to slow down. he leans over you again, pressing down on your back with one hand to keep you steady, his chest brushing your spine. his breath fans hot against your shoulder as his hips drive into yours again, firmer now, drawing a helpless cry from your throat.
“you gonna keep taking it like this?” he asks, not because he needs permission, but because he wants to hear the sound of you begging again. “or you gonna fall apart like a little brat who talked too much?” your fingers dig into the mattress. “go ahead,” he mutters, almost laughing. “prove me wrong.”
you let out a shaky breath, half a moan, half something broken. he sits back up, dragging you with him by your hips, making you meet each thrust head-on. he doesn’t slow. he doesn’t give. he stays steady and mean, dragging it out just enough to feel cruel. “you wanted to be in charge, right?” he says. “whatever you tell your little girlfriends.”
he leans in again, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back just slightly. “but you came crawling to me. let me put you on your knees. let me fuck you like this.” he pauses, breath heavy. “so which one is it, baby?” he murmurs. “you like being in charge? or you like being ruined?”
you try to answer, but all that comes out is a moan. his grip in your hair tightens just a little. “nah. use your words.”
you manage to whisper, barely audible: “i like it—like this.”
he smirks. “i know you do.”
he lets go of your hair, both hands dropping back to your waist as his movements grow rougher, rhythm sharper now, like he’s chasing something but refusing to let either of you reach it until he decides. you feel your body tighten again, another orgasm building fast, threatening to take over, but you remember what he said earlier. not until he says.
you try to hold it. try to breathe through it. but your legs are trembling, hands fisted in the sheets, and he’s relentless now. he notices. he always notices. “you close again?” he asks. “tsk tsk… already?”
you nod desperately. he chuckles under his breath, dark and satisfied. “don’t come yet.” you whine, legs shaking harder. “nope. not yet,” he says again, slower this time. “you want it? then beg.”
you gasp. “please, soobin—i—i need it—”
“yeah?” he says, still moving, still holding you right on that edge. “wanna cream my cock again?”
“yes—please—”
“beg harder, angel.”
“please—please, i need it, i need you—”
he groans deep in his throat, and finally, finally, his hands shift, his pace changes, more erratic now, more brutal, like he’s losing his own control right along with you. “come for me,” he growls. “right fucking now.”
and you do, loud and raw and completely undone. your whole body tightens and shakes beneath him, and he doesn’t stop. doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. he fucks you through it, eyes locked on the way you break for him. his name’s the only thing that comes out of your mouth.
he follows seconds later, a sharp curse escaping him as he buries in your cunt deep and stills, hands gripping so tight they’ll leave marks on your hips. he breathes through it, shaky and harsh, chest heaving, body pressed to yours like he needs the contact just as much as he needs the release.
the room is silent for a beat. just the sound of two people wrecked and catching up to themselves. finally, he leans down again, presses a kiss to your shoulder, and murmurs against your skin—
“you really don’t hate boys, do you?”
you let out a laugh, a real one. exhausted and a little horrified. “don’t start.”
“no, i’m serious,” he grins, turning his head toward you, as you switch your body, turning around to face him. “i feel like i just contributed something meaningful to your sexual awakening.”
“that’s… such a weird sentence to say out loud.”
“yeah, well. you’re the one who was like, ‘i’m not into guys’ and then came on my cock like, what? four times or something?”
you groan and cover your face with your hands. “i hate you.”
“you’re literally still shaking.”
“shut up.”
he doesn’t. of course he doesn’t. instead, he sits on the edge of the bed right next to you, and his fingers start tracing light, absent-minded patterns along your spine, featherlight, soothing, almost tender. it’s stupid, really, how soft he is now, after everything. after the way he touched you, took you, like he had no intention of being gentle.
and yet here he is, brushing his fingertips over your back like you might break. and you hate how much you like it. how easily it melts something inside you. because it’s not just the touch — it’s him. the contradiction of him. soobin, with his filthy mouth and his gentle hands.
“listen,” he says, voice dropping into a mock-serious tone, he stretches his arms behind his head, still catching his breath like nothing monumental just happened. and then, in that same too-casual voice, he says, “if you ever feel like exploring your… curiosity more, you know, about your preferences or whatever…” you glance over at him, one eyebrow raised. his expression doesn’t change, except for the little shrug he gives, half amused, half dead serious. “i’m available for educational purposes.”
you exhale, slow and disbelieving. “you’re such an asshole.”
“maybe.” he turns his head toward you, gaze dragging over your bare shoulders, his mouth twitching. “but look where it got me.”
you shake your head, but you don’t move away. you don’t slap his arm or tell him to shut up again. instead, you let your knee knock against his, your breath finally starting to feel like your own again. the air shifts between you, not heavy or awkward like you thought it might be. just… different. charged, maybe. softer around the edges. there’s a quiet comfort in it now that you hadn’t expected.
minutes pass, the movie already ended, the blood-streaked screen frozen in place. then your voice breaks through, low and almost thoughtful. “do you think they survived?”
soobin blinks. “who?”
“the girls,” you say, nodding toward the laptop. slumber party massacre, paused on a cheap shot of cleavage and red corn syrup. “from the movie.”
he tilts his head, gives it a second of actual thought. “nah. they’re all dead. definitely.”
you hum in agreement, a small smile playing at your lips. “yeah. figured.”
there’s another beat of silence, and then he says, “but you would’ve made it.” you look at him, unsure what he means. he keeps going. “you’ve got final girl energy. like… the type who doesn’t run upstairs. the type who waits. watches. stabs the killer with his own weapon.”
you laugh under your breath. “i feel like that’s a lot to project onto me.”
he shrugs. “or maybe you’d flirt with the murderer and confuse the shit out of him until he gave up.”
you grin. “there it is.”
he smirks. “i’d be the dumb hot one who dies first.”
“you are the dumb hot one.”
“thank you for seeing me.”
it shouldn’t feel like relief, this moment. but it does. like something that could’ve broken just… didn’t. like maybe it bent a little, stretched out of shape, but held. and somehow, you’re both still here—naked, slightly dazed, watching a bad slasher movie with blood on the screen and probably some still on your thighs.
you peek at him again. he’s looking at you like he never stopped. “you okay?” he asks, voice quieter now.
you nod. “yeah. i’m good.”
his hand finds your knee again, thumb brushing idly across the bone. it’s casual. but it’s not. you let your head fall onto his shoulder, stare at the screen without really seeing it. plastic knife. overexposed skin. predictable death.
and next to you, soobin. the same soobin who still uses three-in-one shampoo and forgets to charge his phone. the same boy who always lets you pick the movie. who saves you the middle seat on the couch. who carries your bag when you complain and never says anything about it. the same boy you trusted enough to call when your heart was broken. the same one you teased too much and touched too often and didn’t admit you wanted until now.
maybe you were never that into guys. but soobin never felt like just a guy. he felt like a constant, a question mark that stayed open too long. and now, with his hand on your leg and that dumb horror movie frozen in front of you, it finally clicks:
maybe you were never into boys. but you were always, always into him.
author’s note: this might be one of the longest pwp fics i’ve ever written and ngl i was so hesitant to post it. the themes felt a little too specific, a little too personal, and i kept going back and forth like “do i really wanna put this out there??” but then i re-listened to 1980s horror film by wallows and my brain just went: okay but what if this was about beomgyu. or soobin. and suddenly i had 15k words of confused bisexual tension, dry humping, and one very persistent movie night. anyway. if you made it this far, thanks for reading!! and for letting me indulge in a character dynamic that’s messy and horny and kinda tender in all the wrong ways 🖤
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 fem!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!
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.
synopsis IF YOU LET ME STAY THE NIGHT, I THINK I MIGHT JUST HAVE TO STAY FOREVER ⋆ 𐙚 ̊ in which you spend 7 days in cebu, and the fellow tourist you meet by chance makes it difficult for you to stomach the thought of leaving.
pairing choi soobin x (f) reader
genre fluff, smut, reader and soobin are both tourists, strangers to friends to lovers
a/n first fic on this blog kinda nervous :3 been feeling sososo much for my soobie doobie these days, my love couldn't help but spill all over tumblr. hi, new friends! ♡
It seems as though the whole universe has conspired against you.
Standing under the scorching heat, you could not help but think that you should have stayed in the confines of your sweet, humble abode. If only Karina hadn’t convinced you to, in her words, “Step out of your comfort zone, you homebody!”, then maybe you would have been 12 episodes deep in a new drama, or even getting your rank rating up in League of Legends.
It’s hard to gaslight yourself that your trip to Cebu is supposed to be a cathartic experience when it’s all starting so horribly already. Not when you are fresh off a miserable flight with the person in front of you reclining their chair all the way. Not when some businessman spilt their coffee all over your pristinely white hoodie, mumbling that you should have stayed out of the way because he has a flight to catch. Not when you are all alone while everyone else seems to be having the time of their lives raving about the beaches and parties this place has to offer. Not when you couldn’t even shoot a message to Karina complaining about how this was such a dumb idea for a raging introvert like you, because your stupid phone is betraying you and it can’t catch a stupid signal.
And while you are easily irritated, it’s also easy for you to come to terms with the fact that you will be stuck on this island by yourself for 7 days. You tried your best to convince Karina to come with you, but she kept insisting that it was time for you to attempt solo traveling just for the experience. Easy to say for someone as outgoing as her. You huff, feeling defeated as you slump to sit on your luggage, waiting for a cab to take you to your hotel, when you catch sight of a man bickering with… a cab driver?
“What do you mean I have to pay a thousand pesos? My hotel is 15 minutes away!”
If you thought you were already the epitome of irritation, this guy was far worse. He looks like he just clawed his way out of hell with how messy his hair is and how much sweat he’s drenched in. Not to mention the bags under his eyes and how flushed his skin looks from how hard he’s keeping his annoyance within and oh god, he’s beautiful.
He drags his feet to walk away from the cab, eyebrows still furrowed, and you had to begrudgingly stop yourself from checking this stranger out because you do not want embarrassment to lace all the exasperation you’re feeling right now. You feel your cheeks heat up when you realize he stopped to stand beside your slumped form, sulking like you’ve lost all your will to live.
“Jesus, it’s so hot…” you hear him groan as he types away on his phone. You assume he’s complaining to a friend because it’s what you would have done. That is, if you could catch a signal.
You giggle to yourself and he snaps his head to look at you, expression softening.
“Tourist?”
He’s talking to you. What the hell are you supposed to do when a man (who looks like he stepped out of a typical romance drama) strikes a conversation with you? You choose to face him, avoiding eye contact, and nod meekly.
He immediately whines. A behavior such a stark contrast to a man whose figure towers over you, “Can you believe that cab driver tried to charge me 1000 pesos for a 15-minute ride? My friend told me they overcharge tourists like crazy, so I should just act angry, but I guess I’m not scaring them off..?”
You finally make eye contact with him, skimming over his features. He’s handsome, but not in a way that suffocates you. He’s… cute. Makes you feel fuzzy inside with his soft features. Round, wide eyes, nose slightly scrunched, and the way his front teeth sit on his bottom lip makes him look like a bunny who wasn’t given enough carrot treats. What the fuck are you even saying at this point? He’s just some guy. Okay, a gorgeous one, at that.
You clear your throat, “Maybe you should try an Uber?”
“Ubers aren’t available in the Philippines…”
You nod, not knowing what to say. You’ve proven yet again that you are physically incapable of talking to cute guys.
“Shit. Now my phone is at 1%.”
You snort, “I’d offer mine, but this dumb fuck cannot catch a signal.”
He sighs defeatedly, now sitting on his luggage as well, “Aren’t you going to try and get a cab?”
“I was going to, but after seeing you with that cab driver, I might as well just take a flight back home already…”
He chuckles. Even his laugh is pretty.
“Maybe you’re better at haggling than I am?”
He seems to be right, because the first cab driver you hailed instantly agreed to drive you for 300 pesos. You nod at the stranger while loading your luggage in the back, and he smiles at you in return. You’re probably never going to see each other again. So much for a short-lived airport crush.
You fall back onto the expanse of your bed once you’ve checked in, relishing in the comfort after a pain-staking flight. Stretching your back, you’re relieved to find that the hotel wi-fi works like magic, finally satiating your need for chronically online personal time. After a few moments of scrolling through your feed to see what you’ve missed, you grew bored, pressing the call button beside Karina’s contact name. Her face lights up your screen immediately.
“Yah! Why are you on your phone instead of the beach? I just saw you repost a Tiktok 5 minutes ago!”
You roll your eyes, “Can’t a girl replenish her social battery before going out and about all alone?” She simply chuckles, giving you an avenue to start complaining to her about all the mishaps that have happened so far. You drone on and on until you’ve lost track of all the time you spent just grumbling over every inconvenience, and she reassures you that maybe you used up all your bad luck, and from hereon, everything will fall into place smoothly. You aspire to be as optimistic as she is. Soon enough, she yawns, saying that it’s time for her afternoon nap, and you’re left to scurry over to the bathroom to freshen up.
It’s 4PM when you step out of your hotel room, padding over to the lobby to ask for the pathway to the beach, when you catch sight of a familiar tall figure hunched over the receptionist desk. He seems to feel your presence, because he snaps his head towards you.
“Huh? Oh!”
It’s the cute guy from the airport. You swear you’re going to get a heart attack.
“O-oh? Hey,” you try to muster out. You really, really suck at talking to cute guys.
He smiles, “Didn’t know you booked the same hotel! We could have shared a cab, then.”
“Would be weird to tell a complete stranger which hotel I booked, right?” You didn’t mean for the words to trail off your mouth quite harshly, really, but your realization hits you too late when his face flushes in panic as he responds. “A-ah! Yeah! I suppose it would be really weird. Sorry…”
You glance over at the receptionist desk to see that there was no one manning. Great. Now you can’t weasel your way out of this awkward situation.
“Uh… I was going to ask the receptionist where the pathway leading directly to the beach was, but I guess there’s nobody here?”
He’s shocked. It’s almost animated how his expressions are painted on his face. “I was going to ask them too! I’ve been waiting for about 10 minutes now, but I have no idea where the receptionist has gone, so…” He trails off, and maybe it’s the impatience getting to your head, so you ask,
“You want to just fuck it and find it ourselves?”
He looks at you, and for just a moment, you’re terrified. What if he thinks you’re hitting on him? Wanting to spend time alone with a hot guy? You almost think you’re fucked until he flashes a grin.
“I’m already itching to get my feet in the sand.”
And that’s how you find yourself walking side by side with him. You learn that his name is Soobin, and that he’s from South Korea, working in corporate like you. Soobin tells you about his friend that was supposed to come with him, but he booked his flight incorrectly in an absentminded haze, thus he was traveling solo. You tell him that your friend practically had to bribe you into going on this vacation because of all the stress you have bottled up from your miserable job. He lets out a giggle, saying that he needed to get away from his laptop screen given that even typing was giving him a migraine.
Despite your closed off nature, it was surprisingly easy to fall into a conversation with Soobin. Maybe you enjoyed the conversation a little too much, because it’s only then that you realize you’ve been going around in circles, still not finding the beachside.
“Do you think we’re lost?”
He turns over to you and stops in his tracks, smiling sheepishly. “Maybe?”
And then it hits you. You’re lost. God knows where you are, and you’re stuck navigating your way back with someone you met less than 5 hours ago. Did you really put your guard down for a stranger?
“Shit,” you pull out your phone, only to be reminded that it’s practically useless. It doesn’t help that you’re in a dead zone. You see him fiddling with his phone, seemingly to find a way to map yourselves out of this, but he was met with disappointment upon reading the words “no cellular service”.
You groan, wanting nothing but to go back to your hotel room to curl up in your bed, but Soobin was still adamant on finding the beachside. Unfortunately for you and your aching legs, you had to choose between dragging yourself sluggishly or having a tantrum in the middle of nowhere. The latter was a no-go, obviously, unless you had a death wish?
The fatigue and anxiety were catching up to the both of you as dead silence remained in the air, save from the small huffs you were letting out occasionally. Soobin glances at you from time to time, seemingly to check on your pathetic state. The sun was starting to set, and you’re certain you were going to make it to the headlines as the 25 year-old woman who (a) perished in extreme fatigue and irritation, or; (b) got brutally murdered by a bunny-looking stranger twice her size.
You don’t notice that you were looking at the ground, questioning every life decision that has led you to this absurdity, when Soobin’s awed gasp snaps you back into reality.
“Heol…”
You look up to see a breathtaking view, all yours to behold. The sun was setting in the horizon, etched in the apricot sky. Palm trees breezed through the path, and the salt in the air barely grazed your tongue. Soobin has his mouth agape, eyes full of wonder. Okay, maybe he’s not a serial killer out to murder you if he brought you to such a beautiful part of the seaside. Unless this is all part of his grand scheme to let your guard down? But he looks clueless as he can be, perhaps you were more likely to be the murderer in this situation.
“Come! There’s no one around!” Soobin hurriedly waddles over to a spot just below the trees, inviting you to join him. Once you’re sat beside him in the sand, he stretches the entirety of his legs, letting out a hum of relief. He has a stupid smile on his face as his eyes glaze to take in the golden hour.
“I’m sorry I got us lost. I’ve never been good at directions,” Soobin smiles apologetically. “But hey, this view is nice. We have this all to ourselves.”
No one was around. Okay. Maybe this is the part where he brutally murd-
“I hope you’re not too tired. I… kinda heard you huffing a lot earlier and I figured you were getting antsy. Also it was probably because you were lost in god knows where with a dude you just met, so that must have been scary for you? I can’t convince you that I’m completely harmless because that would make me more suspicious, right? And oh god why am I rambling?” He’s melting into a puddle of embarrassment. Usually, you liked it when men learned to shut the fuck up, but you tolerated his rambling. He was quite… endearing, actually.
You let out a small chuckle, “Soobin, it’s fine. We’re chill. I was just tired of walking in circles, that’s all.” He sighs in response, fingers tracing shapes in the sand.
“The view is beautiful though. I’m kinda glad we got lost. We can gatekeep this experience,” you add, shooting a reassuring smile. Now you feel bad for ever thinking ill of him, because the way he perks up and grins at you just seals the deal that he was never a threat. Soobin turns away to continue watching the sunset, basking in the way the sun’s rays kiss his skin.
Time flew by too fast, and now you’re left with the problem of how you’re supposed to go back to the hotel, when a light suddenly beams at the two of you.
“Hey! This is private property!” Fuck. No wonder there weren’t any people around. The two of you get escorted out, with the security guard huffing about how “kids these days just fool around everywhere”, to which you and Soobin turn crimson profusely. You had no choice but to push your luck, asking him the way to your hotel no matter how embarrassed the pair of you were.
“Okay… that was humiliating,” you cringe and glance over at Soobin, who was not faring any better than you. His cheeks were still puffed out, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip.
“Kinda feels like we’re trauma bonded now,” he mutters, praying that this time around, you were going the right way. “Trauma bonded over a humiliation ritual…. today felt too long.”
You hum, “Yep. Might have to skip dinner. I just want to sleep and stock up on social battery for the next 6 days.”
His eyes widened, “Wow. We have the exact same hotel and trip duration.”
You nod, not knowing what to make of this new knowledge, but all the rummaging in your brain was instantly cut off by him.
“Do you, perhaps…” His voice turns small. “Perhaps you’d like to stick together?”
“A whole week together? You might get sick of me.”
He grins, “Well, if by chance I do, it would be totally fine. We’re most likely never going to cross paths with each other again anyway.”
You don’t know what compels you to, but you agree.
You hope Karina would be proud of you stepping outside of your comfort zone (and trusting that some guy doesn’t offer you as human sacrifice.)
The next few days went by like a dream.
On the second and third day, Soobin took you ziplining and leaping off waterfalls despite your protests. You remember how your heart skipped a beat at his proud, child-like grin when he got you to admit that facing your fear of heights ended up rather enjoyable. The day after, the pair of you decided to take a break from the adrenaline and wandered off to the cultural spots Cebu had to offer. You didn’t expect him to take such good shots of you, worthy enough to be posted on your wilting Instagram account. Karina had even bombarded you with question marks, asking if you’ve finally made a new friend. Imagine her shock when you sent her a selfie you had taken of the two of you, and she found out your new “friend” looks like he stepped out of a manhwa.
By the end of the fifth day of your escapades with Soobin, you had suggested trying out the beachside bars your Tiktok algorithm was raging about. It seems like Karina had magic senses, because your phone suddenly chirped with a text notification while you added finishing touches to your makeup.
rina<3: u crack cebu boy yet?
You furrow your eyebrows at this.
: huh
: we’re FRIENDS
rina<3: and he’s ur exact type
: well yes
: but it would be weird to get in a random stranger’s pants
rina<3: dude that’s exactly why
: u can just leave it behind
: what happens in cebu stays in cebu type shit
: esp if hes bad in bed 💀
: you are so…
: what if i catch something from him
rina<3: feelings?
: oh u meant an std
: i snooped through his instagram and mans looks bitchless anyway
: his following list consists of league gameplay accounts and 4 of his friends
: ugh idk man
: i just
: hes hot but
: i’d rather not put weird thoughts in my head about a dude i’m spending the remaining days with
rina<3: LMAO it’s okay i’m playing
: just sayin u only live once
: and i’ve prayed hard for u to finally get laid again
: especially after ur ugly ass ex
: and don’t tell me u haven’t snooped through his ig either
: ?
: i have but
: just out of pure curiosity
rina<3: love when u get defensive
: u in bed alrdy? do u wanna call and catch up
: im yearning for my best friend
: awww i’m going out
: trying the beachside bars
rina<3: oh? 👀
: enjoy <3
: hoping u break ur vow of abstinence
: ????
: love you
: i’ll call u tomorrow evening maybe
Karina sends a heart and a wink in response, making you smile and shake your head
Looking at yourself in the mirror, you adjust a strand of your hair and suddenly become antsy. All those talks about Soobin suddenly made you feel hauntingly self-aware. You hate to admit that you wanted to look pretty to him. Life has a way of making things fall into place so perfectly, because not long after your frustrated fussing, you hear three knocks on your door. Soobin.
You pad over, opening your door to see Soobin standing in true, awkward, painfully endearing Soobin fashion.
His eyes fall on your face, drifting just a millisecond to your bikini-clad and sheer covered body. You barely miss the way his cheeks burn despite the cold air from your room.
“You look-” he starts, but cuts himself off. Alarms blare in your head. Look horrible? A mess? You look like you tried to get all pretty for me but absolutely failed?
“Look what?” you squeak out, voice small. He scratches his neck, as if debating what words to say. You’re painfully fretting over every possible response until he eventually mumbles something after a few beats.
“You look beautiful.”
He says it so sincerely it makes your head spin. But alas, Soobin is Soobin…
“Not in a creepy way! The color of your outfit just fits you really well. And the way you did your hair and makeup is pretty cool. And-”
You shush him, trying to calm your heart that is about to beat out of your chest, “It’s fine, Soobin. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
Awkward silence then envelopes you in the warmly lit hotel hallway, both of you not daring to meet each other’s eyes.
You were the one to break the stillness, “Let’s go?”, to which he hums in response. He looked like he had much more to say, but you don’t dare to pry him on his thoughts in fear of further straining the situation.
One thing you liked about spending time with Soobin is how the two of you go well together. Platonically, you swear. It isn’t even five minutes deep into the walk together when you’re back to telling each other mundane stories about your lives back home. Soobin whines about how he misses his dog, Tori, to which you reply “so she’s far better company than me?”, causing him to ramble in panic. You, in turn, tell him about how you don’t want to come back to office paperwork when you’ve been having the time of your life getting your feet in the sand all day.
“I wish we could stay here forever,” he sighs, seemingly in a haze as the night breeze grazes his hair. “It’s been really fun just doing anything and everything with you.”
You take the chance to finally, actually look at Soobin. He towers over you, looking you straight in the eye like he doesn’t know your heart is about to beat out of your chest every time he does so. His hair is messy from the wind, the outline of his face perfectly chiseled by the moonlight gracing his skin.
In that moment, you know something starts shifting between your feelings and your ever-so rational mind. You can’t help it. Not when he’s looking at you like you hung up the moon. Not when his beauty is one you would only find once in a lifetime.
You’re done for.
Despite this, you push your thoughts down your throat, managing to whisper, “I’ll really miss you when we go our separate ways, you know?”
He chuckles, “Because I’m the only male friend you have that actually takes good photos of you?”
“Your words, not mine.”
He beams teasingly before adding, “I’ll miss you too. A lot.”
Suddenly confronted with the vulnerability of your words, you tear your eyes away from him and start kicking sand beneath your feet, “I don’t know why I got sappy, sorry. I still have 2 days with you.”
“It’s cute,” Soobin reassures you. As a friend would, right? You don’t want to overthink it. “I never would have thought we’d warm up to each other so fast, but maybe I was meant to meet you on this trip.”
“Just so you have someone to buy you vinegar for your jellyfish stings?”
“That, and we make quite a good pair for people who only met at the start of this week.” Your heart feels like it’s being tugged from all sides, painfully reminded of the fact that you’ve grown attached to him in such a short period of time.
Right. You really shouldn’t get too attached to someone who will be an ocean away by the following week.
Your forlorn musings are interrupted by the chants of people that cut through the bubble you and Soobin have placed yourselves in. He flashes an ever so sweet smile at you, taking your hand in his.
“You ready to get absolutely shitfaced?”
The world is spinning before your eyes.
“Sooooobieeee” you slur out, arm snugly wrapped around his. “Let’s drink more!”
You don’t know how much alcohol is flowing through your bloodstream, but it was enough for you to cling into Soobin like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. Literally. If it weren’t for him, you would have fallen face flat into the ground.
He squeaks, “No more! You’re red all over!”
“And you’re not!” you pout, “It’s like I’m the only one having fun!”
You would have thought he was starting to get sick of you if it weren’t for his grip tightening before he says, “I’m having fun. But-”
“Soobin. Soobin. I’m going to throw up.”
He mutters a profanity in his native language, dragging you up so gently and guiding you somewhere your inebriated mind couldn’t fathom. It’s only when you breathe in the stench that you piece out that he had taken you to the bathroom (more specifically, the line of people leading to it.)
“Don’t barf on me, please,” Soobin practically begs, rubbing circles on your back as you lean further into his grip, dopey smile plastered on your face as you admire him from the angle below.
“You’re really, really, reallyyyy cute, Soobie,” you squeeze the bicep you’re clinging onto, making the man shriek in surprise. “How are you even real?”
He chooses to look away from your eyes that keep raking all over him, cheeks now a carmine red.
“I told you earlier that you didn’t look too bad yourself, but I wanted to tell you that you looked absolutely fucking beautiful. Far prettier than me. Even though I spent so long trying to look cute for you,” you stumble over your words as he keeps his hold on your waist. You don’t even notice that it was your turn to enter the bathroom when he sighs and escorts you inside, oblivious to the stares you got from stepping inside together.
He positions you so that you’re hunched over the toilet, his annoyingly long legs folded to keep you at eye level while he bunches your hair up. As your drunkenness wills, you expel the intoxication out of your system as Soobin wipes the sweat off your face and neck. When all is done, you look at him and weakly ask for toilet paper to wipe your face with, to which he takes it upon himself to do it for you, gingerly padding over your mouth and tear-stained cheeks.
“All okay?” Soobin asks as he throws the toilet paper away and tidies up the bathroom the best he could.
“Mhm,” you purr, latching onto his arm as he opens the door, receiving pointed stares from the people witnessing you step outside together. You were all oblivious to it, wanting nothing but to curl up into the heat his body tenders. He’s silent as you stumble over your feet, and yet he traces his arm back around your waist once more.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you back.”
“But you haven’t even drank that much yet!”
“I’m not a heavy drinker.”
You sulk as he maneuvers you all the way back to your hotel room.
When he sets you down on the bed, your frown only gets deeper. He’s immediately rummaging through your bathroom, hurriedly asking where your cleansing wipes are before you succumb to slumber, and returns to your side albeit not telling him where it was. It’s funny, really, the way you could see yourselves falling into this routine in the future. A future that seems so out of reach, if only you wouldn’t be miles away from each other when all this is done.
“Stay still,” Soobin whispers, as if terrified of breaking through the air of tenderness sifting through your hotel room. He holds your face so delicately as he drags the makeup off of your lethargic state. He’s merely inches away and yet he seems so far from your reach.
“Soobin,” you let out, almost a pained, yearning whimper. You feel his fingers tremble against your cheek before he resumes his ministrations with a simple hum. “You’re even prettier up close.”
Maybe it’s the liquid courage. Maybe it’s all those talks with Karina. Maybe it’s the rare occurrence of you acting according to impulse– but you close the distance between the two of you, letting out a contented sigh as you feel his plump lips against yours.
The problem is Soobin stays unmoving.
You pull away, shame overcoming the entirety of your system.
“Soobin, I’m sor-”
“Good night,” he replies curtly.
All inebriety has fallen out of the window as you lay down, pulling the sheets all over yourself. You pray this was all just a dream. That you had actually dozed off as he was busying himself on tidying the makeup off your face.
The last thing you hear before sleep overcomes you are his faint footsteps and the clicking of your door.
page.soobin: let me know if you’re awake
: i bought painkillers for you
: i’ll come by then
It’s half past 3 in the afternoon when you awake from your slumber, groaning as you curse yourself for drinking like a maniac the previous night. You simply blink at Soobin’s texts, about to reply when you recall all the humiliation you put yourself in.
Fuck. Fuck. You’re fucked.
page.soobin: you awake?
: you have read receipts on by the way
Great.
: i just woke up
: it’s fine i can manage
: you don’t have to come over
page.soobin: stop
: at least let me take care of you
: i’m okay, soobin
: i swear
page.soobin: i’m still dropping by
: elevator rn
It all happens so quickly. One second you’re grimacing at the thought of seeing him in your disheveled and oh-so dreadfully humiliated state, and the next you’re opening the door for him. He’s dressed in a baggy shirt and shorts, hair disheveled as if he’s been running his hands through it the whole while.
“You should have gone out instead of worrying about my hungover,” you grumble under your breath, eyes not daring to land on him.
“Go out? Without you?” He says it like nothing significant happened between the two of you just hours ago.
“Yeah, I don’t know about that…”
Soobin puffs out a breath he’s been keeping for God knows how long.
“Listen-”
“We don’t have to talk about it, Soobin. I’m really sorry. We should just forget that ever happened and just go our separate ways for the rest of our days here.”
Your mind is in shambles as he stares blankly, debating what to say next.
“Please look at me.”
You can’t deny his request when his voice sounds like it’s about to break. When your eyes meet for the first time since last night, everything just comes crashing out on you. He’s staring so intently, you fear you’ll break upon his gaze.
“Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
“That you find me beautiful,” he pauses before adding, “That you tried to look pretty for me.”
You grimace at his prodding. “Why would I not mean it?”
“You were drunk.”
“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean I’m lying.”
Just like that, another awkward silence falls upon you. You could only hear his shallow breaths, like he was holding himself back. You pray he doesn’t hear the buzzing in your brain.
“I wanted to kiss you,” he professes matter-of-factly.
“You didn’t kiss me back.”
“I didn’t want our first kiss to be of us being drunk.”
You’re dumbfounded as you took in his feverish appearance.
“So, if you’ll let me,” he murmurs, “I’d like to have a do-over.”
This time, it wasn’t you who closed the distance between your lips. In a matter of seconds, all of you is filled with him. Soobin. Soobin, who didn’t want to make a move in fear of you not reciprocating. Soobin, who was patient enough to care for you in the most minuscule of ways. Soobin, who you have at the palm of your hand, giving you himself wholeheartedly. Soobin, who has yearned for you all this time.
His soft lips glide against yours so smoothly, his hands eventually slotting around the curve of your waist to pull you in closer. Kissing him felt like coming home. Pressed up against him is where you wanted to be forever.
Soobin pushes you to lay on the bed, with him following suit. He’s careful not to put his whole weight on you, but even so, you feel suffocated by the affection bubbling within you. He’s all yours, albeit just for this moment.
“Soob,” you manage to mewl out against the kisses he is peppering all over your collarbone.
“You alright, baby?” The endearment is enough to make your legs buckle around his waist, wanting to pull him in closer.
“More than alright,” you gasp as he grazes his teeth against your neck, leaving love bites. “I just can’t believe you’re mine today.”
He furrows his eyebrows, halting his actions, “Today?”
“Today,” you frown. “Last full day together and we’re back to our old lives.”
His eyes soften immediately, brushing the strands of hair from your face before he speaks, “It doesn’t have to be just today. I’m yours evermore.”
“But-”
“I’ll visit you every now and then. You can show me around your hometown, and I’ll fly you out to mine,” he traces his finger against your cheek, “And then you’ll meet Tori. I swear you’ll fall in love with her. And we’ll have all the time to ourselves.”
You snicker, “Do you say that to the girls back home too?”
Soobin chuckles in response, a low humming in his chest, “Home is with you.”
You feel like you’re going insane as you pull him in once more, so overwhelmed with the infatuation. Your kisses escalate from shy smacks to a full-blown makeout session, eliciting soft groans from the man looming above you. The way you touch each other feels as though you’re trying to memorize the feel of your bodies, your hands making their way to the skin of his chest under his shirt.
“Take it off if you want to, baby,” he prompts, half-teasing and half-desperate. You catch your breath before tugging on it, motioning for him to help you in pulling it over his head. Every part of him looks like it was sculpted by the gods so intricately. You really can’t believe he’s yours for the taking.
“You look like you’re about to devour me,” he teases.
“I am about to devour you.”
He moans at your words, taking you aback.
“You’re into that?”
“Only if it’s you.”
You don’t know how much time passes– all you know is that your clothes ended up on the floor and he’s inching his long fingers into your heat. His eyebrows are knit as he presses each knuckle to your walls, while you are left to whimper helplessly. His pace picks up, making your face scrunch up from the pleasure.
“Soo- baby, no,” you have a death grip on his arm, trying to stop him.
“Hurts?”
“No, good,” you swivel your hips, “Just want you inside.”
He gulps, a rush of heat going straight to his groin. “Condom?”
It’s irresponsible, really. Despite having previous experiences, you’ve never done it without. You don’t know why, but your brain compels you to heave in response, “No. I want all of you.”
“You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Death by dick seems pleasurable.”
Soobin almost can’t believe the humor laced in your words when he’s about to fuck the living daylights out of you, “Don’t die on me.”
He pulls himself out of his boxers, stroking himself. He’s achingly hard, and it took everything in you not to shoot up and beg him to let you have a taste.
“Soobin, you’re huge.”
“More surface area for me to love you with.”
You were about to shoot him a cringed out look when he guided his tip to your entrance. Both your faces scrunch up in pleasure despite the lack of penetration.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Baby,” your chest heaves, “I need you. I thought I made that clear.”
He beams, a stark contrast to him starting to inch through your insides. He’s biting his lip as he holds your hips down, “You’re- fuck.”
Your brain has officially melted into a puddle when he manages to fit everything inside. He gives you time to adjust to the intrusion, pecking your face all over. You swear this is the closest thing to paradise.
And he’s not far off. You notice how his knuckles are turning white from gripping your hips so tautly, trying to ground himself.
When you give him the signal to move, Soobin swears he could almost finish from the first thrust. He’s almost whining from the all-consuming pleasure, thrusts going from the softest brushes against your walls to calculated presses against the deepest parts of you. Soon enough, you’re babbling against his collarbone, leaving your own marks on his ivory skin. He’s yours, yours, yours.
“Fuck,” Soobin sobs, “I just want to stay like this forever.”
You can’t even bring yourself to respond verbally, resorting to clenching around him. His sobs grow even louder, hips unrelenting against yours. You wish you had met back in your hometown. You wish he was easily within your reach. You wish you had the liberty of being tangled up with him for the rest of your life. You don’t want to let him go. What can you do when the only person you’ve allowed yourself to feel everything and anything for lives oceans away?
“Baby,” your voice is weak as you scratch up his back, tugging on his nape. “About to cum.”
This only eggs him on faster, now slamming his hips roughly as he chases your orgasm. “F-fuck. I-inside?”
You hum, locking your legs tighter around his waist, “Nowhere else. N-need to have a piece of you with- in me before we fly back tomorrow.”
Your words seem to do wonders for Soobin. Your orgasm hits you at the same time he spills his warmth deep inside. You would’ve teased him about how he came so much if you weren’t twitching from the aftershocks of your release. He stays inside as the two of you unwind, him drawing circles against your hips, trying to soothe it from his death grip from earlier.
“You alright?” he mumbles against your neck, lapping at it gently. You hum in response, running your fingers through his tousled hair. You lay in silence, relishing in each other’s body warmth under the covers. He kisses the top of your head from time to time, breathing in your scent.
“I smell like vomit,” you grimace.
“You smell like sex.”
You roll your eyes, “That too. But I’m too lazy to take a shower. Just want to be with you.”
He taps your thigh, smirking, “Just say you want to take a shower with me.”
And that, you did. He takes his time with you, locking you in his embrace as the water simmers through your bare bodies. Mundane as it is, you bask in the feel of his body pressed against yours. You’d do anything to live in this moment eternally.
When it was time to fly back home, it took everything in you not to lock yourself inside Soobin’s luggage. You had walked hand in hand, waiting for each other’s flights back home. He kept kissing your knuckles, hushing sweet nothings. When your flight had been announced for boarding, you had cried in his arms, desperately wanting to take him with you. Soobin, ever the mediator, kisses the top of your head, promising to be by your side in a few months’ time. You don’t dare to look back when you enter the gate. You’re scared you’ll fall into another fit of sobs.
It’s been 5 months since, and you’re lounging on your couch, waiting for Soobin’s daily good morning message. He had been consistent in giving you even the smallest details of his life, the highlight of each of your days being the video call you hop on for your debriefings until you fall asleep.
soob ♡: good morning
: the heat is killing me
Your face lights up as his name pops up on your screen.
: good morning <3
: it’s 17° in seoul though?
soob ♡: wanna see something funny?
: baby it’s too early for your league of legends gameplay
soob ♡: heyyy :(
: but please say yes
: this isn’t related to league i swear
: ?
: okay yes i wanna know something funny
soob ♡: okay maybe this is borderline creepy instead of funny
: [Sent a photo attachment.]
You shriek as you open the photo, feet immediately waddling over to your front door.
There he is.
Soobin has a large grin on his face when his eyes land on you, a bouquet of lilies in his hand extended towards you. Even so, your favorite flowers dull in comparison to your favorite boy. The bouquet is all forgotten on the ground when you run to his embrace, one that you’ve been longing for. You don’t care if the neighbors could hear your squealing throughout the apartment hallway. He’s here. He’s here. He’s here, and he’s finally all yours.
when your boyfriend’s basketball team wins their championship game, of course they’re expecting a grand celebration for it—a big, shiny prize. that prize comes in the shape of you, and you letting them do absolutely whatever they want to you. but, this isn’t the first time you’ve been the prize, and it won’t be the last either.
( 𝓷 )。 wrote this because i went into a lust-filled craze after i saw this video of the boys after their korea uni performance… it’s so filthy i’m sorry LMAOO (つ ω ≦；) the warnings are so long god… i didn’t mean for it to be this long but yknow!! hehe enjoyyy!!~~ ♡♡
You flew to your feet as the stadium erupted into cheers, your own screams falling from your lips. You didn’t think as you ran down the stairs, pushing past anyone who was in your way, you just had to make it to the team.
“That was amazing!” you yelled as you ran towards Taehyun, who just made the winning shot right at the buzzer. It was forty to forty-three, the home team taking the championship. You jumped into his arms and he spun you around, his hold on you tightening. He was dripping with sweat, but you didn’t care one bit. Taehyun put you back down on your feet and you took a step back to get a good look at him. “That,” you started, catching your breath a little, “was amazing! You got it on the buzzer too!”
Taehyun smiled at you as he looked over at his cheering teammates who were still on the basketball court. They caught sight of the two of you and he waved them over. “Wasn’t it?” Taehyun asked rhetorically. “I wasn’t even expecting it—I wasn't even thinking when I shot from halfway across the court, but it went in anyway!”
You pulled his attention back down to where you stood next to him so you could kiss him. Taehyun smiled into the kiss, rocking you back and forth for a moment before the two of you parted just in time to be engulfed by the rest of the team.
Sweaty limbs were all over you and the air around you was filled with laughter. It was such an electrifying moment, that you couldn’t help but feel like you were part of the team. Taehyun liked to call you his “good luck charm.” He claimed that whenever you were at one of their basketball games, which most of them, that they always won. You’d like think that it was just their pure talent, but you bathed in how the team hoisted you up onto their shoulders and chanted, “Good luck charm! Good luck charm!” Some even went as far to tell the opposing team to suck it.
You were laughing so hard that your stomach was hurting, but the night was far from over. The celebrations have only begun.
Taehyun pulled you to where him and his close friends on the team stood and away from the rest of the team who were now making their way to the locker room. Yeonjun pulled you into his sweaty side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “So, are you gonna reward us for winning the championship?” Yeonjun asked with a flirty tone, looking down at your frame.
Taehyun made a face as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his chest. “What the fuck, man? She’s my girlfriend!” Taehyun said, disgusted. Yeonjun just laughed at him, the other four boys joining in. The smile grew on your face and you buried it into Taehyun’s chest.
“That didn’t seem to be a problem last game,” Beomgyu replied. Taehyun’s disgusted attitude dropped and he harshly nudged Beomgyu away. He fought the smirk on his face as he pushed away the boys and kept you at his side.
Yeonjun yanked you into his chest, his hands traveling down to cup your ass. “Come on,” he dragged out, “It was so much fun last time, wasn’t it?” Yeonjun leaned down and whispered the latter half of his sentence in your ear as his hands traveled back up your body. “You can’t even deny it, we were all there. We could start right now—right in the locker room.”
Beomgyu pulled you away from him, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder. “At least treat her like a lady, Yeonjun!” He hissed at him.
“She wasn’t asking to be treated like a lady when we were all inside of her,” Yeonjun threw back. The group laughed and heat rose to your face as you thought about what happened between the six of you at their last game. Flashes of a hotel room crossed your mind and you could almost feel the stickiness and the sweat all over your skin. You crossed your legs at it, laying your head on Beomgyu’s shoulder to try and focus on the conversation that they were having.
“You two are quiet, what are you thinking about, huh? Thinking about how you’ll try to last longer than five minutes this time?” Beomgyu asked Soobin and Kai, the vibration of his voice travelling down your side. The boys laughed and Soobin and Kai grew red. “Or maybe they’re thinking about different positions to put her in when it’s their turn…” Beomgyu trailed mockingly, and Kai laughed.
It was a little embarrassing how they were talking about all of this so out in the open, like they werent even aware that there were others still around them. Fans of both teams were passing you by, staring with wide, lustful eyes at the teammates and they didn’t even give them a single look. They were completely tuned in to the conversation they were having about putting you into different positions and splitting you completely open like it was just another day, like they were talking about the weather.
They didn’t even mind that they were talking about you in front of you either. “Yeah,” Kai started a bit awkwardly, “Maybe this time I’ll just have her suck me off. Maybe deepthroat her?” Soobin then hurriedly chimed in, “Dude, you’ll be missing out! Her pussy is heavenly, I’ve never felt anything like it before.” While they talked, Beomgyu’s hands trailed lower and lower until his thumb was playing with the hem of the skirt you wore. Occasionally he dipped it under and rubbed his thumb along the smooth skin there.
“All that I know,” Taehyun spoke over the others, his voice a bit louder than before and catching the attention of a group that walked past you all, “is that she’s my girlfriend, so I get to finish her off completely.” You cringed a little at how the passing group’s eyebrows raised at the innuendo.
Yeonjun snorted at Taehyun’s words, “Not that there’ll be much left when we’re done with her.”
Taehyun glared at him. “Fine, then we’ll go oldest to youngest.” The group groaned, but Yeonjun smirked at you, his eyes trailing you up and down and stopping at Beomgyu’s thumb at the hem of your skirt. His nose twitched a bit before he looked away.
“How is that any fair?” Kai asked. Soobin quickly cut in, “You said that you just wanted to deepthroat her! You don’t need her to be not fucked out for that, Kai.”
Kai rolled his eyes at him, muttering under his breath. “Let’s go then,” Yeonjun spoke, walking up to you and pulling you from Beomgyu’s grasp. “I’m gonna make sure you don’t even realize that the others are there once I’m done with you. I hope you like me being rough.” He looked back at you for a moment, his eyes trailing over your hand in his as you followed him like a waiting puppy. “What am I even saying? Of course you do. Let’s hope your boyfriend doesn’t get too jealous.”
The six of you walked back to the locker room, chuckles and muttered words leaving your lips at each twist and turn of the way there. The closer you got to it, the more your heart raced. For some reason, this time made you more nervous.
When they jokingly purposed the idea last time—which was mainly Yeonjun’s doing—it was all excited nerves and fiery skin. The thought of them all taking turns being inside you thrilled you, especially since you found them all attractive. That time was them just testing the waters, seeing how far you would let them push your buttons until you pushed them away. After all, you were still Taehyun’s girlfriend. This time, however, all bets were on the table, all opportunities. And this wasn’t just any regular win—this was the championship win. The big, golden shiny medal. And you were the celebration, the prize.
To say you were excited and nervous was an understatement, and the boys weren’t shy on voicing exactly what they wanted to do to you either.
Yeonjun pushed the locker room door open and that zealous feeling overwhelmed you. Thankfully, the rest of their teammates have already filed out, most likely doing interviews somewhere in the building. The room was completely empty—not that you would have cared if you had a broader audience at this point—and Yeonjun looked back at where you stood in the doorway and smirked. “Looks like I got you all to myself.”
“We’re all still here, dipshit,” Taehyun scoffed, taking your hand and leading you further into the room. He walked you to the bench near the lockers and motioned for you to sit. “Take your clothes off,” he then said, his voice soft, as he looked up at his teammates getting their stuff together around the room. You did as he said, shaky fingers excitedly tugging at the hem of your shirt. Taehyun pulled at the collar of his jersey behind his neck before taking it off all in one motion. He tossed it down onto the bench next to you before moving to grab his things from his locker.
You were wiggling the skirt you were wearing down your legs when Kai appeared in front of you. He trapped you against him with his arms at the sides of your body with a teasing smile. Kai was shirtless too, and you looked down at the way his abs tightened with his laugh. He leaned in closer to you, and in a low voice he said, “You’re eager.”
“What girl wouldn’t be?” you responded, your lips brushing up against his with each word you spoke. Kai chuckled again, shaking his head a little, before he pressed his lips to yours. You leaned more into the kiss and your tits pressed up against his chest. Your arm wrapped around his torso to pull him closer as your lips parted to give him more access to your mouth.
Kai graciously accepted your invitation, groaning into your mouth like its been ages since he’s kissed anyone. His hand moved to the top of your thigh and your back practically arched at the electrifying touch, at the hint of what was to come. “Please,” you muttered into his mouth, the sound coming out muffled, but Kai heard you anyway as his hand trailed to your inner thigh.
It was like the two of you were the only ones in the room. You didn’t care one bit that you were suppose to be with Yeonjun right now instead of Kai. The rules flew completely out of the window as soon as Kai’s lips were on yours. All you wanted to do was show him just how well you could use your mouth, and you were sure that Kai was wondering about the thought as well. The only person you sucked off besides your boyfriend was Beomgyu, and he made sure to show the rest of the group how deep your throat could take his big cock. “Wow, Taehyun… you really trained her to take dick well! I wasn’t expecting this,” Beomgyu remarked as the sound of you gagging and the other boys’ moans filled the hotel room as they got themselves off at the sight of it.
You remembered looking at Kai then, tears streaming down your hot face and saliva dripping down your chin. It must’ve stuck with him this whole time.
Before you and Kai could go any further, he was ripped away from you with a short gasp. Yeonjun had a tight grasp in Kai’s damp ashy blonde hair and his eyes held a fury unlike anything you’ve seen from him before. He was completely naked, save for a towel haphazardly thrown over his shoulder, and you greedily took him in despite him not sparing you a single glance. His focus was completely on Kai.
“Do I have to teach you a lesson on waiting your turn?” Yeonjun hissed in Kai’s ear, his grip tightening. Kai winced, but shook his head at the question, breathing out a quick “No!” Yeonjun pushed him to the side and away from where you still sat on the bench, half naked and panting with desire as you watched the scene unfold. Your cheeks were burning, but not because you were embarrassed at being caught. You wanted Yeonjun to turn his attention onto you next, to scold you too.
You quickly looked around the room. The rest of the boys were in various stages of being naked too, their items scattered as they put stuff away and got ready for their celebration. Taehyun caught your attention from across the room. His boxers were hanging low on his hips and his sweaty hair was pushed back off of his forehead to dry out of his eyes. He just shook his head at you, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. Taehyun already knew what you were trying to do, it came as no shock to him. You smirked and hid it by biting your lips as you looked back to Yeonjun.
Yeonjun looked over his shoulder at your boyfriend, “I knew your girl was a slut, but I didn’t know it was to this extent. Can’t even get my hands on her before she’s flying to someone else.” Finally, Yeonjun turned to look at you, and you inhaled sharply.
His brows were drawn together and his face was twisted into one of almost disgust along with the underlying anger from catching Kai with you before him. Yeonjun’s lips were pulled back in a mocking smile that showed his teeth. It was almost embarrassing how hard you were breathing, how your chest rose and fell vigorously with how excited you were. You locked eyes with him, licking your lips as you wiggled to push down your soaked panties and let your skirt fall to the tile with it, and bared yourself to him completely.
Yeonjun just turned and walked away from you.
Your mouth fell open, and you hunched into yourself a bit. “Where are you going?!” Taehyun asked Yeonjun as he passed by him, annoyed on your behalf. Yeonjun’s answer was short in response, “To shower.”
Taehyun looked back at you for a moment and you stared at him with wide eyes. “What about her? It’s your turn!” Yeonjun walked back to where the showers were and threw his towel over the side of the wall. His other shower supplies were already sitting there. “Tell her to come on,” Yeonjun simply said and turned the water on.
Your gaze returned to Taehyun, hesitancy radiating off of you. He tilted his head back to where Yeonjun was showering and returned back to getting his stuff together. You sat on the bench for a moment before you stood on shaky legs.
The walk back to the showers seemed endless and the sound of the water only grew. You peeked around the wall to the shower Yeonjun was at to see his back was turned to you as the stream of water poured over him. “Yeonjun?” you called in a soft voice, stepping into the open shower. Your feet were met with warm water as you stepped closer.
Yeonjun turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes half closed so the water didnt drip into them. He ran his hands through his wet hair to get a better look at you and you lingered a couple feet from him. “Why are you acting so shy now? Come here,” he says while stepping out of the water a bit.
You don’t know why you were so shy either. Maybe it was the way Yeonjun turned from you like he didn’t want to fuck you, despite it all being his idea. Maybe it was because he was the only one who didn’t voice exactly what he wanted to do to you besides asking if you liked him being rough. The showers weren’t what you were imagining when he said “rough,” and you struggled to picture how you’d even manouver in here.
When you were right in front of him, Yeonjun didn’t hesitate to bring you closer. He hugged your naked body tight to his and roughly kissed you like he had a problem.
Yeonjun drowned out your gasp by sticking his tongue inside your mouth instead at the golden opportunity. His hand was on the back of your neck so you couldn’t move from his hold, his fingers tangled in the strands of your hair as your lips moved as one. You couldn’t help but moan, and that seemed to egg Yeonjun on even further as he pushed you up against the wall and away from the water completely.
He pulled away from you, just mere inches so your face was fully in his view. “Never do that again,” he said lowly. That same anger from earlier lingered deep within it, but you decided to act clueless to it anyway. You look up at him with big eyes, glancing at how his lips were wet with your shared saliva and how it still connected the two of you. “Do what again?” you asked innocently.
Yeonjun’s eyes narrowed at you, not as amused as Taehyun would be if it was the two of you in this situation. “Don’t play dumb with me,” Yeonjun said in response. “You’ll only piss me off more. You know what I’m talking about.”
You just smiled at him, your hands running up his abs and towards his chest. “What if I like pissing you off, hm?” You leaned in closer so your lips were just against his. “What if I think it’s hot?”
Yeonjun’s hand at the back of your neck pulled at your hair just before your lips could fully connect. His gaze was dark, but the corners of his plush lips were raised ever so slightly at your confession. “I don’t like sharing,” Yeonjun spoke, his voice still low. “Especially not with them.”
Your smile grew and you had to resist the urge to laugh. “You don’t have much of a choice, now do you?”
Yeonjun chuckled, “That’s what you think.” He parted your legs with his knee. “They all have to fuck you after I do, not the other way around. By then, you’re already used goods. Not even that boyfriend of yours gets to have you first. You’re all mine.”
He settled his knee in between your legs, right against your heat. You bit down on your bottom lip as you tried to hold in your moan and you adjusted the way you stood. Slowly, you began to roll your hips, your gaze never leaving Yeonjun’s. You felt his cock twitch against your thigh and you smiled more. “What are you waiting for then?” you asked him. “I’m yours.”
Before you could even fully finish your sentence Yeonjun was kissing you again, rough and sloppy like he just wanted to shut you up. You moved your hips faster, the water from his shower making it easier along with just how aroused you were, as a moan spilled past your lips. Yeonjun swallowed it whole.
His hands moved down to your hips and he moved them against his thigh for you. Yeonjun bit down on your bottom lip and you whined, pulling away from his lips a little.
Your moans were loud, even over the abandoned shower stream. You turned to look behind you at the boys, your gaze scanning them all. Taehyun leaned against the wall that divided the lockers from the showers, completely naked like you all now were, an unreadable expression on his face. His cock was in his hand and he lazily stroked the base of it.
Soobin was the one who seemed the most unraveled so far. His cock was leaking and red and he stroked it with quick movements. Soft pants emitted from his open mouth and every so often he threw his head back when you moaned a particular way. Soobin’s hair stuck to his forehead with the effort he was exerting. He could barely stand up on his own two feet against the lockers.
Beomgyu was leaning against a locker a few feet away from him, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He was the only one without his cock in his hands, but it still stood tall anyway. His arms were crossed against his chest and he seemed almost bored. You could tell he was expecting more action like how the last time was instead of Yeonjun hiding you behind a wall. Beomgyu didn’t dare to open his mouth and say anything about it, though.
Kai sat at the bench you were previously at, ears red with his barely controlled lust. He had a tight hold on the tip of his leaking cock as he rubbed it slowly. It looked like he was trying to savor every moment, edge himself on until it was finally his turn and he could cum down your throat instead. When you looked at him, he nearly jerked in his spot and his face grew redder.
It all turned you on even more, made your moans louder and your hips move faster. Yeonjun’s lips were on your neck, his teeth nipping at your unmarred skin before anyone else could. He was clearly staking his claim on you for the rest of them—and for everyone else once you were all done—to see. Yeonjun trailed sloppy kisses back up and over his work, relishing in how your body jerked each time your clit dragged along his thigh and his teeth grazed over the sensitive hickeys he just left. But, he wouldn’t just let you cum that easily, not when you weren’t even looking at him—focused on him.
Yeonjun pulled his knee out from under you and you would’ve fallen to the wet tile had his hands not been at your hips. Your gaze flew to his and the look on his face alone could’ve made you cum. His head was slightly tilted and his face was a perfect mask of calmness and composure, but you could see the cracks. Yeonjun’s jaw was tense as he worked it and his eyes were darker than ever. He didn’t even bother to move his black hair out of his eyes so you could really see how much you pissed him off.
Instead, Yeonjun dragged you back out to the lockers right in the center of all of the boys and pushed you down to the bench next to where Kai still sat. Kai hesitantly looked at the two of you before standing to his feet and moving to the other side of the wall where Taehyun stood. You ran your hands down your thighs, the skin still slightly wet from Yeonjun’s. He threw a leg over the bench next to you and roughly angled you to the side. You understood his intention and got on your hands and knees on the bench.
“Little slut is dripping,” Yeonjun says loudly, enough for the rest of the boys to perk up and lean to get a look as he pushes his hand down your back. Thr same hand smacks your ass before he’s spreading your pussy open more to get a better look. “Needy little thing, aren’t you? You’re so fucking desperate for cock that it has you clenching around nothing,” Yeonjun continues, rubbing his thumb in your wetness. You wiggle your ass back at him, but he just tsks.
“Stop teasing and just fuck me already,” You murmur through gritted teeth against your arms. You were already annoyed that he stopped you from cumming once, you didn’t need him dragging his teasing out.
Yeonjun just ignored you and ran the tip of his cock between your folds. The sound your pussy made was obscene and you heard Soobin groan in front of you as he rounded the bench to stare at it. You moaned into your arm, not wanting to give Yeonjun the satisfaction anymore, but that only seemed to piss him off more. Without warning, he fully pushed himself inside of you, his thick cock stretching you out so deliciously. You cried out as you were pushed forward from the force. “Fuck!” you gritted out, biting down hard on your lip. It just reminded you of how Yeonjun did the same thing minutes before and you moaned again.
“That’s it, baby, let them all know how good my cock feels.” Yeonjun didn’t miss a beat.
He didn’t start easy either, didn’t grant you with the slow drag of his cock that increased with each trust. Instead, Yeonjun was all rough edges and a quick pace. He held your hips in place and basically fucked you on his cock himself.
The sound of skin against skin and pleasurable moans bounced around the walls of the locker room. Not just from you and Yeonjun, but from all of you. If you were outside of the locker room right now you would’ve thought that an orgy was happening inside, not just two people fucking and the rest crowded around to watch.
You didn’t realize there were tears in your eyes until your chin was being grabbed and your head was being lifted. Your blurry vision barely made out Taehyun’s face, nor did you fully recognize that he was in front of you. You were too focused on Yeonjun’s cock splitting you open and the pathetic mewls and moans that left your mouth. Each thrust of his sent you flying forward before his rough grip brought you right back down on his length. It made you dizzy, and it made your knees weak with each wave of pleasure that hit you when the tip of his cock kissed your sweet spot.
A loud mix between a moan and a gasp was ripped from your throat when you felt Yeonjun’s fingers in your hair pulling you back towards his chest, still fucking you. His lips were near your ear and you heard his grunts clear as day. “Why don’t you tell your boyfriend how much of a cock-hungry bitch you are?” Yeonjun’s voice filled your ear. “How fucking pathetic you are on someone else’s cock? Go on—” Yeonjun gritted out each word with a perfectly timed thrust “—tell him.”
You shook your head as your nails dug into Yeonjun’s thighs, causing him to curse when they broke the skin. He laughed in your ear.
Yeonjun’s hand left your hair, and you almost whined at the loss. His grip against the strands hurt, but it hurt so good. It trailed along the side of your neck before sitting at the base of your throat. Yeonjun left it there for a moment, his other hand grabbing your hip so hard that you were sure it’ll leave a bruise, as he fucked into you with a laugh.
You could tell he was laughing at the way your heart rate picked up, at how you clenched around him so hard he struggled to fuck you at the same pace. “Such a dirty little slut…” Yeonjun trailed lowly into your ear, nibbling at your lobe a bit. “You like this, don’t you? Does it turn you on?”
Before you could even respond, even think, Yeonjun was wrapping his bicep around your throat and halting the breath from your lungs from the pure shock. He didn’t hold back—his arm around you was just tight enough to make you a little lightheaded and seeing stars. Your ears rang and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You didn’t even hear how much louder you suddenly got at the action, nor did you hear the orgasmic moans emitting from the other boys that you forgot were in the same room.
“Tell your boyfriend how much of a whore you are. Tell him how he could never make you feel like this, how forgettable he is. Tell him how you’re mine.” Yeonjun’s headlock got a fraction tighter with each sentence, teetering you right along the edge before throwing you over completely. Your pussy fluttered wildly around Yeonjun’s cock and his harsh thrusts that he refused to soften. You felt like putty in his arms, fully moldable for him, and he knew it—that was the worst part. “Tell him,” Yeonjun whispered in your ear, and you could hear his wicked smirk.
You completely unraveled, melted right into Yeonjun’s arms as your body shook and a moan that only could be heard in a cheap porno moved right through you. Cum spilled from out of you and around Yeonjun’s hard cock, but he just used it as a way to slip deeper into you.
“I’m a whore,” you spoke in a cracked voice, barely heard through your breathless pants and shallow moans. Your eyes fluttered closed from the ripples of pleasure as Yeonjun fucked you through your orgasm, his bicep still tight around your throat and his pace fast that sent you further into a haze. “And-And everyone’s forgettable and I’m yours. I’m yours…”
More tears fell down your cheeks as you felt Yeonjun’s cock throb inside of you. Your body moved on it’s own, getting all that it could from him as you circled your hips. That’s not what made Yeonjun’s head fall into the crook of your neck, his hips stuttering and his grunts turning to almost pained moans, though. You sighed out another breathy moan, your eyes finally fluttering open as Yeonjun came inside of you.
Yeonjun’s thrusts finally slowed as he kept fucking you through his own orgasm, pressing wet kisses to the side of your neck and sending shivers down your spine. When he was milked dry, his arm left your throat and you fell forward onto the bench, barely catching yourself in time.
“That was so fucking hot,” you heard Beomgyu moan out. Your surroundings clarified in an instant and hit you full force. Your body felt weak, and the feeling only got worse when Yeonjun pulled out of you and your mixed cum dripped down your inner thighs. How were you supposed to go four more rounds if Yeonjun’s turn basically took you right out of the game?
You felt your ass being grabbed and being spread apart. Looking behind you on wobbly knees, you found Soobin’s nose practically shoved into your messy cunt. A layer of sweat stuck to you, and you suddenly wished that the building had better A/C.
A hand guided your face forward again, and you looked up to see your boyfriend in front of you. Taehyun smashed his lips against yours, not even bothering to disguise how much he wanted you right now. You’d bet he was regretting going from oldest to youngest right now. “Okay, baby?” he murmured against your lips, barely parting from you to speak. You nodded, too breathless to speak. Fingers gripped your chin and you were being pulled from Taehyun’s lips. Soobin’s face came into view, and he replaced Taehyun’s lips with his own.
Soobin’s big hand found your waist, steadying you up on your knees as you gained your strength back. You raised a hand to cup his cheek before running it through his hair to get it out of his face. Giggling as the two of you parted, you took in Soobin’s appearance—how red and hard his cock is, and how messy it and his stomach were with his own cum.
“You’re so messy already!” You laughed at him, the smile lingering on your face. Soobin’s smile was just as big, his sneaky hands coming to cup your breasts. “You are too!” he responded a bit awkwardly with a laugh. Soobin’s turn shouldn’t be long, if his cum splattered all over himself and pink-tinged cheeks was anything to go by.
You bit your lip a little as you looked at him, the corner of your mouth raising. You then adjusted yourself on the bench. Sitting down on the bench, you leaned back onto your hands as you spread your legs to give Soobin a full view of yourself, your eyes never leaving his wide ones. With how he was practically drooling over you, you would’ve thought that this was his first time seeing a naked woman—let alone the first time touching and being inside one.
It was surely a sight to see, cum messily smeared all over your folds and dripping down the insides of your thighs. The heat radiated off of your body and the thin sheen of sweat made you glisten, the fluorescent light of the locker room casted a spotlight onto you and made you glow. Soobin’s eyes hungrily took in every part of you like this was his last meal on death row, and he wasn’t going to waste any of it.
Soobin stepped towards you in a trance. He stepped over the bench so his long legs hugged it and made his way to your waiting body, cock throbbing and already leaking his precum. When he got to you, he grabbed the back of your thighs and pushed them to the sides of your body, mesmerized in the way your pussy spread open and your pretty entrance welcomed him in. Soobin grabbed his cock with one hand, giving it a couple rough tugs as he licked his dry lips.
“I’m ready for you,” you whispered, back arching a little despite not even being touched. “Please, put your cock in me already.”
Unlike Yeonjun, Soobin took his time with entering you. He let his fat cockhead stretch you out inch by inch, savoring the small whimpers you let out and how warm his cock gradually got from your heat. Soobin groaned, he could cum right then and there from the feeling, but he didn’t want to get teased again for cumming too fast.
Speaking of, Yeonjun’s voice cut through the mirage, “We all know you have five seconds in you, Soobin. Why don’t you hurry this along so the others can have their turn?”
You glanced over at him, brows knitted together from the feeling of cock getting deeper inside of you and filling you up. Yeonjun was leaning back against a locker behind Soobin, his head tilted to watch his cock enter you. His hand absentmindedly trailed along the marks you left with your nails in his thighs, the wounds angry and bright red. If they hurt, Yeonjun didn’t show it. You held his gaze for a moment before Kai spoke up.
“Maybe he’ll last longer this time,” he said, still in his same spot from Yeonjun’s turn. Taehyun was next to respond. “He’s already cum, like, twice—and he hasn’t even been inside her yet.” Beomgyu and Yeonjun laughed at that.
It was like Soobin didn’t hear them. He was too focused on the way he was buried so deep inside of you and still your pussy was sucking him in more. Slowly, he began to pull back out, groaning at his cock sliding against your walls. He pulled out until just the tip of him was still inside of you before slowly pushing back in. Soobin did this a few times, his speed gradually increasing until he found a steady rhythm to fuck you at.
The slowness of it all drove you crazy. It was such a change from your previous orgasm that your body needed more. You arched your back desperately for any sort of faster friction, wiggled and whined and moaned Soobin’s name so he knew how badly you needed more of him to no avail. Soobin pinned you down beneath him, pants falling from his lips as he hovered above you. “Stay still,” he demanded.
To satiate you, he rubbed a thumb into your clit as he fucked deeply into you slow and steady. His thumb went at a different pace than his hips did, the pad of it rubbing quick circles into your bundle of nerves. It made you jolt, like lightning struck you and you had come alive.
You wrapped your arms around Soobin’s neck to bring his lips to yours. The kiss was sloppy, the two of you too caught up in your moans of pleasure and catching your breaths to keep your lips together for too long. You felt the pressure build up in the pit of your stomach as it demanded to be unleashed.
Soobin’s pace increased as he started to chase his own release. He threw his head back, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as his hold on the back of your thighs tightened, and his hips moved wildly.
You choked back a moan, still entirely too sensitive from your previous orgasm, as you began to tremble. Your chest pushed into Soobin’s with the arching of your back. Before you could even get the words out you were cumming around Soobin’s cock.
Soobin let out a string of curses as he looked down to where your two bodies met—the both of you messy and painted white. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed as he quickly pulled out of you.
You whined at the sudden loss, pussy clenching around air. Soobin just groaned as he fisted his wet cock above you, the wet sounds almost too much. A small wave of disappointment hit you at not being able to feel him cum inside of you.
With a loud moan, white spurts of Soobin’s cum shot from his cock down onto your tits. He kept stroking himself until he was milked dry and you were even more of a mess and cum-covered. He sat back on his knees, his chest rising and falling roughly as he looked down at his work with a tinge of a smile.
He ran the tips of his fingers across your chest, smearing his cum along your perked nippes and down your stomach. His touch continued until he was dipping them between your folds and smiling when you started to squirm. “Her pussy is something else,” he said, mainly to the other boys—who were still recovering from their own highs—instead of you. Soobin pushed his fingers inside of you and watched how more cum spilled out. “It’s so addictive that I just want to keep fucking her no matter how spent I am.”
You grabbed onto the sides of the bench as you raised your hips towards his fingers, a loud whimper passing through your lips when they pushed in deeper. Your head was completely clouded, the only thing that broke through the haze was complete lust.
“It’s too bad your turn is over,” Beomgyu’s voice says before his face comes into view. He’s looking over you with a smirk before he’s grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. You wobble, and his hands find their way to your hips and gives them a little squeeze.
Beomgyu looks over you, at how you’re a mess of sweat and cum, and tsks while shaking his head a bit, “What am I gonna do with you?”
He almost played the question off as a worried one, like one finding a crying child with a scraped knee or something of the sort, but you knew his words had a different meaning. Beomgyu was wondering what position to put you in—one he hasn’t put you in before.
Beomgyu spun you around so your back is to his chest. His hands glide down your hips before he’s nudging your feet apart with one of his own. The boys come around the two of you so they’re all in front of you, red and eager cocks in their hands at the next portion of the show. Beomgyu wastes no time at prodding at your entrance with the tip of his leaking cock. He rubs it through your creamy folds before pushing himself inside of you with ease because of it. A small whine pushes through your lips and you stumble forward the slightest bit.
“Next time,” Kai says while licking his lips, “we should record this.”
The thought of a next time and the prospect of it being recorded made you clench around Beomgyu’s cock. He hummed at it, inhaling sharply as he started to chuckle. “You like that, don’t you?” he asks almost mockingly. His hands move to your elbows and brings them tight behind your back.
Beomgyu roughly thrusts into you, using your elbows to bring you back down onto his cock. “I can practically feel you heating up over it,” he smirks.
He was right, your body was alight with the idea. Your cheeks seared and you had to close your eyes from the slight embarrassment of it all since the boys were all in front of you, smirking and laughing in your face. A string of moans rang from you with each thrust Beomgyu gave to your poor spent cunt, tits bouncing with each stroke.
“Eyes open, baby,” Taehyun said, a tight grip on your chin. You swallowed hard and opened your eyes to look at him, causing a wicked smile to spread across his face. “That’s my good girl, you’re halfway done.”
Beomgyu wrapped an arm around your elbows, his other hand trailing down your thigh and leaving goosebumps before he lifted it in the air by your knee. You cried out at the sudden new angle and the boys let out various moans as the ducked down to see your pussy get fucked harder.
You were a loud, whimpering and moaning mess. The overstimulation was finally starting to kick in and tears formed at the corners of your eyes as you cried out Beomgyu’s name over and over, too dumb on his cock to say anything else. It just urged Beomgyu to go faster and deeper, and you could hear the grin in his voice when he said, “Yeah, just like that. Keep crying my name.”
When your words turned to sputters and your pussy fluttered around Beomgyu’s cock, his arm moved from where it was wrapped around your elbows and his hand ran along your breasts and up your throat to grab your chin in a vice grip. Beomgyu pulled your mouth open before sliding two fingers down your tongue slowly. Graciously, you sucked and licked them as they went further down your throat. You could taste Soobin’s salty leftover cum from your tits.
Beomgyu’s fingers were so far down your throat that when he fucked into you they would go deeper and make you gag a little. Each time a chorus of groans followed and you felt how hard Beomgyu throbbed inside of you. If he wasn’t holding you up right now you would’ve collapsed to the tile below already. Your body shook so vigorously that it was almost too much, but it felt so good.
“Beomgyu…” you cried around his fingers, vision becoming blurry. Your voice came out broken and muffled and through half a gag. You were seconds from breaking completely, stomach tight and legs wobbling.
The sound of sex penetrated the air. Creamy noises and whimpers filled your ears and you think this is the closest you’d get to heaven. You could tell that everyone was lost in it—sweaty backs leaned against walls and lockers and red leaking cocks, parted mouths that sang symphonies, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin. It was beautiful, a wonderful celebration for a grand achievement.
“Fuck, you were right, Soobin. Her pussy is addictive, I can’t get enough of it. Taehyun’s lucky he gets this whenever he wants,” Beomgyu groaned as he spoke through gritted teeth.
By some miracle, you and Beomgyu came at the same time and your body went completely limp in his arms. That didn’t stop him from fucking through the rest of his orgasm, his fingers still in your mouth making you gag as his cum pushed out from around his cock and down your leg that wasn’t in the air.
When he filled you up completely, he called his teammates over to get a closer look at the way cum spilled out of your pussy when he pulled out. Beomgyu pulled his fingers from your mouth and you inhaled deeply, leaning back against his chest to look up at him with watery eyes.
“You’re so pretty when you cry,” Beomgyu says, placing a chaste kiss on your swollen lips.
He ran his cock through your folds a couple of times, thrusting against your clit and laughing at how your whole body jolted from the sensitivity. “You’re lucky my turn’s over or I’d have you crying all night,” Beomgyu continued, pushing you from his chest.
You flew forward with a startled yelp before landing in Taehyun’s toned arms. He gave Beomgyu a quick glare before pulling you closer to him, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles into your skin. He leaned back a little to get a good look at your face. “Isn’t she so pretty?” Taehyun says, mostly to himself, as he wiped away your tears with the pad of his thumb. It was no use for what he was about to do to you.
“And she’s all mine,” Taehyun murmured, bringing his lips down to catch yours in a searing kiss.
“Not right now she isn’t,” Yeonjun scoffed, laughing afterwards.
Taehyun just ignored him, moving you back over to the bench so you could catch your breath. He threw a leg over it before sitting down, keenly fisting his cock as he looked up at you. Taehyun helped you over the bench before sitting you right on his cock. You had to bite your lip to not whimper.
“At the end of the day, she is my girlfriend. We’re just being nice enough to let you guys join us sometimes because it’s fun. Why are you trying to ruin that, Yeonjun?” Taehyun finally responded, his attention entirely focused on you as he spoke. You stared lovingly at him, completely in a trance as he touched you.
“Yeah, shut up before you ruin it for the rest of us,” Beomgyu chimed in.
Taehyun smirked at you when you leaned back on your hand and started to roll your hips towards his, moaning softly. “Besides, nothing any of you could do to her compares to what I can do to her. I know her the best,” Taehyun continued, grabbing your hips as his eyes fluttered shut.
Whatever comeback Yeonjun had died out when you placed your feet on Taehyun’s thighs and began bouncing on his cock.
“Oh my god,” Soobin drawled, the locker behind him ringing from his head being thrown back. You were almost sure he had fucked his cock raw by now.
Taehyun’s hips rose to meet yours and you nearly blacked out from how good it felt. You stopped bouncing, mewling at the feeling and already trembling. “Keep going,” Taehyun demanded, “I didn’t tell you you could stop.”
You lifted your hips until you were halfway up his cock slowly, body shaking the entire way. Taehyun thrusted upwards so he was fully inside you again. “Faster,” he said.
The way his voice sounded, the firm demands but soft tone threw you over the edge. You picked up the pace as best as you could until your arousal was splattering over Taehyun’s stomach with his strokes.
“Just like that, baby. You’re such a good girl.”
Your nails tried their best to dig into the polished wood of the locker room bench to no avail. If you were honest, it was a little embarrassing just how fast Taehyun could wrap you around his finger, especially in front of everyone else. He didn’t need to do these big displays or make you choke to show them how you belonged to him—though, he wasn’t opposed to doing that either. It was simple in the way your body responded to him, pushing itself past its limit just to do what he says.
You think you understood now why he decided to go from oldest to youngest this time—because the decision was all his. If it were anyone else, if it wasn’t him waiting near the end for you, you would’ve been passed out by now from exertion. Deep down, the others knew that. And from the last time the six of you did this, you knew deep down that Taehyun wanted to show that to Yeonjun.
Because you were his girlfriend, his to do whatever he pleased with—his.
Your hips jolted towards Taehyun’s and a whine left your lips. You thought that you were all stretched out already, but your boyfriend always managed to prove you wrong. His cock had you seeing stars and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to last much longer bouncing on it like this. Your body would completely give out once and for all from the intense euphoria.
You began shaking your head but Taehyun just shushed you, his hand moving from your hip so he could rub circles in your swollen clit with his thumb. Your body reacted immediately and there was no warning you could give before you were shaking like a leaf and cumming with a vigor you haven’t felt thus far.
“Turn around for me,” Taehyun spoke, still circling your clit with his thumb and sending lightning through your body.
You tried to move from him, but the other hand he had on your hip moved to your back and held you in place firmly. You shook your head more, “I-I can’t…”
Taehyun pulled you to him so you were chest to chest. He leaned down so his lips were at your ear, his thumb at your clit not stopping its mission to help overstimulate you more. “Don’t you want to show them how good you are? Do you really want me to punish you in front of them all?” Taehyun said in a low voice, pushing his cock in and out of you slowly. “You can,” he then said in a louder voice.
You bit your lip hard and pulled yourself off of his cock, knees almost giving out as you stood to turn around. Looking behind you, you watched Taehyun line himself up with your entrance before you sunk back down on him again, your lips parting in bliss. You sat back in his lap and placed your feet back on his thighs, shivering at the cold air on your cold and messy exposed cunt.
Leaning back against Taehyun’s chest, you looked up and kissed along his jawline. You grabbed his hand that was inching towards your clit again and brought it to your tit with a cheeky smile. You moved your hips in a circle, still not having quite the energy to start bouncing again yet.
Taehyun kissed your cheek and down your neck where Yeonjun’s marks had time to darken all while his hands moved to distract you. He started fucking into while one hand moved to play with your clit and the other came to wrap around your throat. Your heart rate picked up and immediately you were loud with the way your body felt. Taehyun’s hand just got tighter around your throat, squeezing at just the right places that made you feel extra cloudy and like you were floating.
“You think you’re funny?” he joked, grunting in your ear while fucking you harder.
You were in such euphoria that all of the pleasure almost hurt. Your hips bucked wildly on their own towards Taehyun’s hand and that motion nearly made you black out with his cock pistoning into you. But, you couldn’t stop, it all felt so good that you wouldn’t have it any other way—not that Taehyun would let you anyway.
Taehyun moaned when your pussy tried its hardest to completely suck in his cock, his pace slowing and his fingers at your clit halting with the effort of trying not to cum right then and there and spoil the rest of his turn. “Greedy little pussy,” he breathed, lips near your ear. “Feels so fucking good.”
Your hips still bucked, trying to get as much stimulation as possible despite it already being entirely too much. You needed more of him, needed his cock pounding into you harder. Head falling back on Taehyun’s shoulder, you gave him better access to your neck, which he didn’t take for granted. His hand moved further up throat, cupping around just the right spot to have you dizzy and squealing.
“S-Slow… down…” you managed to get out along with a string of broken curses. Your chest rose and fell heavily and your skin felt so hot that the two of you might start a fire right there. “Fuck,” you then loudly cried out, squirming.
Taehyun told you to stay still but you couldn’t. You were shaking so bad that had it not been for his cock inside you and the way you and Taehyun looked right now, it would’ve caused concernment. Your ears rang and you could barely hear how loud you were being nor Taehyun’s words. All you felt was his hands move and your body being shifted.
Taehyun wrapped his arms behind your knees before he brought them up next to your chest. His hands then sat at the back of your neck, locking you against him completely.
He didn’t slow, in fact, he fucked into you faster and harder. The sound of his cock fucking your pussy was pornographic, and it just spurred you forward and made you wetter. Your stomach tensed and untensed rapidly and you cried out Taehyun’s name over and over when you realized what was about to happen.
“Please, please, please, please—” you begged him, not exactly sure if you were begging him to slow down again or to keep going.
Your begging was of no use. Seconds later you were squirting halfway across the room with a loud squeal, body limp and shaking and covered in sweat. You clenched down around Taehyun’s cock so hard that he jolted, stilling inside you for a brief second at how tight you felt before fucking his cum inside of you nice and deep.
“Good fucking girl,” Taehyun praised you, his hips finally slowing and his grip around you ceasing. He brought his fingers back down to your clit and rubbed circles into it, shushing you when you started to whine his name. He kissed along your jaw before grabbing your chin and turning your head to kiss your lips. “You did so good for me, baby, I’m proud of you.”
Taehyun didn’t pull out of you until you stopped shaking, helping ease you along with his fingers at your clit. Though, when he finally did it almost sent you spiraling again. He held you close to his chest and although you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was grinning widely.
“What the fuck?” A voice spoke next to you, reeling you back to reality and sending the fact that there’s others still in the room back into your mind at full force. You had completely forgotten about Taehyun’s teammates with their cocks in their hands. “Why didn’t you tell us she could do that?!”
Your eyes fluttered open and you looked over at Kai’s bewildered expression and then over to the wide eyed looks of the other boys. Their eyes nearly popped out of their skulls.
Taehyun just shrugged. He gently closed your legs and moved them to the side so you could sit more comfortably.
“I've never seen a girl squirt in person before,” Soobin murmured, looking at you stunned. You just gave him a weak smile and chuckled a bit.
You heard Yeonjun scoff and without looking at him you could practically hear him rolling his eyes at Soobin. “You’re acting like it’s some rare commodity. It’s just squirting, it’s not that hard to do.”
Without missing a beat, Beomgyu asked him, “So then why didn’t you do it?”
As the boys argued around you, Taehyun made sure that you were alright. He had gotten one of the towels he brought and wet it so he could start cleaning you up so you didn’t have to finish the celebration with dried and sticky cum all over you making things uncomfortable. His hands were delicate, asking you if anything hurt every few seconds when he got between your legs. You shook your head and gave him a big kiss for being so sweet. If anything, besides feeling a little weak, you felt amazing.
You were standing, trying to stop the boys from a naked cat fight, when Taehyun pulled you over to him to stand between his legs. He brought his lips to yours roughly, sticking his tongue in your mouth, before turning you around and pushing you down to your knees. Taehyun called Kai’s name and beckoned him over to the two of you.
Taehyun grabbed your messy hair into his fist, angling your head back a bit. “She’s all yours,” he told Kai, who visibly gulped.
You smiled up at him, licking your lips, before you grabbed onto his already throbbing and leaking cock. You used his precum, and already previous rounds, to stroke him with a firm grasp. When you got to the tip of his cock, you ran your thumb along the slit of it and Kai moaned while pushing his hips towards your hand.
Pumping Kai’s cock a little more, you brought your lips to the tip of it and circled your tongue around the fat cockhead. Slight saltiness hit your tastebuds, but you didn’t mind. In one swift motion, you took Kai’s length down your throat, bobbing your head as you sucked in your cheeks. The tension at your head from Taehyun’s tight grip on your hair made you moan, and Kai nearly toppled over from the vibrations of it.
You pulled your mouth off of him inch by inch slowly, his cock leaving your mouth with a ‘pop!’ It hit against your lips and you smiled up at Kai.
“Her mouth is nearly as good as her pussy,” Kai breathed. His head was thrown back and his eyes were shut. You saw the way his chest rose with staggered breaths and the way his abs tightened each time you touched him. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, hands focusing at the base of his cock.
Flattening your tongue, you licked a stripe underneath Kai’s length from the base of it to his tip before taking him in your mouth fully again. You liked seeing him squirm.
This time you were rough and sloppy sucking his cock. You took Kai as far down your throat as you could, but Taehyun pushed your head down farther until you gagged. He would pull you back up by your hair just a little before doing the same thing over again.
Drool dripped from the corners of your mouth and down your chin, but you kept your stare up at Kai. He was too flustered to look down at you for longer than a minute. His ears were bright red and his cheeks were flushed a soft pink to match. You dug your fingers into his toned thighs and bobbed your head faster.
“Ah, my god,” Kai groaned. He brought his hands to the top of your head and his hips pushed into your face. “Your mouth feels so good, so warm.”
Each time your mouth moved up Kai’s cock, he thrusted into your mouth to bring it back down, making you gag without Taehyun’s assistance. Slowly, Kai started to fuck himself with your mouth without you having to move. His hands dug down to your scalp and he moved your head back and forth for you.
Kai hummed, brows knitted together before his hips jerked and he stopped. You gagged at the sudden movement and he squeezed his eyes shut. You felt him twitch inside your mouth and behind you Taehyun laughed at him.
“God, I hate you guys,” Kai gritted out, trying his best not to cum down your throat yet. His words just got him teased by the rest of the group.
You gagged again loudly when Kai started to fuck your throat, his strokes fast and sloppy as he pushed his cock down halfway your throat and held your head in place with his hands.
Moaning around his cock, you shifted on your knees and dug your nails in his thighs as arousal dripped down your pussy and onto the tile.
“Why are you acting like you’ve never fucked someone’s throat before?” Taehyun asked Kai incredulously. Kai didn’t answer for a moment, pure bliss and your wet mouth drowning out the words. “I-I don’t want to hurt her…” he trailed.
Taehyun laughed, “You won’t. Fuck her face harder.”
Kai didn’t hesitate, he grabbed your head and roughly brought it down his cock fully, his balls slapping against your chin and his abs tensing more at the way you gagged around him.
Kai’s cock barely left your mouth and you did nothing but gag around his length, pussy clenching around absolutely nothing. Kai was sent into pure euphoria as he used your mouth as his own personal fleshlight, and with Taehyun’s permission he didn’t hold back.
You breathed hard through your nose all while Kai’s cock throbbed in your throat. He looked down at you, at the way you looked up at him with big, watery eyes and tears streaming down your face, at how drool dripped from the corners of your mouth and down your chin and onto your pressed together thighs, it made him completely unravel and moan like he hasn’t done since the first time he fucked you. Kai threw his head back again, sloppy thrusts quickening.
Moments later, he was holding your head down and spilling his cum down your throat. He relished in the way you choke on his cock and the pain in his thighs from your nails digging in it. “Shit,” Kai sighed, shoulders dropping in relief.
He pulled his cock out your mouth slowly, breath hitching at the way your cheeks hollowed more with every inch. You swallowed thickly, the salty taste of his cum lingering behind. Taehyun tilted your head towards him and you stuck out your tongue to show him you swallowed it all, then turned back to Kai to show him too.
“Jesus, where did you find this girl, Taehyun?” Beomgyu asked, running a hand through his hair before him and the rest of the boys came near you.
Taehyun stood to his feet, the corner of his mouth raised as he looked down at you.
They all came close to your face, their throbbing cocks in their hands and they began fisting them rawer than before above your face. You shut your eyes, tongue still hanging out of your mouth and waited patiently, mouth lifted into a smile. There was a chorus of groans and whimpers above you and it made you want to start the whole celebration over again. It made you a little sad that it was over now, and so was the basketball season.
Just as spurts of cum splattered across your face and onto your tongue, the locker room door flung open loudly and startled you all. Your eyes opened and the boys turned to the door to see who was walking in. You caught the tail end of their sentence.
“—right? Honestly, I’m just glad I don’t have to do anymore interviews until next season,” came Heeseung’s voice, the boys basketball captain. There was a big smile on his face that immediately dropped when his head turned and he looked to see what you all were doing in the locker room.
There was silence in the room for a long moment as Heeseung took in each and every one of you. The sound of the abandoned shower still running pierced your ears. You licked the cum off of your lips. “What… the actual fuck are you guys doing?!” Heeseung asked.
The boys all smiled awkwardly at him, cocks in their hands still aimed at your face. “Hey, captain…” Yeonjun drew out, his smile growing along with the awkward tension in the room.
✉️ ⦂ me, yeonjun, and taehyun can settle this subtle fighting in bed hehehe,, sorry if the ending was a bit rushed (>w< ;) i realized that this fic was already like 10k and started to panic LMAOO… i legit blacked out while writing this, gangbangs and sixsomes hard
