dilf 최연준 𝓍 fem reader ˖ ꯭𓂋 smut, sugar relationship, vacation ༢ pretty heavy on the age gap, 16 year gap, dilf yeonjun, smut, size diff kink, spit, choking, brat taming, he gets off on spoiling, he also gets off on scent and perfume, fingering and mirror sex, dirty talk, lots of pet names, he’s 36, a bit of jealousy from both, a trip to hawaii, (barely) underage drinking, happy trail mention, unprotected sex, reader rlly is spoiled, financial domination
ash⦂ i rlly just have been in a dilf kick in my soul lately so i hope everybody’s on the same page or else that would be reaaaaal awkward… anyway, this is so fun and tropical and i hope everyone is ready for some summer!! this is a leftover from last year’s summer event so thankfully it’s with us finally >_<
Choi Yeonjun is a man. In a broad pair of shoulders, the sharp coffee and black pepper that clings to his skin that lingers in the warm pulse points when you press your face into them, and how he keeps himself put together in clothes without the wrinkles of a twice-worn thing off the carpet like the guys your age, who you could ask if they do exactly that and they would shrug and tell you that they did. Not Yeonjun. None of that was what truly set him apart, nor the things that put that stamp of ratified man on his integrity.
That was in the opening doors for you. He insists on it. He doesn't want your hands on any car door handles, only wants to hear the click of the heels bought on his dime hitting the ground when you step out after him. And he wasn't afraid to tell you it, either. It was in how he took the burden of ordering for you at the diners he took you, with the warm crystal lights that hung low over your table as he'd thumb the back of your hand. In how that card of his was yours, too.
You were sitting in bed after a thorough, all brand new, skincare routine, when he proposed the flight to Hawaii. A face mask seeped into your skin as you gawked into the glow of the screen. If he had only see your face. He tells you it's the best part.
11:00pm [Yeonjun]: We have a suite booked in O'ahu for this weekend. Do you need anything for it, baby?
11:00pm [Yeonjun]: Pack light, you'll be coming home with more than you came.
11:01pm [Yeonjun]: How does that sound?
It was that part that made your stomach twist up like it was in there jump-roping. It always is the way he talks to you; because, what kind of question is that? He knew exactly how it sounded. His texting mannerisms scream older, succinct with an air of a man who knows exactly how off-guard this all still leaves you. He is so cruel, in the most savory way. It has long since been decided that men age like wine. They sit on a shelf and mature, until they're more rich and deep. Or at least until they've had their fun, their money, and are left with an itch to funnel it all into making something bloom pretty at his attention and spoiling.
Honolulu is so much alike the post cards, and in the same vein, so much different. It's a bustling metropolis with buildings that scrape the turquoise sky. The beach is within walking distance from your hotel, and that is just as peppered with tourists in cover-ups they probably bought right from the ABC store along the strip.
"Waikiki looks nothing like I thought it did," you say. A piña colada daiquiri sweats in your hand under the thick sun. It's hot here. Not like the bone dry heat of summer back at home, but instead it's thick on your skin like a layer of salt off the breeze. You fiddle with the tropical ribbons of your bikini bottoms at the swell of your hip. Lazy and pampered, and nobody could deny it. You wouldn't.
With his arms tucked behind his head on a tanning chair adjacent to yours, he grins. "What did you think it was?" He runs his finger around the rim of his own drink. He'd made you sip off it and found the wrinkle of your nose at the burn humorous.
Not full on city with the same beeping cars and traffic as home, perhaps. Your shoulders have long since turned pink. Your cheeks, a radiant burn to match. It tugs every time your face moves like the skin's just a bit too tight. "Like… When you think of Hawaii, the first thing you think of. That." It's about time you roast your other side. Or else you'll be glowing red on your front and springtime pale at the back. The cheeky bottoms of your bikini's ridden up with all your lounging, the soft spot where your ass meets thigh turned up this way around. Yeonjun doesn't look away when you catch him getting an eyeful. "That guy didn't even ID me." The spot where your nose presses to your pillow of crossed arms smells like sweat and coconutty sunscreen.
"He's not gonna ask you while I'm there," Yeonjun says. He holds one hand up like a visor over his eyes, looking at you under it. The shirt he'd changed into as soon as you hit the room There's a healthy glow set deep in his skin that leads you to suspect that, even if this is the first time he's taken you on a pretty penny vacation, it's not his first. It's a deep, bronze that speaks of a tan that's built on. You're not his first sugar baby. That's something you've come to terms with. It gets a little easier with a swipe of the card.
"Why…?"
Thumbing the crease of your bottom, he supplies his answer with a hum. "It's his job to sell it. This whole city loves a dollar bill." Lifting his own glass, he adds, "And that kid's not trying to offend me by asking."
That kid. A guy somewhere near your age, give or take. It's always those little things that send a furious, brilliant storm of butterflies through your belly. The little ways he reminds you exactly what he is. They never come in grand gestures. More in the way he just moves through the world, and how it bends around his shape to meet him. He didn't ask the associates in the luxury stores he takes you shopping in to perk up and run to serve him, knowing he'll buy. They just do it.
A handful of girls three rows down laugh with one another over the holistic sound of the resort pools. Lifeguards, kids here on vacation with parents glad they're cannon-balling into the pools and bothering the group of twenty-somethings with palms over the mouth of their tumbler glasses to save themselves the misery of discovering how teal, chlorine water mixed with margarita. Sweat has glued your cheek to where it squishes against your upper arm. You keep your head oriented to watch him. "But can't they get in trouble for that?" Talking comes difficult. The heat makes you too lazy. You can hardly even summon the words.
Smiling at that, he answers, "If they get caught, yeah." The muscles dormant in his biceps ripple as he crosses his arms about his chest. He didn't hit the gym; not that you knew of. But he maintains that like he does. Another thing that seems to just come with the whole matured, better, older man package.
That felt topically ironic. Especially considering that you never do intend to be caught. You dread the thought so hard that you've learned to banish it the moment it springs up. It's easier this way. And way more fun. It's not like you never thought about it; toeing the line in the sand without ever really letting the tide rush in on you. "This stuff is so sweet. Should I have another one?"
That gets a kick out of him. "Yeah? You like it?" Yeonjun says. There's a languor dripping off the way he does, sticky like the air. "That's because it's rum, babygirl. All sugar."
Your throat goes all tight. Fumbling after words, you quickly say, "It taste like a smoothie."
"That's why you don't need another one." He laughs. "It hits you faster than you think it will. Especially with the heat." Then, picking up the drink, he drinks down what you hadn't gotten to you. Those expressive brows twist. "Shit, that's sweet."
You only smile and watch him cross his arms back. They look fit to throw you any which way, or even to carry all the bags he would snatch from you before you even got to try and carry yourself. "Okay, it's not that sweet."
Not in any hurry, never in any hurry, he gets that look on his face that you've come to know to mean that he's guiding the conversation a different way. He corrals you so easily that you tend to not even notice that you're on the next topic. He takes control of any conversation with such ease. On your first date, you had been a shaking, shy thing sat across from him. It didn't matter much. With a little steering you and a handsome smile as he listened to you answer his questions, the burden of even carrying conversations was off your shoulders. That was his job, he'd told you later on when you told him how terrified you were.
"I was thinking about heading back to the suite," he starts. The sharp lines of his eyes linger on you like he's plotting it all out in real time, and there's a prospective smoothness to his voice. As if he'd already playing it all out in his head, and he knows exactly what he has in store for you. "Getting dressed. No need to rush, we have all night. We're here to enjoy ourselves. And then head down to the beach walk, shop around, get you some things to try on for me." He doesn't even smirk. Nothing to justify the way your stomach swoops quick. "And I put a reservation in at this nice, low-key grill for us after. If we need to come back real quick to drop off your stuff, we can." Taking one last drink off his glass, he says, "Sound good, baby?"
Sound good? How could you have any objections? You blink at him for a moment. Up until yesterday, you'd never even flown overseas. Vacations meant twelve hour drives and scrapping with your siblings and the blankets and luggage for space in the car, just to end up squished against the door anyway. You were half lead to believe that things like this happened only on T.V. or for faceless people in a tax bracket you knew you'd never touch. And yet…
"What? Do you have something else in mind?" His lips do quirk now, perhaps because he knows exactly what. "We can do whatever your sweet heart wants. No need to be shy with me. We're here for you. Me and Hawaii are good friends."
You rush to correct yourself. "No, that's, like, perfect." Pressing up to your elbows, still baking your backside, you say, "I've just never done this before."
He's heard that before, that first time you were intimate with him. You never imagined your first to be a man with sixteen years on you, who was not your boyfriend but instead something suspended in an awkward space between that and something else. Something that makes your blood rise to your ears and lie to everybody you know. A year ago, two, you would've turned your nose up at another girl for sitting in Hawaii on a man's money. After all, down to its core, it's only a trade, isn't it? The sugar in sugar daddy is the tan in your skin and the necklace at your throat studded, in the shape of a 'Y', in true diamonds. And in sugar baby, it was something much more coveted. Well, you couldn't sneer at yourself now; couldn't have known that it could come like him, and not in a sixty year old man who had to pay for sex because he wouldn't get it otherwise.
"Good." He leans back into his low pool chair, the perfect image of the leisure that is company to what he is. But he's got an airy, soft thing going on with his mouth as the sun rushes back over it. "Maybe we'll go out on a boat tomorrow, too."
He doesn't even have to ask to know the answer.
When Yeonjun means get whatever you want, he means that. Not metaphorically. Not loosely, not a ceiling that you might accidentally brush if you got overeager. There wasn't a budget. Not on you. You have your questions concerning where, exactly, he might have all this money. His Seeking profile didn't even tell. And when you asked, he kissed you and said, "I'm old enough to know that you don't really care about my job. You'd get bored to hell of it eventually. So let's not open that door anyway."
Whatever that meant. You gleaned enough from the dress shirts and ironed slacks that it wasn't anything too mystifying. It was, maybe, a bit overdramatic in the way he said it. Or maybe it was your own head that did the work of imagining some big secret.
Bushes with a deep, waxy green up against pink and white Plumerias with yellow blooming at their centers, stand opposite to the glowing warm storefronts which stud the sidewalk. Your hotel is right in the heart of it all. You step out, and you're right there in downtown Honolulu. Clearly, you two had the same idea as everybody else did. It must be the season back home. The streets are packed. Groups of girls walk with their elbows linked with Leis around their necks, probably coming from a restaurant where they were handed out, couples with kids and couples here hoping to get away from theirs, they all have the same essence about them as you feel in your chest. You feel like you're just gawking at stupid things with stars in your eyes like you've never seen a bush, or a lit-up tourist trap. But how did you even get here? Here, where something sweet hangs and makes the air even heaver. Maybe those flowers. Or the street vendors boasting cups of million-dollar pineapple chunks with the rinds still on and passion fruit stuffed in with papayas, and the way it overlaps with the salt from the water. The shoreline is close enough from here than you can watch the black water rush up and disturb the sand.
"You look beautiful," Yeonjun had told you when you stepped out of the bathroom. He didn't need any flowery enhancers to sound like he meant it. He told you in the simplicity that he was unafraid to use, and even more potently, in the lingering inventory he takes of the dress. His hands had flexed where they were shoved into his pockets in patiently waiting. Because he know more than any man, maybe, that patience paid sweeter. He didn't just enjoy the silhouette the sundress made, though you know he definitely did enjoy that. You're still suffering the echoes in your knees that the smolder in his eyes had made shake. But he made sure to enjoy the golden bangles that made feminine, sparkling sounds as you slipped into your heels. How they complimented the sunset pinks and oranges of the tropical floral fabric, and made the sanguine flush to your cheeks speak.
He had stopped, especially, at your neck. Traced the shape of that 'Y' as it glittered. And if anybody were to ask, you were certain that his throat had bobbed.
Now, he keeps one steady hand at your back and the other in his pants. He is an impossibly handsome man, in the most literal sense of the word. But night makes him something else. It cuts the lines of his face which had an angle to them that you could only attribute to aging. His eyes were slow and pleased and all over you and the view your push-up bra makes. "Do you want one?" he asks when your eyes linger on a stand selling Hibiscus flowers. The ones the grew well and didn't get too beat up by the elements, which tourists like to pluck off the bush anyway.
"I mean… They're, like, fifteen dollars." That was a good meal's worth, as far as you were concerned. You could go without. "That's crazy. People just pick them anyway."
"Fifteen dollars to look beautiful on you," he says, "is nothing. Do you know how expensive you look right now, sweetheart?" Passing the person running the stand a bill, he takes your chin with his thumb and tucks a yellow one behind your ear. It's huge, flirting with your eyes and brushing against your temples. Approval flashes over his gaze. "There we go. Now you look like you're in Hawaii."
God. Nothing about that should make your head go so dumb.
You make your way down the street doing pretty much the same. You dip in and out of stores, racking up bags in his free hand. He has no complaints to give. It's something chemical to him. Like foreplay, watching your eyes light up and your mouth go shy with every yes. Yes, yes, yes. That's his favorite word.
Of course you drag him into Sephora. The black-and-white storefront pulls you in with gravity amidst the high-end stores and the shops with the shot glasses and tees plastered with Waikiki beach regalia. He lets you browse and drop things into the shopping basket. You giggle when you catch sight of him, there in his fine muslin button down pushed to his elbows, veins peeking out with the strain, classy sunglasses pushing his hair off his forehead, balancing the damage you'd already done in one hand and the carnage that will ensue at checkout here in the other. With a playing smile on his face, he says, "Don't you want to do something you can't do at home?"
"I can't shop at Sephora in Hawaii at home." You take your lip into your teeth to fight a coquettish grin. A toasty lip liner lands in the cart with a plastic sound of the packaging. "I'm like a thousand percent sure they have stuff here that we just don't have at home." The one by your place is half the size, and even less stocked. You'd probably had a hand in that.
"You've gotten spoiled," Yeonjun says, and you think it sounds like lust. "I've made you into a little money monster. You used to be so shy."
You gasp with affront, coloring your words precisely spoiled. "Me? Not even close. You have to beg me to spend money on myself!" You did, in fact, used to be much more shy with him. It took a few dates to be able to look him in the eyes. It's that contrast between you that is so intoxicating. How you get all dressed up in girly outfits and ramble at him, and he has the answers for it all.
He nudges you around and aisle into the next. The cart is slowly filling up. When he had said you'd be leaving with more than you came, he'd meant it. "I do," he rasps. "I've never taken another girl somewhere who loved shopping more. You're a blushing, pretty hole in my wallet."
A throaty imitation of a laugh if all you can muster in response to that. It's not like you didn't know he had other sugar babies before yourself. Had probably taken them to Hawaii, too. The thought spirals out of control before you can stamp it out. Brushing the buttery petals of the flower at your ear, you consider if he's done exactly this, all of it, with another girl, too. He has the means to. And then you get to thinking what he could've done with those girls. Did he tell them how pretty they sounded like he loved so much to tell you? "You're mean," you say, empty banter. "I'm go back in the bowl and find a sugar daddy that doesn't bully me."
The harsh overhead lights cut his features and catch the way his jaw ticks. "Is that it?" His eyes flicker down the the basket you're filling. You don't know if it's pointed or him doing the math. "They couldn't afford you."
The next step you take is a bit more wobbly, a knot pulling tight deep in your belly and making your coordination all loose. He watches watches you flounder. Realistically, you are very aware you are outmatched. It doesn't stop you doubling down. Your low heels click against the tile floors as you shuffle toward a perfume display. Heavy glass with powdery vanillas and sharp, full black pepper and night blooming jasmine, you are a self-fulfilling prophecy and gravitate toward only the luxe stuff. Maybe that's what ruffles you. That he's right. You take a greenish bottle and spritz it into the sensitive insides of your wrists.
"How about this one?" you say, prim, and offer it up to him. "Is it pretty…?"
Taking the offer up, his nose feathers against the skin. You suppress the thrill it gives you. A moment, a beat in the air exists in intimate tranquility, before you what you're about to say. He looks up at you through his brows as the scent profile hits him. Creamy banana leaf and flirty, fruity coconut that embodied everything that you were right now. His eyes drop to your mouth only long enough for you to see that he does it. "Buy it." He surrenders to one more drag of how it melts into the heat of your skin before straightening back up. You only ever remember that you have to look up at him when he does that. "I want you to wear that when we meet."
You've always known Yeonjun was more attuned to scents than other men. It was often the first thing he'd bring up when he entered a space, but it was also something he'd whisper into your ears, voice scraping, while he was behind you. So you know what you're doing when you pout your mouth and say, "Do you think the new sugar daddy will like it, too? Should I wear it for him?"
Whatever you thought he'd do, he doesn't. A scoff, or maybe a brisk, annoyed dismissal, you'd expected. Or maybe even he'd say something. But Yeonjun just pauses. Goes blank, with no playful retort to volley back. All you know is that his dark eyes, which had been so content on an indulgent walk down downtown and a nice dinner after, go severe. Darker with no trick of the light.
He only says, "Right."
That leaves you with nothing to say. You cap the tester bottle and take a real box of the perfume. Because now, you might really need that in your favor if the way he had been drinking it down was anything to go off of. Maybe it'll soften him. Your little makeup and perfume detour ends with a whimper, not a bang, as you stand beside him in line and then watch him pull out that wallet despite it. Two bags sit on the counter waiting for you to reclaim them. Full bags. But when he thumbs his credit card and runs it, a sleek, black, metal thing with weight that speaks for itself, it goes through with a ding. You toy with the frills of your little dress to expel the mortification somewhere, or even anywhere, that isn't a rambunctious ball in your chest. You open your mouth to smooth things over a few times, but decide against it. You can't claim to have not know that it would bother him, but it's too late for that.
A weird thrill shoots down your spine at the view. His shoulders rigid and sharp from the back, holding all the things in his head right now that you can only guess at.
The final act takes place in a shop, with him leaned up against a wall that separates the changing rooms from the rest of the place into its own little dim hallway. Obnoxious lights oppress the clothing racks and shoppers from a high, warehouse-like ceiling. A pop station closes in from a speaker in the corner of your dressing room. The clothes you'd rummaged through racks for hang on a gold hook on the wall, waiting for you to stop holding your breath. Even when you finally make yourself move to drop your clothes on the glossy floor below, you're elsewhere. The way his faced dropped? Not just that, but the fact that it wasn't even anger. You don't know what it was; maybe something new that the two of you had created yourselves, or something unique to the reality of what you were to each other.
Yeonjun's knock against the door pauses you. You can almost see it, how he'd rap the backside of his knuckles, head down. His mannerisms are so vivid and branded into your psyche that you could step out right now and you're certain that it's exactly how you'd find him. "Need help?"
The center of your shoulder blades burn because you'd been contorting yourself for the past few minutes to reach the strings behind you. You take your lip into your teeth and take a look of yourself in the mirror. You look expensive. You look like all the things that Choi Yeonjun touches: taken care of. "Uhhh." A part of you wants to deny him. To play the cards that you hold in this long game. He never fails to remind you how much power you hold over him and this arrangement. Why not test the boundaries? But you know what would be sweeter than that. Wordlessly, you pull the latch with a loudness that all dressing room locks seem to have.
Then there he is. His arms are crossed, the muscles there loose but still something that you have to take your mind off, or else you might start to think how they would feel under your teeth. You rove over the slanted height of him and how he still looks tall, even when he leans his head and shoulder into the frame. His eyes rove over you, too. Not a flicker. Not a quick assessment. No. God, no. Not with him.
The latch snaps shut behind him with a barely-there gesture. Your whole stomach drops to the floor and shatters.
It's a little showy. You'll give him that. And maybe you'll also admit that you grabbed this exact dress for this exact reason. A corner of your lip wants to twitch with satisfaction, but you have a plan to see through, and it starts and ends with him groveling for you. What a sight that would be. Even just imagining it and turning the imagery of it in your head, when he's the reason you can even live this life that you do, makes you a rapt little tease. Boys your age can't do this. They couldn't be him if they tried. You're beginning to think that he was a different species of man completely.
A beat passes, and then he runs the pads of his fingertips along the hem of your dress. It ends so, so dangerously; right about where your ass folds over at the sanguine softness of your thighs. The skittering brush of contact is straight electricity, and it's the littlest touch. His eyes meet yours through the mirror. Dark. Smoldering like pure wood smoke, erupting slow like the mountains on these islands that move slow enough to watch their molten greed come, but know that you can do nothing to stop it. It's no fair how he looks at you. Your knees go just completely useless.
Yeonjun completely disregards even pretending he was going to lace that skimpy back up for you. You swallow cotton. "Is it cute?" you ask, because you have a pretty good idea of what the answer is already.
The breathy gasp when he takes the soft fat of your hips into his hands with a greed that says he'd been thinking about them since you walked into this store and while he waited patiently on the other side of the door for this. Or before even that. He tugs your bottom to the front of his jeans and says, with his voice smooth like the scotch he sips, "Of course it's beautiful, baby. Do you want it?"
"Yes," you choke out around a thick knot of anticipation. Your own face meets you, palms braced on either side of the ornate gold mirror and your reflection giving you a show of how ditzy and pathetic he makes you. "But I don't know if I should." The syllables waver toward the end and belie your coquettish act.
He laughs like a scoff while he pushes the skirt of the dress up the swell of your hips, then past it until he can devour the bend of your arch. He taught you that form. And it looks like he has no notes on your technique, either. The pressure of him testing it makes your head go dumb. "When have I ever told you no?" he rasps. "You have no idea how expensive you are, baby. No idea. Your little shopping trip would've maxed out any other man's card."
There. That's the spot. You pout your mouth at him and catch him eating it up in his reflection. "I'm expensive? Am I too expensive for you, then?"
Of course not. Look at you. Look at where you are. His card is yours and you think that it's near bottomless at this point. You don't even have to ask. Yeonjun's tongue presses against the inside of his cheek.
Your panties hit the floor in one tug. The walls of the changing room become infinitely smaller as he wraps your hair up in his fist. The ache in your scalp brings a prickle to your eyes. "Is that what you think?" he says, that polished quality wipes completely raw. He tries to sound like he's not losing his mind, but it's there if you look past the lilt. "Do I need to buy you the island? The world?" It sounds like he would. Like he will. Instead of reaching for himself, he tests between your thighs for what he knows he'll find there, because of course you're soaked. You've been soaked since Sephora.
"Uh-huh," you say, because he's flicking your clit in little tests and every time he hits the sensitive underside of it, the nerves there send your heels clattering on the marble and your legs trying to find purchase. And because, what's dignity with a man sixteen years older than you who puts money in your bank account and fucks you in high-end boutique dressing rooms?
He likes that. But he doesn't give you anything real, doesn't reward the behavior you've been prancing around him with. His palm wraps around your waist to press into your belly and steady your scrambling legs like it goes without saying. The way his fingers stretch over the soft, doughy place there, how it eats up the expanse of your waist, makes you swallow hard. "God help the next kid that gets you. What's he gonna do with you? How are you gonna manage pizzeria dates and a one-bedroom apartment when you know what you have? What I've given you?"
You can't answer. His fingers curl into you, and he wastes no time finding the spot that he knows like muscle memory. The delicate anatomy of a woman's sweet spot seems like something that just came with the package of him. He doesn't have to search, and he probably never did. Sparks explode behind your eyelids like the fireworks they had been setting off on the beach in brilliant golds and teals. If he hadn't steadied you with the strength of his palm, you'd probably be crumpling down to the floor right about now.
"Hmm?" You can hear the condescending purr on his mouth, because you don't have the strength to pry your eyes open to see it.
You mewl a sorry imitation for the word, "Yes," and go back to trying to wiggle your ass into the incessant curling of his fingers. The sounds of him fingering you makes your ears and chest flush, each inappropriate, sloppy wet noise proving how easy you are for him. "Right—right there, please." Your head drops as the first word breaks in the air. It's really a sorry excuse for words.
He listens so well. The angle of his two middle fingers, the width of them just enough to make you crazy and the finesse of how he uses them like weapons even worse so, twitches just up. It's as though he feels it himself somewhere inside of you that he's found it, because he finds it and you know you're royally fucked from that moment on. "Good," he says. "That way I know I get to keep you. Because you'll go and you'll try other men,"—his forearm strains with how he forgets the soreness in it to fuck you on his fingers right—"and you'll be right back here. In my bed. On my money. My spoiled little mess."
The thought that maybe, beyond the pleasure he gets out of knowing he could give you anything, buy you anything, dressing you up in him, he likes you this way because it means nothing else would ever fill the spot he carved doesn't occur to you. Currently because your thighs spasm and shake and it takes every working synapse in your brain firing off to digest how he fucks you so good that it's a leash in and of itself. Hopefully you'll be here when he starts going salt and pepper, because what would sex be if not this?
Your choked, scraped whimpers get too loud for him. His palm over your mouth finally has your eyes fluttering open, and the sight that greets you back is potent enough to send the same molasses through your veins as the heel of his palm grinding down on your swollen clit. "Shh, baby." He grinds harder, because he's mean. "So goddamn whiny. What a princess you are; can't take what you were begging for all night. Why act up if you're gonna tell the whole store how I'm being mean to you?"
He gets your answer in a gone, strangled sob against his palm. Your own damp breaths where it seals over your mouth makes the air thinner. Each roll of his palm forward is met with a helpless push of your ass back on him. His wrist is practically pinned between the bulge in his jeans, because of course he's affected even if he'd like to pretend otherwise, and your bottom. It doesn't stop him one bit. The private sounds that his silencing makes is better than any reckless moaning. It's almost dirtier, almost wronger.
"Gonna cum?" he rasps, watching the trashy mess your face makes in the mirror like a god exacting justice. The weeping mascara lines pooling where his hand meets your face and the drooping eyes that want to roll back into your skull, the high pink of your cheeks and how he can watch himself give you this like he give you everything fucking else. You were close, but just the question winds you up tight enough to snap. That face of his goes patronizing with a furrow of his brows. Slick rolls in hot rivulets down the insides of your trembling thighs. "That's right. There we go. You need to grind that pussy on my hand? Grind it. Go ahead and see if I'm gonna give you what you're asking for."
You try to say something. You really do. To tell him that you'll do anything for it, that he's melting your brain like butter, or god, just anything. The backs of your eyes and your throat and the pit of your stomach all prickle and go tight at once. He probably hears something unflattering come out from behind his palm, something strangled and a fie on the decorum that a place like this deserves. That mirror that you'd been depending on to keep you at least somewhat planted where he's had you bent in half goes clattering against the wall behind it because you're grasping at it like it can help you.
He stops. Just completely, unfairly, cruelly stops. His fingers come out of you a mess and you have to pretend they weren't just in you as he straightens up, swipes a thumb through your blackened cheeks, and then he doesn't touch you again. You're left gaping at yourself in the mirror and wondering with a naked dissonance, like when something heavy hits metal and leaves it ringing, what the hell you're supposed to do with the knot in your lower belly now. You almost think to just rub one out after he steps out.
Tugging his collar looser around his throat, he works his jaw and lets you change back. It all feels too tight; the frills and the way you clatter uselessly out when you've finished and the neglected pangs of throbbing, so hard that you can feel the pounding of your heartbeat all the way up in your ears. You avoid eye contact when he pays for the dress up at the register. If the flushed face and the smearing of mascara that would give you away no matter how hard you tried to wipe at your cheeks and jaw didn't give you away, maybe the buzzing in your eyes would. He makes small talk with her and takes the bag and receipt as if he wasn't just knuckle deep in you. It's the antithesis of all things fair. You have to breathe with intention as he leads the way back out onto the streets. The air is thick and salty enough to swim through. It's no help up against clammy, salty skin itself. The only thing that keeps you kinda grounded as you stumble by his shoulder, because even now he's steepled your fingers together, is the sweet scent of the palm leaves touching the sky above you. Otherwise you're swimming through the honking and the weaving between bodies and the pulse of what he did to you.
You want to dig your heels in and demand he wraps his fingers around your throat and fix it. Or make a scene so big he has to. But you just blink dumbly the whole way back to the room, because you are nowhere near as gutsy as that, and half as coherent at the moment.
The door clicks closed behind you again in a pantomime of that stuffy, unreal scene you just left behind. You kick your heels off and wait. Wait to see what he does, to see if he'll pounce on you the way you ran over a generous hundred times on the way here. Yeonjun just steps out of his own shoes, drops the new dress off on a seat, and works his watch off by the night stand. The lamp there, a low warm ambience, lights the angles of him. The way his shirt stretches over his shoulders, and how he tapers out to something thin at the waist that lingers in your mind after you fuck—how the stretch below his navel and the dusting of hair there gives way to the V, and how that gives way to his cock. When you first had seen it, he didn't even laugh, though he could've. You'd just stared like you were torn between running away from it and testing if it was as hard and warm as it looked. No; he held your face as he told you that it was okay, that he wanted you to become so familiar with it that you could feel the exact shape and curve of it in your haziest dreams. You press your thighs together as you struggle with the strap of your heel.
A metallic sound works, and then he sets the silver-faced watch down. Then his eyes finally, for the first time since he stepped into that dressing room, meet yours. Not through any mirrors. The weight of that is entirely different.
"Bend over the bed," he says. "C'mon, baby girl. I've been going insane over this all day."
The hinges of your jaw ache. "Why?" You're stumbling over to do just that, because you're more talk than you are brazen. "So you can just stop again? I have fingers, you know. I don't need you."
And then his belt makes a noise that tells you he intends to see it through this time. Your stomach does three full flips, ass in the air like the obedient lap dog that you'd be for him a hundred times over. Because if he groomed you and petted you and you were his one, favorite girl for it? What else could you possibly need?
"Huh." The belt comes loose in a rasp, somewhere behind you now. He'd circled the bed completely. "I could. We could sit here and do that all night, if we wanted. But where would be the fun in that?" he says, and then he bends over your back and speaks into the shell of your ear, "I have about a thousand other, more creative things I'm gonna do to you, sweetheart. And trust me; I've had a lot of time to think them."
The shudder he tears from you is so visceral, it's like he'd wrapped a hand around your throat. You choke your swallow down dry and say, "Please do it, do whatever you want. I can take it."
He presses a wet, biting kiss into that spot where your pulse meets jawline. And then another that lingers against the back of your shoulder, and then he kisses his way down and straightens back up to make a mess of your outfit all over again. "I know you can," he rasps, his own voice scraped down to something needy that reflects exactly what's burning between your legs right now. You can't tell if it should feel like a good thing, but it just raises a chill on your skin. Because if the same blistering things that's inside you is inside of him right now, then you don't know what you've signed yourself up for.
"You're still on the pill?" he says, and then when you hesitate to answer he takes a handful of ass. "Sweetheart. Please."
You nod. He takes that and forgets the condom in his wallet to let a line of spit fall down over your cunt from the back. As if you weren't wet enough. You don't know if you've ever been so slick in your life, so wiggly that you whine at him to, "Hurrrrry." The glob lands at the top of yout slit and follows gravity to your clit, and he goes quiet to watch it find its place on you. He takes his proud length and strokes it once or twice to feel it twitch, to give himself a pathetic teaser for what was to come.
Then he's pounding into you until stars shoot behind your eyelids, until you're making noises that would embarrass you if they were ever caught on tape. The come from your throat, and they practically stay there, bouncing with each collision of his groin against your ass and the backs of your thighs. You eat straight comforter as he braces one arm beside your hips to cant his hips up, right into the place he had fun with teasing earlier. It's probably pretty obvious to the poor neighbors what the grinding of the headboard against the wall might be, but you're too busy getting your brains fucked away to be a considerate neighbor.
"Mfh!" you tell the bedsheets. The laugh that he pants into your shoulder blades is pure, undiluted dirtiness and heat.
"So mouthy," he croons, though he's no better off than you. Each time you flutter tight around him, his fingers dig deeper divots into your hip. "And so pretty when you're split on my cock and can't talk. Isn't that right, baby?" He bends completely over your back, and you're forced to remember through the scattered thoughts of how he looked behind you in that mirror. His body ate yours up. It didn't matter if you were taller, if you were any other way. He'd make you look tiny anyway, just like how his fingers stretch over the small of your back and how he handles you with it. "Tell me what you need. I wanna hear that mouth go."
Breathing is a thing of the past. You shove your face to one side so at least you aren't suffocating in the sheets, face such a mess that you can feel it more than the twist of your brows and the pout on your mouth. Sweat beads at your temples and hair sticks there over your flaming cheeks. "Choke me, choke me," you say. It's the dumbified words of somebody who has about five words in their current arsenal and was using all their brain power for each. You choke and sob and bite whines into the air and meet every single one of his thrusts.
He's not gonna let you ask twice. The precision of his fingers is food for your brain, thinning your windpipe just enough to twist every nudge of his tip to your cervix into something more potent and overwhelming. Your nails bite into his wrist at your neck, skull digging back into his shoulder and hips being ground into the edge of the mattress every time he strokes with mindless, carnal rhythm. "Choke you?" he almost laughs, like his hand wasn't around your throat right now. "You're full of surprises, you know that? How's that for that sweet brain, baby girl? Huh?"
Your face twists up. "Uh—uh-huh!" You can't breathe, can't think, in the best way. Lips wobbling, you pant, "I like it!"
That has his hips coming down on you in a different way. He falls over your back and drags in the scent at your neck like he's huffing something stronger than the sweet scent of sex on your skin. But it does something electric to him. His abs tighten against your spine, grinding his cock into you like he could be any deeper than this. It feels like he's up in your stomach, you brain, dressing that up just like he does to the rest of you. "Fuck." His voice crumbles into tatters. "You smell so fucking good. Like candy." He kisses at the spot that you, even in this state, recall with a jerk to be where you had sprayed that perfume. It had melted into the warm pulse there, faded down into the base notes. The kiss isn't enough. He presses his tall nose right into it and grabs at you so hard that it aches. "I'm not gonna last long, baby. God, you're getting more of this stuff. I'll buy you more before we—" His wet forehead falls into the soft spot between your shoulders and where your nape begins, every rolling thrust like he's staving off an orgasm coming just from the olfactory sweetness of you.
You've long since raked red-hot lines down his taut forearm, but a particular tightening of his fingers at your throat and a wet slide that hits just the right spot without you having to ask sends you over like a house of cards. The arch in the very angle of your back bows back against him. The suite falls away, all of Hawaii and your agreement follows, until you're just a girl under a man who knows exactly how to play you. "I'm cumming!" you say, all but stumbling over the warning. "Help!"
You don't know what the hell you're saying, and he's off the deep end too. He throws you up the bed and digs his knees in to gain purchase and something in that scent he caught, in the thoughts that had been festering in his head all night, comes alive. He rails you right into the sheets and takes what he needs as you claw at the pillows and sheets through yours. Because with him, you're gonna cum first if he has to grit his teeth and pull out just to make sure he doesn't first.
"That's it," he growls. "That's my spoiled girl." Then his own hips stop and each stutter of them as he fucks it into you, each pant and breath into your shoulders and kiss to the back of your head, tells you that he's followed you down. As his weight smothers you into the pillows, grounding you and suffocating you until you can come down and breathe again, he makes your hair into a loose ponytail to reach the soft parts of your neck that the tangle of it hid.
His heartbeat at your back reverberates into your chest. Speaking into your face as he takes the softness of your cheeks and watches them squish under his fingers, he says, "How's that for leaving you wanting?" There's a lazy, pleased light in his eyes. What else could a man need, more than a pretty girl glowing with post-orgasmic bliss under him, in a bed he put her in, in a frilly, rumpled dress that only he could afford? Nothing. He was living the life that other men loathed him for. He nips the turn of your shoulder and says, "You were put on this Earth to test old bastards like me, huh?"
You can hardly give him an enthusiastic smile. Probably.
ash⦂ #needthat like i finished this in a haze at 4am before a shift so if that tells you anything about how i was feeling…
A routine — a fantastic, addicting cycle that Yeonjun had.
It was a night like any other, in your apartment after work — the sun long set as you're cleaning up after making dinner, Yeonjun's portion stashed on the microwave for when he returns — but you know it would sit there longer.
You feel his presents in the room before you hear him — before you can even mutter his lips are on yours, his plush lips utterly consuming you whole. His hands are holding onto your face as if he's trying to ensure you won't leave, moaning into your mouth. The kiss is sloppy and needy — pathetically nipping on your bottom lip as one of his hands slip beneath your shorts —
And that's exactly what gets you into this situation.
Every
Single
Time.
You could barely make it to the bedroom — Yeonjun too desperate for you after an excruciating schedule, tumbling through the doors of your bedroom, pushing you onto the unmade bed crawling ontop of you.
His lips promptly attached back to yours, one of his hands holding your chin up to meet his kiss. You kiss back instantly, sucking on his plump bottom lip earning a small whimper from him. Both of you fighting for dominance in the kiss, both of you desperately chasing each other. His tongue glides over your lip, his tongue meeting yours as he moans at the feeling of your tongue against his.
When he pulls back unwillingly his lips are slicked with both of your spit, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at you. Your own lips swollen, puffy and wet, parted — trying to catch your breath. He doesn't let you rest for too long. His fingers skim at the hem of your oversized pajama shirt, which is actually his.
He pulls the shirt off your frame, letting it fall onto the floor, unbothered about wherever it ended up. Yeonjun's eyes linger on you, your buds perked from the sudden change in temperature, he lets out a sound edging between a groan and a whine as he drinks you in, absolutely captivated by you under him.
You can barely breathe before his lips are back on you, pressing chase kisses on your lips, his need to feel you, all of you, making it impossible for him to stay still. His lips quickly attach to your neck, kissing down the column of your neck before kissing down the side of your neck slowly, sucking faint marks in his path.
When he finally pulls back from your neck he lingers; you can faintly feel his warm breath centimeters from your marked skin. When Yeonjun finally looks at you his expression is dazed, drunk on you.
"God you're beautiful.." His voice is strained, barely able to contain himself — you can feel him hard against your thigh, trying desperately to not rut into the soft plush skin of your thigh.
you let out a muddled comment he can't understand, too dazed and spent on you to fully grasp anything besides how you taste and feel. You can feel Yeonjun's hands all over you, his touch leaving a burning feeling over your warm skin, his fingers dip into your pajama shorts feeling you through your soaked panties — doing nothing to stop him from feeling you.
"J-jjunie —" you gasp out at the sudden feeling of his fingers catching at your clothed cunt, arching slightly into his touch making him let out a shakey breath.
"Fuck, you're unreal — all this f'me huh, baby?" Yeonjun coos in your ear, his voice unsteady — you can tell he's barely hanging on, his overwhelming need to be as close to you as possible.
Yeonjun's lips attach back to your skin, moaning against it as he kisses down your neck — leaving a sloppy trail of spit in his path. He's practically vibrating with need — his desire to feel you, to be consumed by you. Your perfume, whatever shampoo is lingering from your hair —its addicting.
He mumbles incoherent praises or nonsense into your skin as he moves down your chest, worshiping you with every kiss, his slicked lips kissing every inch of you like a prayer — like your a goddess he's vowed to forever — which you are to him.
If you allowed him — he would kiss you till his lips went numb — till all you could feel was him.
His lips move down your chest with devotion — his free hand holding onto your hip, grounding himself and you. he ghosts over one of your buds — making you let out a gasp, your fingers curling into his hair.
His teeth graze over the sensitive bud — savoring the whiny gasps you let out, Yeonjuns lips wrap around your nipple, his tongue pressing down on the bud — the sensation of his warm mouth on you makes you feel floaty — like if you or him let go, you'll drift away.
His teeth keep grazing the bud — moaning into your chest, fingers tightening on your hip as he relishes in how you feel against him, all for him, only him.
When he finally leaves your bud, its not for long — immediately attaching to your neglected nipple, giving it the same attention.
Yeonjun only pulls away when you pull him off — your tits feeling sensitive and leaving you needing more desperately.
When you pull him off, his eyes meet yours — dark and low, you can see the hunger in him. God he looks unreal, his pouty lips bruised and glossy — cheeks tinged a soft pink.
His lips don't stray from you, connecting to the flesh of your chest — sucking purple marks into the soft skin, nipping at it before pressing soft, reverend kisses on the forming bruises.
He kisses all over you — you can feel the cold air nip at the wet skin trailing from him, kissing all over your chest, down your torso. His body moving with him to press kisses above your belly button — his fingers skimming the edge of your shorts.
Heat radiates off you — the room stuffy and hot from the summer night and Yeonjun's body radiating pure warms.
His lips hover over the waistband, briefly looking up at you before pulling both your shorts and panties off your body in one motion.
You instinctively trying and clamp your thighs shut but he stops you, settling in between your thighs — pulling your legs over his shoulders.
He lets out a gutted sound — in between a groan and a whimper. God he needed this, needed you. Like you were the forbidden fruit he desperately craved.
His nose bumps your clit as he nuzzles into you — his tongue diving in, linking a long stripe up your cunt.
You hear him moan against you — like you're the one in between his legs. His lips attach to the sensitive bud — sucking hard, causing you to arching into him, pushing your cunt even more into his face.
A sharp whimper escapes your lips without warning. His lips detach from your clit, his tongue lapping up all your juices — his tongue prodding your entrance. Your breath ragged as you buck your hips into his face, causing his nose to brush against your clit, pulling a strained whimper from you.
"So good f'me huh, baby?" Yeonjun mumbles against your pussy — not sure if he's talking to you or it but fuck you can't be bothered to care. His hold on you is tight, not letting you squirm away even an inch — pulling you further down on his face. His mouth switching between licking through your folds sucking up all you have to give and toying with your needy clit.
It feels like he's trying to consume you whole — like he's trying to merge you both together so he can't tell where he ends and you start.
Your fingers tug on the strands of his hair, fidgeting and squirming under him — the pleasure is so so good. Your legs start feeling like mush — only aware they are there from Yeonjuns bruising grip to keep them around him.
Usually you would feel guilty, worried you're going to suffocate him but fuck.
The way he's devouring you — moaning into your pussy, you would and do think he's enjoying this more than you.
His tongue breaches your hole, pulling a loud moan from the back of your throat. The room filled with the smell of sex and the wet squelching of him worshiping your pussy. You can't even feel embarrassed — Yeonjun's movements and just him making you feel dizzy and unable to think of anything but his tongue and the orgasm he's coaxing you to.
Yeonjuns tongue is fucking into you at a speed you can barely comprehend, the sloppy and hungry movements are so good — and every so often at a particularly deep thrust of his tongue his nose nudges at your sore clit.
The way Yeonjun's moving — he's hungry. Like he's been waiting for this since he woke up, which he probably has, you make jokes about him being obsessed but to him — this is his solace. The way you feel under him — soft and so compliant to anything he wants, and fuck how you taste. He craves you after a day of schedules and after weeks of touring — nothing can soothe him like being in between your legs pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you.
And fuck — he gets off to it.
Yeonjun can feel his cock — rock hard at this point, all he can do is mindlessly hump into the sheets — the stimulation and your thighs around his head is enough for him.
Your nail nearly dig into his scalp from the pleasure — and when you manage to open your eyes to look at him you can't stop the moan that slips. The bottom of his face covered in wetness — slick and spit, his lips pink and plump covered in your juices. Fuck — the blissed out look on his face, his eyes scrunched in pleasure, you can faintly feel the movements of him humping helplessly into the mattress.
Every sound and touch feels amplified, Yeonjuns moans against your pussy causing vibrations that can only make you whimper in overwhelming pleasure. You can feel your orgasm coming quick, the knot in your stomach tighten with every lick and thrust of his skilled tongue.
Yeonjun can also feel his orgasm approaching — the taste of you and the friction from the desperate humping makes his brain go into overdrive — yearning to taste you, feel you come undone for him. His tongue attacks your sensitive clit — the unexpected jolt of pleasure sending you straight to your orgasm.
Yeonjun helps you rude out the orgasm, his tongue licking your slit and catching on your clit as you desperately grind against his face. Your thighs tighten around his head — your ears ringing as a string of incoherent moans and whimpers flea your lips.
As your orgasm slows so does Yeonjuns movements, not trying to overwhelm you. When your legs finally stop shaking uncontrollably and you can actually think without it being fuzzy. Your grip on his locks loosens, your chest rising and falling fast, trying to catch your breath from the overwhelming orgasm.
When you open your eyes you look down at Yeonjun — whose resting his head on your thigh, his gaze already on yours, with a shit eating grin.
"This is where you say thank you~" Yeonjun teases with a wide, fox like grin. You shove his head slightly letting out a breathed laugh.
'Fuck you." You say breathlessly with a small small in your lips.
"Maybe later." He says swiftly making you click your tongue, rolling your eyes at him.
When your head clears up slightly you sit up a bit — your hand making its way to him which he quickly grabs. pressing a kiss to your wrist.
"Jun —" you're about to protest when his free hand presses you back onto the mattress —unable to fight back, still weak from your orgasm.
"Don't worry 'bout me." He mumbles into the skin of your thigh, pressing a kiss onto it.
You're about to complain again when you realise why. "Oh"
"Yeah, 'oh'." He smirks against your skin before kissing up your thigh making his way into your cunt again.
synopsis: the guy of your dreams finally asks you on a date. the problem? you've barely had your first kiss—and he looks like he definitely knows what he's doing. panicking, you ask the campus resident playboy, choi yeonjun, for lessons. strictly practical. no feelings. no strings. except yeonjun isn't as experienced as everyone thinks.
✧ pairing: playboy student!choi yeonjun x student!reader
✧ genre/warnings: explicit sexual content (smut with plot, 18+ mdni), rom-com, college au, sexual exploration, coming of age, fwb, teaching trope, sexual themes & sexting, clumsy intimacy, love triangle-ish, smoking, alcohol/party settings, in chapter warnings to apply
✧ total word count: est. 35k~
✧ status: completed
✧ playlist | main masterlist
⊹ ࣪ ˖ index
teaser
lesson one
lesson two
lesson three
epilogue
read on wattpad
review your experience, thoughts, or unhinged feelings here
꒰🗝️꒱ Your apartment’s being renovated, leaving you without a place to stay for the night. Your childhood friend says you can crash at his place and the catch is he shares it with a flatmate. You weren’t planning on saying yes but it’s the safest and the most reasonable option you have.
⤷ ゛ This story is part of the One Bed Series .ᐟ.ᐟ
⊹ wc .ᐟ 16.8k
pairing: childhood friend!choi yeonjun x fem!reader
tags: friends to lovers, mutual pining, sexual tension, original character, attempt humour, fluff, suggestive jokes, drunk!yeonjun, drunken confession [probably missed some]
[MDNI] smut warning: explicit sexual content, dry humping, nipple play, mild dirty talk, heavy petting, big dick!yeonjun, panty fucking, fingering, handjob, mututal masturbation, multiple positions, lotus position, missionary, prone bone, unprotected sex (not huzzah!), creampie (please don't), biting and marking, sweet aftercare [definitely missed some]
first fic of 2026! and also my first yeonjun fic <3 kinda nervous ngl. i have proof read it but there still might be mistakes scattered here and there so i'm really sorry for that ^^ the reference to yeonjun's outfit in the fic was this <3
Reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!
It occurred to you a second too late that this was going to cost you more than you’d planned for. You had always been good at anticipating consequences. This time, you’d misjudged the timing.
Well — doomed might have been an exaggerated way to phrase it, but it certainly felt that way when you were standing in the middle of what used to be your bedroom. Renovating your apartment didn’t necessarily mean you were knee deep into damnation, sure, but it was definitely up there with the list of inconveniences that made you rethink every decision you’d supposedly made with confidence.
You started out in this place four years ago, back when splitting rent with a flatmate was the only way to survive college without selling your organs on the internet. You moved out of your parents’ house with a cardboard box of belongings and a stubborn idea that you could do everything on your own. You subsisted on project work, internships, weekend shifts, tutoring jobs that paid in both cash and headaches. Thankfully, you had the scholarship money that kept your tuition from eating your rent alive.
Crazy thing is, that somehow landed you a well-paying job the moment graduation ended, and because you had the good sense your friends often accused you of weaponizing, you saved every extra penny you could. You were socking away paychecks the way other people hoarded takeout receipts.
That frugality paid off in the most unexpected way when your landlord announced he was getting married, moving abroad, and— oh, right — selling the apartment! And as if the universe wanted to make the choice painfully convenient, your flatmate had moved out just two weeks prior to your landlord's news without so much as a goodbye party. You had waved while thinking of managing the extra rent money and how nice it would be to have the place under your name.
You were served the choice on a silver fucking platter.
The apartment was Pinterest perfect and it was everything you had ever wanted — light that fell the way soft film light does in pictures, a ten-minute commute to your office, a block of quiet shops where you’d learned the barista by name. And the price was not a fantasy number.
So naturally, you bought it. Papers signed, small celebratory drinks taken, and spent the next few days internally screaming at the idea that you now owned property. You — who once didn’t know how to cook rice without Googling it — now legally possessed a piece of real estate. It made you feel simultaneously grown-up and like an imposter in someone else’s adult life.
It should have been the high point of a long series of sensible choices; the problem, however, was that you had never owned a place before and therefore had no earthly idea that buying an apartment sometimes meant getting a call from the building manager about structural inspections and code compliance. You called your mother later asking for directions, and she laughed at your face before ending the call. How fun!
Not to mention, you had overlooked the single most vital part of the process that you wouldn’t be allowed to live there during the particularly loud, dusty parts of the work; you had overlooked the two-week window of demo and piping and men in fluorescent vests; you had overlooked, most catastrophically, the implication that you needed somewhere to sleep until the hammering stopped.
So yes, doomed was performative, but not untrue.
But see, you had wanted this and you’d earned it. You were also suddenly, gloriously, alarmingly unprepared for the practicalities of owning a place, which was its own kind of chaotic humility. The next logical step was obvious, of course, find a roof for a few nights. Preferably one that didn’t come with the word “hotel.” Preferably one that involved fewer fluorescent vests.
And that, by the mercy of a long-standing friendship who always returned your favors, is how the idea of crashing at Yeonjun’s — because he insisted, and because it was safe, and because your floors were about to sound like the inside of a drum — suddenly stopped being a Plan B and became the only plan you could live with.
Your lord and saviour — Choi Yeonjun — rolled up in his car on the morning of the renovation day. This dude knew when to flaunt style, stepping out of the car like some movie hero wearing sunglasses as he spotted you. A smirk and a cock of his eyebrows as he waved at you, to which your smile painfully twitched at the edges, threatened to snap into an actual scowl, while your brain did the rapid-fire calculation of whether your neighbors had the misfortune of witnessing his stupid ass and embarrassing actions.
“Do I carry your baby first?” he called, pointing finger guns at the potted plant in your hands before pivoting one finger toward you. “Or do I carry my baby first—oomf!”
Whatever punchy line he had prepared died in a strangled squeak as you shoved the plant into his chest to make him stumble backward, his sunglasses sliding down his nose. A perfectly orchestrated disaster in slow motion. You spun away before he could weaponize his cheshire grin.
“Less talking, more helping,” you said over your shoulder. “Handle her gently. She’s seen things.”
Ushering your friend to carefully place the plant at the back of his car, you punctuated all your words and actions with a grateful, charming smile. If he was going to give you a roof over your head until your apartment came back to life, you had to be nice to him, right?
Of course, you knew deep down you didn’t have to act nice. Yeonjun had always been that friend who would show up at your door the moment you even hinted at a problem. Hard times, awkward situations, you name it — he’d be there. There was no hesitation, no ‘let me see if I can help’, no calculating pause to gauge if you deserved it. Sure, you poked fun at each other relentlessly, a constant volley of teasing and one-upmanship that made your friendship a delicate dance of ego and affection but beyond the teasing, beyond the sarcasm, beyond all the jabs that left you both laughing or wanting to rip each other’s head off, Yeonjun had seamlessly morphed into something more permanent than a childhood friend — he was family.
Still, him being so unnervingly well-behaved, so obedient and agreeable, without the faintest attempt at pissing you off was… suspicious. You told yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just in a good mood! But the longer it went one, the more unsettling it became. He didn't let you lift a single thing, intercepting every bag before your hand even reached for them. He even opened the car door for you, palm resting on the roof like a gentleman so you wouldn’t bump your head. Strike two.
Then, when he mentioned taking you out for breakfast before heading to his place, it was the third streak of suspicious behavior that made your internal skeptic raise a fist. Now as a person he was polite, yes. He held doors open for strangers, tipped generously, helped aunties carry groceries without being asked. Yeonjun was a lot of things but being a gentleman with you? He had never once been this much of a gentleman around you, not in the entire twenty-plus years you’d known him.
When he pulled your chair out for you at the cafe, you stopped pretending it wasn’t weird. This was either a setup or a prank.
You cut into your croissant sandwich, flakes scattering across the plate, you threw him a look that could slice steel.
“Yeonjun.” your tone was deceptively light.
He hummed, eyes flicking toward you over the rim of his cup.
“What the fuck aren’t you telling me?”
He inhaled and choked immediately, coffee spraying into the wrong pipe, eyes watering as he grabbed for a napkin. You watched, smiling unbothered as he coughed and wheezed across from you. Someone a table over glanced at him with concern. You smiled at them too.
“God,” he rasped, dabbing at his chin, “can you be a little civil when you speak?”
“Can you noy lie by omission?” you countered, pointing your fork at him. “That face you've been making since you picked me up, and the way you’re acting, all these tell me that you did some shit and expected me to not notice.”
He pressed his lips together, debating whether to deflect or confess. But he deflated real quick under the way you were looking at him. “Okay. It's nothing bad, really.”
“I’ll decide after I hear it.”
“There’s… uh, my cousin. He’s staying over at my place for a bit.”
You paused mid-chew. Ah. That cousin. The name didn't even need to be spoken; you knew exactly which cousin he meant. The same one who used to show up at every family dinner when you and Yeonjun were kids. He was someone you found either tolerable or exhausting depending on the year. You didn’t mind him — but it did mean one thing.
“He’s in your guest room,” you said, not accusing so much as confirming it out loud.
“Yeah,” Yeonjun replied, exhaling through his nose. He pushed his cup aside and scrubbed a hand over his mouth like he was rewinding the morning to find a better entry point. “The spare’s his for now but he’s leaving in three days. I should’ve told you earlier, I know, but—” He cut himself off, rubbing his face. “I didn’t want you stressing more. And I didn’t want you trying to figure out somewhere else and ending up somewhere sketchy because you didn’t want to inconvenience me.”
You ran through the alternatives you already knew would fail. It was nearly Christmas; most of your friends were out of town for the holidays, parents were too far to make daily check-ins on the renovation feasible, and hotels were a financial joke you weren’t in the mood to entertain.
Inconvenient as it was, he had a point.
You sighed, shaking your head once, eyes lifting back to him. “No, you’re right,” you said finally, tone even, “that this is genuinely the least terrible option I have.”
The relief that crossed his face was immediate and, frankly, humiliating. “I’ll make it up to you.” He paused, frowned, then added, “I already am, technically. Breakfast. Transportation. Emotional support. I feel like those are solid offerings.”
“Don’t push it,” you muttered, snorting as you reached back for your food, nudging a fallen flake of pastry aside with your fingertip before taking another bite. You chewed slowly, watching him as you half-expected another shoe to drop. Thank god he didn’t let it.
Instead, he straightened in his chair, suddenly looking earnest in a way that made you wary.
“Seriously, though,” he said, clasping his hands together on the table. “You won’t feel uncomfortable, I promise. You will take my room. I’ll crash on the couch. It’s fine. I’ve slept on worse. Floors. Airport chairs. That one time in the back of a van or—” he paused, lifting a finger as a better idea struck him mid-sentence, “—I can even stay in my cousin’s room. He owes me. For, like, several things. Some of them are crimes.”
“Yeah, I don't wanna know about the last one,” you spoke solemnly, giving him a long look. Still, you were surprised by how carefully he was laying it out, as though he were afraid one wrong word might tip the balance. “Also, no, that won't be necessary,” you said, shaking your head as you felt bad when he mentioned giving up his bed. “I trust you, Yeonjun. And I’m grateful you even thought this far ahead for me.”
He nodded quickly, like he’d expected resistance. “I know. I just—listen, I don’t want you lying awake wondering if you’re being a problem. You’re not, and you’ll never be.” He reached across the table then, nudging your plate closer when he noticed you’d drifted away from it.
A funny sort of silence dawned upon you two. You gave him another long look. He returned it to you.
“Yeonjun,” you whispered, leaning forward with your nose scrunching as if you’d just bitten into something unexpectedly sour. “This whole formality thing is getting weird. Like, physically uncomfortable.”
He gave a long sigh of relief then leaned in too. “Right? I thought I was losing my mind, but no. No, this is wrong,” he whispered back, eyes comically wide. He dragged a hand down his arm, shivering. “It’s like my body knows this isn’t how we talk and it’s protesting.” He paused, then added scandalously, “I hate it.”
“See, this is why I like you, Jjunie. We’re always on the same page. Always,” you said in a sing-song voice. You nudged his foot lightly with your shoe under the table, not bothering to look down. “Besides, I would've kicked your ass if you hadn’t given me your place to crash.”
“Please,” he scoffed, lifting his cup for a sip. “You wouldn’t have gotten the chance. My mom would’ve beaten you to it the moment she found out.” He shook his head, setting the cup down with a soft clink. “I can hear it already. ‘You had space and you let her struggle?’ Best believe I’d be dead.”
You resumed eating as you said, “I love your mom, Jun.”
Too focused on the sudden call from one of your leading renovating workers, you failed to notice the soft smile playing on his face. And somewhere in that moment, Yeonjun raised his mug, hiding whatever had crossed his face before you could catch it.
You barely made it past the threshold before Joonho’s arms banded around your shoulders with zero regard for physics, personal space, or the fact that you were well into your late twenties and not, in fact, a long-lost child returning from war.
The air left your lungs in a sharp rush as he squeezed, voice booming against the side of your head as he marvelled loudly at how much you’d grown, how long it had been, how he couldn’t believe you were standing here now. You returned the enthusiasm in theory only, patting his back and waiting it out as you knew resistance would only prolong the ordeal.
Oxygen was becoming a fond memory when your mental plea was answered not by Joonho, but by Yeonjun, who caught the back of his cousin’s shirt and hauled him away in one smooth motion until Yeonjun deposited him a respectable distance away. His palm still fisted in cotton like he was restraining an overexcited dog.
“Hands to yourself,” Yeonjun said mildly.
“I was welcoming her.”
“There are better ways to do that. You’re in her space, dipshit.”
Yeonjun released him, then turned to you without missing a beat, eyes flicking over your face once. He reached down, plucked your bag from beside your feet before you could argue, and slung it over his shoulder. “Come on.”
As you were about to follow him down the short hall, you paused only when Joonho snickered behind you.
“Big fan of whatever this is,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you.
You glanced back at him, then at Yeonjun’s retreating figure, and decided not to make an effort to investigate. Joonho had always lived on a frequency you never quite tuned into, always spoken in sideways implications, even when you were younger. And you’d learned long ago that dissecting his words rarely led anywhere useful. Whatever he thought he was observing could remain his own private entertainment.
Yeonjun kept his promise and then some; fresh sheets stretched tight across the bed, pillowcases crisp and smooth beneath your fingers, the whole space scrubbed of any trace that it had been occupied the night before. It did not look like a guest setup hastily arranged out of obligation.
He had opened the wardrobe as well, sliding hangers aside and clearing a section that was conspicuously empty for you to keep your clothes. Yeonjun stepped back for you and leaned against the wardrobe, folding his arms as he watched you unzip your bag and begin sorting through its contents.
“You didn’t need to bring clothes, though,” he mentioned offhandedly, glancing toward the open bag as you reached for another sweater. “You could’ve just worn mine.”
You snorted, crouching lower to fish out a pair of folded jeans, smoothing them over your thigh before placing them away. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘feeling comfortable in your own skin’?” you asked, tipping your head to look at him. “Hmm?”
He shifted his stance, one heel tapping lightly against the floor as his mouth curved and he caught his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m fairly certain that phrase is meant to imply a totally different thing, but—”
“What I mean,” you cut in, rising to your feet with the drawer sliding shut under your palm, “is that you’ve already done more than enough.” You turned fully toward him then, hand still resting on it as if to brace the point. “You don’t need to keep adding to it or be stressed on my behalf.”
“Not stressed,” he murmured, pushing off the wardrobe and reaching past you to close the doors. The motion boxing you in for a second too long to ignore before he stepped back again. “And it’s not really extra effort.”
The evidence of his earlier feline grin was long gone. What replaced it didn’t look like seriousness so much as absence, a rare unreadable look that felt oddly out of character.
“I just like seeing you in my clothes.”
The startling absence of empty flirtiness in his voice made your heart do a bewildered lurch. These words and antics from Yeonjun were not new to you. You had heard variations of that line before, over the years, reshaped and repackaged into jokes you both knew how to handle. This time, there was no such padding.
Scoffing, you stepped into his space planting both hands on his shoulders and turning him bodily toward the door. “Why, because they look better on me than on you?” you said lightly, nudging him forward as you laughed, giving him a final push toward the hallway. “Careful, might steal your fame as the best dressed person in every room.”
“Going ahead of yourself is, unfortunately, a flaw you should really work on—hey, ouch,” he cut himself off with a sharp hiss when you pinched the back of his arm in retaliation, turning back to glare at you over his shoulder. He tried to maintain dignity while rubbing at the spot, but the effect was ruined by the way his mouth pulled into a sulk. “That was uncalled for. Absolutely unprovoked.”
“That’s for the slander,” you said, unrepentant.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, holding his arm with pursed lips. “I open my home, my wardrobe, my heart—”
“Door,” you calmly corrected, pointing.
Thankfully whatever foreign feeling that had momentarily settled in your heart got promptly flattened by the delight you got from his reaction. With a sulking and pouting yeonjun finally leaving you alone, you unpacked taking your time. The rest of the day dissolved into motion with trips back and forth from your apartment, calls with the renovation team, photos sent, questions answered, decisions made until your head felt heavy. By the time night settled in properly, exhaustion had worked its way into your bones.
The boys floated the idea of a movie night. You declined without much thought. Yeonjun caught on immediately with just one look at you, shut Joonho off before he could protest himself hoarse, shooing you toward the hallway with an insistence that you rest. You mumbled goodnight to both of them and retreated into his room.
Sleeping anywhere other than your own bed usually left you staring at the ceiling, counting phantom shadows and waiting for rest that never quite came. You expected the same here. But despite the unfamiliarity of the space, the familiarity of his scent clinging to the subspaces clouded your senses and soon enough, lulled you into a gentle, dreamless sleep.
You woke to the smell before you were fully awake. Hunger nudged you down the hall and into the kitchen, where roasted beef and coffee welcomed you all at once. Yeonjun stood at the counter with a paper bag torn open, unpacking takeout containers one by one. He lined them up with his sleeves pushed to his elbows, hair still flattened in odd directions from sleep. He glanced over when you shuffled in, his mouth curving into a soft acknowledgment.
“Morning,” he said, nudging a coffee cup closer to the machine. “You sleep all right?”
You answered with a nod and stepped closer, close enough that your arm brushed his. Closer still, until you leaned into him and let your cheek rest against the solid warmth of his bicep, your eyes half-closing as you watched his hands work. You thought you felt him stiffen for a nano moment, not really putting much thought behind it when he resumed his flow of work. He was humming under his breath.
“Smells… insane,” you murmured, the words arriving late and dragged out of sleep as you reached for a fry before nibbling on it with little care for manners.
He glanced down at you, then at the fry between your fingers, and nudged the plate an inch farther from the counter’s edge with his knuckle. “You’re going to tip over,” he said, not stopping what he was doing.
“Mm,” you answered, voice muffled where it pressed into his shirt as you shifted closer instead of backing off. “Food’s taking too long. I’m supervising. Very hands-on position.”
“Ahh, important role,” he humoured you dryly. “If I mess this up, I assume there’s a formal complaint process?”
“Immediate termination,” you said, reaching for another fry and bumping his forearm in the process. “Start over. New kitchen. New cook.”
Footsteps approached, heavier and less considerate than yours had been. Joonho filled the doorway with a stretch and a yawn, pausing mid-motion when his eyes landed on the picture you made leaning into Yeonjun’s side.
“Wow,” he said, blinking once as if his brain needed a second pass. “Good morning to… this,” he added.
You didn’t bother lifting your head. “Morning to you too,” you said, reaching blindly for a fork and tapping it against the counter in his direction. “If you’re going to stare, at least make yourself useful.”
Yeonjun took the opportunity to gently step away, sliding a plate into your hands in the same motion. “Sit down,” he told you, gesturing toward the chair. “I’ll get you your coffee.”
Joonho snorted, grabbing a sandwich and already taking a bite. “Funny to see you two play house in your grown age.”
You dropped into the chair, blinking up at them both. “I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours. Calm down.”
“Twenty-four hours is plenty,” Joonho replied, reaching for the napkins and dragging the whole stack toward himself. “People have made worse life decisions faster.”
Yeonjun clicked his tongue under his breath as he poured the coffee, before sliding it across the counter toward you without looking. “Like how you once agreed to a group trip after knowing people for twelve hours, Joonho? Should I remind you that financial recovery took months?” he said, giving his cousin a flat look.
You wrapped both hands around the mug the second it reached you. The heat pressed into your palms as you leaned back in the chair. Your eyes drifted between them while the kitchen filled with their cacophonies of back-and-forth jabs. You smiled to yourself because some things truly never change.
That noon found you folded into the corner of the couch with your laptop balanced on your thighs as you sorted through your work emails. Joonho had left the house an hour ago, and Yeonjun had mentioned — almost in passing — that he’d shower before heading out to work. You reached for your phone to cross-check a note and came up empty-handed, the absence registering slowly and you frowned after patting the cushion beside you, then the coffee table, then the pocket of your cardigan. You then remembered that you’d set it down on Yeonjun’s bed earlier, right before you wandered back out to the living room with your coffee.
You could still hear the water running so you figured announcing yourself wasn't necessary as you nudged his door open with your shoulder, eyes already sweeping the bed in search of your phone. Spotting it near the pillow you crossed the room quickly, you grabbed it just as the bathroom door opened behind you.
Yeonjun stepped out with a towel thrown over one shoulder, skin still dewy and sweatpants riding low on his hips, droplets tracing idle paths down his chest as he scrubbed at his hair with the towel. His movements were thoughtless until his gaze lifted and landed on you, stalling mid-rub.
“Oh—” The word left you only after you looked up from the bed and actually took him in, phone clutched loosely in your hand. “Sorry. I was just grabbing my phone. I didn’t think you’d be out yet.”
He scrambled to make a sound that sounded like it had been meant as a laugh and didn’t quite make it. Shifting his stance he hooked his thumb into the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged them a fraction higher. He turned away a little like he was giving you space.
“No, it’s—yeah. You’re fine,” he replied.
Now, the only sensible option would have been to retrieve your phone and retreat, to give your friend of over two decades space to finish getting dressed, right? You were about to do it, you swear. Yet, your feet stalled where they were and your attention stayed anchored on him in a way that felt mildly inconvenient because while Yeonjun shirtless was hardly a new visual in the long archive of your shared history (memories stacked with sunburnt afternoons and public pools, shared vacations involving Yeonjun shirtless in some capacity, borrowed shirts tossed at your face) — none of that had ever felt strange. The version of him standing there now carried angles and proportions your memory lagged behind on.
You knew he worked out; you’d heard him complain about sore muscles, had teased him about protein shakes crowding the fridge, endured the commentary about macros and sleep cycles with the indulgence reserved for habits that had always been his. None of this was new. But, what was new was the geometry of him now. Your brain took an extra second to update its internal file on him around the fact that his body no longer matched the version it had filed away a few months ago — definition etched where there used to be softness, shoulders carrying a broader span, and that he looked… bigger, in a way that demanded attention.
“Did you—” you began, then paused, redirecting mid-thought as your gaze traced the shallow grooves along his stomach while he shifted to face you. “Have you been working out lately? Because —” you gestured at him, gaze openly evaluative in a way that had never felt off-limits between you. “— holy shit. You look big.”
His mouth curved before he could stop it, teeth flashing in a brief, reflexive grin as he glanced down at himself, then back at you. “Yeah,” he said, bracing one hip against the edge of the dresser, the motion pulling a subtle flex through his torso. “I’ve been more consistent. Work’s been a lot lately, so I figured I’d channel it somewhere useful.”
“Makes sense,” you murmured, already closing the remaining space, your curiosity steering you forward with no sense of consequence, fingers pressing into his upper arm. You squeezed once, then again, brows knitting with genuine interest. Even when he wasn't flexing, his muscles were so well defined that it almost resembled a sculpture, so tenderly pleasing to the eye. “Damn,” you added softly to yourself. “This couldn’t have been easy to get.”
You were standing so close that the residual warmth from the shower still rolling off him reached you without effort, bleeding into the small space between you. He drew a breath through his nose, shoulders lifting and lowering with it as he adjusted his footing again, fingers regripping the towel. “It wasn’t,” there was pure honesty in the way he spoke. “It did take a while, almost gave up halfway through. Hasn't been easy, yeah.”
“The hard work definitely paid off, Jun. You look incredible.” You hummed, still distracted and testing the muscle under your thumb, then gave a small nod like you’d reached a satisfying conclusion. “I mean, you could probably pick me up and toss me across the room if you wanted.”
You looked up only after the sentence cleared your mouth, catching the way he cocked a brow as his gaze dropped to your hand and then climbed back to your face. The flush at his ears looked deeper up close, spreading across his cheekbones that made you briefly wonder if the water had been hotter than usual, because surely that had to be it. A corner of his mouth slowly tipped upward, and he leaned in just enough for heat to register.
“You’d like that, huh?”
There was a sudden flip that rippled through your stomach as your fingers flexed around his muscle, and you were acutely aware of how close he was now — you could count the faint freckles at his shoulder, close enough that your gaze traced down his chest before you caught yourself and brought it back up, a strange recalibration happening as your mind still struggled to place this version of him into a category that made sense.
It wasn’t that he looked different so much as the fact that you were seeing him differently… again. Noticing proportions, noticing presence, noticing how little distance there actually was between you, and the awareness made your breath hitch to be baffling and — oh, god. You must've been crazy.
Whatever this moment was, it stretched past its welcome before he was the one to break it, stepping away with a quick motion. That sent a ripple of cooler air across your skin as he reached for the shirt draped over the chair, pulling it on with brisk efficiency. You let air fill your lungs once more.
“Anyway,” he said, already moving past you toward the hall, grabbing his wallet from the counter as he glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ve gotta head out and do the grocery run. Joonho’s dead set on cooking tonight, so I can’t bail out.”
And by the time you could come up with a properly formed sentence, the main door’s closing sound echoed through the house. You stood there in the middle of the room, phone clutched between your fingers as you frowned and shook your head once, then again, like that might settle whatever had been stirred loose. But it didn't shake off the jittery feelings still infesting your insides.
Joonho came back not long after Yeonjun left. Tossing his keys lazily onto the counter he announced that his boss had apparently decided that becoming a new father was reason enough to let everyone clock out early, which you accepted with polite skepticism until he held up a paper bag sagging with baked goods. He unloaded the story between bites of custard-filled bread and sips of tea. That is until the sugar crash nudged you back toward responsibility and your laptop, relocating yourself on the dining table while Joonho occupied the sofa.
You’d barely settled back into work when your phone buzzed, Yeonjun’s name lighting up the screen. You answered, shoulder tilting to pin the phone there as you scanned a line of text on your screen.
“Hey,” you said absently, typing.
“Okay, quick question,” he started, and there was a gravity to his tone that made you squint, “I need you to tell me if this sounds right.”
That alone was concerning.
“Okay,” you encouraged. “Go on.”
“There’s this packet of red chillies,” he continued, voice careful, “five pieces. Thirty thousand won per pound. That’s… normal, right?”
Your fingers stopped moving. Your brain, for a brief and merciful second, did too.
Thirty thousand for five fucking chillies.
The neurons in your head cycled through the numbers once, twice, like a buffering screen, searching desperately for context that would make this sentence make sense. Because surely this was a joke, or he had misread the tag, or Yeonjun was annoying you on purpose. Yes. That had to be it.
Choi Yeonjun could not possibly be standing in a grocery store, contemplating financial ruin over five sad little chillies. He was a grown man with a job and a functioning life. He could not possibly be asking you, with sincerity, whether five chillies were worth that much money.
“You—” you began, then stopped, unable to form a proper speech, “where did you even find five chillies for thirty thousand?”
From the couch, Joonho muted the television without looking at you, his attention suddenly razor-focused on the conversation.
On the other end, you heard the rustle of plastic. “It’s this stall near the entrance. Oh, they’re imported,” Yeonjun said, as if that explained everything.“They look good. Like, actually good. Not wrinkly. And the guy says they’re fresh.”
You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaling through your mouth. Fresh. That was his defense. Okay, so maybe the frontal lobe development had, in fact, skipped a step.
“Yeonjun,” you said, voice still level. “Why are you even standing there.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean why are you considering it?” You were now rising from your chair and beginning to pace. “Yeonjun, please listen to me. This is how people get scammed. Put them back.”
“You sure?” he asked, genuine concern threading his voice. “Because they look really—”
“No, no, no. Why are you still standing there? I’m begging you to use your brain for two seconds and put that back,” you cut in, stopping short by the window before beginning to pace again.
There was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by a faint shuffle.
“Are you freaking out about the price?” he asked, trying to soothe you. “It’s okay, I can afford it.”
You stopped walking. You were about to need more patience than this.
“That’s not the point!” you snapped, words tumbling out faster now. “The point is that just because you can afford to get scammed doesn’t mean you should. Do you know how much chilli powder you could buy with that? Paste! An entire plant! You could grow your own for that money.”
“Okay, but these are whole—”
“No!” you cried out with an exasperated sigh. “No, don’t ‘whole’ me. This is not about whole versus powdered. This is about you standing in a market, looking at five vegetables, and thinking, yeah, this seems reasonable.”
“Alright, alright.” He laughed softly, the sound carrying through the line. It felt funny in your chest. “No need to panic.”
“I’m being practical,” you shot back, dragging a hand through your hair. “There’s a difference. Please. I’m asking you. Step away from the chillies.”
“I’ll then get some paste.”
“Yes,” you said immediately, collapsing back into your chair. “Or powder. Or nothing. Honestly, nothing is preferable to this.”
The call ended not long after, Yeonjun promising to text you before buying anything else, and you let your phone drop into your lap, staring at the ceiling for a moment as the leftover headache ebbed. If the universe had decided that you were meant to orbit a man who could be trusted with big things but not small, overpriced ones, then so be it. You’d known him long enough to accept that trade-off. Someone whose nonsense still brought a reluctant fondness out of you even as it shaved years off your lifespan.
“You should marry him.”
Whisplashed, you gawked at Joonho. He had said it without looking over, eyes still on the muted television as his fingers reached into the paper bag on the table, fishing for another pastry.
“Then he wouldn’t be doing stupid shit like this,” he added, sounding pragmatic rather than provocative.
“Dude—what?” You barked out a sound that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t caught awkwardly in your throat. “Where did that even come from?”
He glanced up then, brows lifting just a notch as if he were surprised you hadn’t already arrived there yourself. “I’m serious,” he said then added, “I’m surprised, actually.”
“Surprised about what?” you still couldn’t conceal the bewilderment.
“Now, why do you sound surprised?” he pointed a finger at you. You figured he might have guessed you’d stay quiet until he gave you a proper explanation. Luckily, he gave you one. “Think about it. You’ve known him forever. You already manage his life half the time.”
“Okay,” you said slowly. “So?”
“From watching the two of you for most of my life,” he said, waving his hand. “I’m honestly surprised you two never dated. Not in high school, not in university. People with half your history usually screw it up at least once just to get it out of their system.”
You let out a frustrated snort as you crossed your arms, shaking your head. “Absolutely not. That is not how that works. That’s not how anything works.”
Joonho watched you for a beat before inquiring, tone unchanged. “You’ve really never thought about marrying him? Like, not even once?”
You were ready with rebuttals you’d used a hundred times. Timing had never lined up — that was always the first excuse. Friendship was safer, the second. And there were lines that once crossed couldn’t be redrawn, which was reason enough to stop before anything began.
But nothing came out. Because instead, your mind slid sideways into territory it had always avoided, and suddenly there he was not as your childhood friend calling from a grocery aisle, but as a constant presence folded into the mundane architecture of your life.
You imagined waking up in the muted light of early morning, the fragrance of brewed coffee curling through the kitchen as Yeonjun shuffled around in one of his beloved tank tops; the mundane comfort of scrambled eggs and toast punctuated by lazy smiles exchanged over mismatched mugs. You saw yourself bundled in his jacket for grocery runs that ended with impulse snacks tossed into the cart. The shared fatigue of evenings where you came home at different times but always ended up in the same place, and the nights blurred into soft, whispered conversations before sleep.
And in every scenario, there was the brief yet startling intimacy of sharing a kiss. It didn’t leave you shaken, rather it left a sweet aftertaste in the palate of your thoughts. Despite how much you denied, you knew it wasn’t just a sweeping vision. It was nothing cinematic nor inflated because it arrived in pieces, ordinary enough to feel borrowed from a life you could plausibly live.
“Ah, there it is!” Joonho snapped his fingers and leaned back against the couch. “That faraway look. It’s a nice picture, isn’t it?” A pause, then a crooked smile. “You’re picturing it right now. I can tell. Wild that you two never did the whole childhood‑promise nonsense. Pinky swears, wedding vows at seven years old, not even a ‘if we’re still single at thirty’ deal. Feels like a missed cliché, honestly.”
“Yeah, well,” you replied too quickly, reaching for your mug and lifting it to your lips before realizing it was empty, the ceramic knocking lightly against your teeth. You set it down gently. “That stuff exists in movies for a reason.”
Joonho remained silent then began folding the top of the paper bag shut. “I’m not trying to push you, but you really never thought about it?” then he stole a quick glance at you. “Because you didn’t say no.”
You seriously cannot be thinking about Yeonjun this way after all these years.
Again.
The lack of speech from you wasn’t making the space empty; it was getting full of all the unsaid and unexpressed feelings you had harboured for your childhood friend years ago in your younger days. Yes, you had thought about it. No, you had never acted on it, because cowardice had been easier than loss. You had decided, over and over, that wanting him was a risk you couldn’t afford, that Yeonjun mattered too much to gamble on a crush you’d once dismissed as juvenile and temporary, even when it wasn’t. You couldn’t risk altering the shape of your life with him. So you learned how to live alongside it until it dulled into background noise.
You had dated men who were good, men who listened and showed up and treated you with respect, men who looked good beside you and fit neatly into your life. You had done everything to replace the habit of thinking about Yeonjun.
But none of them were Yeonjun, and none of them ever would be. His ghost was bound to forever haunt you.
Even more now that Joonho brought up the topic and awakened latent emotions. The thought, once placed, refused to leave.
“I…” You exhaled, the word thinning into nothing. You still couldn’t say the truth, so you reached for the closest thing that sounded acceptable. “I don’t know.”
So, as it turned out, letting your feelings crawl back to the surface and sit there had consequences, chief among them the fact that you were now painfully alert to Yeonjun’s presence in a way you hadn’t been in years.
That was exactly what you had been dealing with since your last talk with Joonho. Now, you were even more knee deep into this war with yourself as you stared down at your phone, the college batch group chat hollering with enthusiasm about a pre‑Christmas gathering tonight. Names you knew too well kept chiming in with zeal and inside jokes resurfaced that felt almost contagious. You had never been a difficult person to exist around; you didn’t collect grudges, didn’t leave messes behind you in the form of unresolved conflicts. There was no reason not to go and the longer you scrolled, the harder it became to justify sitting this one out without sounding evasive, even to yourself.
Except there was still one very real problem you kept circling back to.
The couch dipped beside you as Yeonjun dropped down with his thigh brushing your knee. The scent of his shampoo crowded your senses.
“Did you check the chat?” Yeonjun asked, already craning his neck closer, his arm stretching out behind you along the backrest.
“That’s literally what I’m looking at,” you replied, tilting the phone slightly so he could see, even as your awareness narrowed to the point of contact between you.
“Oh,” he said, drawn‑out, almost pleased. “Do you want to go?”
You stayed silent a beat too long because you were still unsure if you could squeeze it into your agenda. Yeonjun caught the hesitation immediately. He shifted so he could look at your face instead of the phone.
“You don’t want to?” he asked slowly. Then quicker, before you could answer, “It’s fine if you don’t. I won’t go either. We can stay in, order takeout, talk about how annoying everyone was in college—”
“No, wait,” you cut in, sitting upright. You gestured vaguely with your phone. “It’s just… I don’t know,” you said, which had become a familiar placeholder lately.
Yeonjun raised his brows with a small nod, patient with you as he always is.
“I do want to go. I’m just thinking about the renovation mess. My workload has swelled into something unwieldy with year‑end deadlines looming, and I don’t want to spend the whole night half‑present, and everything feels a little—” You stopped yourself, then glanced at him. “Besides, what do you mean you'd sit out for me if I didn't go? Don’t say things like that.”
He shrugged, too casual for the way his eyes stayed on your face. “I mean exactly what I said.”
You stared back at him, incredulous. “I could never let you do that, idiot. You should go if you want to. Your friends miss you—I’m sure of it.”
There was a beat where he didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned forward with elbows on his knees as he tilted his face to stare up at you. There was a faint crease between his brows.
“You’re more important to me,” he said plainly.
The look in his eyes translated as if the answer was an obvious fact rather than something that sent your thoughts skidding.
“Oh,” you managed, and before you could find your footing again, he reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear.
“But I do think you should come with me,” he said. “We’ll go together. You’ve been running yourself into the ground for weeks. I can help with the rest—your workload, the apartment, whatever you need, you know that, right? You deserve to have fun.”
“Yeah,” you said finally, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah. That’d be good.”
You had to stop by your apartment first. Everything you’d brought to Yeonjun’s place had been chosen for convenience and nothing meant to be seen outside of errands and long days. Tonight called for winter-appropriate and a presentable version of yourself. You registered what Yeonjun had worn. Faded gray jeans, a white shirt pulled neat beneath a red tie and above it a black jacket.
Yeonjun lingered in your living room while you changed. When you stepped back out, his attention followed you and stayed there.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah,” you answered, shrugging into your coat while you checked that you hadn’t forgotten anything obvious.
“You look beautiful,” he said, grabbing the keys from the table and tossing them once into his palm, “you’re about to make people regret not seeing you more often.”
You scoffed, though heat crept up your neck as you stepped past him toward the door. “Save it. Sweet talk isn’t getting you out of driving tonight,” you said, toeing off your shoes to trade them for boots.
“Please.” He laughed, holding the door open as you stepped into the cold, breath fogging between you. “Wouldn’t even dream of it, pretty.”
The car sealed you both inside against the cold the moment you shut the door, and you exhaled a shiver in comfort as the heater kicked on under Yeonjun’s quick adjustment of the controls. You fiddled with the music player while he drove to your destination. At a red light, he pointed out a bakery you both used to skip classes for. You told him it still sucked. He said you were lying. Neither of you followed it up.
By the time you arrived the voices and music had swallowed the night whole. Faces you hadn’t seen in years surfaced all at once, hugs exchanged, names called across the room as people stepped forward to participate in the greeting. Yeonjun barely made it three steps before someone clapped a hand against his back and dragged him away, then another voice called his name, then another, leaving you standing with your own circle as he was absorbed into his. He turned back to look for you instinctively as if to check you’d found your footing, and you gave him a small nod, a wordless assurance that you were fine.
“I’ll find you,” he promised, raising his voice slightly over the noise.
You laughed, waving him off. “Go. You’re clearly in demand.”
Much later, across the room when you were done with dinner, your eyes met. He had a drink in hand now, jacket gone, hair no longer sitting quite the way it had earlier, and you lifted your brows in a silent check-in. He smiled back in all teeth before someone leaned into his space again and pulled his attention elsewhere.
“Are you seeing anyone these days, or is work still your tragic soulmate?”
You were sharing a table with three other women you hadn’t seen properly since graduation. It was Mina who sent the question your way while nudging your elbow with hers, eyes bright with wine and curiosity.
You huffed a laugh as you reached for your drink. “Work’s winning by a humiliating margin,” you said, taking a sip before setting it back down and wiping a thumb along the rim. “I don’t even think I’m putting up a fight.”
“That tracks,” Hana chimed in. Her tone carried a dry affection as she was someone who’d watched you live like this for years. “You were always like that. We thought you’d mellow out after uni, but somehow you got worse.”
“N-no, she dated,” Jieun cut in far too eagerly (and drunkenly) before you could respond. The wine in her glass dangerously sloshed as she lifted her hand in defense of your reputation. “I saw pictures. Ni—ce pictures. She had—had a boyfriend. The last one. What was his name?” She squinted at you as though the answer might be written on your face. You smiled unhelpfully at her. “Joohyuk? Joohyuk, right? Yeah. Him. Shame you broke up. I liked him.”
Mina groaned and reached over to push Jieun back into her seat. “You sound like you were dating him yourself. Use your words properly before you get yourself in trouble.”
You had to stifle a laugh as you watched Jieun’s eyes comically widen followed by a disgruntled Mina giving her an earful and Hana’s atrocious cackle. Oh, how you missed this.
“No—no, I didn’t mean it like that!” Jieun protested, waving both hands, then stopping to grip the edge of the table for balance. “I meant he was good. For her. As a person. I’m not stealing anyone’s man,” she rushed, then looked at you with genuine concern. “You know what I mean, right?”
“I know,” you said, laughing as you slid Jieun’s glass a little farther from the table’s edge before it could become a casualty. “You’re safe, Jieun. Don’t worry. But please sit properly, you're going to give me a heart attack if you fall off.”
The clatter of surrounding voices bled into the gaps as someone nearby laughed too loudly. You took your time before speaking again, fingers resting loosely around your glass as your gaze met Mina’s before drifting to Hana.
“It wasn’t a bad breakup. We talked it through instead of letting it rot, and we both knew whatever we had wasn’t taking us anywhere we wanted to go.” You smiled and sipped on your drink as you told them. “He’s a good man. Just not the right one for me, and I think he knew that too.”
Mina listened with her chin propped on her knuckles, then nodded once, thoughtful. “Honestly, it feels like everyone either married their first serious partner or walked away from dating entirely and hasn’t recovered since.”
Hana’s attention snagged on something past your shoulder. She tracked movement across the room before returning her focus to you.
“Speaking of nothing sticking,” she said, lowering her voice slightly, “have you noticed Yeonjun’s pattern?”
His name cut clean through the pleasant haze of wine you’d settled into. “What pattern?” you asked with the same smile, curiosity worn lightly rather than forced.
“Oh my god,” Mina said at once, scooting her chair closer with a scrape that drew the table tighter together, her forearm sliding across the wood as she leaned in. “I forgot how popular he is. Didn’t he date, like… a lot?” She rolled her wrist vaguely, as though quantity mattered less than the impression it left.
“Not a lot,” Hana countered, brow pinching as she tried to sort memory from hearsay. “Just— often, I guess? It never lasted though. A month, maybe less. You’d blink and suddenly he was single again.” She shrugged.
“I’ve heard that too,” Mina added, lips pursing as she considered her wording, eyes flicking briefly toward the crowd before returning to you. “He’s kind of… how do I say this nicely.” She paused, eyes narrowing in thought before she gave a small, apologetic smile. “A bit of a heartbreaker.”
You listened without interrupting, watching the condensation trail down the side of your glass before you brushed it away with your thumb. In that pause you recognized how little the conversation stirred you. A strange sense of distance was all you felt because what they were trading wasn’t Yeonjun so much as a shorthand version of him, assembled from overheard endings and retold assumptions.
Aside from feeling distant, there was also relief in understanding that distinction, in knowing that the version of him they were dissecting had never belonged to you in the first place.
They liked Choi Yeonjun as a name that moved through rooms. They liked the idea of him by talking about him as if he were a concept instead of a person you’d shared scraped knees, late-night calls, and entire versions of your life with. They didn’t know him as the one whose first relationship faded because they were barely old enough to know what they were asking of each other, and whose second ended because trust was broken on the other side, not his. Nothing beyond that except him trying, stepping back when it didn’t fit, never keeping anyone where they didn’t want to stay.
You knew he wouldn’t care about being reduced to rumor, because he’d said it more than once that people would talk anyway and he didn’t want anyone bleeding on his behalf. Still, childhood loyalty had its own habits. There were lines you wouldn’t let be crossed, even casually, even here.
“I think people confuse brevity with carelessness,” you said, reaching for another snack and nudging the bowl toward Hana as you did. “If a relationship isn’t working, ending it sooner can look messy from the outside, especially when no one’s around for the conversations that come before or after.”
You glanced around the table. Resting your cheek on your palm, your smile widened when you saw Hana looking at you with an apologetic look. The look carried both acknowledgement and embarrassment, the subtle admission that she had overstepped in speaking of someone she didn’t fully know, someone who had meant enough to you to warrant respect.
“And it’s interesting,” you added, tilting your head slightly, “how easy it is to talk about someone when you haven’t actually bothered to see them beyond the image everyone else paints. You can repeat labels and summaries and assume you know the whole story, but it rarely reflects the truth of the person themselves.”
Mina lowered her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek before shaking her head. “God, you’re right. I went ahead of myself with the rush of this conversation… I shouldn’t have said that. Honestly, I wouldn’t feel good if anyone talked about me like that, so I should be more careful.”
“Yeonjun’s always been pretty upfront with people. That tends to get mistaken for a lot of things it isn’t,” you spoke lightly, glancing at Jieun, who had succumbed to slumber halfway through the discussion due to her drunken state.
You didn't feel the necessity to stretch this conversation further. They admitted their fault and you defended your friend. The win was yours. With that settled, you steered the banter back toward lighter topics. Time slipped past unnoticed until the sudden glance at your watch made you realize that midnight was nearly upon you, and Yeonjun was nowhere within your line of sight. His absence tugged at your attention with a strange urgency. You excused yourself, sliding out of the chair and weaving toward the terrace.
Your shoulder bumped lightly against someone. You looked up to find Beomgyu, one of Yeonjun’s old friends, grinning at you. You exchanged a few light pleasantries before you asked with a small furrow of your brow if he had seen Yeonjun, noting that your calls had gone unanswered. Beomgyu’s expression shifted with a slight frown as he recounted that Yeonjun had been at the bar earlier, that he’d seemed fine then, maybe a little too enthusiastic about refills. You thanked him before letting him go to his own circle. Your gaze swept across the room before it landed on the bar tucked along the far wall.
He was there exactly as Beomgyu had said, hunched over the counter with a half-finished glass beside him. The sight nudged a fond exhale out of you as you crossed the remaining distance and took the stool beside him.
“You’re really dead set on making me drive us back, huh?” you asked, observing his reaction.
Yeonjun’s head lifted, his gaze hazy yet catching yours with a slow widening of eyes as though he just realized you were there. The spark in them was dulled by drink but somehow still present, like embers beneath ash
“Oh,” he breathed, the word soft and warm as he leaned closer without thinking, his elbow slipping on the polished surface before he caught himself, “there you are,” then he folded again, cheek pressed to his forearm.
“So much for saying you’d find me,” you mused, eyes glinting as you mirrored his action and let the side of your head rest on your folded arm over the bar.
“Hi, love,” he sweetly drawled, voice thick with the haze of intoxication. He smiled dazedly at you, shifting his head only slightly so he could keep looking at you.
You couldn’t help the small coo of exasperation that slipped out, sitting upright and reaching to rake your fingers through the strands of his hair. “Hi,” you said softly, allowing your tone to mirror the warmth and care threaded through your touch, noting how his eyelids fluttered closed at the contact.
He hummed with the same stupid smile. How much did he drink to be this wasted? You were already counting the ways this night was ending with you behind the wheel. Good thing you had only one glass of wine.
He cracked one eye open, watching you from beneath his lashes before he frowned slightly, squinting at the space between you. “Too far,” he murmured, voice slurring. “Need you closer.”
He reached out, fingers wrapping around the side of your stool and with an easy pull he brought you closer until your knees brushed the edge of the counter and your hip pressed into his side. The lopsided smile returned on his plush, pink lips.
“Mhhm. Better.”
The strength was casual yet intimate that it pulled a catch from your chest you hadn’t anticipated. It occurred to you a second later just how attractive that was. It was messing with your head.
“Jun, let’s go home.” You caressed his cheek. “Yeah?”
But he didn’t seem like he was registering your words.
"Hey," he slurred, but somehow still gentle. "You… you're, uh, you’re so pretty," he continued, blinking at you as though it was the most profound revelation of the night. "Like, you’re so beautiful, you know that?"
You stifled a laugh, amused but also slightly worried as you reached out to straighten the collar of his shirt. You had seen him like this before, but tonight, there was something more raw about it.
“I know,” you teased with a hint of tenderness in your words. “I’m pretty sure you’ve told me before.”
He shook his head, a goofy grin spreading across his face as he sat up again, and leaned toward you, almost tripping over his own feet from the tool. You had to suppress another laugh, but your heart was full watching him act so carefree and so uninhibited.
“No, no,” he argued, shaking his head. “I mean like, really pretty. You’re… you're so pretty, it’s like…” He paused, his brow furrowing as though searching for the right words, but only the most basic thoughts slipped out. “It’s like you’re glowing. Like… an angel or something. I don’t know how anyone can look at you and not… not, like, fall in love with you.”
Your smile locked in place, then faltered, and then slipped away altogether as his words echoed back at you in pieces that refused to arrange themselves into anything sensible. Could he possibly be mistaking you for someone else? Seeing through you instead of at you, that somewhere in the crowd there was another woman he’d confused you for after too many drinks?
But his attention didn’t drift, didn’t waver, didn’t go looking for anyone else. It stayed locked on you.
“You’re drunk.” You aimed for reason, though the end of the sentence softened despite your effort. “You don’t mean that.”
He frowned at you as if you’d spoken a language he didn’t recognize. You watched his expression go pliant, noticed the slight stagger in the way his shoulders adjusted as he tried to keep himself upright on the stool but still gazed at you with such intensity that it made your heart race. His eyes were glossy like he was tearing up at the way you spoke to him.
“No,” he said firmly. “I do mean it. I’m, like… so in love with you, you don’t even know. Like— right here.” He pressed his palm clumsily to his chest, missing the mark and correcting himself with a breathless laugh. “I’m so in love with you, it makes my chest hurt, but in a good way. I can’t even explain it, it’s like… every time I see you, I feel like I’m falling all over again, over and over. It’s so much. I can’t keep it in anymore.”
“You—” you tried, leaning forward instinctively as his balance tipped toward you. Yuo could see the earnestness in his eyes even as they were clouded with alcohol. His breathing was stuttered, bottom lip plush and glistening as his tongue swept across it absentmindedly.
He reached out, clumsily touching your cheek first before finding its place properly. “I don’t care if it sounds stupid,” he muttered, the sentence breaking when he swallowed. “I’m so in love with you. I just... I just want you to know that. I need you to know.”
You had always thought drunken confessions were a convenient excuse for honesty rather than proof of it, because it seemed impossible that anyone could loosen their guard so completely that every carefully tucked-away feeling spilled out all at once, raw and unfiltered and beyond retrieval. You were so wrong. It was unfathomable that your childhood friend, the boy who knew every phase of you and whom you had loved far longer than you ever admitted even to yourself, just laid his heart out to you.
You took a deep breath trying to keep your composure and to remind yourself where you were and who you were being in this moment. But your heart was racing, your stomach doing flips.
“You’re going to regret this in the morning,” you said softly, as you guided his hand away from your face, not pushing it aside but redirecting it to rest against the bar. Your thumb brushed over his knuckles in a gesture meant to steady him more than anything else.
He shook his head like a child. “No. I won’t. I can’t.”
You weren’t going to take advantage of this. This was a topic reserved for when you are both sober and can make decisions for yourselves.
“Well, aren’t you a charmer,” you teased, brushing a stray lock of hair back from his forehead when it slipped into his eyes again. “But I don’t think you’re going to remember a single word of this in the morning. Tell me again when you’re sober, okay?”
He grinned, nodding far too eagerly in agreement. “No way I’ll forget. I’ll tell you again tomorrow, I promise.”
In that moment, you knew that no matter how silly the situation was, it didn’t matter. Because in his eyes, in the vulnerable honesty of his words, you could see the truth. And you would hold onto that, even if it was a little messy, a little imperfect. Even if it was drunk.
By the time you pulled into the driveway, Yeonjun had gone pliant in the passenger seat with his head tipped awkwardly toward the window. It told you sleep had already taken him halfway. You killed the engine, sat for a moment to let the silence settle, then reached for your phone and called Joonho downstairs.
Getting him inside took coordination more than strength. You wondered how Joonho carried him on his back because the latter was much bigger than him. You were grateful he still managed to do it. You followed close behind, peeling off Yeonjun’s shoes and tugging his socks loose, gathering what you could before they became obstacles. Once you were thoroughly satisfied that he was comfortable in his bed, you allowed yourself a final glance at his face before gently closing the door behind you. You decided to take the couch for tonight.
When Joonho was about to leave for his room, you called his name. “About me and Yeonjun… well,” you started, faltering as you searched for a clean way through the mess in your head.
Joonho turned slowly, watching you with far too much patience. “Did he…?” he prompted, leaving the rest open for you to fill in.
You narrowed your eyes at him, exhaustion sharpening your voice. “You knew?”
His grin was unapologetic, wide, and entirely too pleased. It answered everything.
In a way you were glad you didn’t have to explain everything from the beginning. Turned out, Joonho had always been watching the two of you dancing around each other in ways that weren’t only just visible to the two of you. His satisfaction at finally hearing you admit it was truly a sight to see. Over a bottle of wine, the two of you talked.
You went to sleep that night feeling oddly settled, your doubts dulled by Joonho’s reassurance and the simple relief of having said it to someone out loud. You couldn't say the same thing for Yeonjun though. Because early in the morning, you had to leave for your place to oversee the renovation work in person, trusting Joonho to handle Yeonjun’s inevitable hangover.
You wouldn’t be meeting Yeonjun until night. The knowledge followed you through the latter half of the day like a tenacious hum in your mind, growing louder with every passing hour of the year-end closing shift. By the time you finally clocked out and stepped into the evening air, the nervous energy had settled so deeply into you that it felt almost juvenile, a jittery awareness that made you scoff at yourself for feeling like a teenager again when you had lived so much more life than that.
The text from Joonho arrived just as you were merging onto the road home, announcing he wouldn’t be back until morning, capped with a teasing line about doing whatever you two wanted in the empty house. Having the place to yourselves should not have made your pulse kick the way it did (yet it did) and you exhaled through a short laugh that did nothing to calm the way your fingers tightened briefly around the steering wheel.
The apartment lights were on when you arrived. You toed off your shoes and followed the sounds of movement into the kitchen, where Yeonjun stood by the counter as he reheated dinner he clearly hadn’t eaten. He startled when he noticed you, bumping against the counter and reaching too quickly for a glass.
“Oh—you’re home,” he stuttered as he filled it with water before setting it down between you without lifting his eyes. “You must be starving! I, um—I didn’t know what you’d want, so I just—there’s food, if you’re hungry. Or we can—you don’t have to eat now. I mean. Later is fine too.”
He glanced toward you, then immediately back to what he was doing. The counter between you a narrow barrier that felt intentional even if neither of you had named it. You reached for the glass he’d offered, watching how his gaze fixed stubbornly on the microwave timer instead of your face.
“You’re awfully bad at keeping promises,” you said lightly as you took a sip.
It was meant as an airy remark to gauge his reaction. You smiled into the rim of the glass because you were already certain, from the way his shoulders tightened, that he remembered last night in full.
The silence was punctuated by the low hum of the microwave which suddenly felt too loud. Yeonjun exhaled hard as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, finally glancing your way before dropping his eyes again.
“Sorry, I, uh—” he started at once, turning the apology over itself before it could land properly. “I drank way too much. I shouldn’t have disappeared like that, and you had to come find me, and then you drove us back when it should’ve been me—I swear I didn’t plan to—” He stopped, swallowing, voice lowering as if he were afraid of the next part even existing out loud. “I… must’ve said something. Last night.”
You nodded slowly, appearing composed on the surface but inside you were folding in on yourself because there was no artifice in him at all — just this tall, capable man suddenly reduced to nervous hands and a voice that kept tripping over itself.
His restlessness mellowed out the jitter buzzing under your skin, smoothed it down into something more daring. You felt the urge to poke at him gently, to test how much space there was for play between the two of you now. You almost did, but you held yourself back when you noticed the way he still kept refusing to meet your eyes.
“I didn’t mean to put that on you,” he said, shaking his head as if he was disappointed in himself. “I know it wasn’t fair, especially like that. If I crossed a line—”
“You didn’t,” you cut in gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong. But I’m not going to talk about it unless you’re sure you want to.”
You had waited before. You could wait again. You would not chase what hadn’t been chosen — even if every part of you hoped he would turn around on his own.
The smile you offered him was soft and open, assuring him that you meant what you said, and with that you moved around the island. You intended to give him space, to let him breathe, to let the moment pass if it needed to.
You barely made it a step past him before his hand closed around your wrist.
“I meant every single word I said.”
He didn’t face you.
A shiver ran across you at the sound of his voice pitched lower like that, starting at your shoulders and spreading down your arms. Your breath left you in a controlled exhale though your heart had started misbehaving entirely.
“Then look at me,” you said gently.
A soft instruction rather than a demand — one he ignored by keeping his gaze fixed ahead and his shoulders only lifted with a shallow breath. You stepped closer, lifting your free hand to his face, your fingers fitting along his jaw. You guided him toward you without force, your thumb brushing his cheekbone.
“Do you remember,” you began, keeping your voice light as your fingers slipped into his hair, “how I told you last night that you’d have to say it again when you were sober?” You traced the shell of his ear as you spoke, basking in the small hitches of breath he gave you at the contact.
His hand slid to the small arch of your spine, drawing you closer until the space between you narrowed and the sudden proximity sent a sharp jolt through you that you refused to retreat from. You tipped your chin up, meeting him with a calm smile that took effort you didn’t show, even as your pulse skittered under his touch.
Yeonjun let himself look at you properly instead of just fleeting glances. Your heart soared because the same earnest intensity you had seen the night before was there again swirling in his orbs — and this time — stripped of any alcohol. His hands settled at your waist, thumbs pressing in as he closed his eyes for a brief second.
“I love you,” he said, voice gravelly from raw honesty. “It’s been so long since I started loving you that I don’t even remember when it began. All I can tell is that I’ve never stopped loving you.”
Damn his foolish heart for betraying him so openly by letting his gaze be drawn again and again to the soft curvature of your mouth. Fractured thoughts scattering in every direction at once, his mind cycled through each possibility and tallied the ways he could have misunderstood the way you looked at him tonight. Every glance from years past suddenly rushed forward to stand trial alongside this one.
Regardless, your words of assurance came back to him. You had asked him to say it again when he wasn’t drunk, had asked him to stand by it with a clear head and an even voice, and that had to count for something, didn’t it? There was no sense in punishing himself for finally doing the one thing he had always done too late. If all you were asking for was truth, and if all he could offer was himself, then he would do that much at least, even if the thought of losing you after this frightened him more than silence ever had.
Maybe honesty, once finally spoken, deserves to stand without apology.
You, meanwhile, felt warmth spreading through your limbs until it left you lightheaded, buoyed by a feeling that bordered on giddy. A soft laugh escaped as you let your forehead fall against his chest, your hands abandoning his face to curl around his neck instead. You felt Yeonjun shudder above you as he quietly said your name. That made you stare up at him.
“What took you so long, hm?” you said at last with a rueful smile, before you shook your head at yourself and corrected course mid‑thought, your fingers flexing lightly at the nape of his neck. “No—no, that’s not fair. I shouldn’t say that to you. This isn’t on you. If anything, I should’ve been honest sooner. Maybe then we wouldn’t be standing here now, years late to our own conversation. I chose not to want you. I was—”
“Scared,” Yeonjun softly finished your sentence, speaking for the both of you.
You nodded. “But I was wrong.”
You fought the urge to playfully jab him in the ribs when you saw his signature sly smirk appearing slowly in his lips. His eyes, once pouring with so much rawness, narrowed slightly but nonetheless still held the rawness. There was just a spark of heat in them now.
“‘Wrong’ how?” he leaned in until the space between you thinned to breath and heat, his words brushing your mouth more than reaching your ears. “I need you to be more honest with me here, love,” he added, gaze flicking once to your lips before lifting again.
You let out a short scoff and tipped your head back a fraction, denying him the closeness while keeping his attention exactly where it already was. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t want this too,” you replied. “And I wouldn’t have asked you to tell me you loved me when you were sober if I hadn’t meant it.”
His chest gave a quick thrum — a reminder that it had never learned restraint where you were concerned. Yeonjun followed to fill the gap you created, stepping forward until the counter met the back of your hips. He set both palms against the surface on either side of you, lowering his head to be eye level with you. His presence eclipsed everything else.
“Please, tell me before I lose my mind,” he rasped. “Because—oh God—I’ve been holding myself back for so long.”
Your teeth caught your lower lip as you considered just how much more you could push before it became unfair. You had tortured him enough. Your hands — one slid down his chest, fingers spreading over his sternum, the other finding its way back to his face and cupping his cheek as you guided him closer.
“I love you, Yeonjun,” you said, every word chosen and owned. “I always have.”
His lips were softer than anything you've ever known. It's soft like the first snow, like biting into cotton candy, like melting and floating and being weightless in water. It was sweet, so devastatingly sweet and it bloomed until your senses were overwhelmed.
He pulled back sooner than you were ready for and you chased the space without thinking. Your fingers curled into the fabric at his shoulders as a small sound slipped from you, breathless and needy in a way that made him shudder as if he’d felt it in his bones.
“You have no idea how many times I talked myself out of this,” he said, voice low and rough as his forehead brushed yours, his thumb tracing along your jaw before slipping beneath your chin, tilting your face up again because he needed to see your eyes while saying it.
You laughed breathlessly and tugged him closer, forcing him to feel how little space there was left to negotiate. “You don’t look like someone who’s been holding back,” you replied, tipping your head just enough to brush your nose against his, stealing the air he’d been breathing.
He chuckled, the sound barely there before you pulled him back in and this time there was nothing cautious about it. You had never gotten so lost in a kiss before. Your heart kept tripping over itself as your fingers dragged him closer, closer, still not close enough. You had loved before but it didn’t feel like this. You had kissed before but it didn’t burn you alive. It left you flushed and dizzy and wanting more.
Yeonjun’s hand slid into your hair, fingers spreading at your scalp as he tipped your head back, deepening the kiss until your breath caught. His other arm wrapped around you and lifted you without warning, setting you on the counter as he stepped in between your thighs. You hooked your legs around his hips, pulling him closer as his mouth worked yours with growing insistence. You found yourself gasping for breath, whimpering when he bit your bottom lip as his other hand braced beside you.
The haze of sensation left your vision swimming, every nerve alive as his fingers slipped under your shirt, tracing the heated planes of your skin, teasing, exploring, igniting sparks that sent heat skittering through you. He pulled back only slightly before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.
"Sometimes, all I can think about is this—us like this, you in my arms. Underneath me, too." His lips brushed yours again, then he exhaled. “No—forget that. You deserve more respect than that. I just… I haven’t been able to stop myself from wanting it.”
You smiled at that, resting one arm across his shoulder while your other raked through his hair. You tilted your head and hummed.
“What else do you wanna do?” you asked, voice dipping.
He pretended to ponder as he narrowed his eyes, gaze flicking away before returning to you with a smirk. “Take you to dinner after this,” he said, hand shifting on your waist, drawing you closer. “Do things in the proper order for once.”
“Mmm,” you replied, rolling your hips forward just enough to press yourself against him, watching the way his breath hitched. “And then?”
He straightened slightly, lips curving as he leaned in to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Then we get dessert.”
“We’ve never waited for dinner to get dessert,” you murmured, the challenge clear as you grinded against him again, smiling when his inhale went sharp and his hand slid down to your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin.
“You’re going to ruin me,” he said, a rough laugh in his voice as his grip tightened. “I had a very stable life before you moved in.”
“Ah,” you sighed, feigning a forlorn expression as your hand slid across his chest. “Then maybe we should stop. Let you go back to that stable life while I go to slee—waoh!”
Laughter erupted from you when he deftly lifted you up and carried you to his room. His mouth never straying from yours even as you both fell onto the bed in a disordered sprawl, the frame creaking softly beneath the sudden movement while his lips slipped from yours only to trail wet kisses down your jaw and throat, sucking and biting until your skin was a canvas of his marks. It sent shivers shooting down your whole body, your hips bucking. He settled between your legs and you felt the solid presence of him there pinning you to the mattress.
His hands slid up your thighs and under your skirt. You moaned against his lips when he massaged the flesh there as he pulled back to stare down into your face while lifting the material, leaving a trail of goosebumps all the way up your thighs. You felt yourself clench around air, a sharp pulse of need in your core. Your hunger stripped everything down to sensation, and it felt dangerously good to stop resisting it.
His lips were swollen and damp when he paused. “You want this, right?”
Your breath came uneven as you swallowed. You had never been more sure of anything in your life. With a shaky laugh you nod, unbuttoning your dress shirt with a wolfish smile.
He tongued his cheek at the sight of your black lacy bra and your expression, hands already reaching for his own clothes. He pulled his shirt over his head in one motion, muscle shifting under skin as he tossed it aside. You were on him immediately which he happily complied, wasting no time clashing his mouth against yours. Your hands were all over his torrid naked skin, touching and grabbing every inch of skin they could access.
Your back arched as you broke the kiss with a moan when he slipped one hand underneath your bra and kneaded the mound of your breast. The barrier was making him impatient so he quickly worked with the clasp of your bra and flung it somewhere over his shoulder before greedily taking one perky nipple in his mouth.
Your hand tangled in his hair as he sucked and nipped on your skin, the other hand busy where it rolled and pinched the other nipple in between his fingers. You felt like you could cum alone from nipple stimulation because holy shit he was so good at whatever he was doing. His growing hardness pressed insistently in between you, and you sought friction by trying to grind up against him.
“Please, Yeonjun,” you breathed, the plea tugged loose as your hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer even as your back arched toward him.
He looked up at you through his lashes, releasing your nipple with a pop and grinned deviously. “I know, baby.” A quiet laugh brushed against your skin as he shifted, one knee nudging your thighs apart, his hand sliding lower to cup you through the thin barrier of fabric. His mouth returned to your throat as he spoke, words punctuated by the drag of his lips. “Need me here badly? I can feel how bad you want me.”
If you were in the right mind right now and not overcome by lust, you would have swiped that smirk off his face with a punch or some snarky remarks to reclaim a little pride. But all you could do was nod and do whatever to make him give you what you wanted. You tugged your skirt down your legs which had hiked up your waist earlier, and was about to tug your panties down too. You didn’t get far. His hand closed around your wrist and stilled you.
“Not yet.” His tone dimmed as he sat back on his heels. Gaze tracked you in a way that made you squirm like he’d decided to take his time and wanted you to feel every second of it.
Goosebumps travelled up your skin as you raised your eyebrows at him, wondering what he was waiting for. You bit your lip with hitched breaths when he thumbed your cunt over your panties, tracing over the slick dampness. He worked on his pants with the other hand, pulling out his hardened cock. Your body felt another rush of heat roll over when you took him in — long and veiny, a pool of pre cum already gathering at the tip. He gave himself a few lazy pumps with the same rhythm as he stroked you, brows furrowed with the sensation as a low groan slipped out.
“Didn't know you were a tease in bed, Jun,” you breathed out with a laugh, feeling yourself getting wetter as more slick gushed out.
He let out a throaty chuckle before kicking his pants off and climbing back over you, eager to kiss you again. “You have no idea,” he whispered against your mouth.
He greedily took in your moans when he pressed his leaking tip against your clothed cunt — a delicious friction that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your core. Each grind pushed the tip, the soaked cotton yielding just enough to let him tease the entrance of your aching pussy, but not enough to grant full access — leaving you teetering on the edge of frustration and ecstasy.
"God, you're so fucking hot," he teasingly groaned against your ear that sent shivers down your spine.
Whimpering, you looked down at the place but he held your jaw and made your face tilt back up to kiss you again. Your body arched instinctively to press harder against him, the subtle drag of the panties creating a tantalizing burn that heightened every nerve. Yeonjun's grip on your jaw softened, his thumb brushing tenderly over your lower lip.
You bit your lip, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush, "I want you inside me, Yeonjun—please, I need it so bad."
At your unabashed confession, Yeonjun gave one little cheeky grin before finally hooking a finger into the edge of your panties to pull them off. The sudden exposure sent a rush of cool air over your swollen, dripping pussy, making you gasp as his cock slid fully against your bare entrance, the tip teasing your opening and agonizingly bumping into your clit.
You got up, pushing him back to sit down as you climbed on his lap and claimed his mouth in a searing kiss. You nipped at his lower lip, sucking it gently between your teeth before plunging back in, the filthy slide of saliva mingling as you lost yourself in the sensation of his taste.
"Fuck, you're dripping for me," he let out a prolonged groan, his fingers sliding through your sopping folds.
He pushed two digits inside of you with ease and you sighed at the stretch. His fingers curled inside you with a slow rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure that made your inner walls clench around him. You rocked your hips, grinding against his hand as his thumb brushed over your swollen clit, drawing out gasps that echoed in the dim room. Every breath you took was ragged, your skin flushed and slick with a light sheen of sweat.
Yeonjun's dark eyes locked onto yours, his free hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer until your foreheads pressed together. "That's it, love," he murmured against your lips, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you, heightening the delicious friction as his fingers stretched and stroked your depths.
Through the haze of heady ecstasy, you looked down at him only to have your chest warm up. There was so much awe and love in his eyes. His devotion ran deeper for you than you could imagine.
You reached down to wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him. Yeonjun's breath hitched, a deep groan escaping his lips that mingled with your own soft whimpers. As the intensity built, your free hand clutched at his shoulder, nails digging in just enough to elicit another low growl from him. His cock twitched in your hand as he thrusted harder against you. The veins on his shaft stood out prominently against the backdrop of smooth skin slicked with precum and sweat. You could feel every ridge and pulse as you worked him with increasing fervor.
But you didn’t want to cum just yet like this and neither did you want him to finish so soon, despite already dying to taste him. You released him before pushing his hand away from inside you.
You gave a breathless laugh when Yeonjun put his fingers in his mouth, pinning you with his gaze as he licked them clean. You lifted yourself up, knees sinking into the soft mattress on either side of his hips and aligned his cock with your slit. The thick, rigid length of him slid into you with a wet squelch, stretching your swollen folds wide as you sank down.
“Oh, fuck, y-you’re going to have to help me. Too, too tight,” you hissed, feeling waves of warmth travelling all over your body.
Yeonjun grunted as his hands found purchase on your hips, his grip tight and it felt so fucking good. You knew they’d be leaving bruises. Despite all the nudging and the rampant lubrication of your pussy, it still took a full minute, probably longer, to work his entire length inside of your tightness that made your thighs tremble, but you didn't stop there.
With a shared, heated glance, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and giving him easy access to thrust up on you, making you let out a high pitched whimper. Once Yeonjun was finally seated deep inside you, a shared sigh of relief and laughter escaped your lips, the stretch bordering on overwhelming but laced with a delicious ache that made your toes curl.
“My angel,” Yeonjun choked on his words as he ran his hands over your back, soothing you. “I love you so, so much—and I don’t know how I went this long without saying it out loud.”
You closed your eyes shut, head falling on his shoulders as countless tremors went through your body at his size. “Hah, it really did take you being drunk to finally say it,” you said between breaths.
He grinned, but it was a little lopsided, like he couldn’t quite hold himself together. "Yeah, but I'm glad I finally did. And I promise, I’m not gonna screw this up. I won’t. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you. No matter what."
You lifted your head up to return his smile, before leaning in to a kiss. His lips moved languidly with yours, tongue poking out to lick against yours. His hands wrapped over your back, drawing you flush against his chest, your breasts pressing into the firm planes of his chest. Your hands clutched at his broad shoulders, nails digging into the warm, sweat-slicked skin as you whimpered into his mouth, the kiss deepening with a raw hunger that mirrored the way his body claimed yours.
"You alright?" he whispered, his voice a husky mix of concern and desire that sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded, biting your lip to stifle a moan, and he added softly, "I got you."
His hands gripped your ass firmly then, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he began to guide your hips in a slow pace, lifting and lowering you with effortless strength. Each upward thrust drove him deeper, the friction building into a fiery crescendo that had you both groaning — his low, guttural sounds vibrating through your joined bodies, while yours escaped as breathless gasps.
You could feel the veins of his cock pulsing and the heat of him seeping into you, making your inner walls clench in desperation for more. His breath was hot against your neck, a ragged rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your heart as he continued his torturous grind.
With a low growl, he eased you backward, his strong arms supporting you as he laid you down on the bed. Yeonjun paused for a heartbeat, savoring the sight of you laid out before him — body flushed with sweat, boobs lightly swaying with every rise and fall of your breath, eyes half lidded and glossy that matched your glistening pussy. His hands slid up to cup your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples as he began to move again, thrusts growing more purposeful. You were so lost in the blissful haze of pleasure coursing through you that the sudden wave of coldness and emptiness startled you; Yeonjun pulling out his entirety out of you, making you whine to get back the feeling of his warmth.
Without warning, Yeonjun's strong hands gripped your waist, flipping you over, rolling you off your back and onto your stomach. The sudden shift left you disoriented, a jolt of surprise flashing across your face as you glanced back at him over your shoulder.
Gripping himself, he swiped the head of himself through your sticky folds, bumping your clit to slide back down to your center and it once again made you whine. The cool sheets pressed against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body hovering above you, his knees straddling your thighs to pin you in place. You felt his hard cock sliding along the curve of your ass before he positioned himself, the tip nudging at your slick entrance once more.
“Yeonj—hnngf!”
With one easy thrust he entered you again, deeper this time, the angle pressing him against your most sensitive spots in a way that had you seeing stars. Yeonjun let out a low whine, his body collapsing slightly as he rested his head between your shoulder blades, his hot breath fanning across your skin like a branding iron.
"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum already," he choked out.
You tried to respond, but all that escaped was a breathy moan.
The prone position amplified every sensation, his body molding to yours as he lay partially over you, his chest brushing against your back with each shallow thrust. Your pussy clenched around him, the tight confines of your body gripping his thick length as he drove in and out, the friction building with an exquisite pressure that bordered on overwhelming.
He was so fucking deep inside you, rubbing against all of your deepest nerves. His moans and whines were music to your ears, his hot breaths came in ragged huffs tickling the nape of your neck, while his hands roamed possessively — one sliding under your hips to tilt them just right, the other threading through your hair to expose more of your skin to his lips.
Yeonjun's thrusts grew more urgent but they carried a tenderness too. His lips pressing soft kisses along your shoulder, whispering praises that made you feel cherished amidst the raw desire — how perfectly you fit him, how your body responded to his like it was made for him. Your fingers clawed at the sheets, the building pressure inside you coiling tighter with every deep pump of his hips.
You croaked out his name—"Yeonjun"—as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your walls spasming wildly around him, milking his length with uncontrollable pulses. He faltered then, his pace stuttering into erratic thrusts, a guttural groan escaping him as he buried his face deeper into the nape of your neck. Your gasps and moans fell like waterfall into the mattress as he drove you into it.
Sensing his restraint crumbling, he managed to gasp out, "Can't hold it back, love." His voice breaking with the effort, his hands trembling on your waist.
The plea in his words ignited a final surge of desire in you. "Come inside." The command breathlessly slipped from your lips as you craned your neck to look at him.
Perhaps it was the aphrodisiac and fucked out look in your eyes that made him surrender, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep into you, hot ropes of cum flooding your sensitive pussy. You felt every twitch, every warm rush, as it mingled with your own lingering aftershocks, leaving you both shuddering in the quiet aftermath.
Both of you stayed unmoving for a few seconds before Yeonjun eased himself out of you, his breath still coming in ragged gasps that matched the rise and fall of your back beneath him. Your spent pussy clenched slightly as he withdrew, a warm gush of his cum leaking out, glistening on your flushed skin and soaking into the fabric below.
He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze at you. The moment rolled strangely after, breath still uneven between you as your eyes met in startled disbelief, and then whatever tension remained cracked open into soft, breathless laughter that shook through both of you. He reached out, pulling you into his arms as you nestled against him. Your lips met in a deep, lingering kiss, tasting the salt of your exertion, your tongue brushing his with a tenderness that made his heart swell.
You pulled back slightly, your cheeks flushed, and began to whisper, "That was so—" but the words dissolved into another fit of giggles, your head shaking as if the sheer intensity defied description, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his back.
Yeonjun silenced your laughter with another soft kiss, his hand cradling the nape of your neck, feeling the rapid beat of your pulse under his thumb. "Let's take a bath," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and soothing. "I'll clean you up."
The lukewarmness of the water wrapped around you both later. You guided him to sit on the edge of the tub while the water warmed, steam climbing the air and settling against your skin until the aches in your body began to loosen. He watched you with damp lashes and a softened smile, palms braced behind him as you tested the water, then turned the tap down a fraction and nodded to yourself.
When he reached for the shampoo you caught his wrist and shook your head with a small smile as you took the bottle from him. “Sit,” you said, guiding him back with a press to his shoulder, and he let you without question. You worked the lather through his hair, thumbs circling his scalp until his eyes slid shut and his shoulders dropped.
You followed with soap, careful hands moving over his back and arms, rinsing him clean while water splashed against porcelain. Your fingers combed through his hair again and again, traced paths along his back and chest, kissing warm skin whenever the impulse struck. You spent long minutes on motions that served no purpose other than letting him feel held.
By the time you were done, his breathing had slowed, but his chest rose sharply once as he laughed under it, sounding close to tears instead. You frowned, kneeling immediately in between his knees to look at him. He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes glassy as he blinked hard.
“I’ve never had anyone treat me like this,” he said, one hand cupping your face. “You know that I’m… not used to feeling like this, right? The people I’ve been with before were distant, and for the longest time I thought that was just how it was supposed to be. Until I started loving you.”
Your arms slipped around his middle, cheek resting on his shoulder letting the water run while you held him there. “I know,” you said softly, squeezing him just a little tighter. “And I promise you’re not going to feel like that with me. You deserve to be loved properly, Yeonjun, and I mean it when I say I’m all in—starting with making sure you never spend thirty thousand on five chillies again.”
His laughter broke through the tenderness as his smile softened into something fond and open. “Yeah,” he said, brushing his thumb along your cheek, eyes bright as he nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”
True that there had never been any childhood pinky promises between the two of you, no naive vows whispered under desks to look back on. But as you stayed there together, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the time it had taken to arrive here because the absence of those clichés hadn’t taken him away from you. Some stories didn’t need an early beginning to arrive where they belonged.
And god, you were never going to let Yeonjun feel alone or unloved again — not after everything he had already given to people who never knew how to hold him.
warnings: 🔞!!! gangbang, mentions of drinking, getting scared, fearplay? reader gets chased through house and doesnt know who it is, knifeplay (only used to cut off underwear), clit play, mean dom moments, filming during sex, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f!), creampie(s), marking, subspace, fingering, oral (m! rec), hair pulling!, overstim (f!rec), she/her used prob forgot some
wc: 9.2k (this one got away from me)
an: this is not proofread at all im so so so sorry forgive me sweet angel ily but I cannot believe october is over and this event has come to an end ;-; I hope you guys like this one! im a HUGE horror movie fan so I was excited to do this and hopefully it turned out well. I went with a different approach for a scream fic that was kinda based on different aspects from the movies and I hope you like it! feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]
this is apart of my mini kinktober event check out the rest of the fics!
[dumdum m.list]
"whats your favorite scary movie?"
You roll your eyes, hand coming up to cover the screen of your laptop. “Aren't you supposed to be doing your own work not pestering me about mine?”
It was late in the night, the library dead silent besides the hum of the heater and faint typing on stiff keyboards. The door to the study space was cracked just enough to hear the elevator if it dinged, the indicator the floor would soon be closing for the cleaning staff. The clock on the wall told you it was close to one in the morning, only an hour away from the library being cleared and closed.
“I'm avoiding the rest of my essay,” beomgyu shrugs, clicking his pen as a signal for an end to the line of questioning. “Annoying you just seemed like a better plan,”
“Annoying all of us, I needed this done an hour ago,” yeonjun doesn't even look up from his laptop, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, lenses glossed over with the light from his screen, fingers speeding over the keys only to pause and jam the delete button. “Fuck, i lost my train of thought,”
“It's already late, just turn it in tomorrow morning,” huening suggests, slouched back in his chair, thumbs nibbly swiveling on the joystick of his switch. “The syllabus said it was ten points off no matter how late after twelve you submit it,”
“Don't talk to me right now, you got yours in on time. And I'm getting this done tonight whether I like it or not. I won't be able to handle looking at it tomorrow morning. the paper just won't get turned in at all if that happens,” yeonjuns back to typing furiously squinting at his laptop not noticing kais grin.
“You should have listened to me about meeting up at nine, but nooo-”
“Huening,” yeonjun warns.
“I'm just saying…”
Yeonjun picks up one of Soobin's scattered pens from the table, tossing it at Kai hitting him in the lap. And when Kai just laughs, Yeonjun picks up a few more to throw, the showering of pens making Kai yelp.
“Shhh,” soobin doesn't even lift his head to see what's going on. He and tae had been trying to sleep for the better part of two hours, Taehyun having found success, sliding two chairs together to prop his legs up. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and hasn't said anything since closing them. Soobin only crossed his arms and laid his head down, leg bouncing showing he was still struggling to actually find it in him to sleep without his bed.
The six of you usually booked the room on Friday nights from nine to two, blocking the time to try and catch up on work before the weekend. It was either the time you got the most work done or none at all. You're surprised it took beomgyu this long to finally turn away from his assignment at this point he's usually at the whiteboard doodling or trying to get everyone to play dirty hangman.
It was easier to get all of you together here instead of one of your small dorms, the space hardly big enough for three people let alone six. In the library you didn't have to worry about cramming together, the fourth floors study spaces equipped with long tables and eight chairs. Out of the two libraries on campus this one didn't have many people visit often, especially not when the walk from any of the dorms was twice as long. The fourth floor was empty and quiet except for the group's laughter on nights you didn't worry about work.
“You didn't answer that question,” beomgyu points out again, pointer finger pushing away your hand blocking the screen, “what's your favorite scary movie?”
“I didn't answer it because I can't choose,” you confess, scrolling through the paper you're writing for class.
“Is your homework twenty questions?” soobins voice is muffled, annoyed and sleep-ridden.
“No-”
beomgyu cuts you off before you could explain, brows scrunching as he reads. “Looks like it, this one is ‘what are the rules around sex’ there is no way this actually for your class,”
“What?” this pulls soobins head up, the messy strands of his dark hair sticking up around his forehead.
“Of course you wake up when you hear the word sex,” yeonjun quips, pursing his lips reading over his work on his screen.
“No need to wake up you type so loud i couldn't fall asleep,” soobin says brushing his long fingers through his hair, you always noticed the later it got the grumpier he became, pouting lips and half lidded eyes always making an appearance after midnight.
“It's for my film studies class. We’re learning about the rules of horror,” its clarification enough for soobin who nods but beomgyu lets his head tilt to the side, the vision of a question mark.
“Rules? You can't just send a killer in, have them spill some blood, and call it a day?”
“You could, but i'm sure it would follow a pattern, even without you realizing it,” scrolling through your work you pause on the first option. “First you have to think about the time period when the movie was filmed. Most of the popular ones ranged from the 80’s to the early 2000’s. A huge push in most cultures is the topics of sex, drugs, and money. It's the three things people try to control the most. Throw a bunch of badly behaving teens in with a psycho killer playing god and you can tell the masses how wrong something is. Like having sex,”
“So wrong it would get you killed?”
“Yup, in most, if not all, horror movies the people who have sex on screen or are known for sleeping around get killed off, leaving the poor virgin alive. Main characters who live to the end also don't drink, or do drugs. Rich people aren't safe, especially if you have a big empty house with lots of stairs, doors, and windows. The more for you to make the wrong decision not to exit from,”
“Then who does live?” Kai asks, game paused in hand.
“The girl next door lead, never her boyfriend, the camera man, unless you see him leave the group because you should never leave the group under any circumstances. But everyone else is fair game. Oh and if you say ‘i'll be right back,’ the lines a killer in and of itself,”
“So I'd die because I like to have a good time?” yeonjun asks, fingers paused on his keys as he looks over at you. Everyone but tae is turned in your direction, listening intently.
“Unless you're the killer, or lucky because you weren't in line of the camera when you decided it was smart enough to leave the house. It's very kill or be killed. Another rule is to never trust anyone,”
“The list just gets longer and longer,” soobin sits back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head as he stretches, “you know i saw this one post on twitter that some people like the whole masked killer thing, gets them off,”
“Of course you would be on twitter looking at stuff like that,” gyu fakes disappointment, shaking his head, “this is exactly why you wouldn't survive, you're a closeted perv,”
“I don't know about closeted perv, he was openly scrolling past hentai the other day in the dorm,” yeonjun is back to typing, soobin kicking the foot of his chair.
“Past it, i didn't pause on it,”
“It was on your for you page! Clearly you have a habit of liking things akin to it,”
“I don't know, I think it's kinda hot, the mask thing. or i guess more so the build up of fear, it's almost like foreplay, your pulse starts going, you get all flushed. And I did see this clip of these two guys dressed up…” this wouldn't be the first time any of you confessed to watching something that turned you on. All of you had been friends for years, growing up nothing had ever been an off limits topic. You can see the video in your head, the way they held the girl between them; how they manhandled her down onto the bed.
“So you and soobin are both freaks,” beomgyu grins, the need to tease showing right in his eyes.
“A threesome is not freaky,” Taehyun states, breaking his silence, hat still over his eyes, fully relaxed and laid back. If you hadn't known the sound of his voice you would have assumed he was still asleep, if he had even been asleep in the first place.
“Agreed, anything over three is a little freaky,” soobin shrugs, bending over halfway out of his chair to pick up his fallen pens.
“So would you? Sleep with more than two people at once?” gyu asks, the tilt back to his head, “this is the true test if you're freaky or not,” he chuckles.
“I mean yeah… would you?” The question is directed at the room and you watch the question lay over them like fog, each of them thinking for a second, blank expressions all the way around.
Taehyun was the first to respond, shrugging his shoulders before nodding briefly, “I wouldn't let the opportunity slip by if it was offered,” It was a unanimous yes from all of them, the hummed agreement not too surprising.
“Done!” yeonjun smashes one last key before stretching big, “finally fucking submitted, and right before we have to leave, im surprised the staff hasnt gotten around to our room yet to kick us out,”
Taehyun pulls his hat from his face, sitting up with a yawn, “good, i needed my bed two hours ago,”
It always felt so good to sleep in on a saturday after a study session like this, you could already feel how cozy it would be to wrap up in your blanket. And even if the mattress was shit with or without the foam topper, it was better than laying out in the chairs like taehyun just was.
All of you cleaned up the space, making sure to tuck in the chairs, pick up the discarded cups of late night bad decision coffee. Squishing in the elevator together, bags bumping into one another before you filed out; passing all the empty desks and empty aisles of books to make it out the front door.
As soon as the outside air hits your cheeks you know it’s going to feel like a long walk back to the dorms. the boys tucking their ears into hoodies, zipping their jackets up, you and kai lived in the dorms on the opposite side of campus from the rest of them, their walk shorter by only a few minutes.
“Okay we’re still on for dinner tomorrow right?” Kai asks the group.
beomgyu’s jumping on the balls of his feet to try to generate some warmth. “literally just text us, I cannot think about tomorrow when i’m this cold and sleepy,”
“Yes, we’re still on, I've been craving anything other than dining hall food for the past week,” yeonjun adds, shivering as he pulls the straps of his bag closer to his chest. “We'll still meet up back here like usual,” he was walking backwards as he said it, already a few steps behind the others, “but see you guys tomorrow or should I say ‘i’ll be right back!’” he jokingly yells while the others wave goodbye.
“don’t play jjunie, you might be next! don’t trust anyone!” He gives you a silent salute in response as you and Kai head out for your walk.
Instinctively the two of you are shoulder to shoulder, bumping into one another every other step. Silence following each muffled step on the pavement. Sometimes the two of you didn't say anything until you split on the elevators. a quick ‘goodnight’ or ‘see you tomorrow’ thrown out as you step out on your floor, waving as the doors closed back up so he could go up one more level. Other nights it was the two of you giggling trying to keep it down as you walked under the moonlight, too late to be loud.
You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as the wind hits the treeline. spots of orange light from the spaced out street lights are rare, casting the two of you in darkness every time the moon is behind the clouds; every several feet the hash light is back in your path.
“So you'd live? In a horror movie?” Kai asks, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders to his ears from the cold. The wind is hitting him right in the face, tossing his hair from his eyes where he liked to keep it. He asks it so softly, the question highlighted in the divot of his brow, nose pink, face washed in the glow from the moon.
“I'm not really a virgin so…,” it's not an embarrassing confession but when it's this late with his eyes trained solely on you it's like a spilled glass of red wine on white sheets. Impossible to look away from.
“You wouldn't live for knowing how people survive?”
“The smart ones usually die from bad luck, they know to head for the car waiting in the lot but forget the keys or if the keys are still in the ignition they never check the back seat. They know if you run into the woods to escape you can hide, but how unlucky for a rusty forgotten bare trap to be waiting for your next step. or if you miss that one here's a log to trip over, only to tumble down a hill and break your neck. Call the police? You're in the one movie a phone works only for you to forget never trust anyone because the police work for the killer,”
“So none of us make it?” It's such an open question the way he asks it, the hopeful twinge hitting the ending, twisting it into something it shouldn't be. Written right over his features the soft words unsaid, can't we? There has to be a way.
“This isn't a movie kai, we’re fine,”
“I know, it's only a question,” he's so easily flustered when alone, second guessing everything he says, as if one slip up will make you hate him. Now he's blushing, both of you falling back into comfortable silence. You can tell he's thinking by the way he's biting at his cheek, eyes watching his feet, making sure not to miss one step. You assume it's the end of what he has to say, his silence following you all the way back to your floor. The elevator doors opened finally giving him the courage to speak up. “Do you…”
“Hum?” you lift your arm to hold the doors open, turned to see him struggling to get the words out.
“Do you want to come with me to my parents cabin,” he says it all in a rush, avoiding looking you in the eyes just in case you reject him. “I mean you don't have to, the guys won't be there and if it makes you uncomfortable-” he cuts himself off, hand at the back of his neck, trying to rub away his embarrassment, “forget it- forget i said anything,”
“It's okay, I'd love to go. where is it?”
“Um it's like two hours from campus, my parents need me to check on it just cause and i thought, why not make a weekend of it? I mean, you can finally sleep on a real mattress, not whatever was issued here,”
A weekend away did sound good, perfect after the semester you were having. And Kai is as sweet as they come, spending time with him wouldn't be bad at all. “Sure, when are you thinking?”
“Next week?”
It was all so very innocent, a sweet boy asking a girl to join him on a weekend getaway. He even packed you snacks for the drive, let you pick all the music, and made sure to carry your bag in when you arrived.
You weren't stupid enough not to realize why you were here and the other boys didn't get an invite. The whole week you thought it over, pushing around the idea of being with him. And you could tell he was tossing it around all throughout the drive, periodically blushing without saying a thing to you, hands tightening on the steering wheel; knuckles turning white from the pressure.
Halfway through the drive you realized exactly what he meant by cabin. Not the kind sitting near the edge of a trail, but one hidden deep into the woods for perfect seclusion. Kai had a late class to make up for and the two of you didn't get started on the drive until the sun was already setting behind the trees. Every shadow thrown across the road drew longer and longer as the car kept on.
The gravel driveway leading up to the cabin was a stretch, but when you finally broke past the winding path the gleaming two story was not very cabin like. The windows reflecting the cars headlights back at you expanded most of the first level. Wraparound porch dotted with chairs, and a swinging bench. As soon as kai killed the engine the silence stumbled in, darkness spilling over the scene as you climbed out of your seat.
“This place is huge,” you whisper, as if anything louder would disrupt the peace of the outdoors. You held your phone's flash up in front of you, huening fumbling to put the key into the lock on the first try. Each attempt from his shaking hand failed.
“Here,” you took the key into your own hand, twisting the knob and pushing the door open.
“Sorry,” his voice wavering as he flips on the light switch, “i'm just- you know-,” he cuts himself off not wanting any more embarrassment to follow him.
As soon as the lights come on you can't see anything outside, the windows a reflection of the room. A tv hanging over a huge stone fireplace, welcoming couches spaced out in a semi circle around a wooden coffee table, a bar topped with dusty glasses pushed in the corner. Kai kicks off his shoes by the door, walking further in you notice the dark hallway leading deeper into the first floor, a staircase waiting right by the entrance. But kai ignores it all while walking towards the kitchen.
“I mostly have to check the doors and windows to make sure no one broke in,” he's trying to fill the silence, rambling to kill his nerves,”one year we had someone steal the tv, we don't really leave much now just incase, so that's why it looks so empty,”
“People actually drive all the way out here and break in? The last time i saw a turn off the road before this one was an hour ago,”
“You never know, it's best to just check and fill out a report sooner rather than later,” in the kitchen the backdoor is made of two foggy planes of glass, only the outline of kai seen in the weavering shape. He twists the knob and to your surprise it gives way and opens, “damn one of my sisters must have forgotten to lock it last they were here,” You lean your hip against the kitchen island, taking his explanation as is.
“They come out here to check too?”
“Rarely they mostly come with their friends but stopped when they realized there is zero phone service this far out,”
“There isn't?” you hadn't even checked to see if your phone was working, “what if someone had broken in? You have no phone to make a call from,”
He chuckles pointing past your shoulder, right on the end of the counter a sleek black cordless landline rests in its holder, the blinking red light showing one waiting voicemail. “Sometimes it can be spotty but for the most part its a solid line of communication,”
Hand still on the knob of the backdoor he locks the door before walking over to the pantry, finding only a crate of dusty wine and a stack of old jiffy pop popcorn.
“Wait, I didn't think they made these anymore,” you reach out for the thin metal handle attached to the panshapped popcorn container. Shaking it you hear the rattle of the kernels, “when i was younger i thought it was just something people had in movies,”
“My sisters and i love the stuff, it's also easy to pop outside over the fire,”
“So all you leave is popcorn and wine when you're not staying here?” you tap the crate of wine with your foot, his grin boyish and shy.
“It's a good thing for us now i guess,”
It's what leads you to sharing the bottle, passing it by the neck as he gives you a tour of the house. His lips right at the spout, nerves loosening up with each sip he takes, creaking steps leading up the second floor. “And here is my room,”
It’s right at the end of the hall, bed neatly made with a single stuffed penguin sitting against the pillows. “You left him here all alone?” You ask, picking up the plushie, Kai's standing in front of the closet, the slatted doors making up most of the wall behind him facing the bed.
He shrugs placing the half full wine bottle down on his dresser, “someone needed to protect my prize possession,” he falls right onto the mattress, head thrown back, hair spilling against the pillows, “i always sleep so good in this bed,” cheeks flushed from the wine, half lidded eyes watching you from under his lashes. It's an invitation you don't pass up.
You climb in after him, feeling relaxed from drinking even if it was only a little bit, you can tell it's helped him too, his lazy smile so blissful. “I'm sure this bed is good for other things too,” you don't even care about being bold, not alone with him under you as you dip your head, nose brushing his.
The first kiss is so soft, a brush of lips together lasting no longer than a second. Kai whines in the back of his throat, an ache for more hidden in the desperate sound. It's addicting to have someone seem so needy for your attention, his legs instinctively tangling with yours, hand at the back of your neck pulling you back down for another kiss.
The two of you fumbling to feel at each other, your hand sliding up under his shirt to touch his warm skin, his stomach flexing at the brush of your cold fingertips. His hand at your waist pulling you closer to him, needing you as close as he can get you. The kiss is sloppy in seconds, his tongue sliding against yours, noses bumping as you breath in each other. You can feel that he's semi-hard, pressed against your thigh between his legs.
He's a mess, whimpering when you pull away to take off your sweater, leaving you braless in a tank top. greedy hands back on you, pulling you back down on top of him, he’s grinding onto you desperately, fully hard from only kissing.
every little noise he makes is caught in your mouth, his fingers fumbling for the button on your jeans. you have to pull away after his failed attempt, giggling as you brush his hair back, “it’s okay to take it a little bit slow huening we have all night,” you remind him, “I don’t want you cumming in your jeans when it could be in or on me,” he's looking up at you with total devotion, with an expression that lets you know he'd let you do anything if you asked.
“Please?” and it doesn't even matter what he's begging for, you would let him do just about anything in return for looking at you like that.
You're quick to rid yourself of your pants, falling back to the bed and letting him roll on top of you. Hands in his hair as he presses into you, one hand holding himself up while the other snakes down between you two. The soft gasp you let out eggs him on, drawing soft circles over your clothed clit like he knows exactly what to do. You twist your fingers into his hair, his lips tracing down your neck, hips back to grinding into your thigh. At first you don't notice the smell of popcorn. It's faint upstairs, wafting in through the vents, buttery and warm as kai slips his fingers into you. Your hips rolling on his hand, meeting every thrust, heel of his palm pressed to your clit.
It isn't until the popcorn starts to burn that you say something, the tang in the air subtle as kai sucks hickeys on your sensitive skin. “Is something on fire?”
Kai pulls away from the crook of your neck, “what the fuck?” breathing deeply to catch the scent. It's clear in the air now, hanging around like a question. “Stay here,”
it's so unceremonious when he pulls his hand from your panties, fingers dropping onto his tongue to clear them, “i'll be right back, okay?”
“O-okay,” you're confused more than anything, knees pulling in feeling overly exposed all of a sudden. It's silent in the house, the soundtrack of your kissing dimmed to nothing, before it's replaced with the creaking of his dissipating steps down the stairs.
You feel a little foolish sitting in his bed, the crumpled sheets and discarded plushie a reminder that this is not normal for a hook up at all. Letting out a long breath you push out of the bed, all relaxation felt before now gone as you reach for the wine bottle on the dresser. You take a heavy swig from the bottle, needing your courage back. It felt silly to worry over burnt popcorn.
Your stomach turns, sickening realization settling in. the two of you had only picked up the wine, neither of you even put the jiffy pop close to the stove's burners. You're quick to look for your phone, checking in the pile of your clothes on the floor, and finding nothing. Your bag was by the door downstairs, right next to the shoes, if your phone wasnt up here it was bound to be in your bag.
You didn't say anything as you made it to the top of the stairs, not until the phone rang. Not the familiar song that came through your speakers but the deft echo of a warning siren. The kind of ringtone that was played in a movie when someone was receiving bad news, and it didn't stop, traveling up the stairs, playing once, twice, until nothing but silence.
“Huening?” your voice wasn't as strong as you wished, faulting at the end as you took your first step down the stairs.
No response.
The last step creaks under your weight, the sound triggering the phone, that chilling ringtone back in the air. All the lights are on, nothing outside the windows visible as you watch your reflection walk past. You look right at the front door as you walk past, all of your things still in place, even Kai's shoes are still right where he left them.
In the kitchen you find the ringing phone, the little screen bright green as it shows the incoming call. The skins faucet turned on, the pelting water beating down on the thin aluminum foil of the jiffy pop, hastily tossed into the basin. Thin rivulets of smoke still curling from the singed popcorn. The stove's gas burner still lit with a blue flame.
The ringing continues as you turn everything off, feeling suddenly too cold and alone standing under the golden lights. It doesn't help that you're only dressed in your panties and tanktop, bare feet padding across the tile to pick you the phone.
Unknown caller. Read the directory, not even the number shown underneath. You hit answer before you could think better of it.
“Hello?” your pulse was in your ears, washing down your neck, but you're stunned to recognize the voice over the phone.
“What's your favorite scary movie?”
You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up before you respond, “kai, are you using the ghostface voice on me right now? You already had your hand down my pants no need for the theatrics,”
You can't even pick up a trace of his real voice over the filter, the soft chuckle on the other line trickling down your spine. “You didn't answer my question, you have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”
“So we’re quoting the movie now?” you ask, looking around the kitchen, leaning back against the countertop. “Should i go all in and start asking to make it to the sequel?”
He chuckles, so soft and sensual, unlike his usual boisterous laugh. “Maybe…but a little birdie told me that you're not a virgin and you know what happens to those who sleep around right?”
“Enlighten me,” you cross your arms smiling at your reflection in the window. It's a bit silly to be here roleplaying in the first place but it's not like you're against it. What gets you is that it's coming from kai of all people. So soft and sweet, giggling and shyly walking you home. But you truly never know what a persons into until you're faced first with it.
“They don't last very long,” so smug as he says it.
“They don't?”
“Nope, and you have a list of things that you've already done wrong. I don't know if you truly deserve to make it to the sequel,”
“Oh? What did I do wrong?” you smile, checking out your nails, thumb running along the bed of your cuticles as you listen.
“Humm, let me see. First you're all alone in that big old house, did anyone ever tell you never to go into the dark and scary woods all alone?”
“I'm not alone, i have you,”
He ignores the last half of your statement, “Aren't you? hum, funny how i don't see the boytoy around anymore,”
“I can't believe you planned all of this, who knew you would be so freaky? I can't say that it doesn't turn me on though,”
“Oh? How cute that you still think I'm your little boyfriend. I mean didn't you see the signs? The door was unlocked in the back, popcorn on the stove when you didn't put it there, and now a missing boy toy. It's a shame you seem to have forgotten everything you've learned in class, or maybe it was the wine,”
“A few sips won't make me stupid, seriously huening come out, i want to get back into your bed,” you push off the counter, walking back toward the living room until you're stopped dead in your tracks. The sound isn't coming from the phone but just up ahead around the corner.
Your laugh echoes in the empty house, followed by your own words, “it’s okay to take it a little bit slow huening, we have all night, I don’t want you cumming in your jeans when it could be in or on me,”
You follow each line into the living room, the tv on and showing a video of only minutes ago.
“Please?” kais weavering voice seems so loud here instead of between you two.
You can see yourself push down your pants, watch the way the two of you fall right back into each other. Only now you're seeing it from the perspective of the closet, it's the only place you could think of that he would have placed the camera. The slats of the wood even in frame. It's like someone dropped a bucket of ice water on top of you. Standing in front of the tv as if you're Carrie from the prom and someones set up a cruel joke.
“Cute huh?” the voice over the phone asks, that little laugh following right after, “i sure think it is. Look at the way your body reacts to his fingers, you’ll be that pretty for me won't you?”
You feel the hair on the back of your neck rise, the house too big for this kind of game. Even just standing there now alone it felt like you were a fish in a bowl, stuck to be watched from all sides. And not from the video but from the figure standing right on the outside of the window.
He was dressed in all black, nothing like what kai had been wearing before. And covering his face the dripping white mask of ghostface. You only catch a glimpse because the lights are on but it's enough to remind you that maybe this isn't a joke. “Are you outside?”
“I don't know? Am i?” but as he says it you see down the hallway a dark figure step out of a doorway.
Everything in you freezes, your heart rate plummeting, a cold sweat breaking out across your skin. You hadn't even noticed your fingers had been trembling before, not until your deathgrip on the phone starts to hurt. “Don't hang up on me,” he warns over the line, but the person down the hall doesnt even have a phone in sight, his slow prowl reminding you to move.
You take off back towards the kitchen, the back door playing in your head as the best possible exit but as soon as you're in front of it, tugging on a door knob needs to be unlocked you see the haze reflection of two more figures waiting right against the glass. You can hear the laugh of the person on the phone even if it's not to your ear as you rush to pull open any drawer that might have something in it to protect you. But every pull leads you to find nothing at all, “what the fuck!”
The door shakes as they try to pull it open, the glass rattling as you lift the phone back to your ear, “okay huening, that's enough, i get it, ha ha, funny, but seriously-”
“Were you looking for a knife?” he cuts you off, voice so calm when you're falling apart.
“What?” you're exasperated, huffing the question like it's a slap in the face.
“I know where one is, if you want it,”
It's then that the masked man from the hall comes into the kitchen, the steel knife in his hands glinting in the light. “You have to be fucking kidding me right now,” youre desprate to find an explanation for this. The island is between the two of you, his head tilting to the side, the open mouth of the mask mocking you as he takes slow steps around the marble. You're matching his every move, both of you circling the kitchen like two fighters waiting for the ding of a bell.
The door rattles again, the sound making you yelp, hand pressed to your racing heart. It's the distraction you need to bolt right through the kitchens arch way and run to the front door.
You're moving so fast you have little time to slow down, partially slamming into the door, fingers fast to twist the locks.
As soon as it's opened you're standing face to face with another ghostface mask, his black clad outfit sticking to his figure as he towers over you, phone hovering right over the mask's gaping mouth. “Hum not out the front door i guess,”
You try to slam the door shut but his boot clad foot moves fast catching it right before it could close completely. Spinning you run towards the stairs, the sound of their following footsteps close behind. The door to the bedroom is still wide open as you barrel through turning around and throwing the door closed and twisting the lock.
But it's only a moment of relief when you feel a hand clasp around your mouth. Your scream is muffled from their fingers, your eyes closing as if that would fix the situation, the phone in your hand falling to the floor, “Shhh it's okay,” Kai whispers, a strong arm wrapping around your middle pulling you closer to him.
The weight is lifted off your shoulders hearing his voice, hands wrapping around the one covering your mouth to tug it away. “What is going on?” you ask, pulling yourself away from him. your back is to the door and he steps closer backing you right up against it.
“Didn't you say you found it kinda hot, the whole fear thing?” he asks, leaning close enough to kiss, “i wanted to make it extra special for you, and you don't mind if we all share you, right?” his knuckle lifts your chin up so you’re eye to eye, nose to nose, his normal shy smile turned devilish. “All you have to do is say no,”
It was crazy to say yes. your heart still pounding, breathing only just starting to regulate, and yet you want him, you want them. “I-I don’t- I don’t want to say no,”
“Then don’t,” he pushed his whole body against yours, engulfing you in his warmth, taking you for another kiss like you hadn’t left the room at all. You don't even notice him unlocking the door, not until the knob is shaking against your back.
Kai pulls you towards the bed, the closet doors behind him open showing the empty space with a lone camera on a tripod. The red light looking back at you like a warning, you looked right down the barrel of the lens wondering if you would ever see this again, and praying that you did. Kai fit his fingers over you eyes, “don't look at it, don’t think about its there,”
You hear a chuckle, so similar to the one over the phone, only without the filter. Now so easily recognizable as yeonjun, you can picture the way his mouth looks as he does it, his canines on display as he smirks. You don't even have to see him to know, you've known all of them so long you're sure one touch and you could guess who was who. And with both of kais hands on your eyes the brush of someone's fingers on your cheek lets you know exactly who it is. Soobins hands are the softest of the bunch and your face tilts in his direction. “Soobin?”
he lets out a huff of a laugh, “you caught me. And you know it's kind of rude not to open the back door when we come knocking,”
“You scared me,” it's a soft confession that they all chuckle at.
“Did we?” beomgyu teases, so much closer than you expected, the ghost of his touch going up your arm, goosebumps popping up along the trail.
Your senses are on overdrive, pulse loud enough to be heard if one listens close enough, every little thing heightened by your fading fear and covered eyes. You feel a hand slip down your stomach stopping right before your panty line, a single finger sliding under the waistline to pull it and let it snap back against your skin. You jolt from the contact, body flush with kai’s, his hard cock pressed to your back.
You hear rustling from the closet, and kai lets you go, letting you see yeonjun taking the camera in hand. He's adjusting the viewfinder, the others standing in a circle around you, it should be intimidating, the masks off now, looking at you like you're something to eat. It's taehyun that steps forward first, thumb reaching out to drag across your bottom lip. You open your mouth letting him press the digit flat against your tongue.
“You’ll be good for us, won't you?” he asks, and you close your mouth sucking his finger as you nod. He smirks, “i want first,”
It's all he says before he's pushing you down on the bed. It's so quick the air is almost knocked right out of you, your hands scrambling to find purchase on the beds duvet cover. It's almost a shame how wet you already are, the way your panties are cut away, the cold knife in taehyuns free hand only just brushing your skin. The fabric tossed around from person to person. “I did most of the work,” kai adds as you bury your face into the sheets, “she wouldn't be this prepped if i didn't start early,”
“And that's why you have to wait,” “You didn't even get her off,” they talk over each other.
“You guys didn't give me time!” kai tries but they ignore him when you give a sharp whine.
Taehyun shoves his fingers right into you, your body so willing to take him in. but you hear his belt being undone with one hand, and it's a shame you cant see the way his cock looks from this angle, because as he pressed the tip right at your entrance, slick fingers helping to lude up his veiny shaft, you can tell he's going to be the perfect stretch.
Your moan as he sinks into your warm heat is echoed by the rest of them, a choir of the perfect voices turned husky and wanting. “Holy shit,” teahyun breathes his hand pressed right to your lower back, your feet dangling right off the edge of the bed, toes only just barely touching the ground.
“Doesn't she feel amazing?” kai asks, “fuck i bet she fits like a fucking dream,” gyu adds as he walks over to the other side of the bed climbing in to lay against the headboard. His zipper was already undone, pants low on his hips as he watched you get pounded into.
Because tae was not holding back anymore, it felt like he had been waiting all night for this exact moment, to chase his high without question. And your pussy was so welcoming, sucking him in, practically begging for his cum.
Yeonjun walked around the bed, zeroing the camera in on you as your legs bend, heel of your feet pushing on taes thighs. Taehyun wraps his hands in your hair, tugging your head back, extending your throat to the camera, arching your back just right, “i want to be able to watch back how you looked while i fucked you okay?”
“Oh, look at that, huening marked up our toy already,” soobin reaches out a finger, tracing over the hickey kai had left on your skin, your eyes were wide and begging as you watched him, mouth caught open in a moan as taes thrusts turned sloppy. “Fuck, look at that mouth,”
yeonjun bent down to catch the image. “I think someone needs to fill it,”
Soobin didn't need to be told twice. He was tugging his cock out of his jeans, leaking precum already dotting the tip as he gave it long languid strokes. Your mouth was already watering at the sight, knowing taking him down your throat would be a task but one you wouldn't back away from.
But taehyun was already cumming, orgasm cresting as he slammed his hips into your ass, cock twitching as he let out a deep rumbling moan. He let go of your hair, head falling forward into the duvet as he stilled inside you pressing as close as he could get, the tip of his cock hitting you just right as he spilled inside you.
“I want next!” gyu calls out, raising his hand like he knows the answer to a question.
“No-” soobin starts but beomgyu is already moving from his stop on the bed as taehyun pulls out, the gush of warmth leaving your cunt dripping down your thighs. Yeonjun is quick to catch the sight on film.
“Look at that,” it sounds so endearing coming from him, a true sight to behold as you whine from the feeling of being empty. You feel like a ragdoll as soobin pulls on you, tugging you further up the bed so that you're on your hands and knees in front of him.
“Open,” his tip is already prodding at your lips. You feel the bed dip behind you, gyu finding his place as he drags his fingers through the leaking cum traveling down your legs, he does his best to shove it right back into you, fingers dragging over your clit, circling it as soobin shoves his cock right into your mouth.
You give a muffled yelp, tongue flattening to make it easier for him to slide in and out of. His head is rolling back, hair spilling around his ears as he moans. He twists his fingers in your hair, both hands wrapping around your head to bob you up and down on his dick like his own personal toy. You're nails dig into the sheets, the sloppy sounds of him fucking your throat taking up the most sound.
Beomgyu keeps one hand on your clit and the other guides his cock into you, he's quick to snap his hips forward sending you forward on soobin, until you're choking for air. Moans sending vibrations up along soobins shaft. His eyes tighten, needing to pull away before he cums too quickly, face flushed red as rivulets of your saliva still connect you to him.
The constant pressure put on your clit from beomgyus fingers has your stomach tightening in knots. Now that you're not taking soobin in beomgyu picks up his pace, the skin on skin slapping sounds melding with your whines. “I want you to cum for me, i want to be the first one to make you cum, please,” he sounds so desperate, not matching the way he drills into you, tip hitting your cervix in a mix of painful pleasure. He can feel your fluttering walls, every particularly hard thrust making your cunt react just right. And when you cum hes a blubbering mess, “fuck fuck fuck-” not expecting to cum so fast, but youre drawing it out of him, with each little sound you make. He's almost embarrassed by how long he cums for, head falling forward to rest on your shoulder blade, his dick pulsing inside you, curses turning to nonsense, the drawn out, “fuuu- ahh, ah,”
“Look at how pretty she looks when she cums,” yeonjun smiles, bringing the camera close to catch the way you are trying to blink the spots from your vision, “soobin next? Or maybe kai? Both of them seem to have waited so long for you,”
Kai leans back against the dresser, arms crossed as he watches you, expressionless as he follows the shape of your body. Only one of your tank tops straps are on, your breasts already spilling out from the thin fabric, soobins eyes caught on your peaked nipples as he strokes himself. But you look back over to huening, the way he's standing there like he's unaffected at all. But you know it's not true, not when he's straining in his pants, the bulge itself drives you insane. “Hyuka?”
The shyness in your voice is what does it for him, beomgyu only just pulling out of you with a hiss. More cum dribbling out as he pushes his hair back looking at his handiwork. Yeonjun is right next to him too, getting the perfect shot.
Taehyun languidly lounges back against the headboard, cock still hard as it rests against his stomach, hand wrapped around the base as he watches you. It distracts you enough not to see kai moving replacing gyus spot.
Kai wraps his hand in your hair but unlike taehyun he forcefully pushes your head down into the mattress. The whole mit of his hand cups your skull, your whimper making him chuckle. His free hands traced up your side, slipping under your tank top as he feels along your skin. “You know I was thinking about this the whole walk back after our study night?” his hand dips down fingers sliding along your wetness, “i kept thinking about how perfect it would be to absolutely ruin you,”
You're already sensitive from finishing already and kai can tell as your thighs tremble but it wont stop him from pinching your clit. Your hips push back against him, yelping as he goes on to rub circles over the bundle of nerves. “Seeing it happen- watching you get used as a little cum dump is so much better than I ever imagined,” he works your clit, building up his speed until your back is arching, nails biting into your palm as you feel your orgasm building too quickly. You're trying to rock back into his hand but the way he has you bent helps very little. Your cries heighten until he pulls it all away.
“No huening please!”
“Aww how cute, she's begging,” beomgyu laughs and you're whimpering in response.
“Kai…please!”
“You're already doing so well because i want you begging to be filled with my cum, crying from how badly you want it,” his hand goes back to your cunt, pressing into your clit rubbing at a pace that has you seeing stars, your hands scratch out for looking for anything to hold onto. Yeonjun takes your hand in his keeping the camera facing your reaction as your eyes roll back. Its in the middle of your climax that kai pushes his cock into you, finding a punishing rhythm as he fucks you into the matterss.
“Beg for it,” he growls, hand in your hair twisting in the strands. You can feel him all the way to your throat, stretched out so good, he presses right into your gspot like he was made for you.
“P-please- hyuka i need it- i-” you cant even get the words out anymore, the squeaking of the bed building as he increases his speed. You can hear the wet sounds of the other boys jerking off, “i want your c-cum, i need it,”
“Louder,” yeonjun mutters in front of you, your death grip on his hand not loosening anytime soon.
“I want it! I need your cum, please!” But Huenings is so lost chasing his own high that he drops his hand from your clit to grab your hip, his bruising hold and brutal thrusts making you cry out.
Beomgyu reaches down under you, fingers finding just the right rhythm to send you over the edge at the same time kai cums. His faltering thrusts and throaty moans makes you feel weak. Your cunt is strangling his cock, his release pushed as deep as he could get it into you. When he pulls out you collapse onto the bed, completely used up.
It feels never ending body too tired already when you feel soobin climb into the bed. He lays right behind your exhausted form, both of you on your sides facing yeonjun, “look who's next, do you think you could get another one out of her? I hear you're only a freak in theory and not practice,”
But soobin doesn't take the bait, one hand sliding under you and wrapping around your chest, hand coming up to cup your breast, fingers twisting your hard nipple, and the other lifting your leg to get better access to your leaking cunt. Your thighs are so sticky soobins fingers slip on his hold, having to tighten his grip to make sure he can keep you open. He's been ready since the start, his cock aching as it prods your now puffy swollen cunt, so used you're sure you would be sore for days.
When he sinks in your whimpers are so soft they are hardly heard. Yeonjun is kneeling on the floor, arm holding the camera resting on the bed. He captures the way soobins dick slides in with ease, no resistance now with how much slick is coming out of you. Every drag of soobins cock comes away stained in white. A ring of the combined cum circling the base, balls sticking to your skin with every thrust.
His breathy moans are lost against your neck, pitiful little sounds before he's muttering, “im sorry, oh god- im-”
“Don't you dare cum yet,” yeonjun warns soobin, who pauses his thrusts trying to listen but can't find it in him to restrain. Yeonjuns fingers pinch at your clit, your whole body reacting to the feeling, jolting you back to life as you cum. soobin unable to handle the pressure and is a complete mess, whimpering as he pulls you closer, hugging you as if he could merge bodies.
It took him a while to finally pull out, a much needed break for only a few breaths before yeonjun passes the camera to taehyun to keep the filming going. You can feel the weakness all the way down to your bones, sure if you stand you could collapse to the floor, legs too weak to hold you up. But yeonjun is looking at you like you're being served on a silver platter, all done up with all the best fixings.
“Best for last huh?” he grins climbing over you brushing under your eye to catch a single tear that's fallen from your overstimulation. “Its so fun to see you so dumb on cock, so unlike how we usually see you,”
You hum in response as he pushes your legs open, hands at the back of your knees pushing them to your chest. When he puts them over his shoulders you whimper, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck as he sinks into your wet heat. Bent in half you feel your toes curling, sure that if you came one more time you would be better off sleeping for the next year. “I think this is good practice, don't you?” he asks like you'll respond to him with anything other than a string of muffled whimpers. Your body is coated in a thin layer of sweat, sticking to his skin as he takes a slow pace. It's like he's apologizing, lips peppering across your cheek, down your neck. “We’ll keep you so happy, stuffed full like you deserve. Would you like that?”
You're nodding, eyes closing as he uses you. You don't even notice the way your body is reacting, that slow rise of your next orgasm building up, “i-” you can’t think about cumming again already feeling so dumbed out.
“Hum? Are you going to cum, pretty?” he picks up his pace, sinking his hips and hitting you right against your g spot. Your head rolls back as it washes over you, body tightening until you feel like you’ve combusted into little particles. “Oh look at that, so perfect for me, your pussy feels so good when it's squeezing me like this,” it's all he says before he’s trembling, a guttural moan taking over as he cums, you swear you can feel its warmth spreading throughout you. And when he pulls out he takes the camera back from taehyun focusing it in on the sight of all the combined release staining your folds.
“Look at how she pushes it out,” beomgyu says, mesmerized by the way you look leaking so much cum. But it's Kai who leans down, fingers collecting anything he can before shoving all the cream right back into you. “Its almost like she wants us to fuck it right back in,”
✧ warnings: situationship, they're aware this is risky, use of petnames,, smut, car sex,, exhibitionism??? kinda, oral / blowjob (M receiving), missionary, creampie, slight claiming yeonjun.
it’s always in his car, parked in the shadowy corner of some anonymous underground lot. the air smells like his cologne, leather, and the faint, lingering sweetness of the iced americano you’d been drinking an hour ago at the cafe. the silence between you is heavy, charged, ever since he slid into the passenger seat after his schedule, his shoulder brushing yours.
"you shouldn’t text me during weverse lives," he says, not looking at you. his profile is sharp in the dim light from the dashboard. "someone could see."
"you texted back," you counter, your voice quiet.
he turns his head then, and his eyes in the darkness are like hot coals. that’s the push and pull.
the ‘we can’t’,
and the ‘but i did.’
the ‘this is dangerous’
and the ‘i don’t care.’
his hand comes up, fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your face towards him. "you make it hard not to, baby,"
that’s all the permission you need. you lean across the center console, the movement awkward but desperate, and kiss him. it’s not soft. it’s all teeth and frustrated tongue, a clash of the week’s worth of tension and stolen glances and texts that went unanswered for hours. his hands fist in the back of your shirt, pulling you closer until you’re half in his lap, the gearshift digging into your side.
he breaks the kiss, breathing hard. "back seat. now,"
it’s a command, not a request. you scramble over the console, knees sinking into the plush leather of the back seats. he follows, a predator in the confined space, his tall frame folding in. the dome light flickers on as he opens the door to climb in, then plunges you back into near-darkness when he shuts it.
he doesn’t kiss you again. he just looks at you, his gaze burning a path down your body. "you know what i want."
you do. this is the script. the unspoken agreement. you’re not his girlfriend. you can’t hold his hand in public, can’t post a picture, can’t claim him. but here, in the dark, you can have this. you can have him.
you reach for the buckle of his belt, your fingers fumbling slightly. he watches, his chest rising and falling steadily. when you free him, he’s already hard, thick and heavy in your hand. you lean forward, your hair curtaining your face, and take him into your mouth without preamble.
a sharp, hissed inhale from above. his hand comes to the back of your head, not pushing, just resting there, a weight and a claim. you start slow, learning the shape of him again with your tongue, tracing the vein along the underside. you savor the taste of him, clean and salty and uniquely yeonjun. you bob your head, taking him deeper with each pass, until your nose brushes his base.
"fuck," he breathes out, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary jerk. his fingers tighten in your hair. "just like that. so good for me."
the praise, even in this twisted, secret context, goes straight to your core. you hollow your cheeks and suck harder, your own need coiling tight between your thighs. you can feel him getting closer, the tension in his thighs, the way his breathing turns ragged. but just as he starts to tremble, he pulls your head back by your hair, gently but firmly.
"not yet," he says, his voice gravel. "i’m not done with you"
he maneuvers you onto your back on the wide seat. the leather is cool against your skin. he pushes your skirt up, your underwear to the side. he doesn’t remove them. he just looks down at you, exposed and wanting in the shadows. he runs a thumb through your wetness, making you gasp.
"you’re always so ready for me," he murmurs, almost to himself. it sounds like an accusation and a prayer all at once.
he positions himself over you, one hand braced on the seatback near your head. he guides himself to your entrance and pushes in with one smooth, deep thrust. you cry out, your back arching, your fingers scrambling for purchase on his arms. he fills you completely, a perfect, stretching fit that makes your toes curl.
he sets a punishing pace from the start, each thrust driving the breath from your lungs. it’s missionary, but there’s nothing vanilla about it. it’s raw, it’s desperate, he missed you, even you could tell. his face is a mask of concentrated pleasure and something darker, something like anguish. he’s looking right into your eyes, and you can’t look away.
"fuck, this is all mine, mhm?"
"i know," you gasp, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the intensity.
he whispers, his rhythm faltering for a second. "right now. here. you’re mine."
it’s the closest he’ll ever get to saying it. the confession breaks something in him. his thrusts become erratic, deeper, harder. you feel your own climax rushing up to meet his, triggered by his words and the relentless friction. you come with a choked sob, your body clamping around him, milking him.
he groans, a deep, broken sound, and buries himself to the hilt. you feel the hot, sudden rush as he spills inside you, his body shuddering with the force of his release. he collapses on top of you for a moment, his weight a warm, crushing comfort, his face buried in your neck.
the silence afterwards is heavier than before. the only sounds are your mingled, slowing breaths and the distant hum of the parking garage ventilation.
he pulls out slowly, the reality of what he’s done— the creampie, ofcourse, the ultimate claim in their risky, forbidden game—settling between you like a third person in the car. he reaches for a discarded napkin from the front seat, cleans himself up, then gently tends to you.
neither of you speak. he helps you sit up, fixes your clothes. you run a hand through your tangled hair.
he gets out, goes back to the driver’s seat. you climb over to the passenger side. he starts the car, the engine purring to life.
"i’ll drop you off a block from your place," he says, his eyes on the concrete wall ahead. his voice is flat, back to the choi yeonjun that's on your screen, distant and untouchable.
the push. after the pull.
you nod, staring out your own window. "okay."
the car moves forward, leaving the dark corner. you can’t be together. but you can’t resist each other either. and in the silence, with his seed still warm inside you, the line feels thinner than ever.
.ᐟwarnings/tags: age gap (20 & 25), soft dom!soobin, daddy kink, size kink, lots of praising, making out, dirty talk, he talks a lot during it, pet names (baby,princess), dry humping, nipple play, marking, oral (f rec), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, multiple orgams, aftercare, confessions, fluff
𓏸⠀ 𓈒 you move into a new apartment and quickly fall for your charming, older neighbour soobin, not realizing he’s been secretly craving you just as much.
.ᐟwc: 6.9k (no proofread)
You had only been living in the building for 5 months, but somehow Soobin had already claimed a permanent spot in your thoughts. Every time you saw him across the hall, carrying groceries or walking in with his friends, your heart did that stupid little flutter you tried so hard to hide. He was tall, calm, and annoyingly handsome, the kind of guy who made you feel both small and exhilarated at the same time.
And, of course, you weren’t the only one having secret feelings. Soobin had been watching you too—the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, how you smiled when he offered help, the quiet moments when you didn’t even realize he was there. Neither of you could deny the pull between you, a tension that made your neighbourly encounters feel electric.
You stumble through the hallway, bags swinging loosely in your hands, the world tilting a little from the drinks your friends had pressured you into. Keys jingle in your fingers as you fumble at the lock, trying to get the door open without dropping anything. A quiet voice stops you mid-motion. “Hey, let me help you with that.” You look up to see Soobin’s head peeking from his slightly open door.
He’s so tall, broad, and looming in a way that makes your stomach flip even in your tipsy state. He reaches out, gently taking your keys from your hand and unlocking the door for you. “Here.” His hand brushes yours briefly, and your fingers tingle. “Thank you, Soobiinnn.” you slur, smiling up at him. The second you step into your apartment, you trip over the edge of the carpet and flop onto the couch with a soft thud.
You let out a whiny little, “oww…” rubbing your knee. “Hey, careful.” he murmurs, crouching down beside you, his warm hand pressing to your back. “I-It’s fineee.” you mumble, waving him off with a tipsy smile. “I’m…I’m good.” But when you shift to get comfortable, your skirt rides up, and the thin fabric of your panties peeks out before you even notice. Soobin notices.
His breath stutters, chest tightening, and for a second his brain completely blanks. He tears his gaze away instantly, jaw clenched, but the damage is done, his cock twitches in his sweatpants before he can stop it. Fuck…don’t look. She’s drunk. Be good. Be good. He straightens up, trying to compose himself, but then you pout up at him, tugging gently at his shirt.
“Soobin…” His name on your lips is slurred and whiny, and he feels heat crawl down his neck. “You’re drunk,” he says firmly, more to himself than to you. “You should sleep, I’ll get you a blanket.” You try to argue, “I’m not drunk.” tugging again at his shirt with those big pleading eyes, lips pouting out. “Juuust a tiny bit…”
“Yeah, that’s a lot.” he mutters, trying to sound stern, but his voice comes out rougher than he meant. When he drapes the blanket over you, you whimper and shift closer, catching the hem of his hoodie in your fist. “Stay,” you whisper, tugging weakly. “Don’t go yet.” His heart pounds so hard it hurts. The smell of your shampoo, the warmth of your skin, the sight of you flushed and soft and clinging to him, it’s all too much. He can feel his self-control slipping by the second. “Y/n…” he says, but it comes out husky, like a warning.
You blink up at him, lashes heavy, and then, like you don’t even realize what you’re doing, you pout deeper, tugging his shirt until he leans closer. “Soobin,” you whisper again softly, almost needy. “You’re so nice to me…” His throat bobs as he swallows hard, every muscle in his body tense. Stop. Don’t think about how pretty she looks. Don’t think about how warm her lips would feel on—
But then you let out the tiniest whine, eyes slipping shut as you mumble, “...don’t leave me yet.” and his cock throbs painfully in his pants. He feels dizzy, torn between guilt and raw hunger. He should go. He knows he should go. But then you tug his shirt one last time and lean up just enough to press a clumsy, sleepy kiss to his lips and he nearly loses it. You flop back down with a dreamy sigh, turning to your side as if nothing happened. “...goodnight, Soobin.” He stands there frozen, heart hammering, cock straining, his entire body burning.
“Uh—y-yeah,” he stammers, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Goodnight, y/n…Sweet dreams....” He forces himself to pull away, he closes your door behind him and leans back against the hallway wall, he squeezes his eyes shut and curses under his breath. “Fuck…” The image of your pout, your soft lips, the lace peeking out from under your skirt—it’s already seared into his mind. He knows he won’t be sleeping tonight.
The next morning, you step out of your apartment still half-asleep, dark circles, oversized hoodie hanging off your frame. You’re on your way to grab a coffee from downstairs, hoping it’ll fix the dull pounding in your head. When your door clicks shut, you realize you’re not alone, Soobin’s just across the hall, locking his own door. You freeze, stomach flipping. Images from last night flicker in your mind—your clumsy stumble onto the couch, the way you tugged his shirt, that quick kiss you’re not sure you imagined.
“Soobin..” you squeak, voice embarrassingly small. He looks up, and his lips twitch into the faintest smile. God, he looks good even in the morning—hair messy, plain black t-shirt stretched over broad shoulders, sweatpants hanging loose on his hips. His height makes the hallway feel smaller, towering over you like he could block out the world if he wanted.
“Morning.” he says, voice deep and warm. His eyes flicker over you, lingering a little too long. “How’s your head? Not too hungover?” You tug at the sleeve of your hoodie, cheeks heating. “I-It’s fine. Just…tired.” His gaze softens, and he tilts his head like he’s checking you over. The protective part of him slips through in his tone. “You don’t usually drink, right? Must’ve hit you pretty hard.”
You bite your lip, looking anywhere but him. “Mm. Yeah.” He studies you for a second, then his lips curve into a smirk. “You don’t remember much, do you?” Your stomach drops. “What do you mean?” He takes a slow step closer, and suddenly he’s right there, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.
The sheer size of him makes your breath hitch. “Last night…” His voice dips lower, playful but heavy with something else. “You were really clingy, princess.” Your mouth falls open. “W-what?!” He chuckles, the sound vibrating low in his chest, and you swear your knees go weak. “Don’t worry. It was cute.” You’re burning red now, sputtering. “I—I wasn’t—”
“You were.” he cuts in gently, leaning down just enough that his shadow falls over you. His smirk softens, “Don’t worry about it. Just…maybe don’t let your friends push drinks on you again, princess.” You nod quickly, clutching your phone like it’s a lifeline. He steps back, ruffling your hair like you’re something small and delicate he wants to take care of. “See you later, y/n.” he says, already turning toward the stairs. You’re left frozen in the hall, face hot, your chest pounding, not just from embarrassment, but from the way his size and presence make you feel impossibly tiny.
Later that afternoon, you’re in the hallway again, this time wrestling with a large cardboard box. It’s wedged halfway through your doorway, too wide to maneuver easily, and you’re straining against it, little grunts slipping past your lips as you try to tug it inside. “Come on…” you mumble under your breath, already sweaty and frustrated. From behind you, you hear a deep voice, “What the hell are you doing?”
You gasp and whip around, hair falling into your face, only to find Soobin leaning against his doorframe, arms crossed, brows raised. He’s fresh from a shower, damp hair falling over his forehead, a loose t-shirt clinging to his chest. “I—I’m fine!” you blurt, tugging at the box again. “I can do it.” His eyes flick down to the way your little hands are struggling against the cardboard, and he huffs a laugh. “You? Are you sure?”
You pout, “Yes! I’m stronger than I look.” He pushes off the doorframe with one long stride, his shadow swallowing yours as he comes closer. “No, you’re not. You’re about to throw your back out.” Before you can protest, he brushes you aside gently, one big hand on your hip as he moves you out of the way. The casual touch makes your heart flutter. “Move.”
Then, with barely any effort, he grips the box and lifts it clean off the floor like it’s nothing. You gape, watching his arms flex under the weight, his tall frame filling your doorway. “There.” he says, carrying it inside and setting it down like it weighs less than a pillow. “Problem solved, princess.” You huff, crossing your arms. “I…could’ve done it eventually.” He chuckles, turning back to face you.
“No, you couldn’t. That’s what I’m here for.” You tilt your head up at him, lips parting slightly, completely zoned out, admiring from up close now. His voice continues, low and casual, but you don’t hear a word. He’s talking about how heavy the box is, joking about how you shouldn’t try to carry it alone, but you’re completely lost in his face, tracing every line with your eyes.
And then, without realizing it, your gaze drifts lower, past the line of his chest, down his torso, and lands squarely on the bulge in his sweats. You’re entirely unaware that he’s noticed. His jaw tightens instantly, a flicker of heat sparking in his dark eyes. He lets you stare for a beat, your innocent daze making him burn. Then, slowly, his lips curl. “Eyes up here, princess.” he murmurs, voice low and amused. You jolt, eyes snapping up, cheeks flaming as you realize where you’d been looking.
“I—I wasn’t—!” u say. “Sure you weren’t.” He grins, towering over you, the teasing edge in his tone making your skin buzz. You stumble over your words, pouting in flustered embarrassment, and he just shakes his head, ruffling your hair again like he can’t help himself. “You’re too damn cute,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself. “Gonna drive me crazy one of these days.” You blink up at him, heart pounding, not sure if you actually heard him right, but his gaze lingers on you a second too long before he steps away, leaving you hot all over.
It’s late at night, and your textbooks are scattered across your desk, notes half-finished, highlighter marks everywhere. You’ve been staring at the same page for the past hour, unable to focus, your brain buzzing and heart racing from stress. Your chest tightens, and suddenly, it all becomes too much. You drop your pen, bury your face in your hands, and a soft whimper escapes before you can stop it.
Tears start spilling down your cheeks, and you sniffle, shoulders trembling. You just want someone to hold you, someone to make it all feel okay. Without thinking, you grab your hoodie, slip on fuzzy socks, and shuffle to Soobin’s door across the hall. Softly, you knock. “Uh… Soobin…” Your voice breaks, barely a whisper.
Seconds later, the door swings open. Soobin is there, fresh from whatever he was doing, eyes immediately softening at the sight of you. Pyjamas, hands in your lap, tears streaming down your pink cheeks, little sniffles escaping—his heart clenches. “Y/n? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His voice is low, urgent, worry threading every word.
Before he can react further, you fling yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly. He stiffens for a second, startled, but the moment he feels how small and fragile you are in his arms, all his instincts take over. One arm wraps firmly around your waist, holding you close, the other hand coming up to gently pet your head, fingers threading into your hair.
“Hey…it’s okay, I’ve got you princess.” he murmurs, voice soft and protective all at once. You sniffle against his chest, letting your tears fall freely, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Do you…wanna come inside?” he asks gently. You nod, soft and vulnerable, and he guides you into his apartment, closing the door behind you.
He keeps a hand at the small of your back as you shuffle to the couch, still holding onto him a little, reluctant to let go. “Come here.” he murmurs, patting his lap. “Lay your head here.” You obey immediately, resting your head against his thigh, curling into him slightly. His hand finds your hair again, stroking gently, softly, and you hum, finally letting your body relax against him as the faint sound from the tv lingers in the room.
“You’re safe, princess.” he says, his voice low and husky, completely consumed by the sight of you so small and vulnerable. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry about anything.” You sigh, closing your eyes, snuggling slightly into his hand in your hair. The warmth of his thigh beneath your head, the steady pressure of his hand, the way he’s entirely focused on you, it all melts the tension and stress away.
He watches you, fingers brushing strands of hair back from your face, and a low hum of something like awe and desire escapes him. God…she’s so perfect. So cute, so soft…she has no idea what she does to me. “Shh…it’s okay,” he whispers again, pressing a little closer to you. “Just relax. You don’t have to do anything right now.”
You sniffle again, nuzzling a little closer, and he feels his chest tighten. Every whimper, every tiny sigh, every inch of your soft body pressed against him is making him lose control, but he keeps his voice gentle, protective, because for now, you need him, and he’s not letting himself do anything rash.
After a moment, he leans closer, his voice careful. “Do you…wanna tell me what’s wrong now?” You sniffle again, hugging yourself lightly. “Uni…it’s so hard. I’m so tired.” you whisper, voice cracking just slightly. His chest tightens at the sound of your words, and he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Shh…hey, it’s okay.”
You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax a little more against him. He continues to run his fingers through your hair, brushing away stray strands, keeping his thumb gently against your temple. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” he murmurs. “I can help you. Whatever you need…I’m right here.”
You peek up at him through wet lashes, a small, tired smile tugging at your lips. “You really mean that?” He tilts his head, soft smile spreading across his face. “Of course I do. You’re doing so much, and you’re so strong…but even strong girls need someone to take care of them sometimes, hm?” Every little sigh you let out, every soft movement, makes him ache quietly in his chest.
“Just rest for now, okay?” he whispers. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me.” You nod, letting your eyes flutter closed, finally feeling a little peace as his hand lingers in your hair, his warmth holding you close. And in that moment, he’s completely captivated, helplessly drawn to you, wanting to protect you forever.
You lean up, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck, and he startles, eyes widening for just a second. Then, as if he can’t resist, his arms wrap around you firmly, holding you close, pressing you to his chest. “You’re always so good to me, Soobin...” you murmur softly, forehead resting against his shoulder, voice small and vulnerable.
His chest tightens, and his lips press into the top of your head. “You deserve it.” he says, voice low, and it makes your heart flutter. You lift your head, meeting his gaze. His dark eyes hold you completely, warm and intense, and for a moment you feel like you’re the only two people in the world. Your chest rises and falls against his, your fingers brushing the back of his neck, trembling slightly.
Then, before you can think twice, you press your lips to his. The kiss is sudden, soft at first, hesitant, but full of longing. Your heart races as you feel him stiffen slightly against you—his hands tighten on your waist, holding you impossibly close, but he doesn’t pull away. He whispers your name, breathless, and the sound of it makes your knees go weak.
His lips move against yours, deepening the kiss, possessive and claiming, like he’s letting you know you’re his. You feel him press you more tightly to him, and every part of your body tingles with need. His hands trail up to your face, cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing your lips, and his gaze is fixed entirely on you. “You drive me fucking crazy.” he murmurs.
You look up at him, doe-like eyes wide and glossy fixed on his face. “Please, Binnie...” you whisper, voice trembling, and the sound of the nickname makes his chest tighten painfully. He swallows, a low groan escaping him. Fuck…The way you’re looking at him, so small, so giving…it’s driving him insane. He can feel himself throb in his sweatpants, hands clenching slightly.
“Fuck—Come here.” he growls, voice rough. Before you can react, he guides you to straddle his lap on the couch. Your knees hover on either side of him as he leans back slightly, pulling you close. His hands find your waist, gripping firmly, thumbs brushing over the soft curve of your hips, while his gaze rakes over you like he can’t get enough.
His lips find yours again, harder. Fingers dig a little into your skin as he holds you flush against him. His hands roam from your waist down to your thighs, fingers brushing over the soft fabric of your pyjamas, teasing, letting you feel the heat in his touch. “You don’t even know what you do to me every fucking day.” he growls, trailing kisses along your jaw and neck.
You begin to move slowly against him, your hips grinding just a little over the hard outline of his bulge through his sweatpants. His breath catches audibly, a low groan slipping past his lips as his hands tighten on your waist, holding you firmly in place. “Fuck…princess…” he murmurs, completely undone by the way your body feels against him. He leans back slightly, letting you take the lead, eyes dark and hungry as he watches every roll of your hips.
He can’t stop himself from grinding back slightly. You whimper, rocking a little harder, tilting your head to look at him with your pleading eyes. “Soobin…” His chest rises and falls rapidly, jaw tight as he leans, pressing his forehead to yours. “You feel so good, baby…so perfect on me…” His hands slide a little lower, teasing over your inner thighs, just brushing against your heat over your pyjama pants, and the sound of your needy moans pushes him closer to the edge.
You lean in closer, breath warm against his ear, lips brushing it softly. A small whine escapes your throat as you murmur, “I—I need you, Binnie…” His grip on your waist tightens instantly. He tilts his head, lips brushing against your hairline, voice low and rough. “Yeah? What do you want, baby? Tell me.”
Your cheeks flush and you cling to him even tighter. “Want you to touch me...” you whisper, voice trembling with need. His large hand slides over your shorts, palm pressing against your cunt through the fabric. “Wanna feel good, baby?” he murmurs, eyes dark and hungry as he watches your reactions.
You nod immediately, pouting. “Yes, please…” you whisper. A satisfied hum leaves his mouth as his fingers begin to move deliberately, pulling your shorts to the side and rubbing over the thin fabric of your panties. “Fuck…you’re so wet, princess. Want me that bad?” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your clit, teasing just enough to make you whimper.
You tilt your head back slightly, soft moans escaping as your hands clutch at his shoulders, rocking against him instinctively. “Yes, Binnie…so bad.” He tugs gently on the waistband of your shorts, his voice sounding reverent. “Can I take these off, princess?”
“Yes…” you breathe out, nodding eagerly, your own hands helping him slide the fabric down your legs. You’re left in your panties and shirt, perched prettily on his lap, and when you sink back onto the hard outline of his bulge it makes you wet immediately. Soobin’s breath hitches, a soft groan escaping his parted lips when your soaked panties drag against him.
His head tips back for a moment, jaw tight, before he looks back at you with hooded eyes. His hands are everywhere—roaming your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh, sliding up to cup your ass and press you down harder against him. He starts grinding you against his length, deep groans mixing with your whines.
“I can’t stop thinking about you. Every time I see you—even when I don’t—I get so hard just picturing you like this.” Your body is hot, a blush spreading across your cheeks as his confession sinks in. He leans closer, his lips brushing your ear as he grinds you slower, harder against his cock.
“You drive me fucking insane, Y/n. I try to hold it in when my friends are around, when you’re just smiling at me in the hallway…but fuck, baby, I can’t anymore. I need you.” Your heart pounding so hard it almost hurts. “You…” your voice trembles, your hips still grinding faintly against him. “You think about me like that?”
Soobin’s jaw flexes as his grip on your waist tightens. “Fuck yes, baby. Every day. Every night.” A needy sound leaves your throat before you can stop it and you surge forward, kissing him desperately. He swallows the sound, kissing you back just as hungrily, his big hands moving and groping your waist and thighs. You pull back just enough to whisper against his lips, “I’ve liked you since I moved here, Binnie…”
His eyes darken, a small, wicked smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, baby? My little princess had a crush on me this whole time?” he teases, his thumb rubbing slow circles into your inner thigh. You nod, eyes big and sparkly. “So bad…you’re always so good to me.” you murmur. “I’ll always be good to you, baby…” his voice drops, gentle, as his nose brushes yours. “You’re my good girl.”
“Mhm...” you nod frantically before kissing him again. He kisses you back hungrily, one of his large hands sliding up under your shirt until his palm meets your warm skin. He groans when he feels you arch into his touch, his thumbs brushing over your nipples before he cups your breasts fully, kneading and squeezing until you let out a shaky whine against his mouth.
“Fuck, lift your arms, baby.” he says roughly. You obey instantly, breathless, raising your arms above your head. He grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it off in one smooth motion, tossing it carelessly on the couch. His eyes roam over your bare chest, and you can feel the way his cock hardens beneath you.
His big hands immediately grab your tits, squeezing greedily, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers. “You’re so pretty…fuck.” he groans, his lips parting as he stares at you like he’s starving. He leans down suddenly, dragging his tongue over one stiff peak before sucking it into his mouth.
“Soobin…” you whine, your head falling back as his teeth graze your nipple. His other hand kneads your other breast, switching between rough squeezes and gentle rolls that make your thighs tighten around his hips. Your shaky hands tug at the hem of his shirt, your big eyes pleading up at him. “Please…wanna see you, Binnie…”
For a second he just stares at you, like the words alone nearly broke his self-control. Then a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, his lips curling into a smirk.“Yeah, princess? You wanna see me?” he teases, voice rough, tilting his head as his hand caresses your cheek. You nod quickly, whining softly, tugging on his shirt again with impatience.
“Please…” Soobin groans, giving in. He grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head quickly, tossing it to the side. His lean, toned body is revealed and your breath catches, eyes roaming shamelessly. His smirk deepens, a flash of pride in his gaze. He grabs your hips, grinding you down against his bulge again, and leans close to your ear. “You look so small on me like this. So fucking perfect.”
You lean forward, lips pressing to his neck, kissing along his collarbones, your soft whimpers vibrating against his skin. “Need you, Binnie…” you whine, breath hot and desperate. Hhe suddenly shifts, his large hands sliding under your thighs. With almost no effort, he lifts you up off his lap, your surprised squeal echoing through the room. “Soobin!” you whine, arms wrapping around his neck as he steadies you against his chest.
“So damn cute.” he mutters, lips brushing your cheek before he kisses it softly, even as his steps are quick and purposeful. He carries you effortlessly toward his bedroom, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, princess…” he admits. He nudges the door open with his foot and sets you gently on his bed, towering over you, his dark hair falling in his face.
His lips crash onto yours, swallowing every needy sound you make. His hands are everywhere—palming your tits, sliding down your waist, squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs like he can’t get enough. He pulls back just enough to whisperagainst your lips, “Let’s get these panties off, hm?”
You're nervous, but you nod quickly, too needy to argue. His fingers hook into the waistband, dragging them down achingly slow, until they slip down your legs and he tosses them somewhere into the dark. The second you’re bare, heat creeping up your cheeks, you whine softly and snap your thighs shut, curling into yourself as your hands clutch the sheets.
Soobin slowly leans down, kissing the inside of your knee softly. His large hands gently coax your legs apart, “Don’t hide from me, princess.” he whispers, eyes burning into yours. “You trust me, don't you?” You nod softly, looking down at him. He hums amd starts kissing higher along your thighs, prying them open slowly with his palms.
The moment he gets a full view of your glistening cunt, his cock twitches hard in his boxers. “Shit…” he hisses, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drags a hand down his face, like he’s barely holding it together. In a rush, he shoves his sweats down his long legs and kicks them aside, leaving only the tight stretch of his boxers.
Your eyes drop instantly, widening at the sight of his thick bulge straining against the fabric. You gulp, lips parting, a soft whimper caught in your throat. He notices. His lips curl into a playful smirk and climbs back onto the bed, crowding you with his tall frame. “Cute” he mutters and then kisses you hard—hungry, possessive. His chest presses to yours as his hips roll down, his hard length grinding against your bare, soaked pussy through his boxers.
The friction makes you moan against his lips, your legs falling open wider, inviting him closer. His hips grind harder against you, and soon the front of his boxers is wet with your arousal. He pulls back just enough to look down between your bodies, groaning when he sees the wet patch spreading.
“You’re soaking me, baby.” he growls, his cock twitching desperately under the fabric. Your cheeks burn, a needy whine slipping past your lips, but before you can say anything, his big hand slides down. He presses his palm against your bare pussy, and you gasp, clutching at his shoulders.
“So fucking wet…” he mutters, dragging his fingers through your folds, gathering every drop of slick before rubbing it back over you. He circles your clit with the pad of his finger, until your hips jerk against his hand. “Mmh—Soobin!” you moan, your head falling back, hips chasing his touch, grinding yourself helplessly against his fingers.
“That’s it, princess.” he rasps, watching you fall apart under him. “So needy for me, yeah?” Your body arches into him, small whimpers leaving your throat every time his finger presses down just right. His free hand grips your thigh tightly, keeping you spread open for him.
“Spread your legs for me, princess.” You obey instantly, parting your thighs wide. Heat creeps up your face at the boldness of it, but when you glance down, Soobin’s eyes are already locked between your legs, his jaw tight, his expression hungry. “Good girl…” he murmurs. He settles between your thighs, his big hands sliding up until they grip firmly, holding you open for him just how he wants.
He leans down, pressing slow, lingering kisses along the inside of your thigh, making you twitch under his touch, then another kiss, closer to your aching heat “Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this.” he whispers against your skin, squeezing your thighs in his palms. “All spread out for me…my perfect little princess.” You slightly squirm, desperate for him to finally touch where you need it.
“Let me take care of you, baby.” Soobin says, his voice full of promise. His breath fans over your soaked pussy, making you shiver. Then his tongue presses flat against you, licking one long, slow stripe up your folds. “Ngh—” you whimper, hips jerking, your thighs twitching in his big hands.
He groans low in his throat at the taste, then leans in closer, kissing your pussy like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Soft, lingering presses of his mouth against your heat before his tongue pushes past your folds, lapping you up eagerly. Your head falls back against the pillows, a soft moan spilling out as your fingers fly to his hair, tugging desperately. “B-Binnie…”
“So sweet…” he says between licks, his voice muffled against you. His hands keep you spread wide, thumbs stroking circles into your skin. Every flick of his tongue makes you whine, your whimpers growing needier as you grind faintly against his mouth. “Good girl,” he mutters against your clit before sucking it into his mouth, making you gasp loud and tug harder at his hair.
“That’s it, baby,” Soobin groans, his tongue flicking quick against your clit. “Use my face.” Your hips rut against his mouth, desperate, and he lets you, his lips sucking greedily, tongue pressing flat and then circling, lapping up every bit of your arousal.
“Ah—Soobin!” you moan, your fingers tightening in his hair as your thighs tremble in his grip. Then you feel one of his big hands slide lower, his thick finger tracing your soaked entrance. Slowly, he pushes inside, stretching you, making your walls flutter instantly around him. You gasp, clutching at the sheets with your free hand.
“So tight.” he groans, muffled against your cunt as he thrusts his finger slowly in and out, curling it just right as he sucks your clit at the same time. Your thighs squeeze around his head, but his arms are too strong, keeping you open for him as he works his mouth and finger together. “That’s my girl…take it for me. Let me make you feel good.”
“S-Soobin—gunna cum!” He curses under his breath, his fingers pumping deeper as his tongue moves in circles over your swollen clit. Your thighs tremble against his shoulders, your nails tugging desperately at anywhere they can grab. “Yeah, baby—cum on my fingers. Be a good girl and let go for me, okay?”
Your back arches, a loud whimper slipping out as the knot inside you snaps, your walls clenching tight around his fingers. Wetness spills down his hand as your moans turn high and shaky, your whole body twitching from the release. “Mmh, so good for me, princess.” he murmurs against your slick folds, pressing soft kisses to your thighs while you’re still shaking.
He pulls his fingers out slowly, hovering over you, his lips shiny with your wetness. You’re still panting, eyes glassy, when your hand drifts down between your bodies and wraps around the thick bulge in his boxers. His breath hitches at the contact. You tug him closer, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, voice wrecked and needy, “Want your dick, daddy…”
The word slipped out before you could even stop yourself. He groaned low, his head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin. “Fuck…baby, do you even know what you just said to me?” His voice was broken, needy, almost whimpering with restraint.
You shyly nod, his big hand comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your head so your eyes meet his. “Say it again.” Your lips part and you whine. “Want your dick, daddy. Please.” That was it. His control snaps. He shoves his sweats down, his cock springing free—huge and so pretty, already leaking for you. Your breath caught, eyes wide at the sight.
Soobin chuckled low at your reaction, his thumb stroking your waist. “Yeah, princess, he’s scary, huh? Don’t worry, baby, I’ll help you take it. You can do it for me, can’t you?” You nodded frantically. “Y-yeah.” He guided you up, huge hands gripping your hips firmly, positioning you right over him as he rests his head on the headboard.
The fat tip of his cock pressed against your dripping entrance, making you gasp at the stretch before he was even inside. “Easy, baby...” he soothed, lips brushing your temple. “Sit down slow for me, nice and steady. Daddy’s got you.” You whimpered, clutching his broad shoulders for balance as he slowly eased you down.
Inch by inch, his cock stretches you open, your walls fluttering around him. You moan helplessly, overwhelmed by the fullness and the feel of his body beneath yours. “Thaaat’s it…good fucking girl.” he praises through gritted teeth, jaw clenched as he tries to stay still beneath you. “Taking me so well, princess. Look at you, made for this cock.” Your nails dig into him as you whine, finally sinking down until your thighs are flush against his.
The sensation makes your breath unsteady, and he hums, one big hand stroking up and down your back while the other holds you steady at the hips. When you start rocking slowly, testing the waters, he can't help himself. His hands go straight to your naked breasts, cupping them, rolling your nipples between his long fingers. “Fuck…look at you.” he groans, leaning down to kiss and suck one while his thumb teases the other.
You whine, moving faster now, grinding down on his cock, gasping at the delicious stretch. His grip on your hips tighten, guiding you, voice dropping. “That’s it, ride me just like that, baby. Use daddy’s cock, make yourself feel good. You’re perfect…so fucking perfect.” You lean, pressing your lips to his, letting out a needy whine as your lips collide. He kisses back hard, teeth grazing yours lightly, tongue teasing as his hips grind up to meet your movements.
You’re moaning into his mouth, nails clutching his shoulders, feeling him fill you completely. His lips trail down your neck and throat as you bounce, sucking dark, bruising hickies into your skin. “My sweet girl...” he whispers, his big hands roam over your naked body, “Binnie…don’t stop…please.”
“Don’t worry, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” he murmurs, before his fingers slide down to your clit. The sudden, firm pressure makes you clench around him and your back arches. “Ngh—shit—Binnie!” you gasp, bouncing faster now as he rubs you, one thumb circling your swollen bud while the other keeps your hips guided.
His cock throbs inside you with every movement, the friction combined with his fingers on your clit driving you wild. “That’s it…so fucking wet for me, princess.” he pants, sucking hard and hungry onto your neck. He leans up briefly to kiss you again, tongues tangling, groaning as you grind down on him.
“You love this, don’t you, baby?” he teases, dark eyes glued to yours. You whine in response, gasping, “Y-yeah…love it…love you…need you.” His one hand squeezes your ass while the other still rubs your clit in circles. You moan and cry out, grinding faster, bouncing as he keeps praising you, marking your collarbone, jaw, and neck.
“You’re mine to make feel good, princess, okay? No one elses.” he pants. Your head falls forward, lips brushing his neck as you nod desperately between moans, feeling him rub your clit harder. “M'cumming!” you cry, gripping him, bouncing faster.
“Yes, baby, come on…make a mess on my cock.” he groans, one hand tangling in your hair, the other keeping your hips pinned. “So perfect…so pretty…fuck, I can’t get enough of you.” Your body shudders violently around him, walls clenching on his cock as your second orgasm crashes over you, head thrown back, moaning his name nonstop.
After a few deep, sloppy thrusts, Soobin groans low, still needy for you. “Fuck…I—I can’t hold it much longer.” Before you can answer, his hands grip your body firmly and he flips you onto your back in one smooth motion. You gasp, thighs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he pins you in place.
“Shh…it’s okay, princess.” he murmurs, lips brushing across your forehead, cheek, jaw, and down to your lips, kissing you softly as he stays thrusting again. “You can take one more for daddy, hm? Please?” Your chest heaves, eyes wide and wet, lips trembling as you whine, “Y-yes…I—I can…”
He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, and murmurs against your skin, “Atta girl.” Your body trembles at the slow, teasing thrusts, hips bucking a little against him. His lips roam your face constantly, soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks, jawline, and neck. You whine, grinding desperately, feeling the stretch and fullness again. “B-Binnie…s-so big…s-so good…”
“Yeah baby, feel how full you are…can feel every little inch of you—fuck…” Your moans grow higher, whinier, as the knot in your belly tightens until you’re nearly sobbing. Tears falling on your cheeks as he presses his forehead to yours.“B-Binnie—ngh—oh my god—!” you cry out, eyes fluttering shut.
Your last orgasm finally breaks, shattering around him with a strangled moan as your walls pulsate and clamp down, pulling him in deeper. You sob his name, thighs shaking around his waist. He kisses your cheeks, your nose, your lips, groaning as he feels you clench around him. “Fucking perfect, baby—squeezing me so tight—gonna make me cum—”
Your voice is breathless, needy and desperate as you whimper, “Please—Soobin—please cum inside—!!” That single plea wrecks him. His thrusts falter, hips stuttering as he buries himself to the hilt, head dropping to your shoulder with a groan. “Holy fuck, baby—yes!” His cock throbs deep inside you as hot strings of cum spill into you, filling you until it drips down your thighs.
“So warm…so fucking good.” he pants, forehead pressed to your neck as he holds himself inside, not wanting to let go. He cups your face with both hands, tilting your head so he can kiss you softly, over and over—sweet, lingering pecks that make your chest ache. “My pretty girl.” he whispers against your lips, voice softer now, almost tender. “Always so good for me…”
You blink up at him through wet lashes, dazed, breathless from your orgasm. He kisses away the last of your tears, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks, whispering gentle things as his cum slowly drips out of you, his hips still pressed against yours like he doesn’t want to leave your body. Your body is still trembling faintly when he finally eases out of you, the warmth of his release spilling down.
He murmurs a soft “shhh” and kisses your damp cheeks, grabbing a tissue to gently clean you before pulling the blanket over both of you. He settles against the pillows, tugging you into his chest like you belong there, one big hand stroking lazily through your hair. His heartbeat is steady, grounding, and his lips press against the top of your head every so often. “You did so good for me, princess.” he whispers against your hair. “My sweet girl, so beautiful.”
You whimper softly, curling closer into him. Your voice is fragile, almost shy when you admit, “You make me feel so safe, Soobin. I want you so bad…I’ve never felt like this before.” His chest tightens, and his arms squeeze you tighter. He tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “You’ll always be safe with me,” he says firmly. “I’ll take care of you. No matter what.”
There’s a pause, his gaze searching yours, before he exhales and confesses, “At first…I thought I shouldn’t feel this way about you. That maybe I was too old for you. But—fuck, baby, I can’t help it. I’m head over heels for you. I think I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you.” Your lips part in surprise, but then you’re smiling through tears, heart swelling at the raw honesty in his eyes. You lean up to kiss him, slow and sweet, and he kisses you back like he never wants to stop, like the words he just said weren’t enough to show how much he means it.
a/n: i kinda lowkey hate this one ngl, and i tried my best not to make the daddy kink weird but i think it's weird ughhh idk yall. hope u enjoyed.
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