s: You two were talking about Taehyun when you were on Yeonjun’s lap, his dick filling you completely and leaking inside. He was asking you if you had ever thought about Taehyun fucking you. Because I did, he said, grabbed your hips rougher just like Taehyun would. He stood up and fucked you to the wall. You both thought about Taehyun. And when you were done, breathless on the floor, I think I can let him do it now, he said, finally giving up about the rule he puts only because of jealousy.
And he's saying it now, too, while nipping on your lower lip. You both want more now. Watching Taehyun jerking off or fucking your thigh when Yeonjun puts his dick inside you was also hot, but you both need more now.
w: bf!yeonjun × f!reader × yeonjun’s bsf!taehyun, protected sex, fingering, eating out, overstimulation, they love to spoil, jerking off, hand job, jealousy, pussy slap, dirty talk, pet names, slightly (accidentally) romantic. [w.count: 4K]
Taehyun always enters your house quietly. Blinking a hello or just bumping fists with Yeonjun before he leads his way to you, face softening with each step. He approaches you from behind, leans and kisses your temple or touches your shoulders, giving you the proper hi, always asking about your day. A good listener. A good kisser. A good, good friend. Keeping you warm and excited, feeding you with that unique ecstasy, pressing the poison on his tongue on yours, grasping and caring about every corner of your body, treating you like a goddess, balancing the dynamics in your bedroom perfectly. He’s the gentle killer and your boyfriend has that animalistic pace; he’s angry while he is doing his job, clenching his teeth while he slams into you and never shuts his chin up about your beauty. Your mess. Your surrender. They both worship you, they have their own ways. Call it a routine. Spice. Performance. The most exciting days in your weeks.
Definitely not today. None of them could describe it.
Because the rule is not working today: Only Yeonjun can fuck you if Taehyun will touch you, too.
So, Taehyun enters your house quietly as he always does. Without knowing anything, the new rules, he ruffles Yeonjun’s hair and walks past him.
He finds you in the hall for the first time.
You're not sitting on your table or reading some book or chuckling on Yeonjun’s lap, you're waiting for him there. With the most sparkly yet excitement stars swimming around your pupils.
His eyebrows raise, his lips curving upwards slightly. “Hey,” he whispers.
And you walk the distance between you two, your heart beating your chest. Raising on your toes/pushing up on your toes, you touch the nape of his neck and capture his lips in a slow kiss, giving your ‘hey’ back like that.
He holds your waist, returning the kiss, enjoying your eagerness. He even nips the tip of your naughty tongue when it slides into his mouth, taking control. Your messy kiss grows into something passionate in seconds. He likes it. He enjoys how your skin feels warmer today, how you're leaning into him and giving yourself to him sweetly. Still not knowing there's no rule anymore.
And Yeonjun has that thin, little smile while Taehyun grabs your hips and lifts you up easily.
The brief moment your eyes catch your boyfriend’s happens to be the last image before Taehyun closes the door.
He knows you can't say it to him by yourself. He knows how shy you are with Taehyun, how he makes you nervous in the best way possible.
Yeonjun knows all of it, and has no problem with it anymore.
~
“You like it?” Taehyun smiles, his lips touching your cheek slightly. He curves his fingers against the sweet spot. “You like it here?” his whisper caresses your face slowly, the warmness is giving you shivers.
You nod quickly, holding your breath and “Here?” he whispers again, quieter, pressing on the spot. He knows every spot, every way that can shake your insides. He's playing. And your head presses back on the pillows with the pace of his middle and ring finger sliding in and out of you fastly. Your cunt is wet and warm because of them, him, and his hand is shining wet because of you. Fingers sticky and skillful, helping you create that beautiful mess. He loves the mess, the soft feeling of your pussy under his palm.
“Ghh…” Your hips buck upwards and Taehyun presses his other hand on your crotch, keeping you still. It gets more overwhelming and intense when you can't move. He curves his fingers again, nips your chin and you gasp- “Ah!” Your walls clench around his fingers tightly, making him hiss. He rolls your clit roughly through your orgasm, frowning and biting his lower lip.
You come all over his hand, gasping and trembling under him.
And it's your second orgasm.
“Oh.” Taehyun says. Eyes on your trembling thighs and puffy pussy lips, darkening with the view. He doesn't look like he wasn't expecting that, looks stunned, maybe.
His gaze is always giving you goosebumps when it's fixed there.
“You'll drive Yeonjun crazy,” he whispers, smiling slightly. Putting a kiss on your neck, he nuzzles there. And you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your bodies, sharing the mess.
He holds you, listening to your breathing. Until your body relaxes again, he stays closer. He always does.
It's confusing but also beautiful. How you two always look like the same piece there just for a dreamy moment, and then you separate into two again like nothing happened. Two strangers, two voids.
It's confusing, even though it shouldn't be that deep.
You sigh, still feeling the throbbing between your legs from the overstimulation. In fact, it never stops when Taehyun's this close.
“What do you think about the rule?” you breath, getting shivers from your own question.
Taehyun lifts his head lazily, “Rule,” he repeats, like he wouldn't call it a rule. And he thinks about the question a little, looking at your eyes.
You're trying to guess what's coming, but his eyes don't share secrets.
He combs your hair back slowly, staring at the slight shimmering sweat on your skin. Sheared diamond lake.
“I would keep you only to myself, too.” he speaks quietly. “If you were mine.”
Your mouth closes slowly, you're just keeping his gaze for a second. It feels warmer like that. He's barely talking, barely complimenting outside of your bed.
And when he does it, it feels just like that. Like a cut on your fingertips or knees that aching so sweetly.
“If I was yours,* you say, looking at his eyes like you just asked another question that makes him wait and think again.
But he looks at your eyes now, for them to share a secret with him. They already do, but even if they don't, you know he'd understand anyway.
He doesn't search longer, pressing his forehead against yours instead, leaning on your warmth a little more. Then your lips curving up together for a small smile. Let's not go that far, sugar smiles. But you kiss after it, slow again. You squeeze his hair lazily, he tilts his head to the side slightly and lets you taste his mouth.
The little, wet noises of your kiss fills the room. Still keep going with the things that can drive Yeonjun crazy.
“Let me taste it,” Taehyun whispers into your mouth, cupping your pussy in his palm. He bites your lower lip and then chin. “Can you promise you won't come again?”
You smile, and pull on his hair a little more to keep him a little more before letting his lips go downwards.
“Pretty baby,” he kisses the corner of your mouth and captures your lips for the last time.
Your upper body feels cold when he pulls back, but you close your eyes and wait for it. Being familiar with his movements feels nice.
He's leaning in, always slowly, takes your legs on his shoulders and lets his hands slide on your skin until his hands grab your breasts. He kisses your clit, pressing on it with his lips while he thumbs your nipples, pinching and pulling them a little while he licks a line between your folds.
Your breathing changes in seconds, you touch his hands and squeeze them when he nips your clit gently, making you whimper.
Then you hear the footsteps, neither slow nor quick. As always. For closing one heaven and opening a bigger one.
With the creak of the bedroom door, Taehyun lifts his head from between your legs, and you both turn that direction to look at Yeonjun.
He waits there, observing everything you two did while he wasn't there. As always. From Taehyun's wet lips, which he had just licked boldly looking into his eyes, to your cute messy hair.
He smiles slightly, stepping toward you two.
And Taehyun pulls back between your legs while Yeonjun takes off his shirt. That brief wind Taehyun created while he drops himself to your side on the bed touches your thighs. And then Yeonjun grabs them, leaning over and kisses your pussy, warm enough to make you shiver. He climbs up on your body with kisses; your crotch, stomach, between your breasts, your throat… Until your lips touch for a real kiss. The one he always gives you when Taehyun's done with making you wet. Long and messy. Hot.
Taehyun watches it every time.
And Yeonjun puts so much more in it this time, pressing his tongue on yours, making you pull his hair a bit. Making you think about the last night, when you were alone with your boyfriend in this bed. You two were talking about Taehyun when you were on Yeonjun’s lap, his dick filling you completely and leaking inside. He was asking you if you had ever thought about Taehyun fucking you. It gave you shivers. Because I did, he said, grabbed your hips rougher just like Taehyun would. He stood up and fucked you to the wall. You both thought about Taehyun. And when you were done, breathless on the floor, I think I can let him do it now, he said, finally giving up about the rule he puts in only because of jealousy.
And he's saying it now, too, while nipping on your lower lip. You both want more now. Watching Taehyun jerking off or fucking your thigh when Yeonjun puts his dick inside you was also hot, but you both need more now.
Yeonjun kisses your cheek and pulls back, sitting on the bed again. He looks at Taehyun first, staring at his swollen lips and starry eyes.
And then looks at you, “Taehyun,” he says, “Y/n has something to tell you.”
Before your lips part open in betrayal, Taehyun turns his face to yours. And Yeonjun presses his lips together to suppress a smile while he holds your hand and helps you sit up on bed. You're still giving him that I thought we were going to tell him together look in that brief moment. He just shrugs, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. Bold of him to choose to listen to you telling his best friend that you have a space for him between your legs, too.
Taehyun's eyes are shifting between you two, his face flat as always but you can tell he's curious now. “Yeah?” he says quietly, can't decide which one of you he needs to look at. And when your eyes catch his, he stays at your gaze, returning your small smile.
“It doesn't have to be just foreplay…” you say, drowning in too much line you created in your head. Yeonjun puts his hand down on your thigh, his way to say you're doing good. You take a breath, “You can go for more.”
Taehyun looks at you for a moment, and doesn't let you drop your eyes from him. His face is still flat but he did understand what you meant, you know that. You're seeing it in his eyes. But there's something else, too.
He leans his back against the headboard slowly, “Define ‘more.’”
It makes your heart flutter. Of course.
He loves honesty. He loves to hear you saying exactly what you want, loves to hear the filthiest things from your mouth.
You don't even look at Yeonjun here, because you can feel the connection growing between Taehyun and you. For the first time. He's not just the best pussy-eater or not just having the most beautiful, skilled fingers now. He's not just your boyfriend's best friend now. It's your own connection. You and him.
“You can fuck me.” you say, quietly. Your eyes get bigger from the excitement and intensity of it all. You're saying he can do it, but begging him to do it with your gaze. And Taehyun likes it, holding it through the soft silence. The need is there, between you two. So intense that you might need to check on Yeonjun, or he'll do it for you after a minute.
But Taehyun parts his lips slightly, looking at yours… It catches your breath, but you're not sure if he's hesitant or… “You want it, too?” you ask, your voice even quieter. You need him to break the silence and he knows it.
Slowly withdrawing from the headboard, he cups your chin in his palm. Gently caressing you there, make your breaths mingle between your faces. “How can I not?” he whispers, his thumb caressing over your lower lip. Your smiles and noses brush together for a second but he is still not leaning for a kiss.
“You're okay with it?” he says, pulling back a little and turns to Yeonjun. You turn to him, too, and find a fond little smile on his lips. Like he was enjoying the view all the time. He shrugs calmly to the question.
And Taehyun raises his eyebrows. “I don't trust you.”
Yeonjun chuckles at that. Fair. He knows he's the most possessive pain in the ass ever. Especially in bed. You remember one time, Yeonjun was hitting that sweet spot from behind so fast, so fucking fast that Taehyun held you, wrapped his arms around you and caressed your hair, while kissing your temple and soothing you with his sweet words, until you reach your orgasm. You were looking so beautiful, and fitting Taehyun's embrace so well with your arms wrapped around his neck like your life depended on him. That intimacy and trust, just whatever going on between you two made Yeonjun mad in a silent way. He wanted you to ride him after Taehyun left. No, ride him like your life depends on him. Not Taehyun but him.
Now you're thinking, that day might lead Yeonjun to think again about that rule of his. Because his cock was twitching inside you the moment he saw Taehyun holding you like you're his precious, little girl.
“Won't you interrupt my shit with jealousy?” Taehyun says, teases maybe, combing his hair back.
You expect a tease-back situation but Yeonjun’s gaze is focused now, intense. “Make me.” he says, sharing the heaviest eye contact with Taehyun.
Yeonjun’s literally saying Make me jealous, but it's not a dare. It's like, he wants to see how Taehyun would take care of his girl. He wants him to take his time, be himself and make the night his.
And damn, they're making it so hard. You can feel the tension between them. You can feel you're dripping on the sheets a little, remembering some stories about their friendship Yeonjun told you in your late-night talks. Stories about soccer teams and locker rooms and shared beds…
Taehyun cups your face with one hand again, drawing your eyes on him. He leans in and captures your lips slowly. Your hands settle on the nape of his neck, caressing his hair while your lips sliding on each other. You share a warm, sweet kiss like you're kissing for the first time.
Then his hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head, and slides his tongue on your lower lip, meeting with your tongue. You wrap your arms around his neck, humming against his mouth.
And he smiles slightly against your lips, loves those sounds of your pretty mouth. “Come here,” he whispers, urging you to his embrace by grabbing your hips.
You smile with your pink cheeks, and look back at Yeonjun before climbing up on Taehyun's lap. His smile turns into a chuckle after your sweet, naughty gaze. He approaches and pinches your thigh, making you chuckle, too.
And then Taehyun kisses you again, fiercely this time. He grabs your breasts, plays with your nipples, and cups your cunt in his hand, making you squirm and gasp. You're obviously wetter than he remembered and that makes him dizzy.
His mouth slides down on your throat, his fingers tracing sweet circles on your curves and you're closing your eyes when you feel his sharp teeth on the thin skin of your neck. He's just sucking softly, holding himself back but those little, hesitant bites are there, too.
“You were waiting for my permission to devour her completely?” Yeonjun asks, voice low. You lock gaze with him, taking his uncertain expression while Taehyun leans in and kisses the left side of your stomach. You caress his hair until his head escapes under your hand and he sits between your thighs.
You and your boyfriend watch Taehyun grab his own cock and jerks himself off/stroke himself a little there.
It's giving shivers down your spine. Like you've never seen him like that before. Now he's doing it because he's going to fuck you, it hits again.
You're breathing through your mouth, turning to Yeonjun. He's watching Taehyun without blinking his eyes, too, and turns back to you when he feels your gaze. His eyes are the darkest you've ever seen.
You swallow, sit up on bed and hesitate…
…Just for a minute, and then press your palm on the tip of Taehyun's cock, caressing his slit softly while he jerks himself off.
“Fuck…” Yeonjun groans like it's him and Taehyun frowns in pleasure, cups your cheek with his other hand.
“You're pretty good at this, aren't you?” he whispers, nipping on your chin softly. You still can't handle the praises he gave you, biting a shy smile back. You're stroking and putting the condom on together, forehead to forehead.
“I wanna see your face…while we're doing it.” he says, voice breathy now.
“Me too.” you nod quickly.
He puts a soft kiss on your mouth and lays you back down on the sheets. Your hands are slightly shaking, it makes Yeonjun lean and kiss your cheek, pressing his lips on your skin for a long moment. His lips feel warmer when you feel Taehyun's cock against your entrance, the tip caressing you there. Your breath hitch, eyes closing unconsciously. Yeonjun’s lips slide on your skin, finds your collarbone, and he licks a line upwards, his tongue moving slowly until it touches your jawline again while Taehyun puts the tip inside of you and pulls it back, playing with your cunt.
“Fuck…” you gasp, holding on Yeonjun’s bicep. Yeonjun smiles, almost saying I love you with his eyes, love to see you overwhelmed and sensitive.
But he pulls back, settling beside Taehyun. He presses his lips together, and watches your pussy swallowing Taehyun's cock inch by inch. And it fills your stomach, fills you up fully, catches your breath. His hardness presses your walls forcefully to fit there, his balls touch your skin, melt your insides. You clench around him immediately, your mouth opens for breath.
And Taehyun grasps your thighs, watching your pussy with Yeonjun, cursing under his breath.
“So eager…” Yeonjun says quietly, frowning like he's pissed off but smiling, too. He leans in and slaps your swollen clit, looking at your face. You cry in both pain and pleasure. It's sensitive, burning but still hungry for being touched.
He doesn't take his eyes from your face until Taehyun pushes his hand away, saying “Go away,” caressing your clit briefly to make you relax again.
And Yeonjun shakes his head, smiling. “What a good friend.” He presses his hand on his erection while he falls down on bed beside you. His scent fills your lungs.
And Taehyun grasps under your thighs, helping you wrap them around him, then grasp your hip bones and keeping your body still while he starts to thrust into you. Slowly at first, your bodies make little, dirty sounds that make your nipples itch. Clenching your teeth and holding your breasts, you take your time to feel every second of it.
You've been with Yeonjun for years, but Taehyun doesn't feel strange inside you. Even for one second. It's almost familiar. Making you feel safe while his thrusts grow faster, and his hands hold you tighter.
He fucks you gently for a second, and slaps your skins together roughly the other second; his rhythm is just like him, so him.
“Oh, baby…” he whispers, pulling your hands away from your breasts and he cups them, scratching your nipples for you, making your back arch off the sheets. “Taehyun…” you breathe, his name feels good on your tongue.
Taehyun holds your waist again, groans to the feeling of your pussy clenching around him tighter and tighter. And he starts to slam into you roughly, filling the room with your skin slapping sounds.
“Fuck, fuck-” Your throat goes dry, the bed slide away under your back…
You hear Yeonjun’s shaky breathing, and knowing what he's doing while watching you two fucking burns under your skin more. The delicious feeling growing between your legs with each collision of your hips.
Their voices come from afar for a moment... Words blurry but it's something like, “Y/n, you…”
“You can't call her a slut when she has my dick.”
And then it gets harder.
-
Yeonjun grabs your boobs from behind, his chest pressing against your back, and his cock leaning on the soft skin of your thigh, interrupting your jumping on Taehyun's lap. “Just like how you imagined?” he whispers, kissing under your ear.
“Better,” you whisper back, eyes closed.
The rhythm feels slower and heavier after it; Taehyun's hips buck upward slowly and Yeonjun fucks your thigh gently.
They're melting your sensitive skin, they're making sure they touch every spot on it.
“You're so sweet," Taehyun breathes, putting a soft kiss on your lips. “Sweeter than I imagined.”
Yeonjun groans quietly, sucking a sweet spot on the thin skin of your neck. “I should kill you two or myself.”
You all chuckle breathlessly, and then get closer without losing your smiles.
You ride the last wave of orgasm for all of you, your one hand holds Taehyun's and the other holds Yeonjun’s.
Yeonjun groans against your skin while he bites on your shoulder through his orgasm and you hear Taehyun's beautiful, shaky moan for the first time before you come with him.
And you repeat it in your head a couple times when your back touches the sheets again, breathless and boneless.
You all feel overwhelmed by what just happened, that's why the silence only grows and grows heavy.
That's why Taehyun's eyes still don't share anything.
“Taehyun, you're sleeping here tonight.” Yeonjun sighes. “And for the rest of your life, man.”
Taehyun chuckles quietly, making you turn your head to him because you can feel the thick tension.
“Too late, man.” he says.
And all of you look at the ceiling; breathings synchronized but thinking all different.
“You know I'd put a ring on…” Yeonjun begins but stops himself, his voice getting lower with each word.
You heard that tone of him once or twice. And the silence after it, too.
It's much more intense now.
“I need to go.” says Taehyun, fidgeting slightly beside you.
You catch his hand immediately, intertwining your fingers, holding it so tightly that making him look at your eyes.
“Don't go.” you whisper.
Yeonjun approaches and leans his head against yours, looking at him with you.
And when Taehyun's face softens slightly, soothes both of your hearts, you see one of the most beautiful smiles of him, too, there.
» established relationship, shower sex, soft dom!kai, sub!reader [2.6K]
a particular date night with kai that ends with him worshipping you in the shower
contains .ᐟ.ᐟ › shower sex, fingering (fem rec), body worship, losers inlove, unprotected sex, kais a sweetie, NEVER PROOFREAD WE DIE LIKE MEN.. they both a little tipsy but consent is given clearly and he checks in like a gentleman
scan here for group masterlist → 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 ˎˊ˗
Date nights were sacred with you and Kai.
No matter how busy both of your schedules were you always had them, whether it was a simple night in on the couch at 3am with whatever cheap takeout from whatever place was somehow open. Or when hes on tour and you stay on the phone while you both eat and talk.
But on the rare occasion where you both have time — Kai goes all out.
Fancy restaurant, suit and tie — buying you flowers, which he does weekly anyways but on dates makes sure to get you the biggest ones he can.
While generally you and Kai do prefer quiet nights in, he loves spoiling you, showing you off in the best way he can without getting in trouble with the company.
The night was perfect — Kai always the gentleman made sure everything was perfect for you, reserving a small table on the roof top so you can watch the stars. Work was never mentioned, focused fully on you, the conversation effortless.
As the night went on you ordered wine — not what you typically went for but Kai insisted for the 'vibe'. Unable to say no to him you have a glass each — then two, then three.
You both weren't drunk or even buzzed — floaty is how you would describe it, your brain processing things just after it should, the world feeling fuzzy somehow — Kai adored when you got like this.
The walk to your apartment was as expected, Kai's hold on your waist secure so you don't trip over your own feet. Unlocking the door swiftly with his free hand, ushering you into the apartment.
Immediately plopping down on the small bench by the entrance, giggling over Kai's amused smile.
"Whats so funny." He hums slightly, locking up the apartment, putting his own shoes away, looking down at you, your head leaning back against the ball looking up at him with a goofy smile.
"You." Your blunt words making him bite his lip holding back a laugh at your state.
"Right." Kai says simply, crouching down in front of you, looking up at you — your hair slightly messed up from the wind of the car ride, makeup slightly smudged at the corners of your eyes, lip gloss long faded from Kai stealing kisses all night.
Clocking his staring at you, you huff slightly, your smile softening. "What are you looking at." You drag it slightly, admiring the faint red on his cheeks, a contrast to his white hair, the usually tamed locks, messy from constantly running his hand through.
"Everything." He says softly, if you were slightly more aware you would have made some quippy comment but you don't, just smiling letting out an embarrassed huff.
A small laugh escapes from Kai, not saying anything else, his hands smoothing over your dress before grabbing your leg, his fingers tracing over your heels.
Carefully he removes them one at a time, placing them right next to his. Not moving right away from his spot, your dress hiking up on your thighs, exposing the plush skin.
Kai ever so grateful, presses a kiss on the top of your thigh, making you jolt slightly, bring you back to reality.
Your sudden movement doesn't stop him, smiling against your skin, pressing another kiss on your other thigh before you push him off, palm straight to his forehead.
Kai narrow his eyes slightly before getting up, grabbing your hands pulling you up with him, pulling you straight into his chest, his hands drifting to your waist, pinching the skin gently.
Your own arms wrapping instinctively around his neck, fingers playing with the Kai on the back of his head, your eyes soft, looking over his features.
Kai presses his lips against yours — like hes done hundreds of times before but still makes you smile, His hold on your waist tightening slightly, one of his hands moving to cup your jaw deepening the kiss.
Feeling his tongue glide against your bottom lip pulls a soft moan from you unexpectedly, this makes Kai pull back from your lips — you whine, trying to chase his lips but he stops you, pressing a quick final kiss to your lips, his thumb running over your cheek, his eyes lock on yours.
You cant tell if his pupils are brown blown from the kiss or the wine from earlier but you decide not to focus on that — your brain clouded, only thinking of him, his soft lips on yours.
Feeling his hands leave your body — you're about to complain when hes pulling you towards the bathroom, the sudden movement making your head spin — still feeling the wine slightly.
When you get to the bathroom Kai immediately notices, his fingers brushing over your cheek, his filled with subtle concern. "You okay?" His words soft, laced with slight concern.
You nod, your finger curling into his shirt, messing with the fabric, looking back at him. "Floaty." You reply simply, making Kai smile at you.
"Floaty is good, I can work with floaty." He smiles at you lovingly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, making you giggle slightly.
Kai pulls back with an exasperated sigh, a huge grin on his face, not at all upset.
"What — it tickles." You huff in amusement holding back another laugh.
Kai hums smiling at you, looking over you one last time before pressing another kiss to your cheek, leading down to your neck, pushing the thin strap of your dress off, pressing a soft kiss to the space between your shoulder and neck.
Immediately you relax into his touch, your hands perched on his shoulders as his hands move to push your other strap off, silently thankful you picked an easy dress to get off.
His lips don't leave yours for a second, his hand sliding to your side to find the zipper, fiddling with it for a moment unable to unzip it, a laugh escaping you, trying to stop by covering your mouth, failing miserably.
Kai groans against your skin, personally offended by this zipper and you for laughing. Looking at you as you try containing your laughter, raising an eyebrow as he finally gets the zipper down.
"You look like the zipper personally offended you, Kai." You tease, a small giggle leaving you, making Kai sigh, feigning annoyance with a smile.
"It did, and so did you." He hums, fingers tracing over the newly exposed skin of your side from the zipper.
"What did i do to you, huh?" You gasp slightly, a grin plastered on your face, enjoying the banter.
"Exist, your very existence tempts me, makes me desperate for you, sue me." He says it so casually you still, processing his words.
Without saying anything else he presses a quick kiss to your cheek, going back to that sensitive spot on your neck, nipping it gently before his lips trace over it.
His hands pulling down your dress, allowing gravity to do the rest, the fabric hitting the floor with a thud, leaving you affectively bare.
After Kai is satisfied with the mark forming he pulls back, admiring the skin flushed, a small bruise forming. Pulling back, his eyes wander over your body shamelessly, despite seeing you naked countless times, he still reacts as if its the first time and you're the most beautiful thing that's graced this earth — which he knows you are.
Usually you'd feel bashful at his unwavering stares, the wine from hours ago still lingering, making you not particularly care — making you need him.
Your fingers skirt over his tie, tugging it to pull him closer to you, which he has no complaints letting you do whatever you want with him.
Hes completely in love with you, you know this — he makes sure you know hes irrevocably in love with you — if you didn't know from his words or actions you'd know from how he looks at you, like you are the stars.
Fiddling with the fabric, loosing it and letting it fall to the floor, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, trying your best to undo them quickly. When sober you can barely do it so tipsy, its your worse enemy.
Kai enjoying your growing frustration, bites back a laugh, watching the small crease in your brow form, mumbling obscenities at the buttons.
"Its not workingg —." You drag on your words, annoyed, your bottom lip pushed out in a small pout.
Kai cant help but laugh, not at you per say, just how cute you look annoyed at buttons. Kai moves your hands from his shirt, unbuttoning it himself, his eyes never leaving yours.
Both of you undress, Kai steps into the shower first — steam filling the air, when you step into the shower your muscles immediately relax at the hot water.
Kai spins you around, wetting your hair, smiling as you scrunch your face from water running into your eyes.
Squeezing shampoo into his hands he washes your hair, fingers massaging your scalp, you hum in satisfaction, letting out a content sigh. Soon rinsing it out along with the conditioner.
It started off innocent — in your head anyways.
Kai pouring body wash on his hands, rubbing it all over your body — rubbing it into your shoulder, his hands drifting down your sides, using the excuse hes just washing you — that excuse shortly losing its creditability as soon as his fingers skim over your nipples.
The sudden pleasure making you jolt, Kai using this opportunity to go press kisses on your other shoulder.
"Kai.." You say, almost a warning, feeling him smile into your skin.
"What — im cleaning you." He mumbles, catching his words barely, his teeth skimming over your flesh.
You don't stop him, giving him the signal that you want this just as much as he does. His hands fully cups your boobs, squeezing at the flesh, his fingers catching on your perked nipple — pulling a strained whimper from you.
Kai stops teasing you, playing with one of your nipples, flicking the bud, twisting it between his fingers, enjoying the soft sounds escaping from you.
You're about to complain at the feeling of his hands leaving your boobs — when you feel his hands drift down your body, his fingers dipping between your legs, grazing your clit making you jolt. Your head leaning back on his other shoulder, giving him easier access to your neck.
He mumbles something incoherent that you cant catch, your focus fully on his finger teasing your clit. "Kai.." You say between whimpers, grinding your hips against his fingers, quickly shushing you with a kiss to the back of your neck.
"I know, sweetheart, i got you, baby.." He coos softly, his fingers circling your throbbing clit.His other arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you, not trusting your legs fully.
His movements on your clit only heightening from the slightly fog from the wine earlier — your nervous system a wreck from Kai alone.
Kai's fingers drift from her clit, circling your sopping entrance before pushing two of his thick fingers into your hole. The stretch is so good — barely needing to adjust from how much you want this, Moans echoing through the bathroom, the fog onto adding to the intensity of the moment.
His fingers curl, finding that sweet spot he has memorised at this point, thrusting his finger, scissoring them to stretch you out even more.
The feeling of him kissing all over your neck, shoulders and jaw — mixed with him fucking his fingers into you, with every thrust the heel of his palm nudges your clit.
Feeling your orgasm crash over you, his hold on you tightens, your legs almost giving out — his rough pace softening helping you ride out your orgasm.
When your breathing steadies slightly, he pulls his fingers from your dripping cunt with a wince from both of you, the cool air mixing with the hot water only heightening everything.
Turning you around gently, propping you against the cool shower tiles, one of your legs hooked around his hip.
Capturing your lips in a heated his, one of his hands resting your cheek, deepening it, his tongue gliding over your bottom lips. His other hand pumping his cock a few times, groaning into your mouth.
He lines up his cock with your entrance, breaking the kiss — not straying far, his forehead resting against yours, his nose nudging yours with every breath you both take.
The tip pushing into you — giving you a moment to adjust before pushing fully in, his hips meeting yours. The water spraying down on both of you only adding to the moment, peppering kisses over your face, distracting you from the familiar sting of Kai stretching you out.
The sting fading and morphs into pleasure, the fullness of Kai fully in you — stretching you out, reaching places only he can. When Kai feels you clenching around him, letting out small shakey moans he knows youre okay, giving you one final kiss to your lips before pulling out, leaving only the tip inside before thrusting back in.
Setting the pace — slow, every thrust purposefully hitting that spot that makes you clamp down on him — his tip kissing your cervix with every deep thrust.
Your back arching off the tiled wall, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Kai — fuck! Don't stop." You moaned, nails digging into his skin only making him groan, his thrusts growing rougher, his hold on your waist tightening to the point there will definitely be a mark tomorrow.
Feeling the familiar sensation of your orgasm approaching, Kai quickens his pace, his thrusts growing sloppier from his need to feel you come cum around him — mixed with his own orgasm fast approaching from your walls clenching around him — your warm pussy taking him so well.
Kai's thick cock, plunging into your needy pussy — Feeling your hold on him loosen as one particularly deep thrust hits your cervix pushing you over the edge. The feeling of your sopping cunt squeezing him, only pushing him to his own orgasm, your walls sucking him dry.
His Thrusts continue sloppily, barely thrusts, more grinding his hips against yours to help you both ride out the intensity of your orgasms.
Grinding into his hips to meet yours, ignoring his own sensitivity — addicted to the feeling of your cunt, only stopping when he hears your soft moans die down, stilling inside you, resting his head on your shoulder as you both catch your breath.
Your fingers card through his hair, trying to bring yourself back to reality, only stopping when you hear him talking.
"I think we need another shower." He says halfheartedly, smiling against your wet skin, you can only hum in reply, your voice shot your your moans.
Kai pulls back from you, whimpering at Kai pulling out — leaving you feeling almost empty, adjusting to the loss of him.
He quickly presses a kiss to your forehead, His arm wrapping around you as support as he turns off the shower, helping you out of it — sitting you on the closed toilet, wrapping a towel around you.
"You okay? not too sore?" The lust he was feeling fading to concern, his natural response to make sure youre okay.
You nod, pulling him to you, forcing him to lean down to kiss you, needy for the small moments after the intensity.
"I love you." You whisper against his lips, smiling against them.
"I love you more." He whispers back, anything louder seemingly like it would burst the bubble they are in.
After a few moments he helps you to your feet, guiding you to the bedroom, helping you sit on the bed.
Both of you not bothering about putting any clothes on — knowing they wouldn't stay on for too much longer anyways..
what’s the worst that can happen if taehyun and you share a blanket? | 4058
enemies to ??? smut. forced proximity. idol!tyun. dom!tyun. txt member!reader. sexual tension. praise kink. no protection. breast play. fingering. semi rough sex. hair pulling. multiple orgasms. overstimulation. somnophilia? power play.
i wrote this because @taehyunsloves never read a one bed trope before and i took it personal | @soohashits @missdel @tyunningism @xhoinicx
dividers by @chrisssiren
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As if being dragged out to the middle of nowhere by the staff to film a To Do episode and camp overnight wasn’t bad enough, the rain caught up with you all, turning the entire shoot into something uncomfortable and way longer than it needed to be. Your clothes were completely soaked, your hair a frizzy mess from the humidity, Soobin wouldn’t stop complaining, and to make things worse, tent partners were being picked at random.
Beomgyu’s laugh rang out across the damn forest the second Taehyun pulled your name.
Even though you’d debuted together, there was something about your relationship with Taehyun that kept getting more and more tense. It was so obvious that even some Moas pointed it out. Some wanted you out of Tomorrow X Together, others wanted Taehyun gone, and some begged the company to give you both a break to ease the tension.
But honestly, there was no clear trigger for why you and Taehyun didn’t get along. Human nature is just like that or at least that’s what you both said whenever one of the members tried to step in. It had never affected the group’s dynamic or popularity, so it wasn’t that serious.
From the other side of the tent, Taehyun lets out a heavy sigh, throwing you a look.
“Can you turn around? I want to change.”
You don’t even respond, just sink deeper into the sleeping mat, wrapping yourself up in the soft blanket you brought, as if you’d known the rain would catch up to you sooner or later.
Taehyun changing into his pajamas makes the tent shift constantly, enough to make your eye twitch, but you bite your tongue. You pull out your phone, planning to scroll through Instagram or maybe TikTok before sleeping, but of course, there’s no signal and the posts won’t load.
The rain seems to get worse, and even though you’re grateful the tent is sturdy enough to keep the water out, it doesn’t stop the cold from creeping in.
Your phone vibrates with a text from Soobin. “Everything okay?”
You try to reply, but after the third failed attempt to send the message, you give up and decide to just sleep.
With your eyes already closed, you hear Taehyun moving around on his side, grabbing his things, unzipping his bag. He curses, making even more noise, so much that your brows have been furrowed for over two full minutes now.
“Fuck, can you let me sleep?” Your voice comes out almost sharp, not even turning to look at him, not even opening your eyes.
“I’m looking for something. It’s not my fault you’re a light sleeper.”
You turn this time, ready to keep arguing, but then you notice he’s wearing a tank top and sweatshorts. The hair on his body is standing on end from the cold, and his hands are still digging through his bag.
“That’s your pajama?” you ask, incredulous, almost mocking.
“Clearly,” you mutter, and settle back down. You rest your head again, but the noise still bothers you. “What are you even looking for?”
“I’m sure I packed a blanket,” he says, swearing under his breath when he runs out of things in his bag and there’s nothing like that inside.
“Of course you didn’t,” you reply, “You weren’t expecting the rain, why would you bring a blanket?”
Taehyun sighs, looking at your back. Your pajama pants are fleece, warm enough to keep you from freezing through the night. Even your shirt is long sleeved, shielding you from the cold.
“Give me your blanket, you don’t need it.”
The second the words leave his mouth and you feel him trying to pull it away, you grip it tighter as you shift.
“Not my problem you couldn’t rub two brain cells together and bring something for the cold.”
You pull, but Taehyun has always been the strongest in the group.
“Just lend it to me. Your pajamas are warm enough, yn.” He pulls back, almost making you sit up because you refuse to let go.
“Give me my blanket!” You tug again, making his body lift for a second, but he regains his strength immediately.
“I’m just asking—”
Taehyun’s final pull is so strong that your body is yanked toward him. Still holding onto the blanket, you end up falling right onto his chest, legs on either side of his hips. Your frown softens as you look down at him, eyes wide, almost as surprised as yours at the sudden position.
You both quickly move away, returning to your original spots. He clears his throat while you avoid looking at him, embarrassed.
“Just… lend it to me for a bit, please,” he says between clenched teeth, and you let out a heavy sigh.
“Fine, let’s share it.”
Both of you settle down without another word. Taehyun shifts just close enough for the blanket to cover you both, but he doesn’t dare brush up against you, keeping as much distance as possible. And for you, the best option is to turn your back to him again and try to sleep, pretending he’s not right there.
The only sound filling the tent is the rain growing louder and more violent, thunder rumbling in the distance, but that’s not what’s keeping you awake—
It’s Taehyun, shivering next to you.
You try to ignore it until it becomes annoying, almost a little pathetic. You roll your eyes, letting out a quiet sigh through your nose.
“You’re freezing,” you say, turning your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He looks back at you, expression serious despite how cold his skin clearly is.
“I’ll get over it. Thanks for your concern.”
You hold each other’s gaze for a second, but even the sarcasm in his tone can’t hide that it’s a lie.
You look away briefly, weighing the situation, and end up making a decision you’re not exactly proud of. You turn around to face him, your arms opening slightly, inviting him closer. Taehyun frowns, hesitating, too stubborn to accept your pity.
“Don’t make me regret this,” you warn, shooting him a look and the cold is bad enough that he gives in without another word, moving closer until he buries his face in your neck, your arms wrapping around him. Your body has always run warmer than average, your skin staying soft and warm even in weather like this, something that now feels like a blessing for Taehyun.
“If you tell any of the members about this—”
Your scoff cuts him off.
“Trust me, I’m taking this to the grave.”
You close your eyes, ignoring his intoxicating scent as you rest your head against the pillow, trying to fall asleep. Your warm hands move over his freezing arms, and his breath brushes against your neck, sending an uncomfortable sensation through you that you try to ignore.
You feel his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt.
“Yn,” he says quietly, almost shy for the first time. “Can I put my hands under your shirt?”
With a soft breath, you give in. “Yeah, Taehyun.”
His hands slide slowly against your skin, his cold fingers making your back arch as you press your lips together to keep from complaining, forcing yourself to adjust to the sudden contrast in temperature.
His hands settle on your waist, but they keep shifting, his palms searching for warmth on their own.
When you finally fall asleep, Taehyun notices from your steady breathing and the way your body relaxes—no longer tensing your stomach at his cold touch, no longer rubbing his arms to warm him up.
He closes his eyes, ready to fall asleep as well, listening to the rain. His nose instinctively takes in the scent of your skin, brushing lightly against it without him even realizing.
He’s just about to fall asleep when he feels you shift, your leg slipping between his, your thigh resting directly against his crotch. His body tenses, and he tries to move his hips back, but the blanket keeps him in place, tangled tightly around both of you.
He adjusts, pulling back as much as he can and pressing his back against the sleeping mat, but all it does is make you move closer, your arms wrapping around his waist again, your thigh pressing against him once more. Only this time, when he tries to shift his hips to move your leg away, he ends up brushing against your thigh instead.
“Fuck, yn, move,” he mutters under his breath, knowing you’re asleep.
His hands slide down carefully, almost reaching your thigh to move it off him but you shift again, pressing against him more firmly this time, and a soft groan slips out as his hips lift involuntarily from the friction.
He turns his head to look at you, still asleep, completely unaware of what you’re doing to him. He curses under his breath, at himself, then at you before placing his hands on your leg. But instead of moving it away, he gives in to the impulse, rolling his hips slightly against your thigh, a strained sound catching in his throat.
He feels his entire body go cold when you shift again in your sleep, turning over in search of a more comfortable position. He watches you for a few seconds, slipping his hand inside his shorts to adjust the erection that’s already straining, thick and insistent, refusing to go down. He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay still, to keep his distance.
“What the fuck am I doing?” he mutters under his breath, but the words die in his throat when he hears you mumble.
“T-taehyun…”
His eyes snap open, wide with disbelief. There’s no way you’re actually saying his name.
A few seconds pass before you speak again, voice breathy, broken.
“Taehyun, fuck…”
It hits him instantly, straight to his cock, his pulse throbbing as heat floods through him. He doesn’t need to ask, he knows exactly what kind of dream that sounds like. Your hips shift closer to him, your back arching just enough, your body unconsciously offering him a view that makes his jaw tighten.
“Yes, please, Taehyun—”
That’s it. He can’t fucking take it anymore.
He grabs you, shaking you awake. You turn to him slowly, eyes half lidded, dazed and confused.
“What’s going on?”
“What the fuck are you dreaming about?”
You blink, trying to steady your breathing, brows knitting together. “What?”
“You’re moaning my name like—”
“What?” you cut in again, genuinely confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He stares at you, searching your face, but you look too out of it, too real. The space between you suddenly feels suffocating.
“Just let me sleep,” you murmur, turning away again like nothing happened.
It takes him one second to decide he’s not letting it go.
Your eyes fly open when he grabs your hips and yanks you back against him, hard.
“What the fuck—”
“What were you dreaming about, yn?” His voice drops, rough, almost a growl, fingers digging into your hips as he presses his cock firmly against you. Your back hits his chest, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re really going to tell me it wasn’t exactly this?”
A shiver runs through your body when he grinds against you, slow but deliberate. You can feel how hard he is, how much he’s pressing into you, and your body reacts before your mind can catch up.
“Are you that fucking needy?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, voice low and taunting. “That you’d come to me for it?”
Your back arches into him without meaning to, your ass pressing back, your breath hitching as your eyes roll back.
You try to speak, to argue, but it dies in your throat the second his hand slides under your shirt, cold fingers dragging over your skin before closing around your nipple.
A sharp gasp tears out of you.
“Fuck… they’re already hard,” he mutters against your ear, rolling it slowly between his fingers, watching the way your body reacts. “Tell me, yn, is that just from the cold…” his grip tightens slightly, making your breath stutter, “or because of me?”
Even if you wanted to tell him to stop, that you didn’t want this, it would be a lie. Not because you’d ever consciously thought about it before, but because your panties are already damp, clinging to you, your body reacting shamelessly to the low, rough edge in his voice. And the way his fingers roll and pinch at your nipples has your whole body waking up, heat pooling low in your stomach.
So yeah… he’s right. You are that needy.
“Taehyun, stop,” you manage, but it comes out weak, breathy, completely betraying you when he pushes your shirt higher, exposing more of your chest. He finds your other nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and your back arches into him. His face hovers just inches away from your breasts now, your breathing already uneven, shallow.
“Are you sure you want me to stop?” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement because he already knows you don’t.
Before you can answer, his tongue flicks over your nipple. Slow. Wet. Your breath shatters into a soft gasp. He watches you closely, eyes dark, before leaning in and wrapping his lips around it, sucking slowly, dragging it into his mouth.
Your fingers twitch uselessly at your sides as he sucks harder, his tongue pressing and circling, his teeth grazing just enough to make your hips jerk back against him. He doesn’t break eye contact for a second, like he wants to see every reaction, every flicker of pleasure on your face as he keeps going, pulling soft, needy sounds from your throat.
He presses against your hip, his large, hard cock throbbing against you beneath the fabric of both your pajamas. Now the loudest sound filling the tent is your soft moans and your uneven breathing. You try to hold his gaze, but end up looking away, focusing instead on how he plays with your chest.
Your clit throbs between your legs, aching for attention, but your walls tighten because at this rate, you might cum in a way you didn’t even know was possible.
“Taehyun—” you plead, your hips lifting as that knot tightens deep inside you.
His tongue moves faster around your nipple, keeping a rhythm that matches the way his fingers work your other breast, handling you like it’s that easy to get you worked up.
He frowns slightly when he notices you struggling, like you’re trying to hold back something that’s bound to happen anyway.
He tilts his head, not saying a word because he doesn’t need to.
“I—I want to… I’m gonna—” you barely manage, your legs tensing as your body tightens under the way he’s working your nipples.
Taehyun seems to take it personally, especially because he doesn’t even know if it’s possible for you to cum like this.
That only pushes him further, taking his time licking and sucking, his fingers almost mocking how needy you look, like it amuses him just how sensitive you are.
He lets out a low groan against your chest, this time closing his eyes, fully focused on what he’s doing, while beneath him you’re tense, moaning, right on the edge.
When the orgasm hits you suddenly, your eyes squeeze shut and a loud moan slips from your lips. Your hands move to your thighs, gripping them tightly, overstimulated by the unfamiliar intensity. It feels good—too good. The pleasure pools low in your body, lingering, keeping you suspended in it, especially with Taehyun not stopping.
You turn sharply when it becomes too much.
“Shit,” you mutter to yourself, bringing your hands up to your chest, holding yourself from the lingering sensitivity. But Taehyun pulls you right back into position, forcing you to face him.
“Tell me this is what you wanted from the start,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips, dangerously close, “and I won’t stop.”
You hold his gaze for a second, still shaky, your body trying to come down from the high, chest rising and falling unevenly. And then you lean in and press your lips to his.
That’s all he needs.
A sharp gasp breaks from you when his hand slides straight into your panties, two of his fingers immediately slicking up with how wet you are.
He groans softly against your mouth, spreading your arousal over your folds, dragging his fingers slowly before circling your clit. Your hips jolt, trembling under his touch.
“Fuck… you’re so wet,” he mutters against your lips, voice low, almost disbelieving. “Why didn’t you ever tell me you wanted this?”
“Don’t get cocky,” you breathe out against his mouth, your voice unsteady, breaking slightly when his fingers press more deliberately against your clit, rubbing in slow, controlled circles that make your thighs tense.
He lets out a quiet laugh, nodding like he doesn’t believe you for a second.
Your hand moves down, finding the waistband of his shorts. He follows the movement instantly, lowering his gaze to your hand, then back up to your eyes, something dark flashing in his expression.
“Wanna see what you’re doing to me?” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again, slower this time, deeper. “Go ahead.”
His teeth catch your lip when your hand wraps around his cock, his fingers pausing for a second before going right back to circling your clit like he knows exactly the pace that drives you insane.
You stroke him slowly, moaning against his lips. He’s big, thick. More than you ever would’ve imagined. That only makes you wetter, your panties soaked.
The kiss breaks when his middle finger slides inside you, slipping in easily through your slick.
“You’re gonna be a good girl and cum again, yeah?”
In any other situation, you probably would’ve told him to fuck off or at least cringed at being called a good girl.
But the way he moves inside you, fast and precise, leaves no room for coherent thoughts.
So you just nod, tightening your grip and moving your hand faster along his cock, trying to match what he’s doing to you.
“Keep going, you’re doing so well,” he groans, voice rough, keeping a steady rhythm as he fucks you with his finger. The heel of his palm presses against your clit, sending a jolt through your body.
His hips start to push slowly into your hand, breath hitching as he looks straight into your eyes.
Your moans grow louder when he slips another finger inside you, bringing that knot in your stomach back so fast it’s almost embarrassing.
“Mmh, you like that?” he murmurs against your lips, kissing you slowly again.
You can barely kiss him back, that’s how close you are.
You moan into his mouth, your hips tensing as you feel your orgasm building again. You try to keep stroking him, but your hand loses rhythm, your mind unable to focus on anything else.
“That’s my good girl, so needy for me…” he breathes against your lips, pulling back just enough to watch you fall apart beneath him. “I want you to look at me when you cum.”
Your brows draw together, your lips parting into broken gasps that turn into muffled, desperate moans as the orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clench tightly around his fingers, a wave of sensation flooding your body, your eyes locked on his even as they glaze over from the intensity.
Taehyun’s gaze darkens just from watching you lose control because of him.
And before you can even come down from it, he grabs your hips and lifts you over him, taking off your pajamas in the process.
Your hands land on his chest while he leans back, arms folding behind his head as he looks up at you, completely exposed above him.
A low, rough chuckle leaves his lips.
“What?” you shoot him a look, already knowing he’s teasing you.
He shakes his head slightly. “You have no idea what you look like from here.”
You tilt your head, frowning. “What do I look like?”
“Ruined,” he laughs when you lightly hit his chest, though you can’t help laughing too. “And beautiful.”
Your stomach flips when you hear him praise you, and you shift, guiding his cock to your entrance.
A soft moan leaves both of you as the tip pushes inside, his breath hitching at how tight you feel around him.
You bite your lip, rocking your hips back and forth, slowly taking more of him, trying to adjust to his size. Each movement hits just right, making a louder moan slip out of you before you can stop it.
“You feel so good,” he groans, voice rough, his back arching slightly as you start moving faster. “Yeah—yeah, just like that.”
The muscles in his arms tense as you begin to ride him properly, moving up and down like your body was made for it.
His eyes take in everything; your messy hair, the way your chest moves with each motion, every little reaction you give him.
“Do that,” you say, almost like you’re asking.
“Do what?”
“Talk to me… like before.”
He licks his lips when he understands, a faint smirk forming. You want praise.
“You want me to tell you how good you’re doing?” he murmurs, lifting his hips to meet your rhythm. You moan, louder this time. “The way you sound… you’re gonna make me cum any second.”
Your body moves faster against his, driven by his words, watching the way his jaw tightens as he tries to keep up with you.
“You’re taking me so well, such a good girl— ah, shit, just like that,” his voice cracks halfway through, struggling not to finish with every drop of your body on his cock.
Your eyes darken, not even realizing how every word coming out of his mouth is pulling something out of you you didn’t know you needed.
Taehyun thrusts his hips up again, breathing growing more uneven. “You’re riding me so well.”
You lean down to kiss him, not stopping the way your hips move over him, and you feel his hands start to roam all over your body, up and down your waist, fingers brushing along your back, sliding down to your ass to guide your movements.
You moan into the kiss. “You like that?”
“No. I love it.” His hips start snapping up harder into you, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the tent. Taehyun’s moans grow louder, less controlled.
“I’m so close—” he admits, opening his eyes to look at you, his body tensing as you keep bouncing on him.
“Cum inside me,” you beg, moaning loud enough that even the rain might not cover it. “Fill me up, please.”
Taehyun shuts his eyes, letting out a breathless laugh, because he knows exactly what you’re doing to him.
“You want me to fill you up, huh?”
With a sudden movement, you end up face down against the sleeping mat, Taehyun thrusting into you from behind. His hips slam into you hard enough that your g spot is hit over and over again.
“You like that, huh? You like driving me insane?”
“Yes, yes— Oh God, yes, Taehyun—!”
Your moans break into loud, needy whimpers.
“You want everyone to know what I’m doing to you?” he growls into your ear, pushing deep inside you.
One of his hands grabs your hair, pulling it back so your cheek presses into the pillow. “Say it. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fill me up,” you whimper, your walls tightening around him. “Cum inside, please, Taehyun.”
A rough groan leaves his throat against your ear as his body finally gives in, his release spilling inside you, hot and overwhelming just like you asked.
His hips keep moving slowly, dragging it out, stretching the feeling for both of you.
Your head drops against the pillow, completely spent, while he collapses beside you, breathing heavily, trying to come down from the intensity.
You turn your head to look at him, both of you still catching your breath. He smiles faintly, chest rising and falling.
title: let's ruin the friendship
pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader
genre: smut (mdni!), porn without plot (a tiny bit of plot), friends to lovers
word count: 6.4k
masterlist
summary: beomgyu ruins the friendship with four words. "you could kiss me."
author's note: i was working on something else (side eye) but had to take a break to get this out of my system. thanks for all ur love on the last one, I hope you enjoy this one just as much!! also, I cross-posted to ao3, so you can read it there if that's ur jam
tags/warnings: smut (mdni!), plot what plot, best friend choi beomgyu, soft dom choi beomgyu, vaginal sex, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (oops), submissive reader, dirty talk, smoking, beomgyu talks you through it, gratuitous use of "baby"
“You could kiss me,” Beomgyu said, leaning against the brick wall outside, cigarette dangling from his lips.
The words made your skin cold, goosebumps spreading in all directions.
“What?” you stuttered as he passed you the cigarette. You stared at his fingers, trying to keep your eyes from finding his. You couldn’t look at him. Your lips parted, but words didn’t come out. What were you supposed to say to that, anyway?
An immediate yes would be suspicious. And, well, you didn’t want to reject him.
He chuckled under his breath, that deep laugh you loved. The one that had kept you company for nearly ten years.
Maybe it was your fault for complaining about another night at the bar with nothing to show for it. No one had even looked in your direction. But you never would have guessed that this would be the result of said complaining. A proposition from someone who had only ever been explicitly your friend.
Something you’d wanted for longer than you could admit. Something you could never voice.
“Yeah,” he said, like it was nothing. “You could kiss me. If you wanted to.”
You took the cigarette from him, placing it between your lips in procrastination. You wouldn’t have to play into whatever weird hypothetical this was if you couldn’t speak.
“Beomgyu,” you said, after releasing the smoke from your mouth. You tried not to sound so serious, tried to pose the question like it didn’t matter, tried to maintain the same casual air that he did. “Do you want to kiss me?”
He shrugged, like it truly didn’t matter either way. Like it was some selfless offer to make you feel better. “Ten years of friendship, and we’ve never tried it.”
Your heart raced, picking up speed every time he looked at you. You were fine with being friends. Loved it, even. He was special to you. Important. It wasn’t a friendship you were in any rush to ruin with your feelings. Despite how often you’d thought about it.
But you were tipsy. Face warm from the bar, and a little sad too.
And he looked at you the way he looked at other girls—at people he wanted to take home. One eyebrow slightly raised in proposition, and a lazy grin on his face like the whole thing could be a joke if you said no.
You didn’t want to say no.
“We could,” you said, trying your very best to sound halfway uninterested. Trying not to make it seem like it was something you’d thought about for years.
It was a quiet crush that flared in the little moments. When he brought you coffee in the morning or carried you to bed when you inevitably fell asleep during movie nights. It was the way he was always there for you—through every breakup, every major life change. He never wavered.
And sure, maybe it was easy to fall for that.
“Yeah?” Beomgyu said. There was a hint of something to his voice. An excitement, almost. Maybe it was just shock at your agreement. It didn’t matter.
“Yeah,” you said, as he slipped the cigarette back between his lips. He took one final puff before dropping it to the ground and crushing it under his heel. He kicked off the wall, moving to stand in front of you. You looked up at him, watching.
Your heart hammered against your chest.
“Ready?” Beomgyu asked—arguably not the most romantic way to preface a kiss. But you had to remind yourself that this wasn’t for romance. It was one friend offering to give another something they hadn’t had in a while. If anything, it was purely platonic.
Nothing about Beomgyu was hesitant. He was always sure of himself, confident. He lifted a hand, tucking your hair behind your ear before settling his palm against your cheek.
You’d touched a thousand times. Half snuggled against one another on the couch, playfully shoving and fighting, holding hands to stay together in a crowd.
This felt immediately, jarringly different. His hand was warm on your face, and it stirred a heat in your chest you’d thought incapable of starting.
Your lips parted before he could move any closer. Another step in, and your bodies were nearly touching. You felt dead to the world, in your own bubble in the alley behind the bar. Even if someone were to walk by, you were certain you wouldn’t notice. It was all him. Totally encompassing.
He lifted another hand, brushing more hair out of your face, threading his fingers through it.
“Beomgyu,” you said, half-choked.
He was looking down at your lips, but his eyes flicked upward at your words, catching your glance. “Hm?” he asked.
You must have looked like a deer in headlights. Eyes wide, mouth open, a little bit confused. You wanted the car to hit you.
“You okay?” he asked when you didn’t respond.
You cleared your throat. “Yes,” you said. “Yes.” Saying it twice didn’t exactly make it seem true. “I just didn’t expect—“ you started, stumbling halfway.
His hand fell out of your hair, and the pads of his fingers dragged down the column of your neck, making you shiver.
“Is this not what you wanted?” he asked. “From those sleazy guys in the bar? Is this not what you were imagining in your head?”
His fingers skimmed your pulse point, and you wanted to jump out of your skin, but there was nowhere to go. Your back was lined with cold brick, and his chest almost touched yours.
“Tell me,” he said. “If it isn’t, I’ll do whatever you want. I just want it to feel real.”
Your heart—faster, faster, until it felt like it might burst out of your chest completely. Your face leaned against his palm, melting without permission. He traced your collarbone.
“No,” you said. “This is good.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, stolen by the cold wind, whipped away by whatever was going on between the two of you, new and electric and maybe pretend.
“What else did you imagine?” he asked, hand still warm on your face, holding it so you couldn’t look away. You wouldn’t have, anyway. His brown eyes were too captivating, too focused on you. There was nothing else worth looking at.
You took too long to answer.
“When you thought about some guy,” he started. And the way the words fall from his lips catches you off guard. Some guy. Was that—jealousy? “What was it like? How does he kiss you?”
All the words you wanted to say got caught in your throat.
“Come on,” Beomgyu said. “You complain about not being kissed every time we come out, I know you’ve thought about it.”
It was the way he said it.
I know you.
“I guess,” you started, reaching out to take his hand. “I guess it’s about the build-up.” You put his hand on the side of your rib cage, next to your breast. “All the little touches just before the kiss. The spark. The sidelong glances. It sounds cheesy,” you said, blushing. “To say it out loud.”
“It’s not,” he said. He dropped his palm from your face, flipping it to skate his knuckles along your jawline, down your neck. It landed mirrored to the other, on your rib cage, holding you in place. Both hands moved slowly in and down, just grazing the sides of your chest before sliding along the curve of your waist. He watched his hands move on your body—as you watched him.
His eyes flicked up to meet yours, something new gleaming within them.
Did he want this, too? Or was he just a better actor than you remembered? A better friend than you deserved?
His hands slipped around you, holding your lower back as he moved in, closing the remaining distance so only a hair’s breadth stood between your bodies. Your chest heaved with each breath, and there was no way he couldn’t tell.
“And when he kisses you?” Beomgyu asked, eyes glued to your lips. “What’s that like?” His voice was low, quiet. A tone you’d never heard from him before, enough to send the heat in your chest lower, enough to make you ache.
You didn’t want to follow his line of questioning, didn’t want to lay it out for him—just wanted him to kiss you. You didn’t want him to follow some playbook, no. You wanted to know how Choi Beomgyu kissed. What he would do with you, given the chance. What he wanted.
The question went unanswered, but he lowered his head anyway, the tip of his nose grazing against the bridge of yours. It stopped feeling like an experiment, like something he was doing for you.
When your eyes locked, it felt real.
The same thought must have occurred to him. You watched the subtle change in the way he looked at you, the fraction of want appearing behind his eyes. His hands moved up your back as he closed the last bit of distance, flattening against your shoulder blades in time with his lips just barely touching yours.
It was hesitant. Different from the buildup, from the general confidence and impatience of Beomgyu. You froze solid at first contact, and he took his time.
His hands tensed on your back. And your hands, hanging by your side for the last several minutes, shot up to touch him. When your hands landed on his biceps, he captured your lips fully, breaking that nervous dam. The kiss was soft, slow, still tentative as you worked to figure each other out.
It didn’t take long for the tension to break, for the gentle kisses to turn fervid, for your hands to wander along his arms, looking for a place to grab, for your mouths to move faster and harder. Every time you came apart—for only a second—you collided again without wasting any time. You pressed your body into him, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck. He returned the favor by pushing you into the wall, one hand coming up to hold your face while the other stayed low around your waist, holding you against him.
You weren’t sure how long you continued like that, kissing and touching, and not wanting to let go. When you came apart gasping, Beomgyu rested his forehead against yours.
“How was that?” he asked.
You nodded through ragged breaths. “More,” you said, because it was the only word that could come out of your mouth—not an answer to his question, but a plea.
He didn’t hesitate this time. His lips found yours again, like they were home. He broke apart seconds later, nudging your head to the side with his nose to kiss along the column of your neck. You arched your neck for him, giving him the access he needed—letting him do whatever he wanted to you.
He dragged his teeth along your neck, eliciting a gasp that only made him smile. His fingers held your hips, digging into the fabric of your jeans. You leaned your head against the bricks.
One hand dipped underneath your shirt, and the feeling of his fingertips against your bare skin sent a shiver down your spine.
He kissed along your collarbone, stopping at the edge of your shirt and returning to your lips as he gripped your bare waist with both hands. He had you fully pressed against the wall now, every inch of your back against brick and every inch of your front against him. You parted your lips, letting him slide his tongue into your mouth as he slid a leg between yours.
There were no conscious thoughts left in your head, only Beomgyu and all the ways he was touching you. Your hips rolled against his thigh, looking for any kind of friction to sedate the aching feeling between your legs. You could feel his smile against your lips.
He broke apart then, leaving you both panting. “Come home with me,” he said, breath hot on your lips.
Those four words were enough to crack open whatever this feeling was and drown you in it. “Okay,” you said, nodding, not willing to let yourself question whether or not this was something. Whether or not this was a part of whatever game he was playing or not.
He took your hand, interlacing your fingers. He kissed you one more time, pressing his lips to yours gently, before pulling away and tugging you toward the parking lot. Holding hands was normal. He opened the door to his car for you. That was also normal.
The way he looked at you from the driver’s seat—like he could have crossed the center console to kiss you over and over again—however, was not.
The drive was silent. All exchanged glances. You pressed your thighs together in an attempt to distract from the heat in your core, but there was nothing you could do about the fire burning in your chest, threatening to consume you entirely.
You didn’t want to think about it, whatever this was. You just wanted to enjoy it, lest it cease to exist. You tried to tell your brain this very reasonable information, but it didn’t listen. It could only repeat the same worries over and over again, attempting to convince you that whatever this was between you and Beomgyu, it wasn’t anything real. That tomorrow you would go back to wanting, to friendship. Like this never happened.
Worst-case scenario? He felt bad for you. He knew you weren’t getting any and wanted to throw you a bone. That had been what the kiss was for, right? A consolation prize?
Best-case scenario? Well, what was that exactly?
You were still thinking and rethinking and overthinking until the very second he turned the car off.
“Hey,” he said, voice gentle, soft. The Beomgyu you knew sliding back into place. The best friend. The one who cared about you. “You look like you’re thinking too much.”
“I’m not,” you said.
“Come on,” he laughed. “You know I can always tell when you’re lying.”
He slipped out of the car then, jogging around to the passenger side to open your door before you could. He extended a hand to you like a real-life prince—like, seriously, how were you supposed to avoid falling for him when he looked like that, acted like that?
You took his hand. He squeezed it.
Inside, he released your hand. You took off your shoes, hung up your jacket, and stood awkwardly by the front door as he did the same.
Then, you looked at each other, and everything reignited.
He crossed the distance, closing the space in seconds flat. His lips were on yours again before you could react. You threw your arms over his shoulders, holding him close, cherishing every moment you got to touch him, be with him, wondering when it would end. His lips dropped to your neck again, peppering gentle kisses downward.
“Wait,” you said, pressing your hand against his chest. He lifted his lips from your neck. “I can’t—” you muttered. “I want this to be real.”
Beomgyu’s eyes bored into yours, his features softening at the realization. “It’s always been real for me,” he said. He made the admission so easily. Without worry. Like he’d been thinking about it for just as long as you had. Like he had no fear. He kissed you, pulling away to whisper against your lips. “It’s real.”
“It’s real?” you said.
“Come on,” he said, in disbelief that you believed him nonchalant about the matter. “I wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”
It was news to you. “I—” you said. “Me too.”
You kissed him again, lips parting against his almost instantly, deepening the kiss, taking everything you both wanted and turning it up to eleven. His hands skimmed your sides, grabbed your hips, then moved again, unable to settle in any one location, wanting to touch all of you. Likewise, you ran your hands down his chest, along his arms, touching everything you could reach.
He made the first move toward something more, dropping one hand to the hem of your shirt and playing with it. You nodded an answer to a question he didn’t ask. He pulled away to look at you as he slowly removed your shirt, pulling it off over your head and tossing it onto the floor. He looked at you like you were carved from stone.
“God,” he said, mesmerized.
“Your turn,” you said, and he complied quickly, whipping his shirt off over his head. You’d seen him shirtless before. At the beach, the pool, the gym. It had been difficult not to stare then, and it was impossible now.
You trailed your fingers down his chest, his abs.
You moved back together like magnets, lips finding each other.
His fingers dragged up your back to the clasp of your bra. He made easy work of it, then slipped his fingers under the straps and pulled them down your arms, adding it to the pile of clothing on the floor, all without removing his lips from yours, without ceasing the passionate, hungry kisses, your tongues intertwining, heads tilted to deepen the kiss as much as possible, your hands in his hair to keep him from going anywhere.
One hand came up to cup your breast, thumb running over your nipple. You gasped into his mouth, and he pulled away to look at you, to watch the look of pleasure cross your face.
You arched your back, tossing your hair over your shoulders. His other hand clung to your lower back, holding you upright.
He continued pressing kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, down the center of your chest, before his lips closed on your nipple. Your eyes fluttered closed, your lips parted, soft gasps falling off them as he teased you.
He moved on, kissing down your stomach before dropping to his knees in front of you, looking up at you from the ground. You reached for his face, and he took your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm before leaning forward once more to press hot, wet kisses to your stomach. His fingers worked quickly to unbutton your jeans, sliding the zipper down as he looked up at you for confirmation that what he was doing was okay.
You nodded, lower lip between your teeth as you watched.
He pulled your jeans down, helped you out of them, then ran his palms along your hips, down the fronts of your thighs, and continued kissing your skin. First, the top of your hip, then the front of your thigh.
Heat pooled between your legs, aching and burning as he kissed, but you let him continue without begging for more.
He looked at you, almost entirely naked before him. Cogs turned behind his eyes, and you didn’t have the time to ask why before he was on his feet again, hands lifting you up by the ass. Your legs went around him instinctively. Like the two of you had done this hundreds of times.
He didn’t walk you into the bedroom, but rather the wall directly behind you, finding your lips again as he pressed you between him and the cool wall. His knuckles trailed from your collarbone down to the waistband of your underwear, then stalled.
“Beomgyu,” you said against his lips, when he didn’t immediately act on whatever it was he wanted to do.
He pulled away just enough to look at you. The want was written all over his face, his lids more hooded, his lips pink and swollen, his hair messy and falling over his face. You pushed it out of the way.
“Hm?” he said, running his finger along the band. He made no move to act any further. “Something you want, beautiful?”
Your mouth fell open at his words. Ten years of friendship, many years of wanting him, and here he was—teasing you. He must have known that you’d do anything he wanted.
He ran his thumb over your lower lip. “Come on, baby,” he said. “I’ve waited so long. Say it for me.”
Your head lolled back against the wall because it was so easy to melt at anything he had to say. Besides, this was your best friend, and saying anything like that out loud made your cheeks turn red. His other hand snaked around the back of your neck, pulling you back to meet his eyes.
“Please?” he asked, dipping his fingers just beneath the band.
You were hot, wet, aching. There were no other thoughts that existed in your mind, only those of him, of wanting him.
“Beomgyu,” you whined.
“You’re so pretty when you’re whining, you know that?” he said, running his thumb over your lip again, making you shudder.
He moved his hand from the waistband of your underwear, instead dropping it to your inner thigh. His eyes never moved from your face, watching you carefully as he lowered a few fingers to the apex of your thighs, touching you through your panties. He hummed in immediate delight.
“Fuck,” he said, as you squirmed underneath his touch, trying to get more. “You’re so wet.”
You groaned at his words, at the tenor of his voice, at the dripping need reflected in him. And still, he didn’t give you more, just rubbed your clit through the fabric. “More,” you said. “Please, more.”
“More what?” he asked, one brow raised.
“Beomgyu,” you said again, sharper this time. “You’re being—”
He pushed your underwear to the side and slipped one finger inside of you. Your sharp inhale broke your sentence in half. He leaned forward, his lips just above your ear. “How am I being, beautiful?” he asked.
He moved his finger slowly, relishing the way your lips parted, the way you looked at him through hooded eyes, the way you could hardly speak despite his minimal ministrations.
You shut your eyes, pressing them closed tight so you could focus on the words you wanted to say. “Difficult,” you murmured. “You’re being difficult.”
“Me?” he asked, in shock. “I think I’m being incredibly nice.” He added another finger, moving them faster, curling them, eliciting more gasps from you. He leaned forward, captured your lips, silencing the string of moans falling off them. He pulled away just a hair. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to hear my pretty baby tell me how badly she wants me.”
His thumb grazed your clit, causing everything to seize up.
“I’ll go first,” he whispered, moving his thumb in slow circles on your clit as he spoke, his fingers still moving at the same pace. “Fuck, I want you so badly,” he said, dropping his forehead to yours. “I’ve wanted you—god, for so long.”
“Really?” you whisper, in disbelief.
He chuckles under his breath, the sound only making you feel even crazier, making you want him even more. Even as everything tightens in your core, it’s not enough.
“That bathing suit you wore last summer—Jesus Christ—it was like you were trying to kill me,” he said.
You remembered the one. And yeah, maybe you had been trying to catch his attention. And you’d thought it a complete failure.
“Were you trying to kill me?” he asked, words breathy as he touches you.
“Maybe,” you said.
“And that dress at the Christmas party,” he said as he dropped his lips to your neck again. “I wanted you so bad that night.”
“You have me, now,” you said.
He hummed against your neck. “I like the sound of that.”
He added another finger, moving them faster, twisting and curling. Your head lolled backwards. “Beomgyu—oh my god,” you moaned. He kept the pace as you ground your hips against him.
“Tell me, baby,” he said, lifting his head to find your eyes, to kiss you again in between his words. “Tell me you want me, please. I want to hear you say it.”
“I–I want you,” you said, stumbling over the words as he curls his fingers again and again. Your body shuddered, tensing everywhere. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, back arching against the wall as you grind against his hand. Everything unraveled at once in release, and Beomgyu kept going through it, making your body shake as he watched.
He removed his fingers slowly, earning another satisfied groan from you. And you watched with wide eyes as he lifted them to his lips and put them in his mouth. He dragged them out with a satisfied, “Mm,” before hooking them under your chin.
“You want me?” he asked, eyes roaming across your face, unable to find something to settle on.
“I’ve always wanted you,” you said through ragged breaths.
His hands moved to your back as he pulled you away from the wall. With your legs wrapped around his waist, he carried you to the bedroom.
When he laid you down, it was careful, gentle. He stayed standing, looking at you. His hands went to the waistband of his pants, and he worked quickly to get them off. He pushed them down his legs, then kicked them to the side.
You stood up before he could move further. You put one hand against his chest and pushed him backwards. He took one step back, and you got to your knees, lifting your hands to the waistband of his briefs.
He watched in silence, his lips parted.
You pulled his briefs down, freeing his length. He stepped out of his underwear as you wrapped one hand around him, moving slowly from base to tip as you licked your lips.
Beomgyu sucked in a breath. “You’re so sexy,” he said.
The corner of your lips turned up in a smile just before you leaned forward and ran your tongue along the length of him, flattening it across the tip.
“God,” Beomgyu hissed as you took him into your mouth.
One hand cupped your cheek as you moved, the other came down to collect your hair, holding it away from your face in one hand. You looked up at him as you moved, and you could only think about how good he looked, about how good this all felt, about how if you blinked, it might just all disappear in a haze, like a dream.
But you did blink, and still he remained, looking gorgeous, watching you. It wasn’t long before he pulled away from you, before he was pulling you up by the chin, before his lips were crashing into yours again, before he was backing you up into the bed, laying you down before him. Before he stepped away to reach for the drawer next to his bed.
“No—” you said, rushed, without thinking. “I mean, we don’t have to—”
A slow smile crawled across his lips. He hooked his hands under your knees and pulled you to the edge of the bed. “Why’s that?” he asked, hand dropping to his dick, wrapping around it while he looked at you.
You sat up, reaching for him, pulling him closer. He situated himself between your legs. “I want to feel you,” you whispered meekly, almost inaudible. But he still caught it.
“Is that right?” he asked.
You caught your lower lip between your teeth and nodded. He ran a hand through his hair, letting strands fall back down around his face as he looked down at you, eyes trailing down your body and back up. He hooked his thumbs through the band of your panties and pulled them off.
He positioned himself at your entrance, his tip dragging along your folds. He breathed in sharp, his lids fluttering closed for a moment. You lay back, propping yourself up on your elbows, hands balled into fists, fingernails cutting into your palms.
Beomgyu pushed into you, moving slowly. You gasped an, “Oh,” as he inched forward.
“Is this what you wanted, baby?” Beomgyu said, the moment he was fully inside you. He pulled out just a fraction, then in again.
It was such a little movement, so why did your eyes feel like they were going to roll to the back of your head?
“Yes,” you whimpered, hands balling into the comforter atop his bed.
He didn’t speed up. He pulled out more each time, then slid back in at the same agonizingly slow pace, watching you as he did it. He held your thighs in the air, then collected your knees with one arm and pulled them to the side, holding your legs straight against his chest as he continued that same torturous pace.
“Beomgyu,” you whined.
He pulled out fully and slid back in slowly. You threw your head back, let your eyes flutter closed.
Beomgyu reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it. “Can you keep your eyes open for me, baby?” he asked. “I want to see you.”
Your eyes flicked back open as he slid into you once more. “Not if you’re going to keep doing that,” you said.
He did it again and dared to punctuate it with, “Doing what?” and a lazy smirk to match.
“You’re being mean,” you said, voice breathy, barely able to get the words out.
“Am I?” he said as he lowered your legs again, placing one on either side of him. He pulled out fully, smirking. “I’m so sorry,” he said, as he got to his knees, as he hooked your legs over his shoulder, as he pulled you even closer to the edge of the bed.
He lowered his mouth to your clit, running his tongue in circles around it before closing his mouth and sucking as you moaned. Your toes curled.
“You’re torturing me,” you managed to get out as he slipped a finger inside of you at the same annoyingly slow pace.
He lifted his mouth away from your swollen clit, the heat of your center, the aching fire that he kept stoking over and over again without giving you what you really wanted.
“What do you want then, baby?” he asked, standing up to lean over you. “I want to fuck you exactly how you like it.”
You grabbed his shoulder with one hand, the back of his neck with the other, pulling him down against you and capturing his lips in a searing, messy kiss.
He pulled away from you. “Scoot up,” he said, nodding toward the other side of the bed. You scooted backward, allowing him enough space to get on top of you, nestling between your thighs. He paused at your entrance, and you glared at him.
“You’re so cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” he asked.
Heat rose to your cheeks. “I’m not—” you started.
“Then tell me what you want,” he said.
“I want—” you said. “I want—”
But no matter how many times you said it, there still wasn’t an end to the sentence.
He leaned down so his lips were closer to your ear. “I could keep fucking you nice and slow—but I have a feeling you want more than that,” he said. “If you want me to fuck you until there are tears running down your face, all you have to do is ask.”
You turned away from him in an attempt to hide your face, the redness of your cheeks.
“I’ve known you for ten years, beautiful, don’t pretend you’re shy now.” One hand touched your face, pulled you back, made you look at him. “What do you want?”
You groaned, your eyes fluttered closed as your hips moved in frustration, in lack of anything.
“Come on,” he whispered. “You can do it. Use your words.” He ran his thumb along your lip, dragging it down.
“I want you,” you said.
“Well, we’ve established that,” he teased.
“I want you to—” you started, hesitating, trying to figure out how to say the words you wanted to say. “I don’t want you to hold back because it’s me. I want you to fuck me how you want to.”
“See, baby,” he said. “Was that so hard?” He ran the back of his finger down your cheek.
His hands moved from your face and dropped between his legs, moving along his cock for a few strokes before he aligned himself with your entrance. He pushed forward, starting slow, establishing that same rhythm that made your head loll back. But he was closer this time, hovering over you. You grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into skin, anchoring yourself as you move your hips against him.
He let out a low groan, and you can’t help it—you pull him down, lips crashing into his. The kiss was messy, hot, both of you moving hungrily, tongues sliding against one another, moans escaping into mouths.
He picked up the pace, sliding in and out of you faster, harder. You arched your back to get a better angle, dropped your hands to ball them into the fabric beneath you.
Your eyes fluttered closed.
“Eyes open,” he was quick to remind you.
When you opened them, he was looking at you, same lazy smirk you’ve known your entire life, just more dangerous now, sexy. You weren’t sure what was going to happen after this, but neither could you find it in you to care as he slammed into you over and over again, harder each time, shaking the bed.
“Oh,” you moaned. “My god.”
He grabbed your legs again, holding them at a ninety-degree angle with one hand, by the ankles.
It only served to deepen the ankle, to make your eyes roll back even more, your fists tighten in the blanket.
“Beomgyu,” you said. “Oh my god.”
“Tell me again, baby,” he said, panting. “How much you want me. Please.”
It was a fight to get the words out as he drove into you over and over again. He didn’t slow down to let you speak, to let you get your thoughts straight.
“I want you so bad,” you breathed. “So bad. Don’t stop.”
He grinned. Proud of what he had.
Your toes curled, and your back arched, and everything tightened. You clamped down tight around him, but he didn’t slow—fucking you through the orgasm as you came. He slowed his pace some afterward, lowering your legs once more.
“Let me know if you need a break, okay, beautiful?” he said.
You nodded.
He pulled out and lowered himself to kiss you, soft and sweet, despite the thin layer of sweat on both of you, despite everything that had happened thus far. He moved off of you.
“You wanna get on your knees for me, baby?” he asked.
You nodded, situating yourself on your knees as he moved behind you. You leaned forward, pressing your palms into the mattress.
He wasted no time. He knelt behind you and ran his hands down your back in appreciation. He positioned himself at your entrance and slid in fully in one quick motion, leaving you gasping for air.
“God,” you hissed. “Oh my god.”
“Does that feel good, baby?” Beomgyu asked. He thrust fast and hard, keeping up a pace that made your hands shake.
You could only moan in response.
He leaned forward to place a hand over yours. “Can I have this?” he asked. You nodded, and he took your hand, pulling it behind your back. He slipped his free hand over the other one and took that too, pinning them behind your back so your shoulders were pinned to the mattress, your face turned to the side. You could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re so good, you know that?”
Your breathing is jagged, your body tensing again, tears pricking in your eyes.
“Beomgyu,” you said. “I—”
“Not yet,” he said. “Not yet, I want to look at you when you come.”
Your whole body twitched because you couldn’t stop it from happening, not with him behind you, slamming into you over and over again. “Beomgyu,” you whine again, because you need it.
He pulled out fast, releasing your hands and flipping you over by the hips in a smooth motion before thrusting into you once more.
“Oh, look at you,” he said, wiping some of the tears off your cheeks as he moved inside of you at that same slow pace once more. “Did I make you cry?” he asked, mocking innocence.
You dug your fingers into his shoulders in response, and he hissed in pain and enjoyment. He worked his way back up to the same speed, eliciting more moans, more tears. He captured your lips, snaking his arms under your waist to hold you against him as he kissed you.
“God,” you started, “I’m going to—” you cried against his lips.
He quickened his pace, grabbing onto the headboard above you as he slammed into you over and over again. Tears slipped down your cheeks as your back arched and came for a third time that night. He kept going until the very end before pulling out, spilling across your stomach with a groan and a few ragged breaths before he collapsed at your side.
The apartment went quiet.
Only the sounds of your breathing recovering echoed within those walls. Beomgyu got up eventually. Cleaned you off. When he returned to bed, it was to slip in next to you, to pull your body flush against his, to press kisses into your hair.
“So,” he said, holding you tight, your face nestled into the crook of his neck. “That was fun.”
You nodded, too tired and drained to say anything else. He smiled into your hair. “Sorry, I kind of wrecked you, huh?”
You twisted in his arms so you could find his eyes. “Maybe a little,” you laughed under your breath.
A sudden clarity passed over his features. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” you said.
“I was serious,” Beomgyu said. “About wanting you, I always have. That wasn’t a lie.”
A smile broke out across your face. “Beomgyu, I’ve had a crush on you for like five years. I thought I was the idiot.”
“Turns out we’re both idiots,” he said.
“Yeah, who could have seen that coming?” you joked.
I’ll Keep You My Dirty Little Secret . . . Choi Beomgyu was hopelessly, totally in love with you. The issue? You hated his guts. You made it a point to humiliate him any time he so much as looked in your direction. But Beomgyu was no quitter, when he wanted something, he didn’t stop until he got it—even if it did take three whole years.
pairing, loser!beomgyu x popular!f!reader
tags, rodrick x regina inspired, uni au, non idol (ish) au, beomgyu is in a band, mean reader, mean beomgyu, head over heels beomgyu, yuna & karina mention, emotional slow burn, reader is deep in denial... sort of unresolved feelings at the end
✎ Author's Note, an increase of rodrina edits on my fyp is the cause of this... thinking about a part 2? Lowkey not proofread. Mentions of a lip ring but i kind of forgot about it i am so sorry
Choi Beomgyu could still remember the first time he ever asked you out.
Freshman year, it was a Wednesday. After class he practically cornered you at the end of a hallway, confident as always. He could still remember how sweaty his palms were, how fast his heart was thumping. He’d never let himself show it. He held his head high, voice smoothed over you. He was so sure you’d give him a chance. He’d always been so delusional.
Even when you laughed in his face; his mouth just shut into a thin smirk, charcoal lined eyes narrowed to watch you. Your thin fingers went to swipe your bangs away from your face, like you needed a better look at him to determine whether you thought he was truly serious. Your malicious brows teased him as they rose. He took a quick glance at your glittery lip gloss and swallowed hard.
“You’re kidding—your head tilted, confused—right?” your tone lingered inches from disgust.
“Oh baby, you know I’d never lie to you,” He leaned coolly against the wall. He tried to stand tall, the way your big eyes fluttered at him made his shoulders drop only slightly. But you were like a viper the way you pounced on him at—what he argued was—his only sign of weakness.
“You’re funny,” hot-pink acrylics went to swipe his chest, almost like you were dusting something off of his shirt. “Let’s be realistic here, okay? This isn’t one of your little wet dreams,” but he was watching you so intently, and your tone was sweet enough to nearly convince him you’d accepted. He couldn’t believe it.
In a sharp moment of pure shock, he took a grounding step back. Or maybe you pushed him away, your hand delicately suspended in the air, big glimmering bracelets clanking as they rolled up your wrist.
He turned and watched you walk away—he wanted to memorize the pleats of your mini skirt, the way the baby pink of it complemented the hue of your skin.
You had definitely pushed him.
Everybody could still remember the second time Choi Beomgyu asked you out.
Only two weeks later.
It happened in a coffee shop, the coffee shop he worked at. You had become a regular, he had your drink memorized. He wrote his number on every inch of the cup, personally walking it over to you.
The shop was on campus and naturally full at every time of day. They all watched the boy as he walked with a pip in his step up to the doors of death. You were only a freshman, but your university was small and word got around. Especially about someone as cruel as you, they had all learned to admire your brashness. It probably had something to do with how pretty you were. And they knew you well, they knew you wouldn’t like Choi Beomgyu within four feet of you. It only took one look at him—one look at you to spot the difference.
With the way your perfectly crossed legs started bouncing impatiently underneath the table everybody could tell that you were fuming.
You didn’t even have to look at the cup to know his intentions.
Your eyes scanned the boy from his scribbled-on converse to the top of his messy head of bright red hair. You scowled and took the drink from him but held it like the plastic was diseased. You stood up, your posse following your lead and you poured the entirety of it over that thick head of hair.
“Oops,” Your sharp eyes met his dazed ones, little drops of coffee hanging off the edge of his long lashes. He didn’t even twitch at the clank of the cup as you tossed it onto the floor.
His heart hammered while the world watched. He slightly cringed at the wet cling of his uniform shirt to his chest, but still, he stood. At least the coffee was iced, he thought.
The pattern lived on for another two years. Two entire years of rejection, but who’s counting? He’d certainly lost count of how many times he’d asked. He would still say not enough.
Beomgyu would argue that now was the perfect time to capture your heart—everything blooms in the spring time. Just the other day he passed by a field of blooming wildflowers, an ocean of yellow-gold, pink and violet. They were beautiful, so he picked some of the rosey ones for you. It didn’t matter that you wouldn’t take them, they reminded him of you. He kept them on his nightstand to remember you by.
Because you didn’t know it—he was sure, but this would be his last springtime with you. He had never cursed his intellect until the moment he realized he would be graduating without you. He would be leaving you prematurely. There were only six more weeks left of his junior year, and then he would never see you again.
He remembered waking up every day since he’d picked those flowers with a knot in his throat. He couldn’t have that, he refused. He earnestly believed these final weeks would give him the power, the strength, to finally convince you to go out with him. If not out of love, then maybe out of pity. Maybe a little goodbye kiss as you parted ways.
He hoped to god that your memory of him would not dry up and wither just like the flowers beside his bed.
There was also the fact that he knew he was close to getting you to crack, he could tell. He was so sure. There were tell-tale signs that your cold heart was giving in.
Like the fact that sometimes when he would admire you, he would catch your little glances. Sometimes you didn’t even look away immediately. His record stood at about two full seconds of eye contact before you rolled your eyes and forcefully jerked your head away.
Sometimes, you would even speak to him. Faintly, quickly, looking around to make sure nobody would see when you asked him for homework answers. Sometimes he was in your way and you demanded him to move. Other times, he was simply a source of your rejection. But he’d take any attention you gave him, so it didn’t even hurt as long as you were talking to him.
But the most obvious sign, and the most conflicting, that you were deeply in love with him was the fact that he’d caught you at his band’s shows, not once, not twice, but several times. It was the only one he didn’t have an explanation for. Maybe his band was popular, but he knew in his gut (he didn’t, really, he was guessing) that you were going because of him.
He remembers the first time he saw you at one. Even blinded by the spotlight he could always find you in a crowd. The face he thought about before he slept and the second he woke up—of course he had every inch of it memorized. You were with your friends, and though it was voluntary he could tell you all were miserable. Up on stage he almost lost his pace on the bass as his heart skipped a beat, you caught his eye and he shot you a little smile. But it was one of those moments where you pretended you couldn’t see him.
You always looked upset, but maybe that was just your neutral expression: a scowl. He didn’t mind it all that much, you were cute no matter what your face scrunched up into.
Tonight was another one of those nights, but you were being so obvious. You even beat the two second record, by a landslide. It felt like you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, and he wasn’t even imagining it this time.
He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you under the purple neon lights of the after party. Your friends trailing behind you—you had always been a leader.
“Pinch me,” He told Yeonjun, who stood next to him over the kitchen island, cracking open a beer. “Yeonjun, pinch me.”
Yeonjun rolled his eyes when he noticed where Beomgyu was looking, then smacked the boy across the back of his head.
“Fuck!” Beomgyu rubbed his head, it was throbbing slightly, “I said pinch me not murder me.” He smacked Yeonjun’s hand as it reached for the beer he’d just opened. Then Beomgyu picked it up and began to chug. He’d need it.
Yeonjun gave him a light smack to the stomach. Beomgyu sputtered at the force, a trickle of beer dripped down his chin. “You look pretty alive to me.”
If he wasn’t so ecstatic he would have glared at Yeonjun, maybe even smacked him too. But his eyes didn’t seem to want to listen, they stayed planted on you and your pretty face.
“I may not be after what I’m about to do,” Beomgyu finished off the last of Yeonjun’s beer, “Give me another one,” he motioned to Yeonjun.
“I’m not your damn maid,” He scoffed but still handed a fresh one to Beomgyu, even going as far as opening it for him.
“Okay,” Beomgyu nodded his head, “I’m going in.”
“Oh god,” Yuna said from your left, her arm secure around yours, “He’s coming over here.”
Karina rolled her eyes from your right, “What a loser,” as the three of you turned your heads toward Beomgyu.
His cheeks were spread into a wide grin, smudged eyeliner glittered under the blinding colorful lights. His outfit—a thin wife beater and some baggy ripped jeans made your face twist up again. He looked sweaty and gross, strands of hair stuck to his face.
The three of you watched the boy walk over, doing your best to make your frowns loud and invincible.
From a distance you could hear him speak faintly, “Fancy seeing you here,” but it was almost inaudible with the music blaring from the speakers. His tone was embarrassing and it made you cringe despite expecting it.
You scoffed, letting go of Yuna and Karina’s arms just to cross them over your chest. You could see him ogling you, too. His eyes momentarily dropped to your chest.
He stood directly in front of you, “Ladies?” He looked over at Yuna and Karina, you didn’t let your glare fall off of his figure. Beomgyu nudged his head as though he were asking for a little privacy with you.
But they shook their heads and stood their ground. He gritted his teeth, “Such lovely friends you have, my love,” under his breath. Your grip on your arms tightened at the petname.
“What do you want, Beomgyu?” You said unamused. He loved it when you said his name.
He was caught up in it for a moment, letting the loud silence of the background speak before he did. His eyes scanned your face, from your delicate hair-do to your glossy lips.
And then he shook his head like he was urging himself to remember where he was—who he was in front of.
“I brought you a beer,” As he extended his arm, you noticed the sweaty sheen of his skin, “Your hand looked awfully lonely from over there.”
Your eyes dropped to the drink, to the silver metallic rings on his fingers, “I don’t take drinks from strangers, thanks.” You shook your head, you began to tap your foot on the sticky floor as you ripped your eyes away from him.
“Strangers?” He pouted all dramatically, big eyes sparkling, “Oh baby, that can’t be what you’re calling this,” he motioned between the two of you with a finger.
Your head snapped back at him, eyes rolling, “Jesus…” You muttered, “Are you really going to do this now?”
“Do what?” a little smirk played on his lips.
“Stop wasting my time,” you spat, “Whatever you’re going to ask, just get it over with.”
He gasped, your friends slightly jumped at it, “Are you saying what I think you are?” A dramatic hand to his chest.
Your eyes narrowed, “Tell me, what is it that I’m saying?”
Beomgyu took a step forward, you were almost toe to toe, converse to prada. He swallowed hard at the sight of you looking up at him through thick, fluttering lashes.
“Isn’t it obvious?” He tilted downwards until you were face to face, and you flinched when he lightly gripped your chin, “You’re waiting for me to ask you out, aren’t you?”
Your skin tingled where he held you. A deep frown set up on your face, he’d never touched you before. But the frown wasn’t wholly for him, more so for the fact that you didn’t immediately tug yourself away.
You tilted your head to better look at him, “You’re ridiculous.”
This eye contact was viscous, sharp and snake-like.
“Oh, am I?” a low chuckle, it almost made you shiver. You could smell his breath, the beer on it. “Tell me, sweet thing, how many of my shows have you been to now?” You scoffed, “Was it three, or four? Maybe even five?”
His thick voice rang in your ears, his truth was malicious and humiliating all the same.
You were finally able to shake his grip, delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist and tugged.
You rose a brow, “You’re a cocky one, aren’t you?”
His eyes jumped to where you held him, then back to you.
The silver metallic of his lip ring glimmered at you, like it was making fun too, “I’d say I’m allowed.”
Your laughter was absent of joy, “Really? Were you hiding your crowds of screaming fans tonight, then?” you clicked your tongue, stood a little taller in your silver kitten heels. “I didn’t see many of them out there.” You mock pouted and his knees almost buckled.
He exhaled through his nose while he bit his lip. It was like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. They were lies and you knew it, too.
“Oh yeah,” He nodded a little, a genuine smile overtook him, “I couldn’t make my girl jealous.”
You scoffed again and let your eyes fall over him. You dropped his wrist where you were still holding it, and he let it fall to his side because he knew he was winning.
But you took that same hand of yours and gripped his face in your fingers, your long nails poking into his cheeks. And his face was all distorted now, lips squished hard enough to hinder his ability to speak. You liked him better when he was silent, if at all.
And Beomgyu could feel his stomach churning, his chest held his last breath. He felt like you’d take your hands off of him if he moved at all. So he didn’t.
“You’re pathetic.”
He had to fight away a whine that he could feel inching its way up his throat. And you watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed it hard. It deepened your scowl. The only thing that stopped you from downright spitting in his face was the fear that the sick freak would like it.
And Beomgyu thought you were so cute when you were pissed off. You almost stomped your foot on the ground like you were about to throw a tantrum. It made his heart flutter all erratically.
You looked at him; at that starry look in his eyes, the pink on his scrunched up cheeks, and practically threw his face away from yours.
Your fingers touched as you ripped the beer out of his hand and took a long swig. With your free hand, you motioned in another direction. Your friends followed as you began to walk away, shooting him glares and scowls.
But you never looked back, you let him watch.
God, Beomgyu knew he was delusional, he knew it. He couldn’t trust his mind, especially now, because he was sure your hips were swaying a little more than usual, he was sure your skirt had ridden up a little higher than before. He could almost see the bottom of your ass.
And his heart thumped and thumped, he just stood there with his mouth open and nearly drooling. He needed you bad.
Beomgyu had been too entranced to notice the friend at his side, “She say yes yet?” Yeonjun nudged his ribs.
But Beomgyu didn’t even flinch, “Almost.”
Though it was only the end of April, you could feel the edge of summertime with your fingertips. You could taste it with every inhale of warm salty air. It had been especially hot this week, enough to make your skin tacky and your head all foggy. Though it was only a Tuesday and you had classes to attend, you and your girls had determined that a beach day was in demand. You argued that even if you went to school, your time there would be worthless because you ‘couldn’t possibly think in this heat’.
So to the beach you went, all three of you.
And the moment your feet dug themselves into the soft warm sand, you knew you had made the right decision. The sound of waves nearly rocked you to sleep as you lay on your back under the sun; the heat enveloped you like a blanket.
Yuna sat on her towel beside you with a slice of cold watermelon in her hand, the juice was dripping down her wrist. It made you grimace.
“You’re so gross,” you lowered your sunglasses so she would see the pointed look in your eye.
Yuna’s shoulders sank only slightly, almost unnoticeable to the untrained eye. But you had known her long enough. You rolled your eyes.
“Whatever,” she spoke far too late, “I’m going swimming,” She set the fruit on her sandy towel and you stared at it like you would a spider on the wall, “Karina?”
Karina shifted in her seat, looking in between the two of you. You could see a bead of sweat drip down her brow, “Go,” you said, nudging your head in the direction of the salty ocean.
But she denied you, “No, the sun feels nice,” she sunk further into the sand and turned to look at Yuna, “I’ll meet you in a bit.”
The girls nodded at each other, but you looked away from them. Something else had caught your eye.
In the distance, a group of five boys was setting up a little area in the sand. Laying out their long beach towels and lawn chairs. One of them, the short one, was struggling to dig an umbrella into the ground. Others were struggling to get their food out of the sand. And the bane of your existence, you could tell even when he faced away from you, was pulling sand castle building tools out of his bag.
“Adult men bringing toys to the beach,” you scoffed, “This is hell.”
Karina laughed from beside you as she too lowered her sunglasses and looked in their direction.
It was clear as day that this group of boys was the one you always tried your best to avoid. You could tell by all of their funky hair colors, funky hair styles. By the way they shouted and laughed like nobody could hear them. It was starting to give you a headache; their disregard for public etiquette.
“I think you’ve got a stalker,” She said, her voice playful as she looked at you. You could tell she was trying for a reaction.
She was always trying, but you had a wicked poker face. Even then, you looked back at the group and like clock work, there he was. Tall and mighty and staring right at you. Shirtless. Sweaty, glistening. A little easy on the eyes, maybe, but you didn’t let it show.
Your stomach felt a little bit strange in that moment. It was hot, in that burning, eager way. So you turned onto your front and let the sun hit your back, so sure the heat was the cause.
“I think I’ve had a stalker,” You stared at her, face unphased, “He follows me wherever I go.”
Karina raised a brow, flipping onto her front, too. She was always following your lead, “You’re telling me you don’t like it?” She put her chin in her palm and started to fake ogle. You knew it was a ruse, she was as disgusted by the group as you were. She let her sunglasses hang on her nose so you could see exactly what she was looking at.
Beomgyu shifted to sitting on a beach chair laughing with the other boys. It wasn’t just a little chuckle, no, it was that boisterous, hear-it-from-a-mile-away type of laugh that you could always recognize him for. It was annoying. He was annoying you. The way he was sitting there, legs wide open. Shirt off.
“Not one bit,” You turned down your brows. You were so annoyed.
“Really?” She pushed, you could tell she was pushing. She was such a bitch. “I mean—she tilted her head and smiled like he could see her, like he was looking at her—he is kind of hot. Don’t you think so?”
You fake gagged, “I think,” you dramatically turned to look at her, “I’m going to vomit if you keep speaking.”
She was always the person to ceaselessly remind you that you had caught some loser’s affection. Yuna was as grossed out as you were by his constant attention, Karina thought it was funny.
Because Beomgyu was so not your type in a way that she knew humiliated you. It's like when an old guy asks for your number in public and you feel ugly at the thought that he really believed he’d have a chance. It reflected badly on you, that’s why she loved it.
Karina giggled, “I mean, take away the loser traits. Closed mouth, nice clothes, a haircut. Imagine it. He’d be so hot.”
You shook your head at the thought, disgusted, “You’re such a bitch.”
She laughed again and licked her lips, “At least you’re almost rid of him.”
You sat up slightly, letting your elbows carry your weight, “What are you talking about?”
Her mouth dropped into a little ‘oh’ of surprise, “Oh, you don’t know?” She had you now, she could tell.
“Know what?” You didn’t like how she knew something you didn’t. You hated being left in the dark. And you knew she had done it on purpose.
Yuna and Karina were your friends, but it took a certain type of girl to be friends with you. The only time they wouldn’t tell you about some juicy sort of gossip was when they knew it could be used against you. You weren’t sure what her goal was yet. Yuna’s was usually revenge. But Karina had always been in it for the love of the game. She used everyone for her own entertainment. She was almost as cynical as you were.
“He’s graduating this year,” She nodded matter-of-factly. “Apparently he even got this big job in the city, I heard he starts as soon as school’s over.”
Her eyes kept on your face. She was waiting for something. But you were never one to please.
You looked at him now, laughing with his friends. Making memories he’d only be able to keep in the pocket of his big boy pants wherever he was going to work.
“I didn’t know.” You snapped out of it quickly. You shrugged. You let that disinterested look seep into your face but you felt your heart race like you’d just made a mistake.
Karina beamed, her smile singed your skin like it was coming from the sun itself, “So…” she nudged your arm, you flinched.
“So, what?” you snapped, you were back to your usual tone.
“How are you feeling?” Her sing-songy voice made you dizzy as it danced around the air. Jesus. She was annoying.
“About what?”
She rolled her eyes, “So, you’re not like…super depressed or something?”
“About what?” Your tone sharpened. Your face twisted in disgust, she knew you well. The fact that she thought this would phase you at all made you feel slightly disappointed. Slightly disgusted, in yourself. Like the old man and the phone number.
But she didn’t respond and that honestly made you feel worse. Instead, she smirked. She was a vicious little bitch and you couldn’t believe she was getting to you. You straightened your brows to hide your embarrassment.
You let your eyes close behind the sunglasses, dipped your head into your arms and laid down flat. Without her instigation, the setting felt nice. Her presence drifted, a faint I’m going swimming now, that you might have imagined. And then silence.
Your peace lasted no longer than a few minutes.
“Funny seeing you here,” and you’d recognize that voice anywhere. You didn’t even have to lift your head.
You didn’t like the way your breath caught from being startled like that, “Leave me alone,” you said. It was muffled and inaudible, just lips against the tacky skin of your wrist.
You felt his looming presence even with your eyes shut, “What was that, gorgeous?” You lifted your head, squinting as your eyes adjusted to the light, “I couldn’t really hear you, mind saying it again?”
He was standing at the end of your towel, hands on his hips. You didn’t like having to tilt your neck so much to look up at him. The rays of sunlight shone against his head of messy black hair like a halo. It shaded in every crevice of his toned figure and you didn’t like it one bit.
You frowned, “You’re blocking my sun, loser.”
He grinned, a single dimple popped out of his cheek, “Aw, maybe I’m just looking out for your health, sweet thing.” He pouted.
You began to sit up on your elbows at the same time that he sat on the sand in front of you. Criss cross. Like a child. Your lips turned further downward, eyes narrowed at his face that blocked your view of anything else.
You saw his eyes drop to your chest for a millisecond, his fingers went to play with the initial on your necklace before you smacked his hand away.
“You’re cute when you’re angry,” soft fingers went to pinch your hot cheeks. Hot from the sun. You couldn’t admit that the cool of his rings felt sort of nice.
You pulled yourself from his grasp immediately, “Who gave you that permission?” You stared at his hands like they were covered with dirt.
He had the nerve to giggle. Like a school girl, eyes sparkling and all.
“I just felt it in your loving gaze,” His grin returned close mouthed.
“You’re delusional,” Your fingers played with the sand, picking some of it up and letting it run through, “And a stalker.”
He tilted his head and lightly raised a brow. He was expecting worse, more gutting, specific, quips. The ones he loved you for. Your voice was still sharp, but it was quiet.
And he didn’t hate it either, but he didn’t like that it made his breath hitch. He hated getting nervous in front of you. You could always tell, like some sort of humiliation bloodhound.
It took him a second too long to respond, his voice not entirely sure, “Trust me, babe, if I knew you’d be here,” He looked down at the sand, too, “I’d have worn my speedo.”
You groaned and made a face at him. He winked.
“You’re so gross.” You almost laughed. You almost smiled. And then your stomach lurched.
There was something wrong with you. You were sick. That had to be it.
Some sort of virus that makes you engage in socially suicidal situations. Or that makes you speak when you don’t want to. A virus that makes you say only things you would absolutely never say, like: “Okay, health nut. Put sunscreen on my back.”
And his eyes widened. Jaw dropped. Cheeks painfully flushed. If he was fighting nerves before he had surrendered entirely now.
And then your brain caught up to your subconscious and you understood. You were calling his bluff.
You had always been convinced that Beomgyu was only in it for the love of the game; the back and forth; the chase. He never actually wanted to have you, he just liked that he could keep trying. Like Karina, it was entertainment for him. Not to mention a status boost.
Because you had sort of made him—you were the only reason people knew his name.
And it was your fault, too, for entertaining it.
You had the power to ruin him if you wanted to, you knew you could. You could be as firm with him as you liked, and you were always sure it would be a massive disappointment to say yes to him.
Now was the time to find out, because he was leaving soon and if he was determined to bother you, maybe you could get something fun out of it too. After three years, you finally engaged. Game. Set. Match.
You quirked a brow and let your lips fall into a venomous little smile.
“Wuh-What?” He breathed it out through an exasperated laugh. He couldn’t believe you.
“What? You don’t want to?” You shrugged. Your tone was mocking and ill-natured but his ears had learned to tune that bit out.
You almost laughed at how quickly he shook his head, hair bouncing against his cheeks and forehead, “No–No. I’ll do it. Where’s the sunscreen?” He began to look around your set up, already scrambling to his feet.
You laid back down, this time resting your chin against your arms instead of buried within them, “In my beach bag. It’s the big pi—”
“—Pink, glittery one. Got it.” He spoke quickly and eagerly.
You rolled your eyes. The sand beside your abdomen dipped when he went to sit, the fabric of his swim trunks grazed your ribcage.
He was breathing shallow, like he didn’t want to make too much noise. You felt his hands hover over you, seconds away from slipping along your spine. Then he realized he wasn’t exactly sure what to do, he’d never been in this situation before.
And he could feel his cheeks blazing, he didn’t want to but he had to swallow his pride and ask, “What do I do?”
Your laugh made him twitch, he watched your body shake in your delightful entertainment. He really was such a loser.
“Well, untie the strings of my top,” it was condescending, like he was stupid. In this moment, he truly felt he was.
His eyes jumped to the back of your head in disbelief. He was a kid in a candy store and the clerk had just told him everything was free, “Ar-are you sure?” His voice cracked.
Your head turned to look at him over your shoulder, annoyed. Beomgyu swallowed hard. You watched his throat constrict as it happened. And you kept your eyes on him, noticed how he looked shinier than before, pinker than before.
You clicked your tongue, “Are you always this awful at following directions?”
He silently shook his head, his mouth was still parted. And you’d never seen him without the cocky demeanor, it felt unlike him.
His hands were still in place, “Are you going to do it or not?” you snapped.
He let out a final breath, closed his eyes and nodded his head. He was confused as hell, slightly turned on. But most of all he was afraid. You were finally giving him something, he couldn’t fuck it up.
His hands shook as he went to untie your top. For once it was like he was trying not to touch you. You could feel the strings lifted and moving. You could feel every time he paused, or every time a fingernail almost touched you. You could feel the hovering. The hesitation. The pace that was both agonizing and burning.
He managed to untie both straps without grazing your skin at all. Neither of you said a thing.
It was just waves and seagulls and the faint noise of distant laughter from both of your friends. Then a little squirt of sunscreen onto what you assumed was his fingertips. You let your face turn and sank your cheek into the back of your hand.
You expected this to feel relaxing, you were finally getting some use out of the boy, at least. But the anticipation felt killer. Like your birthday did as a kid; slowly inching closer but never close enough.
You shook your head in your hands at the thought.
The anticipation chewed you up, your body was rigid and uncomfortable until the moment he began. Then it relaxed, your shoulders sank into your beach towel.
You expected the cream to be cold, fresh out of the bottle like it always was. But you could tell he’d warmed it up in his hands before sinking it into your skin. You bit the inside of your cheek.
He started with your shoulders, letting his thumbs linger over the base of your neck as his palms and fingers did the work. His movements were slow and unsteady, you could sense his own hesitation at how far to take it.
He applied some pressure to your shoulder blades, sinking his skin into yours until the area absorbed all of the cream. It was glistening and smooth but he kept pacing his fingers back and forth like he didn’t want to let go.
He had always dreamt of moments like this, usually in the dreams, he was naked too. You win some, you lose some, right?
He looked up for a moment while he rubbed some fresh sunscreen in between his palms. He looked at his friends—who all were staring right back at him. He let a big smile settle, they did too. He could see little raised eyebrows and distant thumbs-ups.
He went back in, this time towards your lower back. He knew what to do now, he grazed the line of your spine, the dimples on your back. His movements were more confident. Less strain, resistance, to them. His hands were at your sides, and he imagined what something like this would feel like in private.
If there was one thing he knew about you it was that you always had an ulterior motive. But whatever it was now, he didn’t care. Not even if it was at his expense.
You tried hard to act normal, but you were afraid he could sense the fact that your breathing was a bit too steady—too calculated.
His index finger traced your spine before he flattened his palm against your lower back. His fingertips were teasing the edge of your swimsuit bottoms.
“Stop feeling me up,” You looked over your shoulder once more.
He smirked at you, “Would you tell a fish to stop swimming? Shakespeare to stop writing?”
You sighed. He let his hands roam again. They traced your skin so softly. It tickled, you couldn’t shiver, you couldn’t laugh. So you held your breath.
While his palms pushed against your ribs. While his big hands enveloped you inside them. While his fingertips began to move outward. They traced little shapes into your soft skin. He let them move to your sides, nearly grazing your breasts.
But he stopped. He just let them stay there, he squeezed harder.
“You can breathe, you know?” You could hear the smirk on his voice.
You frowned into your own skin, “Fuck you,” You shook your head.
“I can,” He squeezed again, “If that’s what you really want.”
You turned to look at him for a third time, disbelief written so plainly on your pretty face.
He lowered his gaze, his voice. He let his eyes fall onto your lips for a flicker of a second, “Is that what you really want?”
The silence was heavy and thick, you frowned at him. You were ready to tell him off before a smile graced his mouth, pearly white teeth shining, teasing.
“You are so…” This was as close to humiliation you’d ever felt. It was repulsive enough to make you fake gag at him. You couldn’t defend yourself with anything but an eyeroll.
And Beomgyu went back to smiling as he finished rubbing in the final layer of sunscreen.
He didn’t take his hands off of you, though. Their presence was warm and you could almost hear the gears turning in his head; the only time he stopped talking was the rare moment he took to think.
“Listen,” he started, “You know that midterm we’ve got in Miss Hirai’s class?”
You looked at him again, tucking your hair out of the way as he retied your top, “Duh.”
He nodded, “Can we… study together?”
You groaned, letting your head fall back, “I knew it was coming.”
He shrugged. He tapped anxious fingers against the fabric of your towel. He tried to keep his face neutral, tried not to give you encouragement nor any sort of reaction.
You looked away for a moment, and your gaze caught his group of friends. They all looked like they looked away right at that moment. You could have laughed.
And you don’t know why, but you shrugged too, “Sure.”
Beomgyu fell back onto his hands from his kneeling position. Once again, you left him stuttering and in shock. He was starting to like the feeling. At least you were giving him something—you were giving him more than something.
So when he returned to his group of friends, Yeonjun asked him the typical, “She say yes yet?”
He shook his head and looked down at his toes hidden in the sand. “Almost,” He looked up only when he knew his cheeks wouldn’t give him away.
Because you told him not to tell, and so he wouldn’t.
“Don’t you think this is a bit excessive?” Beomgyu asks, leaning against the frame of his door.
You stood in front of him. A large black hoodie draped over your frame and the same sunglasses from the beach perched on your nose. You even made an effort to switch your school bag into a much more boring one. Your pink, bedazzled bag would make you far too recognizable.
Beomgyu was grateful you seemed to be allergic to pants, though. Your hoodie covered it up, but he was sure you were wearing a skirt underneath.
“Not at all,” you huffed, shoving into him slightly as you passed him to get inside.
At least you began to take off your disguise. The hoodie was hiding all of his favorite parts.
“You’re much cuter wearing those tight little outfits,” He shrugged as he looked you up and down.
You frowned, rolled your eyes. It seemed like that was the only thing you knew how to do around him.
Your voice was muffled as you slid the hoodie off extremely disgracefully, “Don’t be gross,” you warned.
“Or what?” He took a step toward you. His long arm extended and ruffled your already messy hair.
“Do you want me to leave?” You smacked him with one hand and used the other to smooth out your hair.
“Do you want to leave?” He quirked a brow.
A beat of silence. He knew you needed this a little bit more than he did.
Literature had always been the subject of your struggle. You blamed it on your bad memory. Though you’d never ever voice that you even needed this help. He knew you’d never ask for it.
You figured he’d have to be smart based on the fact that he was graduating a whole year early. A part of you felt sort of jealous—like he’d managed to beat you at something.
He knew he’d won when you began to take off your shoes. Some high top black converse he would have never expected you to own. It seems you had the disguise down to a T.
“You are insufferable, Beomgyu,” You shook your head, “How do you expect me to like you at all?”
“I don’t expect you to like me,” a cheeky grin, “I already know you’re in love with me, it’s only a matter of time.”
His little dimple poking through again, smiling right at you.
You furrowed your brows, “Before what?”
“Before you realize it, silly,” he tapped your nose, you jumped backward, “Or maybe you already have, and you’re just not ready to admit it.”
You shot him a wild look, “You’re actually crazy.”
“Crazy about you,” he winked. You gagged.
You took a few paces away from him, taking the time to look around his apartment. It was shockingly clean—at least for an apartment shared by two boys. And the realization hit you as you began to frantically look around: Oh right. He had a roommate.
“Is Yeonjun…?” You turned to look at him.
Beomgyu shook his head, “He’s not home. He won’t be for hours.”
You nodded.
You continued to look around, it was decorated slightly. Musical instruments scattered across the living room, fairy lights strung behind the mounted television.
“Are you sure?” You couldn’t shake the feeling.
He let out an exasperated laugh, “Yes.” A little bit annoyed.
“Okay.” You nodded again and looked at the floor, he’d never seen you any less than confident before. He decided that he didn’t like this look on you, “Should we study in your room, then?”
But he loved his life regardless. He stepped past you and led you down a short hallway.
“Right this way, m’lady.”
You cringed.
“Sorry,” he said, “It made me want to vomit, too.”
And you laughed. Not a full laugh. It was still restrained and under your breath. It was private. It was unsure. But to Beomgyu it felt sacred.
You walked straight up to his bed as soon as you made it to his room. It was slightly on a platform, you had to hop up to get onto it. Beomgyu thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
And for a moment he just watched you look around.
You took in your surroundings, your eyes paused at different momentums. His guitar. His paintings, some standing in columns between his desk and dresser, others already up on his walls. There were little star garlands hung on almost every inch of the ceiling. There was a shelf full of records, CD’s, and DVD’s. Knick knacks decorated the top of it; figurines from media you didn’t recognize.
The room felt cozy, it felt warm. It felt like him.
It all made you uncomfortable. You couldn’t sit in the silence.
“You seem like a crafty person,” You looked up at him. You had a hard time shaking your usual tone so it sounded judgmental on accident.
He shrugged, “I have a lot of time on my hands,” he held your gaze, “No girl to use up all of it.”
He cleared his throat when you didn’t respond. Because you usually did. Now he felt weird.
“Let’s get started?” He asked.
You nodded.
You were pulling books out of your bag when you felt the bed dip and he sat next to you. It made you stiffen, you don’t know why.
“Start with Shakespeare?” Beomgyu asked and you just hummed in confirmation.
This was going to be a lot more difficult than you expected. You hated Shakespeare. Maybe more than you hated Beomgyu.
“I hate Shakespeare!” You sighed and dramatically fell back onto Beomgyu’s bed. His mountain of stuffed animals broke your fall. You took one into your arms, a bear, and screamed into it.
He beamed, he was laughing at you. You could feel the bed shaking underneath you. You had been reading together for little over an hour. Though you had only made it through about half the amount of pages Beomgyu usually would if he was reading alone.
You took your face out of the bear’s abdomen to glare at him, “It makes no sense.”
“It makes sense,” he said.
“He’s speaking gibberish.” You frowned, squeezing out your anger into the stuffed animal, “I can’t take it anymore. I’m leaving.”
Beomgyu nodded, looked up at the ceiling, trying to bite back a smile. “That’s fine. I mean…it’s your grade, not mine.”
“You aren’t looking at me right now, but I’m glaring at you,” You said. In a short fit of frustrated rage you found a smaller stuffed animal and threw it at his head, “You suck.”
And he giggled. The adult man sitting next to you giggled.
And you were used to his loud laugh. The annoying one. This one was softer, sweeter. Before you realized, you were giggling too. At him, at Shakespeare, at your disgust, maybe. You weren’t sure.
You covered your face with the bear again in an attempt to hide it.
“I wish I could go back in time and destroy every pen Shakespeare owned,” it was muffled under the fluff of the stuffed animal.
Beomgyu leaned back to rest next to you. He wasn’t sure if you’d noticed. Maybe you would have fought him over it if you did. He looked over at you, your face still hidden away.
“You don’t mean that,” You peeked at him over the bear’s big head, “Then you wouldn’t have your favorite movie, did you think about that?”
“Oh yeah?” You rose a brow, “What’s my favorite movie?”
The corners of his lips poked at his cheeks in a shy smile, “10 Things I Hate About You.”
You sat up in a gasp, you threw the bear at him but he caught it swiftly, laughing, “You really are a stalker.”
“I’m not!” He defended himself through laughter.
Both of your laughters were slightly conflicted and unsure. Like neither felt safe enough with the other to really let it go. There was too much back and forth in your history to let the tension fall so easily.
“Then how do you know that?” You crossed your arms, but you were being playful. It was new. It was slightly strange to him, but in the way that chocolate is strange if you’ve never tried it before.
You didn’t know why you were being so openly not-uncomfortable with him, but it made you sort of uneasy. You had been dreading this moment ever since he pitched the idea, reminding yourself that it was out of necessity.
But if it was purely need, why did it feel so easy?
Beomgyu scratched the back of his head, his cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, “Uh—he rubbed his hands on his jeans—sophomore year, intro to astronomy ice breaker.”
You sat back on your hands, you didn’t know why they all of a sudden felt clammy, “You remembered that?”
And his cheeks felt like they were burning. It was his turn to hide under the bear. With Beomgyu’s arms outstretched over his face, his shirt rode up enough for his stomach to flash you. Happy trail shining, sneaking past the band of his boxers.
You bit the inside of your cheek once again.
“Well,” you started, he’d never heard you so unsteady before, “What’s your favorite movie?”
You don’t know why you asked.
He laughed, and your chest hurt a little bit. You’d never been laughed at before.
“Are you seriously asking?”
“Are you seriously not going to answer?” Your face settled into a deep frown as your tone returned to its usual bite. Beomgyu moved the bear away from his face just so he could look at you.
“August Rush,” he said.
You shrugged, “I’ve never seen it before.”
“I have it on DVD,” he said, “Should we take a break?”
And you shouldn’t have said yes, but it was that or Shakespeare, “God, yes.”
He sat up and hopped off the bed, walking over to the busy shelf. He pulled the film out alarmingly fast and you wondered if he had it alphabetized or something. That sort of felt like something he would do. But you didn’t know him very well. The thought made your face fall before you could catch yourself.
He looked down at his socks like he was thinking hard. His mouth opened once then closed like he didn’t know whether to say it and you were getting annoyed by his insecure pace.
“Should I get some snacks?” He asked.
You played with your fingernails as you hesitantly nodded, “Sure,” Your stare was blank as you were stuck deep in your thoughts, of course he noticed.
“You okay?” he asked.
You snapped out of it. Your head jerked in his direction. “Yeah. Fine.”
Neither of you was entirely convinced. For some reason you decided to follow him into the kitchen when he left his room.
He led you into the very tight space, it was so narrow it barely fit the two of you. You didn’t know where anything was, so you slipped onto the countertop to give him more room. Beomgyu would never admit to you how good it felt to have you look down at him like that.
“Popcorn okay?” He asked.
You were fiddling with your nails, “mhm.”
“Chocolate?”
“What kind?”
“Peanut Butter cups,” he pulled the bag out for you to observe. His face warmed when you nodded so eagerly, even with that annoyed look painted over it. He was enamoured.
He hid his face behind the door of the fridge.
“Okay… we have juice, soda, beer,” he looked back at you, and you made a funny face at the fact that you could only see his eyes from behind the door. They looked better next to the rest of his face.
“What kind of juice?”
“Orange?”
You made a face.
“Gimme a beer,” you waved your hand like you expected it to come over to you magically.
“Alcoholic,” he joked, closing the refrigerator after pulling out two beers.
He liked to blame the narrow walkway, you blamed it too. When he walked over to hand you your drink, he stood in between your legs. You forgot you were wearing a skirt when you decided to sit like a man. Your fault.
“Thanks,” as you took the opened bottle from his hand.
He tipped his head to the side, a mischievous smirk playing on his plush lips, “I thought you didn’t take drinks from strangers?”
His hands went to hold either side of the counter. He pretended not to notice when your breath paused on its exhale, for your sake.
You groaned, “Shut up.”
You realized how close you truly were.
To make matters worse, he brought a hand up to the ends of your long hair and twirled a strand between two fingers.
“Or what?” You’d never noticed how low his voice was.
The timbre of it rang in waves throughout your body. You would have pressed your thighs together had he not been in the middle of them. Instead you were left with this weird burning feeling; Insatiable and harsh.
You exhaled through your nose as the corners of your lips pointed downwards, “What’s your goal here?” You whispered.
Each breath heavy and full of some unspoken thing. He let it sit in between you before he spoke.
“You know what I’m after,” and he leaned in enough for you to smell his minty breath. His harsh cologne. He smelled good. It was swallowing you whole.
But before you could answer you heard the front doorknob jiggle.
You felt yourself jump off of the counter at record speed. The only issue being that Beomgyu had been right in front of you. You stumbled onto him and had to sturdy the both of you before you made a run for it into his bedroom. He was right behind you.
Not until you shut the door did you realize it was because you had dragged him with you; That you were holding hand. He sort of just looked at them intertwined as though it wasn’t his own limb he was in control of. Maybe it had something to do with your death grip on it. The one that loosened the more your fear subsided.
You yanked your hand out of his as the fear fizzled into anger. An accusatory, hurt anger. Because of course you couldn’t trust him. He’d probably already bragged to the entire band. You could already hear the cocky lies he spewed, in that irritating low voice he had. You could hear them coming out of the mouths of everyone at school, of Karina in that I-told-you-so tone she always held over you.
“You said he wouldn’t be home for hours?” Your whisper cut through the air thick with tension.
Your reaction had Beomgyu on edge. From the moment his door slammed he could sense a fight. It wasn’t the first time he’d made you angry, no, you weren’t very hard to provoke. But this time, he could tell the anger was real. There was no disgusted tone to your voice, no stretching of your words, no smug response.
So he was on trial now, and he’d need a hell of a defense in order to convince the skeptic.
“That’s what he told me!” He whisper-shouted as you had done.
Your glare sharpened, “For some reason—you stomped closer to him—I have a hard time believing you right now,” you poked a manicured finger right into his chest.
Your tone was accusatory, he could feel it cut through him. And suddenly he was hurt too, because you didn’t trust him. And it felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. You didn’t like him, he knew that deep down. He knew. But he could feel it now, how little you knew about each other. It was as unpleasant as having your heart ripped out and stomped on could feel.
So he got angry too. Because you’d never even given him a chance.
“That seems like that’s a personal issue,” His voice shook slightly. His fingers wrapped around your wrist to pull that accusatory little finger out of his chest. “Because I’ve given you no reason not to trust me.” Maybe it’s because he didn’t want you to feel how hard his heart was beating; how it was rattling around inside his ribs. He couldn’t tell if it was from rage or despair.
His chest heaved almost as hard as yours. You looked down at the place where your skin met. Your brows sunk further on your face, your eyes narrowed. You took a step forward as he squeezed almost painfully.
You were nose to nose, your palm flattened against his chest as you pushed through the pain. And you were no fool, you’d seen him enough to notice the muscles on his arms. You knew he was strong enough to hold you in place but he wasn’t.
And the mercy, the lack of trying, was offensive.
You scoffed, “Oh really?” You pushed hard until he started walking backwards, “Are you really that worm-brained, that delusional?”
His feet stumbled on the carpet, he just kept walking backward. He needed to be away from you because you were setting him off. He let go of your wrist. He was breathing heavily in disbelief. At you or himself he didn’t know. He just knew something that had long simmered inside of him was boiling and ready to burst. His mouth opened and closed in his search for words that could cut you the same way you did him. The backs of his knees were grazing the edge of his bed.
But you just kept cutting deeper; you were twisting the knife.
“I don’t know you,” you spat, “I don’t like you.” You shook your head hard to chase that thought away. Like the idea of it was too disgusting to let settle. “I never will.”
His knees buckled, his dark hair bounced around his face when he fell to sit on the bed behind him. You were standing in between his legs, your palm shifted into a fist. Beomgyu’s lips were set into a frown, and his eyes were narrowed at you too. You gripped the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, because you needed to make it real clear.
“And I don’t know what you’ve been telling those loser friends of yours,” his ears were ringing, your grip on him was singeing, “But if they blab to anyone about any of this—your fist loosened and that accusatory finger to his chest returned—I will. Ruin. Your. Life.” A hard poke to his chest with every word.
“Jesus,” just above a whisper, “You really are full of yourself.”
His hand peeled your finger off of him this time, bringing your hand down to your side by the wrist. For good measure, he held your other hand down too. But your faces were centimeters apart. You could hear him breathing, the hard inhales and exhales. You could smell him, musky cologne, a faint hint of woody pomegranate.
“You think I care enough to lie about you?” the corner of his lip twitched, his glower shifted, “Baby, we’re grown ups,” he squeezed you hard enough to hurt this time, “And the only reason you won’t take a chance on me is why? Because you’re scared of what other people think, is that it?”
You scoffed.
“Right,” he chuckled, it was full of malice, “And that’s the only reason, isn’t it?”
“Is not,” you bit back.
“Oh really?” Your noses grazed, lightning hot searing skin on skin.
“Yeah, really.”
His hands let go of your wrists but gripped your waist, hard and heavy and unbecoming, “I. Don't. Believe. You.”
His eyes dropped for a millisecond to your lips, you mirrored him.
What came next was a mix of breathy desperation and anger, “Jesus, just do it already.”
So he did.
Your mouths met in the middle, hard and sloppy. Your teeth clashed and his grip on your waist moved to squeeze your ass under your miniskirt.
And it was better than anything he could have dreamt about.
Your hands went to hold onto his shoulders, fingernails grazing the base of his neck. Then upwards, to tug on his hair. And you pulled hard, hard enough to elicit a desperate groan from his pathetic lips.
You swallowed it up, took the opportunity to shove your tongue into his mouth and he met it disgracefully. He sucked on it, like he wanted all of it to be his and more. You explored his mouth, lightly grazing his teeth, he let it explore him before he explored you.
It was like a fight both of you were eager to win, the kiss was sloppy and wet, the sound of the smacks of your lips echoed across the darkened bedroom. Each of you shoving your faces into the other like a kiss just wasn’t enough; like your goal was to consume.
His hands roamed the parts of you he didn’t get to the other day at the beach. His tight grip slipped past your skirt up again to your waist. He slid his hands under your tight crop top, A Little Bit Dramatic, it read. He remembered laughing when he read it. A little bit was an understatement.
The text was distorted now as his hands gripped your breasts underneath. You would have smacked him for stretching it out if there was any part of you that could still think rationally. He squeezed roughly, pain soothing pressure and you found yourself leaning into him hard.
“You’re so—as his mouth departed from your lips, it met the skin of your jaw—infuriating,” he was breathing sharply through his nose as he sucked. You fought hard against any noises that tried to make it past your lips. Your eyes watered at the intensity, and he could tell by your ragged breaths that you were losing control.
He worked his way down to your collarbone and suckled on the skin there. He didn’t start softly. He was licking and biting hard enough to know that there would be love shaped bruises on your tight flesh soon enough. You let your lip slip under your teeth as your vision blurred. His oddly decorated wall meshed and blurred into splotches of dark colors.
He let your soft gasps fuel his desire. He could already feel his jeans tightening. He wondered if this would be it—if you’d really let him.
He ventured further down, his nose was in between your breasts and he began to plant wet kisses over the soft cloth. You let your head tilt back, you stared at the ceiling as you tried to shift your focus. You wanted a distraction, something to pull you out and remind you to compose yourself. Because the fabric felt constricting now, like it was too much in between the skin of your chest and the softness of his kiss.
Beomgyu smirked into his kisses, his fingers left goosebumps in their trace when they fell back on your waist. They toyed with the hem of your shirt but didn’t dare walk past it. He was offering restraint, giving you an out.
He could feel it in the way you pulled on his hair. Tugging and scratching but never pulling him away; the chance was right in your hands and all you had to do was take it.
But he still held you and it was enough to make you forget again. And Beomgyu was not a religious man, but if there truly was a heaven, he was sure that this was it.
Or maybe it was that moment when your grip shifted, nails digging into his scalp as you pulled his face back into yours. You knew what you wanted, you took the chance and it was the wrong one. You knew it was.
But your lips were swollen, body tingling. Your core burned, that insatiable fire had returned and you were at its mercy. Whatever you did now was not yourself. It was something primal, an urge that you were too weak to fight off.
Because the way he bit and tugged on your lips, sucked on your tongue, felt nothing other than natural. Inevitable. A weak whine escaped your lips in the second he pulled apart to breathe. His face lingered and your eyes were shut tight.
You hoped to god that he didn’t hear it, but how could he not? When you were this close to him? When the only reason you were standing was because he was holding you up?
“There’s one thing,” you could feel his gaze, “About me that you should know,” He pecked your lips in one swift motion but it felt too quick before he was gone.
You kept your eyes closed, afraid they might give you away.
His mouth grazed that purple mark on your collar again. He licked it like he was trying to soothe. Then he moved to the other side of your neck, leaving a fresh bruise just under where your throat and jaw connected. You were biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste was sickening. He kissed the mark sweetly before continuing.
“I’m never wrong,” he had the audacity to laugh.
Finally, you opened your eyes.
Beomgyu met your stare intensely, and you realized he could see how affected you were now. Your cheeks were blazing. Your lashes were wet, you could feel it. You were sure your makeup had smudged in all of the action and it became physical evidence of your weakness.
He knew it too, you could tell by the way those honey-brown irises jumped around your face.
You flinched as his hand met your cheek, thumb swiping the smudged mascara under your eye. You wanted to scowl; To scream at him.
But you knew whatever came out of your mouth next would be incriminating. So you kept it shut.
“Are you crying, pretty girl?” He mockingly pouted, a little crease formed between his brows.
You frowned, shaking your head. Like trying to convince him the sky was purple.
“Don’t worry,” he moved to tug your lip from under your teeth, he let his thumb rest there. The weight of it was teasing, “I won’t tell.”
You didn’t need to open your mouth to embarrass yourself, you realized it when a whimper slipped past. It stayed lodged in your throat, muffled but there.
His head tilted as it came out, eyes dropping to your throat. The source of the noise was ill and battered, loved and cared for. He admired it, lashes fluttered against his cheekbones.
And then he looked back up at you, at your sullen face, shiny nose, swollen lips, starry eyes: That dazed look told him everything he needed to know. But he liked to poke the bear, he liked the fun.
He stuck that same thumb past your sharp teeth, “Go out with me?”
Your tongue swirled around the digit, the taste, the texture, you felt it all. You kept your eyes on him as you let it fall further, right up to the knuckle.
His face tilted, you knew he was painful in his jeans, but you couldn’t care less. You heard his breathing slow, saw how his chest ended its ceaseless rise and fall—then you smiled. Wicked and cruel.
As quickly as you had taken him into your mouth, you pulled your face away, thumb freed from your lips with a swift ‘pop’.
“No.” You wished your tone was more sure, less weepy, but you rolled your eyes to emphasize yourself.
You brought that manicured finger right up to his chest, tugging on the silver chain that embellished his collarbones. It was far too late for a rejection but you meant it anyway. This, whatever this was, was unsustainable. A one time mishap. A mistake never to be repeated.
You pulled him in until your noses grazed, until your lips tickled his. Then, your finger became your palm, flat on his breast you pushed down hard. He fell back onto his bed, messy hair falling over his eyes and splattered against his pillows.
“Take off your shirt,” you commanded, arms crossing against your chest.
But he was still convoluted, he just stared at you. His hands fell to his sides, fingers twitching holding the seams of that battered band t-shirt. His jaw was open just a crack and you realized his heavy breath had returned furiously.
You rested your knee beside his thigh, soft skin meeting his plush duvet in a heavy clash, “I won’t ask you again,” your glare was flaming hot.
Suddenly he felt that the fabric was suffocating, scratching and ripping at his sweaty body. Suddenly his compliance was not that at all; it was a necessity. He obliged quickly and swiftly, doubtful fingers tugging at the cotton. He raised his torso to remove it and it gave you a clear sight of the tent forming inside his pants.
His skin was glistening as he revealed himself to you. He bit the inside of his cheek while scooting backwards against his bedframe; all so he could see you better. His eyes were a darker shade than before, it seemed, as he took you in.
A little smile as your eyes glazed over the sight, “Your pants, too.” A finger gestured towards his zipper.
He met its eyeline, brows raising. Then he looked back up again, head tilting in defiance.
“You do it for me,” he smiled back, tucking his hands behind his head, biceps bulging.
You dug your knee further into the mattress, until the denim scraped the inside of your thigh. You pressed into his leg, letting him feel you for a moment. Leaning forward, you let the low cut of your shirt speak first. His eyes dropped for a moment before he looked right back into yours. A challenge.
Your hand fell neatly beside his chest, holding you up as your body hovered.
He fought a shiver as the ends of your hair tickled his skin, but the goosebumps were evidence enough, “Oh, baby, I don’t think that’s a risk you’re willing to take.”
His muscles tensed as your low voice melted his skin. Your free hand fell to the other side of his body, fingers gripping the sheets. You lowered yourself, your face, to his chest. Keeping your contact you grinned as you left an open mouthed kiss to his sternum; then as you licked a stripe upwards.
His eyes shut as you began to suck hard. Your teeth nibbled on the area, one of your hands went to hold his waist. And he could feel your breasts squeeze against his stomach as you pushed your face deeper in. Breathing through your nose, trailing those same violent kisses and sucks up to his throat.
He groaned loudly when your other knee came to rest between his legs, applying that sweet pressure to his cock. His eyes widened like he’d realized his mistake, soft cheeks burning with humiliating need. He went to bite on his lip but you kissed him before he could.
He was whining into it, ragged, useless panting when your lips departed for breath. He tried to remove an arm from behind his head to hold you. But you met it first, your grip hard enough to leave marks on his wrist.
Suspended in the air for a moment, his fingers twitched like they were useless if not touching you. You let out a shaking laugh, quiet and under your breath; like you couldn’t believe him.
With your tacky palms glued to his skin he rolled his hips into your knee, chasing a high you were refusing to give him. You met him with an equal, painful pressure. You wanted to make it hurt, you were chasing that audible note of desperation.
“You want it?” You forced his hand back onto the bedframe, voice shaking from rage or some unspoken thing.
He did want it, badly. Badly enough to nod his head like a good boy in an attempt to make you forget what he had just done.
You let your grip soften before you removed it completely. He kept his arm where you’d left it, fingers falling into a fist like he needed it to relieve the pressure.
“So bad,” he didn’t care how hoarse it sounded, how his voice cracked when he said it. There was only one thing on his mind and it was twitching to life.
Your expression shifted into a pout, it was inauthentic and evil, you were bad at biting back your smirk. He could see the corners of your pretty lips twitching, “Then take. Them. Off.”
You lifted yourself off of him, standing on shaky knees. Again, you crossed your arms over your chest, your shirt was wrinkled and misplaced; your hair slightly frizzy. But he liked it this way, he wanted to see you more ruined.
So, he did. His unsteady fingers fiddled with the delinquent button of his pants, then his zipper. The room was silent save for the rustle of the thick fabric moving down his thighs.
His black briefs looked painfully tight as your hand held him, your thumb swiping over the wet spot just under the waistband.
You laughed in that malicious way he loved, “You’re pathetic.”
And you didn’t come to hover over him again like he wanted, instead sitting at the edge of the bed where his legs hung over. He whined as you rubbed circles over the tip of his cock, the fabric doing nothing to ease the delicate intimacy that you were serving.
He couldn’t even care that you were barely on top of him any more, not when your knee was pressing into his bare thigh. The feeling of your skin on him was intoxicating, even if it wasn’t the skin he needed.
You pressed yourself into the mattress, your grip firmed on his length as you began to move it in a slow steady pace. You watched as he threw his head back, you hummed. As his breath tightened in his throat, you stroked him and let your thumb circle his sensitive head. He tried to swallow up the sounds, you saw his adam’s apple bob.
You shook your head as your hand slowed to a stop, “Uh-uh,” quiet, “Let him hear you,” you said as you squeezed him.
He whined, his thighs trembled, “Since you wanted him to know so bad.”
Beomgyu couldn’t think at all, his arms went to cover his face, wrists digging into his cheeks. He left his mouth uncovered, jaw slack, voice unbroken. When your fingers tugged the waistband of his briefs, when he sprang free of his confines, he let the moan out loud and guttural. Shaking and unsteady.
His voice cracked again when he spoke but he had come to terms with the fact, “Baby, ple-ase.”
He only uncovered his eyes when he heard you shifting. He caught the sight of you spitting into your hand. That tight noise formed in the back of his throat, his mouth salivating with craving; he let it all free when you gripped him, slicked up and bare.
He jutted his hips into your palm, his body moved on its own and he wanted to apologize for that involuntary disobedience. It wasn’t something he could risk. But it didn’t phase you, you only picked up your pace, you only encouraged him more.
He felt tears prick the corners of his eyes, he wanted so badly to close them but the sight was unbearably perfect.
You with your hands on him. You with your thighs squeezing together. You with your sore lip once again between your teeth trying so hard not to want him.
“I-’M sorry,” he cried, “Please, ‘m sorry.”
His fingers went to grip the sheets like you had, knuckles turning white from the tight fists.
You merely hummed, letting your hand continue relentlessly. Your eyes watching him twitch intently, like it was something you needed to memorize. You only turned your head when his fingertips reached the end of your splayed out skirt, but his arm was overextended and it was as far as he could go.
So you shifted. You wanted to curse, you wanted to eradicate that weak flame inside of you because you wanted him too. You moved close enough for his hand to reach your thigh, for it to sneak under your skirt. For him to graze your aching core with careful fingers.
He groaned at the wetness he was met with, he was sure you were into him now. You couldn’t even take your eyes off of him as his fingers traced your soaked through panties. But Beomgyu didn’t have it in him to tease you, not while he had you so deliciously.
And he wasted no time, he tucked your panties to the side and let his fingers graze your slick hole. They slid easily as he spread the wetness along your folds. He liked the way your breath hitched, the way you rocked into his hand; chasing something only he could give you.
Because you were at his mercy now too, it didn’t matter if you couldn’t admit it, it didn’t matter how hard you tried to quiet yourself. You were trembling and he could feel it.
So you sped up in an attempt to distract him, and what you did next was shameful. Dirty, disgusting, you would have bullied yourself out of it had his fingers not begun to circle your clit.
You leaned down, taking his head into your mouth. Your tongue licking along his slit before suckling on his tip as your hands stroked his shaft.
He paused his movements for a moment, hips sputtering underneath you.
“Oh baby,” he whimpered loudly, his tummy shaking as he tried to steady himself.
You took your mouth off of him for a moment to let your tongue lick the underside of his shaft, his thighs twitched, legs trying to steady himself but falling absent of ground to hold on to. Free hand going to grip your hair, he held your head lightly, not pushing but embracing as you kissed his cock.
But his movements returned steadfast as his dazed brain reminded him that you had given him permission.
You were still grinding into his still hand, trying to ease your own wicked pain while you brought him heaven. He was determined to match your eagerness, middle and ring fingers going to play with your clit before they moved to touch you where he knew it hurt most.
Your throat vibrated in a soft whine when he dipped steadying fingers inside you, letting you adjust to the length and slenderness of them before he removed them and slid back in.
Your brows furrowed as you tried to hold back on him, but when his fingers curled and found that sweet spot inside of you, you took your mouth off of him with a pop; Hot cheek found solace on the cool tacky skin of his hip bone as you tried to use him to muffle your noises.
Your hips betrayed you as they pushed his fingers deeper inside of you. Your need was rigid and demanding and Beomgyu used the opportunity.
You whimpered at the loss when he freed you from his wrath, something you chased so badly but needed in a way that felt primal.
With both of his hands on your needy hips he dug his fingers into your supple skin and dragged you over his own mouth. And you protested, you refused. But again, those damn strong hands forced you onto him, his mouth grazing the wet fabric of your panties.
You were sitting on his face; he could die right now and not regret a thing.
He kissed your core before pushing the lace to the side. Tongue against your soft folds, his throat hummed as he tasted you. He swiped it against your clit and you dug your face further into his skin, teeth biting at him like you didn’t know what else to do.
You were breathing so heavily, heart hammering against your ribs as you took him back into your mouth. Past your lips, teeth, and into the base of your throat so that your hands would be free to claw at his thighs.
And his gripped your ass tight under your skirt as he pulled you further into him, tongue poking at your hole like he wasn’t close enough. He sucked and he could feel a mix of your slick and his spit dribbling down his chin but he loved it all too much. He loved the way you rocked your hips into his face as you chased your high, using him like a fucktoy.
The way your tongue was as eager as his as you worked on his cock like a woman starved. He could feel that thread in his stomach tightening with every new stroke, with every pump of his length down your throat. With every gag, a new vibration from his throat hit your core in a shaking wrath.
Until you were both too dazed to feel embarrassed, both too loud to be subtle. You weren’t denying anymore and he wasn’t fighting back. It was just slick and spit, want and need. There was nothing more natural than that blinding white-hot pressure thread that snapped inside of you.
Your toes curled as it struck, hands scratching bloody marks on his thighs as he painted your esophagus white. Hips sputtering into your mouth, making you gag but you were all the better for it. Your eyes were wet with tears, mascara running down your cheeks. Hair tangled and frizzed but you couldn’t care less. You swallowed every last drop.
Until your hips and his stopped their seizing, until they slowed into a steady, satisfied rest.
He parted his face from your core to breathe, smiling ear to ear. His grip on you was firm but he let you collapse beside him as you released him from your mouth.
On opposite ends of the bed, staring at the ceiling. The only sound was the heavy, audible, exhausted breaths from both of you. It was calm, it was steady.
From outside of his room you both heard that familiar sound of a door jiggle, then the door locking. You snapped your head towards Beomgyu’s bedroom door, then back at him.
He was already staring at you, glittering eyes admiring your wasted state.
His grin dropped into a teasing smirk, “Looks like we scared him away.”
Your head fell back into the soft mattress, your hands searching around for something to throw at him. The same bear stuffed animal that you found yourself hugging earlier slammed right into his forehead.
But he couldn’t protest, he couldn’t even frown.
Beomgyu laid his head down into the plush pillows with pained cheeks and a smile.
It was the day of your exam and Beomgyu sat in the back row of the lecture hall with Yeonjun, number two pencil and booklet splayed on the desk in front of him. It had only been two days since you’d come over, he was shocked Yeonjun hadn’t asked sooner.
“So, are you gonna tell me about the other day yet?” Yeonjun smirked, his tone knowing and slightly irritating.
Beomgyu couldn’t look at him, afraid that one glance would give him away, “What are you talking about?”
Yeonjun rolled his eyes playfully, eyes pointed at the visible hickeys on his friend’s throat.
“You’re not good at hiding those,” He poked at one of them and Beomgyu couldn’t do anything but smack his hand away, “You’re not very quiet either.”
His cheeks lit up into a fiery shade of red, he played with the pencil in his hands. Faint scribbles appeared on the blank test paper as he mulled over what to say; which defense to use.
“Come on,” Yeonjun pushed, “Who was she?”
Beomgyu released a shaky breath as he dropped the pencil with clammy hands. He rested his chin in his palm to hide his face. His eyes were concealed behind his bangs as they jumped to you for a split second.
You who sat at the front of your classroom beside your friend, Yuna. Your hair pristinely tied into a complex bun at the top of your head, a sequined hot-pink blouse making you stand out. But if he was honest, you always did.
He hid his smile behind his hand, his cheek squished enough to make it look accidental.
synopsis: the girl soobin has wanted since forever is dating the campus resident playboy. desperate, hopeless, and out of ideas, he comes to you—a shaman who supposedly specialises in love rituals and spiritual compatibility. only problem? you’re a total fraud.
ᥫ᭡ pairing: yearner!choi soobin x scammer shaman!reader
ᥫ᭡ genre/warnings: college au, romcom, coming of age, bit of angst, pining, slow burn, deception, jealousy, plotting against your fav freaky couple, 18+ mdni, alcohol use and mention, lots of profanity, hella second-hand embarrassment, so unhinged turn your brain off, spin-off to virgin playboy, in chapter warnings to apply
ᥫ᭡ status: completed
ᥫ᭡ total wc: 40k~
ᥫ᭡ playlist | main masterlist | read on wattpad
ᥫ᭡.ִֶ index
teaser
the slicker
the quack
the charlatan
the phony
review your experience, thoughts, or unhinged feelings here
GOSH I AGREE, and im so sorry u had to wait so long BUT I STILL DELIVER!!!!!! i love this pic smm agh i stand by younger bf!taehyun because he would date an older women AGHASUHDUIUFHDJIJ
MDNI // nsfw audio
mmmmmm that one clip when he said "use your words now" AHH deepthroating whiny tyun.. mmmm im soaking !!!!
ALSO i might be a bit behind on my audios reqs but i think im gonna focus on my writing asks !!!! sorry im an inbox hoarder :((((
a/n: happy valentine’s day moas!! 🤍 loving love rn ;)
🪐choi yeonjun: biting
“ow!” you would yelp everytime you felt his sharp canines dig into your skin no matter where it was on your body. he tends to do that, especially if he’s feeling a bit more playful than usual — which is almost all the time.
even while he’s pulling you around in all the positions he wants you to be in, sinking his teeth into your shoulders, licking down the expanse of your spine to bite onto the side of your hip again.
and despite your pleas and whines, frustrated by how he’s using the time to tease you instead of giving you what you both want. it’s when you feel the pressure of his bite dig into the plush of your ass and you’re reaching blindly behind your body to grab onto anything that pertains to the tease.
“fuck, yeonjun, what in the actual fuck!” you would practically scream, twisting your upper body to look at him with an incredulous expression only to meet with his smile.
you grabbed a hold of his orange frizz, his lazy smile still prominent on his full lips before he sinks his teeth into his plush skin.
“you just look so good enough to eat. i might eat you full for dinner.”
you would be lying if you didn’t feel your face heat up at those giggling words.
🪐 choi soobin: words
you can’t help it, losing yourself to the pleasure that racks throughout your entire body as you’re rocking your hips on top of his. he ran his hands over your entire abdomen, fingers reaching the base of your neck and spreading out over your collarbones while he gazed up at you from underneath his tousled bangs.
a smile curls onto his heart shaped lips and it takes you a while to see it, eyes meeting his face and you’re left wondering why he looks so… amused..
“you okay up there, sweet?” he asks calmly, voice underlying a sort of teasing tone while he lets his view flicker all over your body. “you seem pretty worn down, you sure you don’t want me to take over?”
you felt your nose slightly scrunching from the giggle in his voice, a bit bugged by the way he’s able to tease you in the predicament. you won’t let him, so you just just raise your hips and grip onto his hand, keeping it close.
once you let gravity push you back down on his length completely with a loud plop, you can see the expression on his face melt into one of raw pleasure, eyelids fluttering and eyebrows furrowing the slightest.
he sounds winded the next time he speaks up.
“a-alright baby, ‘m sorry.. do your thing.”
🪐 choi beomgyu: playing games
slick sucks and obscene squelches lightly muffled everytime you close your mouth to hollow your cheeks around him was all that was heard, paired with his soft hums of delight. he gazed down at you, running his hand over your head and pushing away your bangs from your forehead to help you focus in as you suckle on his weeping head.
he could never keep his hands away from your face and hair, fingers twirling curls besides you while you let your tongue run along the underside of his hardened cock. you were so focused.
until you realized that he grabs onto the base of his length with his hand, almost as if to feed it to you and you await with an open and slick mouth.
he places one hand underneath your jaw, tipping your head back for you to stare directly into his mischievous eyes as his other hand guides his cock into your mouth.
then suddenly, he pulls it back out, tapping it on the tip of your awaiting tongue instead.
you were a bit confused and more impatient, watching as he lowers his head and grins at you, his wolfcut hair shadowing his expression and making his smile look more devilish.
he slides it deeper into your mouth this time, inch by inch and you’re hesitantly wrapping your lips around him.
and yet still, he pulls it back out once more.
you whine in frustration, a light glare in your eyes while he outright giggles at the sight.
“heh.. you just look so cute focused on my cock. go ‘head, i won’t stop you this time..”
🪐 kang taehyun: humiliation
you were just watching a movie. you don’t know how in the fuck you got to where you were now but here you are, stuck in between your boyfriend’s spread legs as he plays with your pussy.
nobody is paying attention to the screaming blonde on the screen, rather too focused on the way his grip tightens on your thigh and his other rubs quicker into your seeping mess. he had you pressed up against his chest, your thighs over his own and spread wide while he gazed over your shoulder at your wetness spreading on his fingers.
“with the way you’re acting, you making it seem as if you’re being neglected of my touch — when in reality, you’re just a desperate slut who doesn’t care about the fact that anyone could come in and see you like this.”
you grip tighter around his arm, feeling his muscles flex with every rub he circles onto your clit. his tone was calm, collected and very apathetic, as if he was explaining something so casual.
classical taehyun. to talk about the most crude details in such a formal manner.
“i haven’t even fucked you with my fingers and you’re already shaking like a leaf.” his tone changes, a light coo as if he just learned something new, playing with your desire.
“i think you should cum now, my arms getting tired.” he sighs, voice like he seems disinterested, but you both know he won’t stop till you do.
🪐 huening kai: subtle touches
the king of playing innocent after giving you subtle touches. just loves to see you flustered when he’s shuffle passed you from behind, pressing up against your butt while landing a small contradicting peck to the crown of your head. those lithe pretty fingers are constantly on you, rubbing your waist when you’re just close together, grabbing around your hips when you’re speaking directly to him.
now those same pretty fingers are trailing over your body, and he’s just staring at the way you tremble underneath the path they take. taking in the way you squirm, whining.
“please, kai.. just..” you’re bucking your hips closer towards his fingertips, whining when they trail further away. he’s just smiling, you’re so adorable sitting in your tears, hands clenched into fists from frustration.
“a little patience goes a long way..” he mumbles, something you tell him all the time when he’s the one laying there taking your teasing.. “just a bit more, sweetheart?” asking if you can withstand his teasing a bit more. you can, but not when he purposefully skims over your slippery cunt in a feather like touch.
kai stifles his chuckle when you smack his chest, gently patting your pussy as a retaliation slap.. then letting his fingers trail higher from that small act. oh, he was just getting close to actually touching from how good you were being. now you’re back to square one.
you hate how much it turns you on, hate that he’s learned so much from you — you adore how well he’s able to tease cause even his restraint is so little sometimes. it doesn’t take long when his touches are no subtle, either sinking his wet fingers into your mouth or deep within your clenching walls.
“i’m so gonna get you back after this..” your strained whine resonates, and he’s trembling at the thought, smiling like dork.
synopsis: Kai returns to his hometown and reconnects with you, his childhood friend. When you met, you have an emotional reunion that leads to a passionate moment, and you are faced with the choice of moving forward together or letting go of what might have been.
pairing: huening kai x female!reader
trope: childhood friends to strangers to lovers (what a ride)
genre: angst, smut (mdni), slightly fluff by the end if you squint
wc: 7.3k
warnings: mentions of death, alcohol consumption, dry humping, unprotected sex (don't do this y'all), petnames (kai calls reader good girl and baby girl). lmk if i forgot anything (i probably did).
elle speaks: decided to rewrite + add one flashback scene. just a reminder: english is not my first language, so sorry for any typos and mistakes. feedbacks/reblogs/likes are appreciated.
fic below the cut
Kai had gotten a rare break and went back to the small town where he grew up. He could feel summer in the light breeze, and he wanted to enjoy these peaceful days before going back to the city and the fast pace of his job. After his mother made him dinner, he decided to go for a walk and let the calm of the streets wash him over that night.
He was thirsty, so he stopped at one of the few convenience stores that were still open and bought a bottle of beer. He walked slowly through the almost empty streets with the bottle in his hand. There were no cars, rushing footsteps or loud voices. There was only the sound of the wind moving through the trees in the distance and the occasional crackle of dry leaves underfoot. Everything in that sleepy town seemed to be at rest, which made him feel even more nostalgic and lonely.
He walked until he ended up at the playground in the town square, a place where he had spent lots of happy times as a child. He stopped when he got there to take in the familiar scene. The square looked almost the same but had changed with time: the paint on the wooden bench was peeling, the trees around the park were taller and the streetlights looked colder than he remembered. The little wooden playhouse, on the other hand, looked like it had just been fixed up. He smiled when he saw it, happy that the spirit of the place was still there.
Kai looked at every building and piece of playground equipment that seemed to hold the secrets of his childhood. The slide where he used to race down without fear, the swings where he felt safe, and the little house where so many promises had been made. He closed his eyes for a moment and felt like every little thing brought him closer to the boy he used to be.
This was the place where he had the most fun as a child and teenager, laughing, sharing secrets, and most importantly, with you.
"Y/N..."
He whispered the name softly, as if it had finally gotten away from the place where he had kept it for so long.
He drank some of his beer and all the memories of the two of you came flooding back. He could almost hear your laughter and the sound of your feet running across the playground for a second.
It was as if he had just come back to the first day you met, so clearly that it seemed like it had just happened.
Flashback
Kai was six years old when he walked hand in hand with his mother through the town square of the place they had just moved to. He looked around with wide, fascinated eyes: the trees swaying gently in the cool breeze, dogs running alongside their owners, people chatting on nearby benches. The place felt like something straight out of the bedtime stories his mother used to tell him.
“Don’t you want to go play for a while, sweetheart?” his mother asked gently.
But he only snuggled closer to her, shy as ever. When they sat down on a bench facing the playground, he watched the other children playing. He was curious, but hesitant. He wanted to join them, but he didn’t know anyone.
Distracted, he began fiddling with the zipper of his jacket when a small voice suddenly called out:
“Hey, you!”
Kai looked up and saw a girl with messy hair, scraped knees, and dirt on her hands.
You.
“Do you want to play with me?”
Feeling his cheeks grow warm, he looked at his mother for permission. She smiled and nodded. After a few seconds of hesitation, he gave in and walked toward you. You were beaming at him, showing a huge smile full of baby teeth and a few missing ones.
“What’s your name?” you asked curiously, your eyes bright as you looked at him.
“Kai,” he replied softly. Without hesitation, you grabbed his hand, completely natural about it.
“I’m Y/N,” you said confidently. “Now come on, let’s go to the swings!”
End of flashback
Kai let out a melancholic smile as he sat on the same bench he had once sat on years ago. He had no idea how you were doing; it had been years since the last time you had seen each other. After he left to study abroad, the two of you slowly lost touch, something that would have seemed impossible to anyone who had seen you together during childhood and adolescence.
The memory of your laughter and the warmth of your hand still lingered in his mind, bringing a sharp pang of nostalgia. Kai sighed, thinking about the distance between the shy boy he used to be and the man he had become. Despite everything he had experienced and all the places he had been, you remained a constant in his memories.
That city had been the backdrop of your story, and the time you spent together had become a permanent part of who he was.
The truth was that when he first began to understand his feelings, he realized that what he felt for you went far beyond friendship. He had been in love with you. But he never found the courage to confess it, convinced that you didn’t feel the same way. And besides that, since he was eleven years old, he had known that he would eventually leave—he would move in with his father, study music, and chase his dream of becoming a successful producer.
Time passed, and he achieved the professional success he had always wanted. Yet one persistent doubt followed him like a shadow.
What if I had told her how I felt before leaving?
The thought surfaced often, always unanswered.
But now it felt too late. Years had passed, and he didn’t even know where you were or what your life looked like anymore. Maybe you were married. Maybe you had children. Maybe you had even moved away, though deep down he always believed you would never truly leave that town.
For a moment, a darker thought crossed his mind. What if she isn’t even alive anymore? Kai shook his head, pushing the thought away. Wherever you were, he just hoped you were happy.
What he didn’t know was that fate still had something in store for both of you.
“Damn it, where did I leave my wallet?”
You paced back and forth across the house, rummaging through bags, cushions, and every place the missing item might be hiding, but nothing turned up.
With a nervous sigh, you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to mentally retrace the steps of your day.
“I’m sure I left work with it… I didn’t use it at the market. I paid for the groceries with my phone… so where could it be?”
Suddenly, your eyes widened.
“Of course, the playhouse!”
Earlier, you had stopped by the playground to leave the flowers you had bought there. In a hurry to finish planting everything, you must have dropped your wallet from your bag.
“That’s it. It must be there.”
Relieved, you grabbed your phone and hurried toward the square.
When you arrived, you went straight to the playhouse, and luckily the wallet was right there, lying on one of the steps. A breath of relief escaped your lips. You sat down right there to catch your breath and calm your nerves.
As you looked around, you noticed a tall figure sitting on a bench a short distance away. He seemed to be looking in your direction. A chill ran down your spine. Feeling uneasy, you stood up, ready to leave, when a deep voice suddenly broke the silence.
“Y/N?”
Recognizing the voice, you turned around, blinking as if your eyes were playing tricks on you.
“Kai?” you asked in disbelief.
The man approached, and as he got closer you realized how much he had changed: taller, broader shoulders, and slightly longer hair. But the features you remembered from childhood were still there.
My God… he’s so handsome.
Completely surprised, you covered your mouth with your hands.
He smiled and, without thinking, pulled you into a tight hug. Kai was stronger now, but somehow he was still the same childhood friend.
“I can’t believe it!” you finally said, your voice still full of astonishment. “You… it’s really you!”
“I never imagined I’d find you here at this hour,” he replied, stepping back slightly and scratching the back of his head, clearly nervous. “You look… different.”
“Oh, really, Sherlock?” you teased, trying to hide your surprise behind a casual tone. “How many years has it been since the last time we saw each other? Eight, maybe?”
“Something like that.” He smiled awkwardly, his usual shyness now even more noticeable. “And you? How have you been? What have you been doing with your life?”
“I’m an architect. I work at city hall,” you replied with a small smile. “I’ve been working on revitalization projects around the city.”
“Yeah… and you?” you asked. “I’m guessing you’re working with music, right? That was always your thing.”
“Yeah. I’m a music producer at a major record label in the capital,” he replied, a proud smile spreading across his face.
“I’m really glad to hear that,” you said, a hint of nostalgia in your voice but with a genuine smile. “Well, Kai… I should probably go. It was nice seeing you.”
You started to walk away, but he quickly reached out and grabbed your arm, stopping you.
“Look, Y/N… I’m not going to be in town for long,” he said, his voice slightly more hesitant than he intended. “So, I was wondering if you’d like to grab coffee with me sometime.”
You made a playful face, trying to hide the nervousness the invitation stirred in you.
“Did you seriously forget that I hate coffee?” you laughed, noticing how embarrassed he looked. “But I’ll accept a beer… like the one you’re holding.”
Kai looked at the bottle in his hand and suddenly his face lit up.
“If you’re not busy right now, we could grab a couple and just… talk for a while,” he suggested with a shy smile. “What do you think?”
You glanced at your phone, thinking about it. If you went home now, you’d probably end up watching some random movie and eating junk food anyway. At least a beer sounded like a good way to relax.
“Hmm… alright. Why not?” you said with a small smile. Kai returned the smile, clearly relieved.
After buying the beers, you both sat on the steps of the playhouse and talked for a while.
“The other day I ran into your mother at the market,” you said. “She told me she hadn’t heard from you in a long time.”
“Yeah… life in the city is a bit chaotic,” he sighed, taking a sip of his beer. “There’s barely any time between one project and the next. That’s why I decided to come visit during these few days off.”
“I get that. That’s exactly why I chose to stay around here,” you shrugged, taking a sip as well.
“Did you ever leave town?” he asked curiously.
“I did. After I graduated, I lived in the capital for a few months. But when my grandfather got sick, I dropped everything and came back,” you explained.
“Oh… and how are your grandparents?” he asked with a warm smile. “Your grandmother used to make the best chocolate cookies.”
A lump formed in your throat, and your eyes began to sting.
You avoided looking at him. With your head lowered, staring at the neck of the bottle, you finally said:
“So you really don’t know…”
“Don’t know what?” he asked, confused.
“Kai… they passed away.”
You finally looked at him and saw the smile fade quickly from his face.
“My grandfather stayed with us for only six more months. He fought hard, but his heart couldn’t take it. A year later, my grandmother passed away peacefully in her sleep.”
“Y/N… I’m so sorry,” Kai said, clearly shaken. “I… I don’t even know what to say.”
“I don’t think there’s much to say,” you replied with a weak smile, shrugging slightly. “My grandparents were very close. I always admired the relationship they had. My grandmother was incredibly strong. She stayed by my grandfather’s side through all his suffering, always telling him everything would be okay. But when he passed away… the light in her eyes disappeared. A part of her died with him.”
“That’s really sad,” he said softly.
You shook your head.
“It’s not sad. It’s love,” you replied, making his heart race. “The doctors said my grandmother was starting to feel the effects of old age. But I think she died of a broken heart.”
Kai remained silent, watching you. After finishing your beer and setting the bottle aside, you continued.
“I tried to stay strong, but it wasn’t easy. I was there, taking care of them alone, and sometimes the weight of it all was too much. And then suddenly… they were gone. And I realized I was truly alone.” You paused for a moment. “That’s when I understood that missing someone can feel like it’s killing you from the inside.”
“It’s hard to imagine you like that,” he said quietly. “You were the happiest person I ever knew. I’ll never forget how you came to see me every day when my parents separated, just to make sure I was okay.”
“Yeah… at least you had someone to lean on,” you said with a dry laugh.
Kai swallowed hard. Guilt tightened in his chest. He looked toward the horizon, then down at the bottle in his hand, and finally back at you, focused on your own fingers.
He tried several times to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t even imagine everything you had gone through. The regret was eating him alive.
“Y/N… I’m sorry we lost touch,” he said after a few seconds of silence. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to go through all that alone.”
“Thank you, Kai, but it doesn’t matter anymore,” you said with a sigh. “It’s been three years. Time goes by fast. Eventually you learn how to deal with the pain and the loneliness until they become… manageable.”
Kai nodded slowly and finished his beer.
The two of you sat there in silence, lost in your own thoughts.
She’s so strong, he thought. He didn’t know how he would handle something like that. Yes, you had been hurt, but you carried yourself with a strength that was impossible not to admire. In truth, your resilience has always been one of the things Kai admired most about you. Whenever you got frustrated, you would scream into a pillow, then toss it aside with a sigh and say everything was fine.
Back when you were teenagers, Kai used to find it funny, especially the first time you showed him that “trick.”
Flashback
“Look, Kai, I know it’s hard that your dad is moving so far away, but try to see the bright side,” you said, sitting beside him on the Huening family’s couch. “You can visit him during summer vacation and bring me souvenirs!”
“Y/N, I know you’re just trying to help, but honestly, all I want to do right now is scream,” he replied, frustrated.
“Oh! I have an idea!” Your face lit up as you grabbed a pillow within reach and handed it to him. “Here.”
“What’s this for?” he asked, confused.
“When I get really upset about something, I hold a pillow in front of my face and scream into it,” you demonstrated. “After that, I calm down.”
He blinked a few times, staring at you in silence. Then he couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.
You couldn’t resist his laughter and ended up laughing too, and soon the two of you were yelling into the pillow together, only to burst out laughing again right after. The sound of your laughter was like music to him.
While you distracted yourself with your phone a moment later, Kai found himself watching you quietly. He noticed your hair, the softness of your skin, the sweetness in your eyes, and the way you bit your lip when you were concentrating.
“Huening, why are you looking at me like that?” you asked when you finally noticed his stare, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“N-nothing,” he stammered. “It’s just… you’ve got something on your cheek.”
He reached out and gently, or maybe not so gently, touched your cheek.
“Ow!” you complained, rubbing your face. “Oh, you’re going to regret that!”
Within seconds, the two of you were locked in a pillow fight, laughing nonstop.
Kai’s parents heard your laughter and exchanged a knowing look. Smiling softly, they watched the two of you.
They were sure he would be alright, especially with a friend like you by his side.
End of flashback
The memory made Kai’s chest tighten.
He remembered how, when the two of you were together, nothing ever felt final. Back then, everything seemed endless, as if those days would simply stretch on forever. But life is always shifting, and over the years he had drifted away from what once felt permanent. Time had changed everything and yet those moments still lived inside him, touching him more deeply than he cared to admit.
He noticed your resolute gaze fixed on the horizon, and in that moment he understood something he had been avoiding for years. None of the emotions he had carried since that afternoon in his living room had ever truly disappeared.
Silence settled between you, heavy, filled with everything left unsaid. Each of you lost in your own thoughts, searching for words that seemed impossible to speak.
Kai didn’t know how, or even if he wanted, to break that silence. The truth he carried inside him was becoming suffocating yet doubt gnawed at him. Wouldn’t it be easier to simply let it go? So much time had passed.
He looked at you, feeling the urge to speak burn in his throat, but fear held him back. How could he express everything he felt after all this time? What could he possibly say that wouldn’t sound shallow, or worse, too late?
To hell with it, he thought. At least I’ll get this off my chest.
But just as the words were about to escape him, he hesitated, because at that exact moment, your eyes met his and suddenly he remembered the last time he had seen you.
His chest tightened all over again.
Flashback
Kai was sitting on the floor of his bedroom, surrounded by half-packed suitcases and clothes folded only halfway, trying to decide what would still fit and what he would have to leave behind. The house was far too quiet, broken only by the occasional sound of his mother walking down the hallway and the zipper of a suitcase opening and closing again without any real reason.
He couldn’t focus.
Everything felt wrong. Out of place. As if he were packing someone else’s life instead of his own.
That was when he heard a soft tapping sound against the window. He froze for a moment, frowning, thinking he might have imagined it. Then it happened again, a small, dry tap. Kai stood up and walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside.
You were standing outside, still wearing your prom dress. The light fabric reflected the yellow glow of the streetlamp, and your hair, carefully styled hours earlier, had already started to loosen, as if the night itself had begun to undo it. You were hugging your arms close to your body, clearly cold, but the moment you saw his face appearing at the window, you smiled.
He opened the window immediately.
“Y/N? What are you doing here?”
“I went to the dance.” You shrugged, as if the answer were obvious.
“I know,” he nodded, confused.
“But you weren’t there.” You tilted your head slightly.
The words hung in the air between you.
He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. There wasn’t a good enough explanation.
“I… was packing,” he finally said.
“I know.” You nodded, then glanced toward the square across the street. “Come with me.”
He hesitated, but he didn’t say no.
A few minutes later, the two of you were sitting on the swings in the empty playground, the cold metal creaking softly with each small movement. The town felt different at that hour, quieter, as if it were holding its breath.
Kai couldn’t stop looking at you.
Not the way he always had before. Not like a friend. Not like someone who would always be there.
Something felt different now. More urgent. As if time had suddenly become shorter.
“You’re leaving tomorrow.” You looked at him suddenly; It wasn’t a question.
“I am.”
You nodded, staring at your feet for a moment, as if gathering courage. Then you stood up and held out your hand.
“Give me one last dance.”
“Here?” Kai felt his heart stumble in his chest.
“Here.” You smiled.
There was no music, but you stepped closer anyway, taking his hand and placing your other hand on his shoulder, guiding him naturally, as if this had always been obvious, as if it had always been meant to happen.
Kai rested his hand on your waist, hesitant at first, feeling the warmth of your body through the thin fabric of your dress.
You began to move slowly, small circles, almost imperceptible. The world felt smaller there, more bearable, as if, while you were standing in front of him, he wasn’t really leaving.
He looked at you and you were already looking at him, but there was something in your eyes he had never noticed before.
For a moment, he thought about saying something. Anything. He thought about telling you he didn’t want to leave, that you were the only thing that had ever made that town feel like home… But he stayed silent and so did you.
When the dance ended, you didn’t step away immediately. Your hand lingered in his for a second longer than necessary.
Then you let go.
“You should probably go back to packing,” you said with a small smile.
He nodded, but he didn’t move.
You started walking away toward the street. Then you stopped and looked back, as if expecting him to follow you. He didn’t.
You smiled once more before turning and walking away.
Kai remained there, standing alone in the middle of the empty playground, still feeling the warmth of your hand slowly fading from his, wondering what might have happened if he had said something different that night.
End of flashback
“The mood got heavy,” you said with a faint smile. “Sorry… I don’t know what got into me, bringing all this up after so long without seeing each other.”
“No, Y/N… if anyone should apologize, it’s me.” He finally broke the silence, gently taking your hand. “I’m sorry for pulling away. For not reaching out. For getting so caught up in my own life that I forgot how important you’ve always been to me. We grew up together.”
“But we drifted apart, Kai,” you replied softly. “And that’s just… life, I guess. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I was a terrible friend, and I’m really sorry for that. I just hope you can forgive me… and maybe we can be a little like we used to be.”
The pain in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, but you didn’t know what to do with it. You weren’t even sure there was anything to do.
“I understand what you’re saying, but honestly, I don’t think we can go back to how things were.” Your voice softened, but the wound was still there. “I missed you too. More than you can imagine. But things change.”
“They don’t have to,” he said, tightening his hold on your hand. “I want to fix this.”
“Look, Kai…” you sighed, gathering the courage to pull your hand away. “You started pulling away from me even when you were still here.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, confused.
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words you were about to say.
“I liked you, Kai. More than anything back then. But you never noticed. And when I realized there was no chance you’d ever feel the same way, I gave up. I was alone during that time… and you were too, but in a completely different way.” The sadness in your eyes was impossible to ignore. “We were never on the same page. And the worst part is… you left, and I stayed. I kept hoping that, at some point, you’d fight for our friendship. But in the end, I understood that you had already moved on. So… I moved on too.”
Kai remained silent for a few moments, unable to find the right words. The pain in his chest felt almost crushing.
“I didn’t know that, Y/N. I… I had no idea how you felt. I never realized.” The sadness in his eyes was clear, guilt pressing down on him like a weight. “If I had known…”
He couldn’t finish the sentence. The words died in his throat, crushed by the weight of everything he was finally beginning to understand.
For years, he had believed silence was the safest choice, that preserving what you had was better than risking losing everything. But now, looking at you, he realized silence hadn’t protected anything at all. It hadn’t preserved your friendship, it had only guaranteed that the two of you would walk separate paths, carrying questions that were never answered.
His mind drifted back to that night at the playground, the way you had held his hand, the way you had looked at him as if you were waiting for something he had never had the courage to give. Back then, he thought he was doing the right thing. Now he understood he had just been afraid of not being enough. Afraid of losing you.
And in the end, that was exactly what happened.
“It’s okay, Kai. That’s all in the past now,” you said gently, resting a hand on his shoulder.
The touch should have been comforting, but instead it made reality feel even harsher. You were still trying to be understanding with him, when he should have been the one who had been there for you all those years.
He had spent so long convincing himself that the past was settled, that it was simply part of who he used to be, that he never stopped to consider you might have been waiting for him all that time.
“No, Y/N… it’s not in the past.” Kai held your gaze, his expression tense. “I was an idiot for not realizing it… and for never showing you how much I liked you too.”
“What?” you whispered.
“I’ve always liked you,” he continued, his voice quieter now, but steadier than it had ever been. “I just never thought I had the right to say it out loud. You were always… more. Stronger, more confident, more whole. And I thought if I crossed that line and you didn’t feel the same, I’d lose even the little I had. So, I stayed silent. But the worst part is… by staying silent, I lost you anyway.”
He let out an unsteady breath; his eyes still locked on yours.
“And that was the biggest mistake of my life.”
You didn’t answer immediately. Your gaze remained fixed on him, as if trying to recognize something that had always been there, something he had never fully allowed you to see.
Your heart was beating too fast. Part of you wanted to believe every word. Wanted to accept it as the truth you had always hoped to hear. But another part of you, more cautious, more wounded, didn’t know what to do with that revelation.
“Why now?” you finally asked, your voice quiet but steady. “Why are you telling me this now?”
The question wasn’t hostile; it was honest and somehow that hurt even more.
Kai swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair, visibly shaken.
“Because I finally realized losing you is the one thing I never got over.”
The silence that followed was different from the others.
You could feel the weight of his words, the way they filled spaces you had spent years learning to ignore. For so long, you had believed those feelings existed only inside you, something one-sided, something that needed to be buried so you could move on.
You had made peace with that version of the story, accepted that he would never be yours, but now he was standing in front of you, looking at you as if he had never truly left.
“You hurt me, Kai,” you said finally. Not with anger. Just truth. “Not because you left… but because you never gave me a reason to believe it was worth waiting.”
He nodded slowly, accepting every word, because he knew you were right.
“I know.” No defense, no excuses. Just the truth.
The air between you felt heavier now, filled with everything that had never been said. You studied his face, the features you still recognized, now marked by years, by choices, by absence. He wasn’t the boy you had once loved in silence, and you weren’t the girl who waited for him anymore.
“So, what happens now, Kai?” you asked gently but firmly, searching his eyes for an answer.
He sighed, trying to gather his thoughts. The uncertainty was still there, but now something stronger had taken its place, the determination not to let time and missed chances slip away again.
“I know things might never go back to the way they were, Y/N. We’ve changed. But I can’t just walk away without trying… without reconnecting with you. I don’t want to lose you again.”
Nothing that had been said could be taken back now.
Kai’s gaze, once filled with doubt, now remained steady on you. Your eyes seemed to be searching for an answer that went beyond words.
“I’ll ask you one more time, Kai,” you said quietly, leaning closer to him. “What happens now?”
“Whatever you want,” he answered, his voice almost a whisper, as if he had finally found the words he had been searching for all along. He got closer, closing the distance between you as the weight of everything left unsaid over the years hung in the air. “I just… don’t want to lose you, Y/N.”
You could feel the warmth radiating from Kai, almost intoxicating now. The doubt and pain that still lingered seemed to soften under the intensity of his gaze. Your heart began to race, and even though part of you wanted to pull away, your body refused to obey. Kai seemed to have a magnetic pull, drawing you closer, and you let yourself give in.
He leaned in, and you felt the gentle touch of his hand against your face. It wasn’t just the contact, it was the warmth of him, so intense it felt like it was spreading through every part of you. He didn’t pull back, and your eyes closed almost instinctively, as if your soul already knew what was about to happen.
When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was soft, gentle, almost delicate.
But the intensity quickly took over.
The warmth of his lips, the urgency of the moment… it felt as if time and distance had disappeared all at once. For a moment, the two of you lost yourselves in the sensation. Then the movements grew more desperate, as if you were finally finding your way back to each other. Your breaths mixed, deepening a kiss that had waited far too long to happen.
Kai, his hand still cupping your face, deepened the kiss, and a wave of warmth spread through you, making you surrender completely. The taste of beer still lingered on his lips, but now there was something else there, something that spoke of everything that had been hidden, everything that had been wanted.
When you finally pulled apart, the air between you felt different. Warmer. Heavier. As if something long trapped inside both of you had finally been released.
Kai was still standing far too close, close enough for you to feel his breath and realize you hadn’t stepped away. His heart started pounding.
He wasn’t imagining it, you were still there.
His gaze dropped for a moment, not deliberately, but inevitably. Your lips were still slightly parted, your breathing uneven, your chest rising and falling too quickly. You looked just as affected as he felt, and that realization shattered the little control he had left.
Almost without thinking, his hand returned to your face, his fingers brushing your skin with a caution that didn’t match the urgency burning inside him.
“Y/N…” he started but didn’t finish. There was nothing left to say. You didn’t step back and that was all he needed.
The next kiss carried no hesitation. No doubt. It was firmer, deeper, as if he were finally allowing himself to do something he had denied himself for years. And this time you responded with even more intensity, with hunger, with desire.
When you finally broke apart, time seemed to slow. The world around you faded into silence, distant and unreal, as if nothing existed beyond that moment. You could still taste him. You could still feel the warmth of his hand against your face. Your heart was still beating far too fast.
Kai didn’t move away. His eyes remained fixed on yours, as if he were trying to memorize every detail. There was something different in his expression now, something rawer, more honest.
“I’m here now,” he said quietly, his voice still unsteady. “And I don’t want to leave again.”
He hesitated for a moment, as if the words were still new even to him.
“So… what happens now, Y/N?”
You didn’t answer right away. You could feel his breath against your skin, warm and too close. You could feel your own body responding to his presence, to his honesty, to the courage that had come late, but was real.
For so long, you had buried the version of the two of you that might have existed, convincing yourself it was gone forever, but he was here and, for the first time, he wasn’t hiding.
You stepped a little closer, your faces separated by barely any distance. Your fingers brushed against his arm in a light gesture, but full of intention.
“I want you to make love to me, Kai.” Your voice came out softer than you intended.
Kai fell silent for a moment, surprise flickering across his face, mingling with the intensity of the desire now hanging between you. His eyes held something deeper than simple longing, relief, uncertainty, and perhaps quiet gratitude that this moment was finally real.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rough, as if he needed to hear it again to know this wasn’t just a dream.
You smiled, calmer now, though the desire in your eyes remained clear. Without hesitation, you took his hand and placed it against your waist, pulling him closer.
“I’m sure.”
The simple gesture, combined with your certainty, said everything. There were no more doubts, no more hesitation. The two of you were ready to move forward, ready to surrender to the feeling that had resurfaced after so many lost years.
“Come on,” you said softly. “Let’s go inside.”
You pulled him toward the playhouse. Kai had to duck slightly to pass through the small doorway, which made you laugh. As soon as he stepped inside, he sat down and pulled you onto his lap.
Kai held you even closer, and the intensity of the moment took over again. Your lips met once more, but now with greater urgency, greater need. His hands began to explore your body gently, each warm touch, each careful movement feeling like a step toward something new and yet strangely familiar.
Your heart raced as your body responded to his, and the need to be close to Kai, to connect with him in a way that felt almost written by fate, finally became real.
When you pulled apart again, breathless, both of you knew that what had just happened wasn’t simply a moment of long-suppressed passion. Something bigger was beginning between you, something that, this time, wouldn’t be broken.
“Now… this is our moment,” Kai said. His voice was low but filled with conviction, as if he had finally found himself. He kissed you again, deeply, and this time both of you knew there was no turning back.
Slowly, your hands began to slide along his torso, slipping beneath the black shirt he was wearing. Kai’s skin was warm, and it didn’t take long before you pulled away from the kiss just enough to lift the fabric over his head.
He quickly did the same with you. Your blouse soon landed somewhere on the floor of the playhouse, the dim interior lit only by thin beams of light slipping through the small windows. It was enough for you to see each other’s expressions, every reaction.
His mouth found your neck almost immediately, moving between slow kisses, gentle bites, and lingering touches of his tongue. The heat between you kept rising, and a soft gasp escaped your lips as your hands tangled in his dark hair.
His fingers paused at the strap of your bra. For a moment he hesitated, glancing up at you. When you nodded, he released a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
“You’re even more perfect than I imagined,” he murmured when he saw your boobs free.
Without wasting another second, his mouth closed around one of your nipples while his fingers teased the other.
The sound that slipped from your throat betrayed how much you were enjoying it. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling slightly. Kai seemed to like that, because he began to suck harder, more eagerly.
Soon your hips began to move against the outline beneath his jeans, drawing a low groan from him as his hands tightened around your waist.
“Do you feel what you do to me?” he murmured in your ear, his voice rough.
Your eyes fluttered shut.
“Yes… and I like it very much,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around him as you kept moving.
“Don’t do that,” he warned softly, gripping your waist tighter. “You’re going to drive me insane.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” you replied, your foreheads touching. “Punishing you for leaving all those years.”
“If that’s the punishment,” he said with a crooked smile, catching your lower lip gently between his teeth, “I’ll happily accept it. But let me take you to heaven first.”
“Then lead the way, love,” you whispered.
He quickly unbuttoned your shorts. You did the same with his jeans, and with some effort the last remaining pieces of clothing disappeared as well.
The admiration between you burned on your skin.
Kai had always been handsome but seeing him naked surpassed every fantasy you had ever imagined. And to him, you looked like something out of paradise. The way his gaze traveled slowly over your body only made the desire inside you grow stronger.
“I can’t wait anymore… I need you now,” he breathed, suddenly searching his pockets in frustration. “Damn. Y/N… I don’t have a condom. Do you?”
“It’s okay,” you said softly. “I’m on the pill.”
Kai bit his lower lip, trying to control himself.
“You’re really trying to drive me crazy,” he laughed quietly, pulling you closer.
Without looking away from him, you stepped forward, your heart racing as if each beat answered to his presence. No words were necessary. The way you looked at each other said everything.
You touched his face gently, almost reverently, and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.
“Come here,” Kai murmured, his voice thick with desire.
Still holding your hand, he sat down on the pile of clothes and pulled you closer. With his free hand he stroked himself quickly before looking back at you.
“Ride me.”
You positioned yourself carefully and slowly lowered yourself onto him. He was big, and you had to move slowly. Kai closed his eyes for a moment as your warmth surrounded him. The sensation between you felt electric and delicate at the same time, as if every movement carried meaning. For a few seconds the world seemed to stop, then you began to move.
You couldn’t hold back your moans, your eyes rolling back as pleasure spread through you. Kai’s half-lidded gaze moved between your face, your body, and the way you moved against him.
“Fuck… you feel so good around me,” he groaned. “Maybe I wasn’t the first… but I want to be the last one to feel you like this.”
“Keep going like that,” you gasped, “and maybe you will.”
You were completely lost in him, feeling his body against yours, each movement slowly erasing the years that had once separated you. The world outside disappeared and for that moment, there was only the two of you.
“Fuck, Y/N… pussy so good, taking everything like a good girl” he groaned, gripping your hips.
You pulled him closer instinctively, and Kai wrapped his arms around you, your bodies pressing together as your lips met again in a quick kiss, both of you breathing hard. Kai’s movements became faster, more instinctive as he felt himself getting closer.
“Don’t stop, Kai,” you moaned.
“Are you going to cum, baby girl?” he asked hoarsely. “Cum for me.”
A few more movements were all it took. Your body tensed as the pleasure finally broke over you, tightening around him. Kai held your hips firmly in place as he followed moments later.
For a few seconds neither of you could breathe then your eyes met. You shared a slow, meaningful kiss. It began soft, almost like a confirmation that you were finally standing in the same place. But soon it deepened again, as if both of you were trying to reclaim the time that had been lost.
When you finally pulled away, something in Kai’s eyes had changed. The hesitation was gone. So was the fear that had kept him silent for so many years. He was learning what it meant to have you like this: without distance, with a connection deeper than anything he had imagined.
You smiled, still a little stunned by what had just happened, but with no regret.
“I’m screwed,” he sighed softly, still inside you. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live without your pussy again.”
You laughed and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder.
“I don’t want to think about the future right now,” he continued, scratching the back of his head. “But I’d really like to try… if you want. Can I take you out sometime?”
“Of course,” you said with a teasing smile. “I’ll clear my schedule for you. But like you said… I don’t want to think about the future. I just want to enjoy right now.”
“Right now,” he murmured, his voice low with lingering desire, “I’m here. With you, Y/N.”
“Good,” you said with a grin. “We can continue this in my bedroom. What do you think?”
“I’m definitely in.” You both got dressed quickly and headed toward your house.
For the first time in years, you felt ready to move forward, to live in the present without barriers. And tomorrow? That belonged to the future, but for the first time in a while, it felt promising.
elle speaks²: thanks for reading ♡
disclaimer: this is a fanfiction created by me. the characters of TOMORROW X TOGETHER and the song mentioned are used for creative purposes only. this story is not affiliated with BigHit Entertainment or TXT, and all content is fictional and does not reflect reality. the song “Playground Love” is owned by its creators and used here without profit.
Scenario: the two of you are trapped together for seven minutes. A short amount of time, yet more than enough space for thoughts, lingering looks, and tension hanging in the air. What can happen when there’s nowhere to run?
Millions of thoughts race through Soobin’s mind the moment he realizes that the person going with him into that small, dark space is you. Nervousness runs through his entire body like an electric current. For a brief moment, he wonders if the world is truly conspiring against him.
Not that he doesn’t like you, quite the opposite. You were Soobin’s downfall. A true magnet, effortlessly drawing all of his thoughts and glances toward you. When he finally comes to his senses, you’re standing right in front of him, watching him in silence, waiting for him to stand up and follow you.
Inside the closet, Soobin can feel your warm breath far too close. You’re standing so near that even the slightest movement would make him brush against you. Because of that, he keeps his hands firmly pressed against his own body and stares at the floor, as if he were counting every grain of dust in that cramped space.
Soobin’s heart races when he realizes you’re moving even closer. Now, you’re close enough to his neck that he can clearly hear your breathing.
“Is it really that bad being stuck in here with me, Soobin?” you whisper.
He wants to scream no. He wants to say that, in truth, he’s overwhelmingly happy to be this close to you, and that this moment will haunt, in the best possible way, the coming nights of the poor boy’s life. But all he manages to say is:
“N-no, it’s not bad.”
You give a satisfied smile at his answer.
Then you lift Soobin’s chin, forcing him to look at you. Finally, your eyes meet. You look at him as if he were a lost rabbit in the forest and you were a hungry fox.
“Good, because this isn’t going to end here,” you say before stealing a light, quick kiss from him.
Moments later, you open the closet door. The minutes had already passed. You leave Soobin behind, trembling and ridiculously happy.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Yeonjun lets out a mischievous smile when he realizes it would be you stuck there with him. It wasn’t just luck. It felt intentional. Exactly what he needed. Now, there was no way to run away.
For days, he had been looking for any chance to get closer to you, and you always managed to escape. A step back, averted eyes, some random excuse. But there, in that tight space, running simply wasn’t an option.
You feel his hand wrap around yours with restrained firmness, pulling you inside. The door closes behind you with a low but definitive sound. Yeonjun steps closer, bracing one hand against the wall beside you, cornering you without fully touching. The closeness weighs heavier than any gesture.
He doesn’t speak during the first minute. He just watches. Lets you feel his presence, the warmth, his breath so close. Every second passes too slowly, as if he were testing how much you could handle.
When he notices your breathing starting to steady, he finally breaks the silence.
“Looks like someone couldn’t run away this time,” he says, his tone far too light for what it really meant.
“I’m not running away from you,” you reply quickly, maybe too quickly.
Deep down, though, you knew it wasn’t that simple. You weren’t a helpless little animal fleeing from a predator, but you weren’t innocent either. You were avoiding contact because you knew exactly what he awakened in you. And that was dangerous.
You knew that the moment Yeonjun’s lips touched yours, something inside you would give in. You knew it could end with a broken heart. And you feared it would be yours.
“So what were you doing, then?” he asks, his voice lower now.
“I know your reputation, Choi. And I don’t want to be just another one.”
The silence that follows is thick. He doesn’t answer right away, and that pause makes your stomach twist. You wonder if you said too much or exactly what needed to be said.
When he finally speaks, there’s no playfulness left in his voice.
“Good that you think that way. Because you won’t be just another one. You’ll be the last.”
Before you can process the weight of those words, his lips meet yours. The kiss isn’t rushed. It’s slow, warm, filled with everything that had been held back for far too long, as if he had waited for this much longer than he would ever admit.
Your heart pounds.
Damn. Maybe giving in a little wouldn’t be so bad, you think, already knowing that thought was the beginning of the problem.
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Beomgyu could be the playful guy of the group, always laughing loudly and cracking bad jokes. But around you, everything changed. He wouldn’t even be able to spell his own name if someone asked. It was as if you had cast some kind of spell that left his mind completely blank.
You had only been trapped together in that room for a few seconds, but to him, it felt like hours. The silence weighed heavily, and Beomgyu had no idea what to say to break the ice. Maybe you were waiting for him to make a move. Or to say something, anything. Thoughts crashed into each other inside Choi’s head, one worse than the last.
“Nice weather today, huh?” he blurts out, the first thing that comes to mind.
Regret hits almost immediately, especially when he hears your laugh. Did you think he was an idiot? Too silly? Oh God, what had he just done?
“You’re really cute, Beom,” you say, laughing as you cover your mouth. Your laugh is light and genuine.
Beomgyu freezes. He has no idea how to react to the nickname or the comment. He just lifts a hand to the back of his neck, scratching it in a shy gesture, his face giving away how embarrassed he is.
He’s so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you moving closer. When he finally realizes it, your lips are already on his in a quick, unexpected kiss. Beomgyu stands there, stunned for a few seconds, until he hears your voice.
“I like that about you, Beom. You’re fun.”
That was it. Without a doubt, the best compliment he had ever received in his life.
A blush spreads across his cheeks, and Beomgyu looks away, trying to escape the intensity of your gaze. His heart beats far too fast.
“I like you…” he confesses, almost in a whisper.
“I know. You’re not very good at hiding it,” you reply playfully.
Then you kiss him again. This time, Beomgyu is ready. The minutes seem to fly by as you both get lost in each other. He feels your hand on his face, while his hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer, as if afraid the moment might disappear.
You only pull apart when light from outside the room floods in, breaking the mood.
“Can the lovebirds come out now?”
You smile against Beomgyu’s face. Letting go of him wasn’t exactly what you wanted to do just yet. But that was okay. You could continue later. Preferably in his room.
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Taehyun had always known how to wait. Not because he was indecisive, but because he needed certainty. About feelings, intentions, about you. He observed in silence, analyzing every gesture, every half spoken word, every time your gazes lingered a second too long.
So when the door closes behind you in that narrow space, he understands it isn’t a coincidence. Nothing with Taehyun ever was.
The room feels small far too quickly. The silence is heavy, but not uncomfortable. Dense. He keeps his posture steady, his hands still at his sides, as if any wrong movement could shatter something too delicate to be rushed.
You notice his gaze on you. It isn’t hungry or desperate. It’s attentive. Calculated. As if he were reading your thoughts before you even understood your own.
Taehyun feels the conflict grow inside his chest. He wants to touch you. He has for longer than he’d admit. But wanting was never enough. It never was. He needed to know whether you were ready for something that wouldn’t be fleeting.
“You’re nervous,” he says, his voice low, almost too controlled.
You swallow hard. He doesn’t ask. He states it. That disarms you.
“Maybe,” you reply, trying to sound indifferent.
The corner of his mouth moves in something that isn’t quite a smile. Taehyun steps closer just enough for you to feel his presence, still without touching. The control he holds over himself is almost unsettling.
“I am too,” he admits after a few seconds. “The difference is that I’ve thought about this for a long time.”
Your heart speeds up.
You’re not sure whether that should comfort you or make you even more alert.
“Thought about what?” you ask.
He holds your gaze for a few seconds too long. Inside him, everything screams to move forward, to close the minimal distance between you. But Taehyun chooses loyalty to his own feelings.
“You,” he answers. “What this would mean. What it would change.”
You feel the weight of those words more than any touch.
Silence returns, but now it’s charged with something dangerous. Intense. He finally lifts his hand slowly, as if giving you time to step back. When you don’t, his fingers brush your wrist, feeling your breathing quicken.
“If I kiss you,” Taehyun says, his voice still controlled but lower, “it won’t be just a moment.”
Your stomach tightens.
“Then don’t kiss me,” you challenge, even though you know that’s not what you want.
His eyes darken slightly. Not from loss of control, but from decision.
“I said I wouldn’t be impulsive,” he replies. “Not that I don’t want to.”
Taehyun leans in, his forehead almost touching yours, your breaths mixing. He stops there. On purpose. To see if you would cross the line too.
When you close the small distance that remains, it’s you who decides.
The kiss is slow, deep, silent. There’s no rush. No urgency. It’s as if he’s marking something that had already been his for a long time, but only now had permission to exist.
When you pull away, Taehyun keeps his hand on your wrist, firm.
“I won’t disappear after this,” he says seriously. “And I won’t share what I chose to love.”
In that moment, you understand that the danger was never the kiss.
It was how much he had thought about you before ever touching you.
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Wow. It could only be fate. Was it some kind of divine sign that you were meant for each other?
Alright, maybe Kai had asked his friends for a little help to make it happen. He pretends to be surprised when you’re chosen to stay with him, but he can’t stop a smile from breaking across his face.
When the door closes behind you, Kai finally realizes the situation. Now what? What was he supposed to do? He hadn’t thought the plan all the way through.
He tries to hide his nervousness as much as possible, not wanting to look like an idiot in front of you. But you look just as nervous as he does, and that calms him more than it should.
What Kai doesn’t know is that your friends helped his friends too, and that yes, you were fully aware of what was going on. The problem was that now that the moment had arrived, your mind was completely blank. Every piece of advice your friends had given you had vanished.
The silence between you grows, thick with anticipation. Then, before you lose your nerve entirely, a sudden wave of confidence rushes through you, and you decide to speak.
“Shouldn’t you kiss me?”
The question comes out firmer than you feel, because seconds later your confidence falters. Suddenly, you’re not sure how to get out of that situation, or if you even want to.
Kai startles for a moment at your comment, but quickly understands what you really meant. Relief shows on his face before he can even hide it. You wanted him to kiss you. And now, he would.
He steps closer carefully, as if afraid of breaking the moment. His hand slowly rises to your face, holding it gently, as if asking permission without words. Kai’s heart pounds as he leans in.
For a brief second, he hesitates, searching your eyes for confirmation. When you don’t pull away, Kai finally closes the distance between you.
The kiss starts soft, shy, filled with nerves and expectation. It isn’t rushed or perfect, but it’s real. And that makes everything else fade away.
When you pull apart, you’re still standing far too close. Your foreheads nearly touch, and Kai smiles, trying to catch his breath while his fingers still rest against your face.
#SYNOPSIS » you are mostly into girls. everyone knows that. soobin knows that. but that never stopped him from watching you like he knew something you didn’t. he’s your favorite boy, your quietest tension, you flirt with him because you think it’s fun. until one night, a horror movie, and a question you weren’t ready for — are you really not into guys? and maybe it was never about boys. maybe it was just about him.
✰ pairing: soobin x bi!fem!reader … ﹒smut, slowburn, friends to something, power play, pwp ✰ w/c: 15k #nowplaying 1980s horror film - wallows
✰ warnings: explicit sexual content (mdni!!), power dynamics, dom! soobin, oral (m receiving), praise + degradation kink, cum eating, consent is clear but push-pull tension, light pain, confusion around sexuality, reader is bi but leans heavily towards girls
you never really liked boys anyway. except for choi soobin, of course.
which was annoying. infuriating, really. because he was the one boy you let yourself like, just a little, back when college was still new and everything felt like it could be a movie. he was cute in a lazy, floppy-haired way. laughed too loud. had that smug look on his face like he knew girls liked him, and you hated boys like that.
but you liked him, just a little. you liked the way he always saved you a seat. liked the way he looked at you when you talked, like you were saying something important, even when you weren’t. and maybe, once or twice, you thought about kissing him. maybe, if he kissed you first, you wouldn’t have stopped him. and soobin, well, he’s just your friend. even if you’re always in his lap. even if you always call him baby when you’re drunk. even if sometimes he looks at you like he wants to ruin you.
but then you hooked up with that girl from your lit class and remembered: oh. right. you like girls. you’ve always known you were mostly into girls. since before you even had a word for it. barbie made out with other barbie. you had crushes on your best friends. and when you finally kissed a girl for the first time, it felt like everything made sense. you’re bi, technically. but girls were always easier for you. guys were… well, guys. loud, messy, handsy. they talked over you. and every time you tried to “give it a shot” with one, it ended in disappointment. sometimes disgust. you got tired of being disappointed, so you stopped trying.
but then there was soobin.
your friendship with him is… complicated. you watch movies together all the time. mostly 1980's horror films. bad ones, always. you eat from the same bowl of popcorn and scream at the same jump scares. he lets you paint his nails while you ramble about some bullshit while you’re high, and he acts like it doesn’t hurt when you say things like i think i’m into her.
but also, you caught him staring once. not in a gross way. more like… sad? like he wanted to ask something, but didn’t know if he should. well, you didn’t ask either. you just laid your head on his shoulder and said, “you’re my favorite boy, you know that?” and he said, “i better be."
you’ve seen him shirtless more times than you can count. not on purpose, just sleepovers, gym selfies, pool days. but still, his stupid abs live rent-free in your head. and maybe you’ve thought about kissing him. maybe you wonder what it’d feel like to let him touch you, like, really touch you. maybe your brain goes quiet when he calls you pretty. maybe you’re scared of what that means.
maybe you don’t know if you’re confused about him, or just confused about yourself.
and soobin? oh, soobin wants you in ways he can’t say out loud.
it is not sweet, nor soft. no, he wants you in the most carnal way a person can want someone. wants your thighs around his face. wants to hear you whimper. wants to fuck the brat right out of you. and it’s hell, you know, being your friend.
because you’re always touching him. always looking at him like he’s just soobin, your favorite pillow, your emotional support boy. you straddle his lap like it means nothing. call him baby when you’re tipsy. you whisper in his ear at parties like you’re telling him secrets, when really it’s just to feel your lips on his neck. he knows what you’re doing. or maybe you don’t. maybe you’re just like this. maybe you really don’t know what you do to him.
but he does, because he thinks about it way too often. you on your knees. you moaning his name. your lipgloss smeared across his skin. and he hates himself for it, for the way his cock aches just from being around you. for the way he jerks off after you leave his apartment, like some sad, pathetic, friendzoned loser. he wants to blame you, but he can’t. it’s not your fault you’re like this.
and tonight’s the worst. today is taehyun’s birthday party. everyone’s sweating through their clothes and the floor’s sticky and someone’s already puked in the sink. but you look unreal, you always do. little black skirt, bare thighs, something sparkly on your chest. and of course soobin wants to bite you.
you’re drunk, but not too drunk. just buzzed enough to be mean about it. to smile at him with that lipglossed mouth and say shit like: “you know you’re stupid hot, right?”
he freezes. “what?”
you grin. lean in, real close. “you heard me.”
he tries not to react. tries to keep his eyes on your face and not the way your fingers trail down his arm. but his skin’s buzzing, and you’re everywhere. your perfume, your voice, your thighs on his. you’re pressing into him like you want him to do something. and fuck, he almost does. but you’re gone again, like you always are. off to refill your drink, or to dance, or to do whatever the fuck you do when you’re tipsy and glowing and unstoppable.
he finds you later in the kitchen. kissing some girl against the counter, all teeth and tongue and fingers knotted in hair. and he shouldn’t be surprised. he’s not surprised. he’s just, well. soobin is hard.
and ashamed. and dizzy with it. so he turns away. drinks whatever’s in his cup. vodka? piss? who cares.
an hour later, you sit on his lap like nothing happened. like you didn’t just let some other girl bite your neck while he watched. like he isn’t the one unraveling.
“hey,” you whisper. one arm around his shoulders, nails grazing the back of his neck. “you okay?” he doesn’t answer. you tilt your head. “what’re you thinking about?”
he says it before he can stop himself. “don’t know what to say to you,” he breathes. “i feel… you’re always on my mind.”
you freeze for a second. then your face softens. not in the way he wants. “soobin…” you laugh, too gentle. “i’m really not that into guys.”
the words hit like a blade to the gut. or maybe like a jump scare in one of those shitty 1980s horror films you always make him watch. the kind where someone’s about to get gutted, but the music’s still cheerful. like the world doesn’t know something awful is happening.
and he’s sitting there, hard as a rock, hands on your waist, and he can’t even move. just smiles, swallows it down. lets the blood drain from his chest to somewhere lower. because fuck it, right? because he wants you so bad he’ll take anything. even this.
but after that night, things started to change inside you.
you didn’t want to admit it, not even to yourself. you played it off, laughed it off, because that’s what you always do when things get a little too real. but something shifted, something you didn’t know how to name. but you weren’t stupid. you knew what you were doing that night. you were drunk, yes. but not that drunk. just loose enough to let your hands wander. just tipsy enough to call soobin pretty and pretend it didn’t mean anything. just bold enough to climb into his lap and act like you belonged there.
and god, the way he looked at you. he always looked at you soft. like you were something delicate, something sacred. but that night? something in his eyes was darker. heavier. something that made your stomach flip and your thighs press together just a little.
you liked it, you fucking liked it. and then you said it — i’m really not that into guys — and watched it hit him like a punch to the face. you weren’t lying. well, not entirely. you are bi. you always have been. but it’s been a long time since a man made you feel anything. it’s been years since one touched you and your body responded like this. and it’s not like you didn’t try, you did. dates, hookups, situationships. they all fizzled out into nothing. no spark. no heat. just another guy thinking he deserved something just for showing up.
but soobin isn’t like them. soobin is sweet. soobin holds your hand when you’re hungover and makes playlists for your moods and never pushes, never assumes, never demands. he’s soft-spoken, polite, too damn good for his own sanity. and maybe that’s why you liked teasing him so much. maybe that’s why you started testing your limits.
you knew he liked you. he never said it, but it clung to everything he did. the way he lingered when you touched him. the way he looked away when you changed clothes in front of him, but not too fast. the way he let you flirt and flirt and flirt, and never told you to stop.
and well, you’re a little fucked up, you know that. you like playing with fire just to see how long it takes to burn. and with soobin? soobin had this face, all soft lashes and pink lips and that stupid shy smile, and yet you knew he wasn’t innocent, no, not really. you’d catch him looking sometimes, like really looking. not just at your face, but at your thighs. your chest. your mouth. the hunger was there, hiding behind the sweet boy act.
and it did something to you, something ugly. something hot.
so you started to lean in closer when you talked to him. started calling him baby more often, just to see how his ears turned red. you wore shorts that barely covered anything when he came over. you let your fingers linger a little too long on his hand when you passed him things. and when you caught him staring, you smiled.
but you told yourself it was just fun. you told yourself you were figuring things out, seeing if your body could still want a guy. if your brain could still go there. and if it was anyone else, you probably would’ve pulled away already. but it’s soobin, and you trust him. and that’s what makes it worse. because now every time you’re alone together, you can feel it crackling between you. every laugh, every brush of skin, every too-long stare— it all builds and builds until you feel like your bones might snap from the pressure of not doing anything.
you wake up thinking about his mouth. you fall asleep wondering how he tastes. you touch yourself and pretend it’s still just curiosity. you don’t know what this makes you. don’t know if you’re into him, or just into how he makes you feel. don’t know if you want him because it’s him… or because your body is begging for something and he’s the first person to really look at you like he’s starving.
and maybe that’s the scariest part. not wanting him, but not knowing why you want him.
so you text him two nights later.
[you]: hey, movie night?
[you]: u owe me horror and gore
he answers in under five minutes.
[soobin]: omw
you stare at the message longer than necessary, because you don’t know what you’re doing. but also— you know exactly what you’re doing.
you pick the movie carefully, not something classy. the slumber party massacre. a cult slasher soaked in tits and blood and bad acting. the kind of movie that makes you feel sticky just watching it. the kind of movie you’d make fun of together. the kind of movie where sexual tension is part of the plot, of course
you throw on a hoodie and tiny shorts. not for him, not really. you just want to be comfortable. or you just want to see what happens.
and when soobin shows up, he looks like he always does. hoodie, sweats, his hair slightly messed up from the wind. but his eyes flick to your legs when you open the door. just for a second. and that’s all it takes. that second burns straight through you.
“hey,” he says, voice a little too low.
“you brought snacks?” you ask, already turning your back to him, pretending your skin isn’t hot.
“yeah,” he says, and when you glance back, he’s still standing there, holding the chips awkwardly, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
“you ever seen the slumber party massacre?” you ask, flopping onto your bed.
soobin blinks. “uh, yeah. tits and blood, right?”
you grin. “exactly.”
you settle on your bed with the laptop open, lights off except for the screen’s dim glow. he kicks off his shoes and joins you, back against the pillows, a little too far from you. he swears his heart skips. or maybe it’s his dick. hard to tell.
you don’t say anything, you just press play. and the movie starts. basically: girls scream, clothes come off, fake blood splashes across the screen. it’s stupid. you’ve seen it before. but you don’t care. because all you can feel is the space between your bodies.
you stretch your legs out and let one brush against his thigh. you pretend it’s accidental. it’s not. he stiffens a little, but doesn’t pull away. fifteen minutes in, you shift closer. your bare thigh fully pressed to his now. he still doesn’t move, but his breathing changes, though. a little shallower. you don’t look at him, not yet. you lean your head back, neck exposed, hoodie slipping off one shoulder.
you’re not watching the movie anymore. you’re watching him watch the movie. he’s tense and quiet, too quiet. and then one of the girls on screen moans — loud and ridiculous and obviously fake — and you can practically feel soobin’s whole body flinch beside you.
you turn to him, finally, and your voice comes out low. teasing. “you okay?”
he nods, too quickly. “mhm.”
you smile and lean in a little closer. “you’re so jumpy. it’s just a dumb movie.”
he swallows hard. “yeah, i know.”
and then silence again. well, except it’s not silence. it’s the sound of his breath catching every time you shift. the rustle of sheets when your leg slides higher against his. the creak of the bed when you lean into his side and pretend not to notice how he holds himself like he’s about to explode. you rest your chin on his shoulder. your lips brush his neck. again— just pretend.
your eyes are half-lidded as you stare at the screen, though you’ve long since stopped registering anything happening in the movie. he’s so still beside you it’s almost funny, like he thinks if he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe too loudly, the tension will somehow break on its own. but you feel him. the way his thigh tenses beneath yours. the way his hands are clenched, fingers digging into his own leg. the way he keeps his eyes on the screen like he’s being tested. like this is some exam he has to pass.
“you still think this movie’s just tits and blood?” you ask voice low, teasing. your lips graze the curve of his neck just slightly as you speak, enough to make him flinch.
he lets out a sound, half a laugh, half a breath he’d been holding. “that’s literally all it is,” he says, but his voice is tight, a little hoarse, like it’s caught on something he’s not saying. “plot? never heard of her.”
you grin, slow and lazy. “right. because you only watch movies for the plot.”
“i do, actually.” he turns his head a little, just enough to glance at you, and you catch the flicker of something in his eyes, maybe amusement, restraint, a quiet kind of want that makes your stomach flip. “that’s why i’m here. for the deep narrative of slumber party massacre.”
you laugh, you can’t help it. “mm, yeah. so insightful.”
“exactly,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping (not very subtly) to your mouth. “truly… cinematic.”
there’s a beat of silence where neither of you speaks, where the only sound is the girl on screen screaming as a power drill tears through a door. you shift closer again, just barely, and his breath catches. you can feel the way the air between you is thick. the push and pull of something neither of you wants to name.
you smile, almost wicked, and lean into him fully now, your weight settling half across his chest, your hand resting on his stomach, too casual to be casual at all. you can feel the tension in him, the way his body is coiled tight, like he’s holding himself back from something. “hey..” you whisper, voice syrupy and low. “you uncomfortable?”
he swallows hard. “no,” he says, way too fast. “why would i be?”
you let your fingers drag slowly, lazily over the hem of his hoodie. “dunno. you just seem kinda… stiff.”
you know you’re being cruel. you know exactly what you’re doing, and part of you hates yourself for it. and the other part (the louder one) is trying to make sense of the chaos inside you, the confusion, the heat, the sudden ache that’s been gnawing at you ever since that night at the party. you tell yourself this is about clarity, you just want to know.
he exhales sharply, like he’s trying to keep himself from combusting. “you’re really playing with fire right now,” he mutters, half under his breath.
you tilt your head again, wide-eyed and fake-innocent. “me? i would never.”
he turns to you then and suddenly he’s close, so close that his nose almost brushes yours, and all the tension from before condenses into a single, dangerous moment. “are you really not that into guys?” he asks, low and careful, like he’s trying to sound casual but can’t quite pull it off. “or are you just… not into me?”
the words hit harder than you expect. you blink, thrown for a second. you were playing a game, but suddenly you’re not sure what the rules are anymore. and he doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. he’s not teasing now, he’s just waiting. you open your mouth, then close it again. because what the hell are you supposed to say? you could lie. you could laugh it off. you could flirt your way out of it like you always do. but you don’t. because suddenly you feel a little sick, like something’s lodged in your chest.
“i…” you start, but your voice cracks, and you have to look away. you pull back just slightly, your hand slipping off his stomach, and the loss of contact makes you feel cold. “i don’t know.”
and that’s the truth, and it’s the worst answer you could give. but soobin doesn’t respond right away. he just watches you for a moment, eyes sharp, mouth tight. “you know,” he says finally, voice low and calm in that dangerous way, “i can’t keep pretending this is nothing. that you don’t know what you’re doing.”
your breath hitches. “i didn’t mean to—”
“yes, you did,” he cuts in, not harsh, but not gentle either. “you did mean to. you do it all the time.”
you want to argue, but you can’t. because he’s right. “i don’t know what i want,” you admit, your voice small now. “it’s not about you. it’s not— it’s not because i don’t think about you. i do. i think about you more than i should.”
he exhales slowly. “then stop acting like it’s a joke.”
you look up at him, and suddenly he’s too close again, and the space between your bodies feels like it might collapse. “i’m just... scared,” you whisper, and it’s the first honest thing you’ve said all night.
his expression softens, not completely, not enough to erase the frustration and the want, but enough to remind you who he is. that it’s soobin. that he’s not going to take advantage. that he just wants you to be sure. “then say that,” he says gently. “don’t play with me.”
you don’t say anything at first. you just sit there with your hands in your lap like some kind of penitent virgin, like you weren’t half on top of him five seconds ago whispering in his ear like a tease. it’s funny, in a pathetic kind of way. you don’t even realize how obvious it is, how you’re still pressed up against him, still breathing like you ran a mile, still watching his mouth like it might do something terrible. and soobin? soobin’s done pretending he doesn’t notice.
“you know what your problem is?” he says, voice calm in a way that’s somehow more dangerous than yelling.
you blink. “um—”
he leans in just slightly, not enough to touch, but close enough to make you feel it. “you think you can keep playing these games with me and i’m just gonna sit here and take it.”
your stomach flips. “i wasn’t—”
“you weren’t?” he cuts in, tone sharp now. “what was that then? just casual flirting with your friend since you are 'not that into guys’? calling me baby and crawling into my lap and rubbing up against me during a fucking slasher movie? just normal behavior?”
you open your mouth. close it again. because yeah. yeah, okay. you have no argument. he laughs, humorless. “you want to know what i think?”
you don’t, you really don’t, but you nod anyway. he shifts his body, finally, his legs opening just slightly, taking up more space, spine straighter now, eyes locked on you like he’s finally tired of pretending he’s not starving. he doesn’t touch you, not yet, but every inch of his posture says he could. would, if you let him.
“i think you like pretending you’re in control,” he says. “i think you like pushing me just far enough to feel powerful. but you never let it go further, because then it’s real. and if it’s real, you can’t hide behind your sexuality crisis or your drunk-girl flirty bullshit.”
you suck in a sharp breath. “wow.”
“yeah,” he says. “wow.”
there’s a long pause. you don’t move, but your skin’s buzzing, your thighs pressed together like that’ll help. it won’t. your whole body’s betraying you. and the worst part is that he knows. because he continues: “but here’s the thing,” he continues, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “you’re not in control. not anymore.”
“oh?” you shoot back, voice a little thinner than you want. “and you are?”
he tilts his head, eyes dark now, smile lazy. “wanna find out?”
you hate him. you hate that your legs feel weak and your face is hot and your stomach is doing flips like you’re seventeen and he’s the first boy who ever looked at you like he meant it. you swallow hard. “you think i’m scared of you?”
“i know you’re scared of how bad you want me,” he says, and it’s not cocky. it’s not a guess. it’s a goddamn fact.
and you hate that he’s right. so you laugh, mostly to cover the way your heart is slamming in your chest. “you’re full of yourself.”
“maybe,” he shrugs. “but you’re still sitting in my lap like, so.”
you blink. your brain short-circuits a little. “jesus christ.”
“say the word,” he says, voice dropping just enough to make your spine tingle. “say it and i’ll stop. we can finish the movie, you can pretend you’re totally unbothered, and i’ll go home like nothing happened.”
you look at him, and he’s still soobin. your sweet, smart, quietly hot friend who lets you paint his nails and listens to your drunk girl rants and always brings the right snacks. except now his eyes are blown wide, his lips are parted, and he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. you’re not used to this version of him, but god, it’s doing something to you.
“i’m not saying stop,” you whisper, and it sounds like a confession.
he grins, slow and dangerous. “didn’t think so.”
you don’t have time to think before he moves. he’s grabbing your waist and pulling you into his lap like you weigh nothing. just grabs you, shifts you over until you’re straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs, face inches from his. like it’s easy, like he’s done it before.
your breath catches in your throat. your hands find his shoulders out of instinct, grounding yourself, but your head is spinning, because he’s so close. his hoodie smells like laundry detergent and something distinctly him, and you’re hyper-aware of how warm his hands feel on your hips, how his thumbs drag slowly against the waistband of your shorts like he’s barely restraining himself.
“you okay?” he asks, but there’s no softness in his voice this time. just control. “still playing?”
you blink at him, wide-eyed. “i’m not—”
“don’t lie,” he cuts in, eyes dark and steady on yours. “not now.”
your lips part, but no sound comes out. you can feel the tension in your own body of the pull, the ache, the raw want that’s been building for weeks, maybe months, maybe longer than you care to admit. and now it’s all boiling under your skin. he leans back slightly against the pillows, relaxed now, one hand still heavy on your hip. his other arm stretches behind his head, the picture of composure, like he’s not losing his mind with you sitting like this on top of him.
“so,” he says, almost lazily, like this is just another dumb conversation between friends. “what do you like?”
you blink. “what?”
“sexually,” he clarifies, casual as anything, like he’s asking what your favorite color is. “what do you like? do you even know?” you swallow hard and he tilts his head, watching you. “you’ve been playing this game for weeks. teasing me, acting like you don’t notice when i’m hard because you’re grinding on me. so i wanna know. is it just for fun? or do you actually get off on this?”
your cheeks burn. you should get up, you should say something. instead, you shift slightly in his lap, barely, and his hands tighten on your waist in warning. “don’t do that unless you’re ready to take responsibility,” he says, voice lower now, dangerous. “you wanted to know how i feel? this is it.”
you bite your lip, heart pounding. you feel too exposed, even fully dressed. like he’s peeled something open inside you and now there’s nowhere to hide. “you’re being mean,” you whisper.
he grins, sharp and slow. “good. someone’s gotta stop letting you play dumb.” you stare at him, chest tight, skin buzzing. “so,” he says again, voice softer now but no less intense. “what do you like?”
you hesitate. not because you don’t know, but because saying it out loud would make it real. and he watches your face, expression unreadable. and then he leans in again, voice low in your ear. “tell me what you want,” he murmurs. “or nothing happens. i’m not gonna touch you unless you ask for it.”
you don’t mean to move, not really, but your hips shift slightly, like your body’s trying to answer for you. your lips part, and for a second, you just breathe. you’re not sure where your voice went. everything’s tight in your throat, but soobin doesn’t rush you. he just waits, watching you from below with a look that’s way too composed for someone whose thighs you’re currently sitting on.
“i…” you start, barely above a whisper. “i like…”
he arches an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at his mouth. “yeah?”
you glare at him, cheeks burning. “don’t be smug.”
“i’m literally just sitting here,” he says, all innocent, like his fingers aren’t gripping your hips like a fucking anchor. “you’re the one grinding on me.”
you huff, exasperated, but your body betrays you again— your thighs tighten, your nails dig lightly into his shoulders. you lean in closer so you don’t have to look at him full in the eyes when you say it. “i like…” you pause, then exhale hard. “i like being in control. usually.”
he hums. “yeah?”
“with girls,” you clarify, quieter now. “it’s just always been easier. they… let me lead.”
soobin’s eyes flicker darker, but he keeps the same calm expression on his face, his voice steady. “so you’re a top,” he says, teasing, like he’s just making an observation about the weather.
you roll your eyes. “not like that.”
“no?” he tilts his head. “how then?”
you bite your lip, struggling for the words. “i mean— i like the dynamic. i like girls with that…” your voice drops. “with that… innocent face. it’s hot.”
you feel soobin’s breath hitch under you, just barely. it makes your heart spike in your chest. he laughs softly, but there’s something sharp underneath it. “so is that how you see me?”
you finally meet his eyes. they’re unreadable now, but locked onto yours with a focus that makes your stomach twist. “no,” you say, and your voice is firmer this time. “you’re not like that.”
he hums again, this time low and slow. “so what am i like, then?”
you swallow, your hands sliding slightly down his arms. “you’re… harder to read. you play along, but i know you’re not passive. you pretend you don’t care, but i can feel it when you touch me.”
“yeah?” he says, fingers tightening just slightly at your waist. “and what does that make you?”
this time you don’t look away. “i don’t know,” you admit. “i like… control. but sometimes—” you pause, frustrated at how hard it is to say. “sometimes i like giving it up.”
“why?” he asks, and his voice is quieter now. not mean, just curious. like he genuinely wants to know what makes you tick.
you think about it. “it depends,” you say slowly, choosing your words with care. “on how the person treats me. if they make me feel safe or wanted. if they deserve it.”
his gaze doesn’t waver. “and am i treating you like that right now?”
that question hits somewhere deep, somewhere between your lungs and your core, and you can’t tell if it makes you want to run or stay forever, so you nod. and he smirks, not cruel, not cocky. just knowing. “good,” he says, voice low. “because i’m not trying to play pretend with you anymore.”
you nod again, smaller this time, your breath shaky. “i don’t want to play either.”
his thumb strokes gently along your side, slow and steady, grounding you. his other hand moves up to rest lightly against the back of your neck, just holding you there, close enough to feel his breath against your lips. “you like being in control,” he says, like he’s repeating it back just to make sure you know he heard you. “but you don’t need to be.”
you don’t answer out loud. your body answers for you, because your hips are rolling forward slightly without permission, the friction making you gasp. his grip tightens instantly, holding you in place. “ah ah,” he tuts, voice like velvet. “you still haven’t told me what you want.”
your head drops forward, forehead resting against his. “you’re so fucking annoying.”
he grins. “am i?”
you’re burning. your whole body is vibrating with need and frustration and anticipation. you feel like you’re going to scream if he doesn’t do something, or let you do something. “i want you to touch me,” you whisper, barely audible.
he leans in just a bit more. “gonna have to say that louder, baby.”
you grit your teeth. “fuck you.”
he smiles sweetly. “you wish.”
your fingers tighten in the fabric of his hoodie. your thighs are trembling now, and you’re so wound up you feel like your skin might split open. you inhale shakily, close your eyes, and say it again. louder this time. clearer. “i want you to touch me.”
you feel the way his breath catches, like even he wasn’t prepared to hear you say it like that. and then his voice drops, low and hot in your ear.
“good girl.”
you almost moan at his words, but you bite your lips and hold yourself back. his hands rest on your thighs like they live there. his thumb draws slow, absent circles against your skin, barely noticeable if your entire nervous system wasn’t screaming at you. his eyes are on you like he’s watching a storm roll in. and you’re trying not to come apart over a fucking stare. you shift a little, chasing friction, and he smirks immediately.
“comfortable?” he asks, voice too soft to be innocent.
you glare. “you’re enjoying this.”
“obviously,” he says. “you’re so easy to read it’s kind of adorable.”
you roll your eyes, annoyed and flustered, which only seems to please him more. his thumb trails higher, a little closer to the hem of your shorts, but doesn’t go any further. he’s doing this on purpose. you know he is.
“you’re not gonna kiss me?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
he raises an eyebrow, gaze flicking from your mouth to your eyes. “is that what you want?” your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. he smiles, slow and cruel and so fucking pretty. “then kiss me.” you freeze. his voice drops, lower now. “what? don’t get shy now.”
you want to hit him. you want to kiss him. you want to melt into him. mostly, you want him to stop talking. but you don’t move. so soobin leans in and exhales. “or do you just want me to do everything for you?”
you swallow hard. “you’re insufferable.”
he hums, grinning. his hand moves again, dragging up the back of your thigh, slow and deliberate, until he’s cupping the underside of it, holding you just a little tighter. “you gonna kiss me or what?” he asks again, voice practically a purr. “or are you scared of that too?”
“i’m not scared.”
“then what’s stopping you?”
you stare at him. you can feel your pulse everywhere — in your neck, your wrists, between your legs. he’s right there. he’s asking for it. and still, you hesitate. so he keeps going. “you want it to be me?” he asks, fingers now pressing into your thigh a little rougher. “you want me to make the first move? pin you down? take it from you?” you shiver. “i could,” he adds. “but i won’t. not until you ask for it.”
his words hit low and deep, and you can’t tell if your thighs are shaking from nerves or want. maybe both. so you reach up, slow and hesitant, and brush your fingers along his jaw. he doesn’t move, he just waits. and when you finally lean in and kiss him, it’s like biting into lightning.
he doesn’t move at first. lets you kiss him, tentative, searching, like he wants to see how far you’ll go on your own. but when your fingers curl into the collar of his hoodie and your hips shift forward instinctively, he groans low in his throat and grabs your waist tight. his mouth moves against yours like he’s been waiting. like he’s been holding back for weeks and now he’s finally letting himself want. well, because he is. so he kisses rougher, deeper, his tongue slipping into your mouth like it belongs there. and when you whimper, he pulls back just barely, breathing hard.
“that what you wanted?” he asks, voice ragged now. you nod, dazed. he kisses the corner of your mouth. your jaw. down your neck. everywhere but where you’re begging for it. “you’re gonna have to be more specific,” he murmurs against your skin. “i wanna hear exactly what you like.”
your hips grind down again. he grips your thighs harder, holds you in place. “you like being on top?” he asks, almost amused.
you nod, biting your lip. “sometimes.”
“but not tonight?” he asks, tilting his head. “you want me to take over, baby?” you can’t speak. you just breathe and nod. he grins. “you know what to do then.”
you press your forehead to his, shaky and desperate and so ready to say it. “please,” you whisper. “i want you.”
“how bad?” he asks.
“i can’t think,” you breathe. “i need you to do something.”
he chuckles — low, smug, wrecked. “good. now we’re getting somewhere.”
his hand is on your throat before you even process it. not squeezing, just resting there, firm enough to feel the beat of your pulse against his palm. he holds your gaze steady with his, like he’s daring you to pull away. you don’t. your breath comes out shaky and uneven, and his thumb strokes just once along the column of your neck. “say it again,” he murmurs, voice low and unforgiving.
you swallow hard. “need you to do something. please.”
he nods once, like that’s all he needed. his other hand slides up under your hoodie, knuckles brushing the bare skin of your waist. his fingers are cold at first, but the way they move is purposeful, not searching, not unsure. he knows what he’s doing. he drags his hand up slowly, deliberately, until his palm rests just under your bra.
“like this?” he asks, thumb teasing the edge of the fabric. “or do you want more?”
you gasp, breath catching. “more.”
he grins, lazy and infuriating. “thought so.”
he slides your hoodie up, not bothering to take it off, just pushing it out of the way enough to get what he wants. his hands move with a kind of patience that makes you ache, like he’s got all the time in the world to make you lose your mind. he cups your breasts through the thin fabric, thumbing over your nipple until it hardens beneath his touch. you arch into it without thinking. “you like that?” he asks, voice close to your ear.
“yes.”
“say it.”
“i like it.”
his hand dips lower, sliding down your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts. his fingers toy with the edge like he’s still deciding if he’s going to keep going. “you want me to take these off too?”you nod, dizzy. he clicks his tongue. “use your words.”
“yes. take them off.”
he drags them down slowly, watching your face the whole time. he wants to see everything— the way your lips part, the way your body tenses when he touches you, the way you shiver when the fabric brushes down your legs. you kick them off and now you’re in nothing but your underwear, straddling him, your hoodie still half pushed up, breath coming in shaky bursts.
“fuck,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “you’re really just gonna sit here looking like that and expect me to behave?”
“i like it,” you manage to say.
he smirks. “of course you do.”
his hands slide down slow, fingers splaying wide as they skim the sides of your thighs, tracing the shape of you like he’s memorizing it. and then they’re under your ass, lifting you just enough so he can shift your panties to the side, fingers brushing over where you’re wet and aching. he whistles low, mouth curling into a grin. “fuck,” he mutters. “you really needed this, didn’t you?”
you let out a shaky breath, gripping his shoulders like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. your whole body jolts at the first real contact, the drag of his fingers through your folds, slow and sure, like he’s testing what you can handle. “so wet for me already,” he murmurs, circling your clit with maddening precision. “and i haven’t even done anything yet.”
he rubs slow circles with the heel of his palm, watching you squirm. your hips jerk instinctively, but his hands pin you down. he keeps you still, makes you feel every slow movement, every teasing glide. he’s not in a rush. you might be desperate, but he isn’t. not anymore. still, he slips a finger inside you, slow, deliberate, and your whole body tightens around him. he groans low in his throat.
“tight,” he mutters, adding a second finger without warning. “jesus. you’d fall apart if i fucked you right now.” you moan, breathless. “you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” he says, curling his fingers just right. “after all that teasing.”
“yes—”
his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight, lazy circles as his fingers fuck into you deep and steady. you can’t breathe, can’t think, just clutch at him like you’re drowning. and then he leans in close, voice a growl against your ear. “you need someone to put you in your place,” he says. “you act like you’re in charge, but look at you now. look how easy it is to break you.”
your thighs tremble around his hips, pleasure building sharp and fast, overwhelming. “you like being handled like this, don’t you?” he asks again, his tone dark, laced with smug delight.
“yes,” you gasp, hips twitching.
“of course you do,” he says. “you like being fucked slow. deep. with a hand on your throat so you remember who’s in charge.” his other hand slides up again, fingers wrapping gently around your neck and your whole body tenses in response. “you make everything so difficult,” he says. “all your mixed signals, all your little games. but this? this is simple. this is what you really wanted.”
your walls clench around his fingers as your body tips over the edge, sudden and hard and overwhelming. your mouth falls open in a moan you can’t stop, hips jerking despite the grip he has on you. he doesn’t let up. just keeps fucking you through it, watching your face the whole time.
“look at you,” he breathes. “so fucking pretty like this. i should’ve done this a long time ago.” your body’s shaking when he finally slows down. he pulls his fingers out and brings them to his lips, licking them clean like he’s tasting something expensive. “mm,” he says. “sweet.”
you stare at him, wrecked and speechless, still trying to remember how your lungs work. then he leans in, takes his fingers back to your clenching cunt again, his voice rough in your ear. “tell me how it feels.”
you grip his shoulders tighter, fingers digging into the fabric of his hoodie. “it feels good.”
“how good?”
“i don’t know—fuck—soobin—”
he presses a little harder, the friction just right now, and your hips jerk again. “you like when i touch you here?” he asks, eyes locked on yours, no trace of softness in his voice.
“yes,” you breathe. “yes, i do.”
his fingers slide between your folds, slick and warm, and he lets out a low groan. “fuck,” he mutters again. “you’re soaked.” you whimper, forehead dropping to his shoulder. his fingers move with ease, finding your clit again and circling it with infuriating slowness.
“look at me,” he says. you lift your head, barely. your eyes meet his, and the intensity there nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. he curls his fingers inside you, hitting just the right spot, and you cry out before you can stop yourself. your hips grind down, chasing the pressure. “needy little thing,” he says, amused. “so much for being in control.”
you whimper again, half shame, half desperation. he’s relentless now, thrusting his fingers in and out while his thumb circles your clit, pushing you higher, closer. “soobin—”
“tell me you’re close.”
“i’m close,” you breathe, eyes squeezing shut.
he leans in again, lips ghosting over your ear. “then say please.” you hesitate, and his pace slows. “come on,” he murmurs. “you’ve been bossing me around for months. let me hear you beg.”
you’re shaking now, thighs trembling around him, every nerve on fire. “please,” you whisper.
“louder.”
“please, soobin—please don’t stop.”
his mouth curves into a grin, and he gives you exactly what you asked for. “good girl,” he says again, and this time, you fall apart in his fingers, and god, this feeling is smoothing, something you don’t remember feeling it before.
you’re still in his lap, limbs loose, head buzzing, the movie’s looping on the laptop like background noise at a bad dream rave. his hand is parked on your waist—heavy but not pushing, more placeholder than threat—and you can’t decide if you’re melting into him or trying to keep from slipping clean off the planet.
he’s the one who breaks the hush. “you’re thinking again,” he says, voice low.
you don’t look at him. “i’m recovering.”
“that’s what i’m worried about.” his thumb taps a slow beat against your skin. “every time you start thinking, you talk yourself out of wanting me.”
you snort, tired and raw. “i literally just made a mess on your hand. i think the wanting part is confirmed.”
“for now,” he says. “in ten minutes you’ll start reciting the ‘i’m not that into guys’ speech again, and i’ll be back at square one.”
you lift your eyes, glare half-heartedly. “square one was me calling you pretty in a kitchen full of tequila fumes. i’d say we’ve upgraded.”
“fine,” he admits, lips twitching. “square two, then. still a demotion from where i’m sitting.”
you finally meet his gaze, and it is clear, unflinching, annoyingly perceptive, and something inside you trips. the room tilts a millimeter. because you realize he isn’t holding you tighter, he isn’t trying to start round two, he’s just… waiting.
the silence stretches. your brain tries to sprint off a cliff, but your body’s too heavy to follow. so you talk, because you can’t not. “i’m not gonna pretend i’m suddenly into guys again,” you say, words slurred around honesty. “and i’m definitely not in love with you, so don’t get weird.”
“bold of you to assume i want either,” he shoots back, all teeth.
you blink. “you don’t?”
“i like you messy,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “in love is boring. this—” he gestures to the tangle of limbs and shame you’re both stewing in— “this is entertaining.”
you should probably punch him. instead you laugh, breathless. “you are absolutely dirty.”
he smiles, small but real. “dirty keeps you on my lap, apparently.”
you roll your eyes, shift, realize he’s still hard beneath you and freeze. he notices, of course he does, and tilts his head, studying your face. “thinking again,” he murmurs.
“wondering,” you correct, voice thin.
“about?”
“if i should, um… help you?”
his brows lift. “help?” he echoes, amused. “sound mighty altruistic of you.”
“shut up,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “i’m new at this.”
“new at what?”
“wanting a guy enough to… you know.”
he hums, all fake contemplation. “we could have a symposium. ‘introduction to blowing choi soobin.’” you smack his chest; he laughs, catches your wrist, threads your fingers through his. the joke dissolves, but the warmth sticks. “we can slow down,” he says, quieter now. “or stop. or order pizza. i don’t care—just don’t ghost me.”
you stare at him, throat tight. “i don’t want to stop,” you whisper.
his thumb strokes the back of your hand. “good. then tell me how you want to start.”
the question hangs there, simple but also terrifying. your pulse trips a little faster. “kiss me again,” you answer, voice steadier than you feel. “but slow.”
“slow.” he nods, serious. “any further instructions, boss?”
“don’t call me boss,” you mutter.
“princess?” you glare.
“soobin,” you warn.
his grin spreads, wolfish. “see? thinking stopped. progress.”
he leans in (slow, like requested) and kisses you softer than before, mouths parting, breath catching, no rush. your hands slide up into his hair, anchor there; his free hand cups the back of your neck, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. and when you finally pull back, you’re trembling again, but it’s a quieter shake.
his eyes search yours. “so?”
you laugh into his shoulder. “shut up and keep going.”
“sure,” he whispers, mouth brushing yours, “but remember—if you want more, you ask.”
you nod, firm. “i will. i promise.”
you don’t remember when his hands started moving again, but they’re under your hoodie again now. his mouth is still pressed against yours, but the kiss has changed. it’s deeper and slower. and he’s not letting you lead anymore. he tilts your chin up with one hand, holds you there like he’s adjusting the angle of something he owns. his other hand slides along your spine, dragging heat everywhere it touches.
his hands slide back down to your hips, pulling you toward him until you’re close enough to feel everything again. he shifts his leg just slightly between yours and applies the lightest pressure, forcing you to roll your hips against his thigh. your mouth falls open without meaning to.
“feels good?” he asks, low.
“yeah,” you whisper.
he hums, unimpressed. “what was that?”
“yes,” you say again, louder.
his hand moves to the back of your neck. not rough, just enough to hold you still. to keep you looking at him. “you’re gonna do what i say,” he says. “because you want to. not because i make you.” you nod. “say it.”
“i want to,” you whisper.
“you want what?”
“i want to do what you say.”
he smiles. “then take your hoodie off.”
your hands move before your brain catches up. you pull it over your head, toss it to the floor. your chest is rising and falling too fast, and he’s just sitting there, watching you like you’re a puzzle he’s already solved.
his gaze drags over your body, slow and hungry, but he still doesn’t touch. instead, he leans back slightly and says, “take off your bra.”
your fingers fumble a little, but you do it. it joins the hoodie on the floor. he exhales like it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to. and then he looks you in the eyes again. your body’s humming, nerves and heat and need all tangled together. his hands slide up to cup your chest, thumbs brushing over your nipples, slow and deliberate. he watches every twitch of your face as he touches you.
“you like being told what to do?” he asks, voice low, dragging.
“yeah.”
he raises an eyebrow. “say it.”
“i like being told what to do.”
he kisses you slow one last time before pulling back. “then get off,” he says quietly.
you blink, breathless, already lightheaded. “what?”
he tilts his head. “off my lap. on your knees. on the floor.”
you stare for half a second. then your body moves before your brain can argue. you climb off the bed and drop down onto the floor between his legs, palms pressing into the hardwood for balance. your knees hit the floor, and the air shifts.
he exhales like the sight alone is enough to wreck him. his legs spread wider, slow, deliberate, and he leans forward a little, one hand cupping the side of your face. his thumb drags along your cheek, down to your lip. “look at you,” he murmurs. “you ever been on your knees for a guy before?” you shake your head. he smiles. smirks, really. “good.”
his thumb presses against your bottom lip, slipping inside just slightly. your mouth parts for him on instinct. “open,” he says, and you do. he pushes his thumb in deeper, then pulls it out just as slow. “good girl.”
your breath stutters. he leans forward more, one elbow resting on his thigh as he looks down at you. “you’re doing so well for me. on your knees, waiting for what i give you. you don’t even know how pretty you look like this.” his other hand slides into your hair, not hard, but firm. guiding and steady. you can feel how calm he is—like this is just natural for him. like having someone kneeling between his legs is a position he was meant for. “hands behind your back,” he says.
you obey, slowly, feeling the shift in your own body when you do. your balance changes. your chest pushes forward slightly. your breath feels deeper and needier. he smiles. “you want to do something for me?”
“yes,” you whisper.
“then ask.” your throat tightens. he leans closer, almost nose-to-nose, his voice a quiet threat. “ask me what you want, baby.”
“can i…” your voice breaks. you swallow. “can i touch you?”
he leans back, sits up straight, eyes heavy on yours. “you want to touch me?”
“yes.”
“where?”
your cheeks burn. “your cock.”
his breath hitches. he doesn’t show much, but that gets him. a shift in his jaw. a slight flex of his thigh. “say it again.”
you breathe in. “i want to touch your cock.”
he smiles. “then take it out.”
you move carefully, your hands now free again, fingers working his waistband, slow and precise. you don’t rush. he watches you the entire time, like you’re a performance made just for him. and when you finally pull him out, hard and heavy in your palm, his breath leaves in one long, quiet exhale.
you look up, eyes wide. “now what?” you ask, voice barely there.
he smirks again, hand back in your hair. “first, you keep those pretty eyes on mine the entire time,” he says, voice low and dark. his hand tightens just slightly in your hair, not painful, just present. like a reminder: he’s the one leading. “start slow,” he says, voice steady. “get used to the way i feel in your hand.”
you swallow, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. he’s warm and heavy. hard enough to make your pulse spike just from the weight of him in your palm. you glance up. “like this?” you ask.
he nods once, but doesn’t say anything. just watches. the corner of his mouth lifts a little. proud, curious and patient. you start to stroke, slow and careful, your thumb brushing over the head like you’ve done this before—you did, but it’s different with him. he makes it feel deliberate, like every movement matters.
“good,” he murmurs. “tighter. don’t be scared.”
you adjust, hand squeezing a little more, sliding down and back up in a steady rhythm. you’re learning how he twitches, how his breath catches, how his thighs tense a little under your arms when you get the pressure right. he lets out a quiet groan.
“yeah. just like that,” he says, hand sliding to cradle the side of your face. his thumb traces your cheekbone. “you’re so fucking good at this, fuck—” you blush, ridiculous considering the situation, and he smirks. “you like hearing that?” he asks.
you nod. “yeah.”
he hums, thumb brushing your lips again. “then earn more of it.”
your hand speeds up slightly, bolder now. you’re watching him just as much as he’s watching you, studying every reaction. every flicker in his eyes, every tiny breath that tells you yes, this.
“spit on it,” he says suddenly, and your stomach flips. you glance up again. he looks right back, unblinking. “go ahead. don’t be shy.” you lean in, let spit fall from your lips, and he groans when it lands just right, messy and perfect. “fuck, that’s it,” he mutters, hips jerking slightly. “that mouth’s gonna ruin me.”
you stroke him again with your now-wet hand, and his jaw clenches. he leans forward, hand sliding back into your hair, this time with more grip.
“open your mouth,” he says. you do, lips parting obediently. he taps the tip of his cock against your tongue, slow, dragging it over your bottom lip, and you hold still, waiting, not rushing. letting him guide you. “don’t take me yet,” he says. “just taste.”
you lick him, slow and soft, and his eyes flutter half-closed. “again,” he says. his voice is lower now, strained. you lean forward more, lips wrapping around just the tip, sucking gently. “fuck,” he breathes, thumb brushing your cheek. “you keep looking at me like that and i’m gonna lose it.”
you moan softly around him, just enough to make him shudder. his hand tightens in your hair. “you want to keep going?” he asks. you nod, mouth still full, eyes wide. he groans again. “then you’re gonna take what i give you.”
and you do. you let him guide the rhythm, slow thrusts, shallow, letting you get used to the weight, the stretch. his grip is steady, voice low as he talks you through every inch. “you’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “look so fucking pretty on your knees like this. taking it like a good girl.”
you press your thighs together, pulse pounding in your ears. your whole body’s on fire, but you don’t stop. you keep your eyes on his. you let him control the pace. you listen. because nothing’s ever felt quite like this. he’s barely holding himself back now, his hips rolling deeper into your mouth, hand fisted in your hair, jaw clenched tight. your throat’s sore, your lips stretched, spit dripping from your chin, but you don’t stop. you don’t want to stop.
“fuck, that’s it,” he growls, voice sharp. “you like this, don’t you? like being used like this.”
you hum around him, and his whole body jolts. his other hand grips the edge of the bed like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. he’s panting now, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours as your head bobs with the rhythm he’s set.
“look at you,” he hisses. “so fucking obedient now. you’ll take anything i give you, won’t you?”
you nod, gagging just a little as he pushes deeper. his thumb brushes your cheek again, almost tender, but not soft. “shit, baby,” he groans. “just like that. don’t stop. don’t you fucking stop.” his breathing gets rougher. his thighs tense. his grip tightens. “you’re gonna take every fucking drop,” he says, voice low and wild. “don’t even think about pulling back.”
and when he comes, it’s with a broken, wrecked moan, his head falling back, his whole body shuddering. he holds you there, deep in your throat, as his cock pulses between your lips. you stay still. obedient. take every drop, exactly how he told you to. he pulls out slow, panting hard, watching you swallow every bit like it’s a reward.
“fuck,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “you’re dangerous.”
your legs are shaking, your body’s buzzing and your throat hurts. but your eyes are still on him. and he smiles.
he leans forward, grabs your arms, and pulls you off the floor like you weigh nothing. places you back in his lap, one hand still wrapped in your hair, the other gripping your thigh. his voice is calmer now, but darker.
“so?” he asks, breath still a little ragged. “you like praise better?”
you blink. “what?”
“you like when i call you a good girl?” he says, fingers brushing your jaw. “tell you how pretty you look on your knees?”
you nod, a little dazed. “yeah…”
his hand tightens suddenly on your thigh. “or do you like it more when i talk to you like a fucking toy?” your breath catches. his eyes narrow. “like when i say you’re only good for your mouth? that you were made to take cock and nothing else?” you gasp. your body tenses, and he sees the reaction instantly. his smirk spreads slow. “that’s what i thought,” he says.
your voice is barely a whisper. “i like both.”
he raises a brow. “yeah?”
you meet his gaze. “you can do whatever you want.”
his eyes darken completely. something in him shifts. he leans in close, voice like a promise against your skin. “you don’t know what you just agreed to.”
he hasn’t let go of you. your legs are thrown across his lap now, arms limp around his shoulders, your chest pressed to his. and still he’s got one hand curled around your jaw like he’s not done claiming it. he tilts your face up and studies you. not like you’re fragile, but like you’re fascinating.
he chuckles, meanly. “you look wrecked, baby. wrecked and all fucking mine.” his fingers trail down your neck, slow and soft. “you like when i say that?” he murmurs. “that you’re mine?”
you nod, small. “yeah.”
he kisses the edge of your jaw. “you like being good?”
“yes.”
he smirks against your skin. “but you also like when i treat you like a dumb little toy.” your whole body tenses. he chuckles again. “you fucking melt when i talk like that, huh?” he says. “wanna be praised and spat on in the same breath.”
he pulls back just enough to look at you. your face flushed, lips swollen, eyes wide and glassy. “fuck, you’re pretty when you don’t know what to do with yourself,” he says, almost admiring. “bet you don’t even know who you are when i touch you like this.”
his hand slides down your stomach—over the curve of your hip—back between your thighs, over your ruined underwear. you gasp and twitch. he grins. “yeah. that’s what i thought.” he presses just a little harder, fingers rubbing through the fabric. “still this wet for me? even after everything?”
you nod, biting your lip. he tsks, shaking his head. “you don’t learn, do you?”
you swallow, trembling. “i wanna be good.”
he chuckles. “you are. but you’re also a little desperate. greedy. filthy.” his fingers tug your panties to the side and slide against you again, slow, controlled, so light it makes you ache. “should i finger you again like this?” he says. “while you sit in my lap like a good girl? or should i bend you over and fuck the brat out of you?”
your breath catches in your throat. “or maybe i shouldn’t touch you at all,” he adds, tilting his head. “maybe you don’t get to come unless you beg.”
“soobin—”
he grabs your chin again, eyes sharp. “say it.”
you’re panting now. hot and flustered and completely under him. “please,” you whisper. he waits. “please touch me,” you say again, voice cracking. “please make me come.”
his smirk is slow. cruel. gorgeous. “that’s more like it.”he slides two fingers back inside you without warning, and your whole body jolts. “you’re gonna take everything i give you,” he murmurs. “and you’re gonna say thank you when you come.” your legs shake. your grip on his shirt tightens. “say it.”
“thank you,” you breathe.
he kisses you—filthy, fast—and then breaks away, breath hot against your mouth. “don’t come yet.”
he’s not moving fast. he’s not giving you what you want, not really. and that’s the point. he’s watching you, studying you, like he’s waiting for something specific. a crack. a shift. the moment where your body stops trying to lead and just listens. he leans back slightly, his fingers inside you don’t speed up, and they don’t slow down either. just deep enough to tease, never enough to let you lose yourself. he’s giving you nothing and everything at once.
he watches your face closely, eyes scanning your mouth, your eyebrows, the way your breath catches. you’re close, he knows it. he can feel the way your body tightens around him, the way your thighs shake just barely. you’re trying to hold back. trying not to move too much. it’s cute, in a way. respectful, obedient even. but he doesn’t want nice right now.
“you’re doing it again,” he says, voice low, calm.
your eyes flutter open, confused. “what?”
“holding it in,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your waist. “trying to be good in the wrong way.”
you blink, breath trembling. “i thought you wanted—”
he cuts you off with a quiet laugh, not mocking, just amused. “i want you to be good, yeah. but not quiet. not frozen. not careful.” his fingers slide deeper and you gasp, hips twitching. “good doesn’t mean silent.” he leans in, mouth near your ear. “if i wanted a doll, i’d buy one.”
your breath stutters. your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in just slightly, and that makes him smile. “there you go,” he murmurs. “there’s my girl.” he moves his fingers again, just a little faster now, just enough to make your whole body jerk. you bite your lip hard, trying not to cry out. “still fighting it?” he says. “you think i don’t notice how tight you’re clenching around my hand? you think i don’t feel how close you are?”
you shake your head, desperate. he pulls back slightly to look at you. “look at me.” you do, barely. your vision’s blurry, and your mouth’s open, and you’re so close it almost hurts. “you wanna come?” he asks, calm. direct.
“yes,” you breathe.
“you sure?” you nod. his voice drops lower. “you ready to say thank you when you do?”
you nod again, more frantically. he keeps his eyes on yours as his thumb finally finds your clit, rubbing slow circles while his fingers thrust deeper. your whole body reacts at once, tensing, jerking, then unraveling.
“come for me,” he says, and you do.
it hits hard, sharp and blinding. your legs tremble. your fingers dig into his arms. your mouth opens but nothing comes out except broken gasps and a soft, choked sob. and through all of it, his hand doesn’t leave you. he works you through it, slow, steady, like he’s memorizing every second.
your body slumps against his chest. he holds you there for a moment, his hand still resting between your legs but not moving anymore. you’re breathing hard, face pressed into his shoulder. then his mouth finds your ear again. “thank me.”
you whisper it without thinking. “thank you.”
he exhales, satisfied. his fingers slip out of you, slow and careful. he brings them to his mouth, licking them clean without breaking eye contact. you watch, dazed, and he grins. “good girl.”
he lifts you gently, shifts you until you’re straddling him again, your knees on either side of his hips, your body still shaky. his hands hold your waist firmly, steadying you like he knows you can’t do it on your own yet.
he tilts your chin up, and there’s something new in his eyes now—still dark, still dominant, but softer around the edges. like he’s trying to decide something. “you were made for this,” he says, quiet. “you know that, right?”
you swallow hard. “yeah.”
his thumb brushes your cheek, and then he leans back, legs spread, hands resting on his thighs like he’s just relaxing, like he’s not watching every single twitch in your body. you’re still on his lap, still catching your breath when he says, low and steady, “get on.”
you look at him, confused, dazed. “what?”
he grabs your hips, drags you forward slightly, then leans in just enough for you to feel his breath on your jaw. “you like being on top, right?” he says, voice calm but full of something sharper underneath. “so ride me.”
your heart stutters. your thighs are still shaking. he knows.
“go ahead,” he says. “show me how good you are.”
you shift back slowly, thighs trembling, one hand steadying yourself on his chest while the other wraps around his cock. he’s already hard again—how is he already this hard?—and thick in your palm, warm and heavy. you hold him there, just under the tip, as you line yourself up, and for a second, you hesitate.
you bite your lip. your body’s still sensitive, your legs sore, your mind fogged, and there’s a pressure building low in your stomach that has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with the way your heart starts to race. it’s been a long time since you let a guy inside you. since you even wanted to. and even now, it feels foreign. like your body’s remembering something it forgot on purpose.
but you want this. you want him. so you press down slowly, barely taking the tip, and your breath catches in your throat. he doesn’t say anything, just watches. his hands resting on your hips, not moving, not pushing. but he’s tense and alert. like he knows you’re struggling and he’s waiting to see how far you’ll go on your own.
you lower yourself more, inch by inch, and the stretch makes your eyes flutter shut. it burns. not unbearable, but tight, too tight. your thighs start to tremble harder, and your fingers dig into his shoulders for balance. his grip on your hips tightens.
“breathe,” he says, calm. “take your time.”
you nod, shaky, and try to relax. you ease down another inch, and your whole body reacts—hips twitching, core clenching, thighs starting to cramp. it’s too much all at once, and not enough at the same time.
he cuts you off gently, one hand lifting to brush your hair from your face. “don’t stop now. you wanted to ride my cock, right? prove you can take it.”
you whimper, breath catching again, and finally sink lower, slowly taking more of him. your legs feel weak. your cunt clenches tight around him, and the stretch still burns, but underneath it, there’s something else. a pulse. a heat that starts to take over the discomfort.
he groans quietly, his jaw tense. “shit. you’re so tight.” you press your forehead to his collarbone, trying to stay steady. “don’t hide,” he says. “let me see you.” you lift your head, barely, and his eyes lock on yours. “good girl,” he mutters. “you’re almost there. just a little more.”
you shift again, forcing your hips down further, until you’re fully seated in his lap. he groans, deep and low, his fingers pressing harder into your skin. “fuck. there you go.”
you’re breathing hard, thighs trembling, everything inside you stretched to its limit. “hurts?” he asks. you shake your head. he smiles, not sweet. “good.” you glare at him, but there’s no strength behind it. “you’ll get used to it,” he says, voice low. you sink down slow, body trembling, and his grip tightens on your hips. “that’s it,” he mutters. “fuck—look at you.”
you start to move, unsure at first. he lets you find your rhythm, lets you work for it, but his hands don’t leave you. he keeps you steady, fingers digging into your waist. his eyes never leave your face.
“you like being in charge?” he says, breath rougher now. “then don’t fucking slow down.” you moan softly, trying to keep the pace, but your legs are tired, your body already wrecked. your movements falter, and he notices immediately. “what’s wrong?” he says, lips curling. “getting tired already? thought you liked being on top.”
you try to keep going, bouncing slow, your hands braced on his chest.
“keep your eyes on me,” he says. you do, barely, and he grins when he sees the look in your face. “you’re falling apart,” he murmurs. “and you’ve barely done anything.”
he doesn’t slow down. he grabs your chin again, makes you look at him. “ride me like you mean it,” he snaps, thrusting up into you suddenly, making your whole body jolt.
“fuck, soobin—”
“no. don’t whine. you wanted this. show me.” you try. you move your hips, faster this time, trying to match him. he watches you closely, hands on your ass now, guiding your movement, controlling the depth. “that’s better,” he says. “now you’re working for it.”
you gasp, leaning forward, forehead on his shoulder. he grabs your hair and pulls your head back up. “no hiding. i wanna see you struggle.” your thighs are shaking so hard it’s hard to keep the rhythm. your breathing’s uneven, your nails digging into his arms. “you can take it,” he says, voice lower now, almost gentle. “i know you can. you’re my good girl, remember?”
you moan again, louder, and he smiles. “there she is,” he murmurs. “knew you’d come back to me.” your hips stutter again, and he slaps your ass once, not hard, just firm enough to make you move. “don’t stop until i say,” he says. “and if you come first, you’re doing it with my name in your mouth.”
your fingers grip his shoulders harder, your thighs are burning now, trembling with effort, but you force yourself to keep going. up, down, again. you’re trying to stay focused, but the stretch of him inside you, the heat building low in your stomach, the pressure of his hands guiding you—it’s all too much, and not enough at once.
he watches you the whole time, eyes fixed on your face. you can’t hide anything from him like this. not the way your brows pinch together, not the way your mouth keeps falling open with each bounce, not the quiet, broken sounds that slip out no matter how hard you try to hold them in.
“you wanted this,” he reminds you, calm. you nod, desperate, hips moving faster now, sloppy and uneven but still trying. he lets you ride him, lets you feel like you’re in control, just for a second, until he shifts beneath you and fucks up into you hard, once, and your whole body folds forward with a gasp. “thought so,” he mutters.
your forehead falls against his collarbone, and he pulls your hair, tilting your face up again. “no hiding.” his mouth brushes yours, not quite a kiss. “you look like you’re gonna cry.”
“i’m not,” you breathe, though your voice is shaking.
“you will if i tell you not to come yet,” he says, like it’s just a thought. you whimper. his hand moves from your hip to your throat, loose but solid, just enough to hold you still. “you like this?” he asks. “being used like this?” you nod quickly, eyes fluttering shut. “don’t lie.”
“i’m not.”
he leans in, lips by your ear again. “you gonna come for me?”
“yes.”
“say my name.” you pause, too close to think. “say it.”
“soobin…”
he groans, deep and low, and that’s all it takes for his rhythm to break. he grabs your waist hard and starts fucking up into you, fast now, with purpose, like he’s chasing the end and dragging you there with him. “come on,” he mutters. “come for me. make it count.”
you do. your whole body shudders, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent moan. everything inside you pulls tight and snaps all at once, and you collapse against him, shaking. he holds you through it, breath heavy against your ear, his arms wrapped tight around your waist like he’s trying to keep you from slipping through his fingers.
then he moves. he lifts you off him slowly, carefully, lays you down on the bed like you weigh nothing. you’re still catching your breath, blinking at the ceiling, when you feel the mattress dip again and his weight settles beside you. his fingers slide down your stomach, soft now, slow. “you like praise,” he says, almost casual. “but i think you like it more when i’m mean.”
you glance at him, lips parted. he leans in close. “so tell me, baby,” he murmurs. “you want me to ruin you with my mouth or just make you cry again first?”
“i can’t,” you breathe, voice shaky. “i can’t take it anymore.”
he tilts his head, like he’s not sure he heard you right. his hands are already back on your thighs, spreading them open again, his body moving lower, slower, like this is nothing for him. like he’s just getting started. “can’t?” he repeats, tone light, mocking. “you sure, baby?”
you swallow hard, legs twitching under his grip. he presses his mouth to your inner thigh, kissing slow, warm, soft, too soft. like he’s pretending to be sweet again. and it only makes the tension worse. “you looked so fucking confident riding my cock,” he murmurs, right against your skin. “and now you’re what? tapped out?” you shake your head weakly, but he keeps going, lips trailing higher, breath hotter. “you want me to stop?” he asks, voice low.
“no.”
“then don’t say can’t,” he says, and bites down on the inside of your thigh, sharp enough to make your hips jerk. “say please.” your breath catches. “say it.”
“please,” you whisper, barely audible.
he smiles against your skin. “thought so.”
he kisses higher, right between your legs now, and you gasp when his mouth finally finds you again, tongue slow, deliberate, dragging over your sensitive skin with zero mercy. you’re already overstimulated, every nerve lit up and shaking, but he doesn’t stop. he knows you’re right there again, and that’s exactly what he wants.
“you’ve teased me for weeks,” he says, voice muffled against you. “walking around in those tiny fucking shorts. sitting on my lap like it’s nothing. saying shit like ‘you’re my favorite boy’ with that little smirk on your face.” you whine, twisting under him, but he holds your hips down with one arm and licks a slow circle around your clit without touching it directly. “you think i didn’t notice? think i didn’t see you bite your lip every time i looked at you too long?”
you’re panting now, legs trembling again. “and now you wanna act all shy?” he scoffs. “now you can’t take it?” his mouth finally closes around your clit, sucking slow and deep, and your hips buck hard, but he doesn’t stop. “you can take more,” he mutters. your fingers find his hair, tugging, trying to anchor yourself to something while your body starts to come undone all over again. “i’ll be gentle,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you, mouth wet, eyes dark. “but only if you fucking ask.”
you stare down at him, dazed, lips parted. “go on,” he says. “ask for it.”
“please,” you gasp, voice breaking. “please, soobin—be gentle.”
he grins against your skin, slow and cruel. not because he wants to be mean. because he can. because you gave him permission. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he murmurs, lips brushing your thigh. “knew you could ask nicely.”
then he moves again, mouth right where you need him, tongue flat and slow against your clit this time, no teasing now. just heat, rhythm, and pressure. your hands grab at his hair, your back arching off the bed, and he doesn’t stop. doesn’t even pause. “fuck, you’re so wet like this,” he says, voice low, fingers gripping your thighs to keep you wide open. you moan, louder now, hips trying to move against his face, chasing the rhythm. “good girl,” he mutters. “you want to come for me like this?”
“yes—yes, please—”
“then keep your legs open.”
you do. you try. your whole body’s tight, burning, desperate. he knows exactly how to keep you right there, his tongue curling just right, lips pressing just enough, his hand slipping lower, fingers teasing your entrance without going in. “you close?” he asks, voice rough and muffed now.
you nod frantically. “so close—please don’t stop—”
he groans into you, and the vibration alone almost pushes you over the edge. his fingers finally slip inside, two of them, smooth and deep, curling just right, and that’s it. you fall apart.
your whole body spasms, legs trembling violently, a loud moan breaking from your throat as you come hard, everything clenching tight around his fingers. your vision goes white for a second, and you barely register the way he keeps going, slow now, helping you ride it out, dragging every last wave out of you until you collapse into the sheets, twitching and breathless.
he finally pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then crawling up over you, eyes dark and satisfied. “you’re so fucking hot like this,” he says, voice low. “all soft. all mine.” you can’t even speak yet. your chest rises and falls, skin flushed, lips parted. he leans down. “now,” he says, tone shifting—less gentle, more commanding again. “turn over.”
you don’t speak. you just move. your body shifts slowly, limbs still weak, and you roll onto your stomach like he asked, like he told you to. your face sinks into the pillow, and you feel his eyes on your back. you know what he sees: the curve of your spine, the way your legs part instinctively, the way you arch your back so he sees your ass available for him to take it. you hear him exhale, sharp through his nose. a pause, then the bed dips as he moves behind you, knees spreading yours a little more, hands running down your back with purpose, not care. he doesn’t soothe. he positions.
soobin stays still at first, taking his time. watching how you lay there for him, waiting. looking how your shoulders tense like you don’t know what’s coming next, but you want to. he likes that. he likes that a lot.
his hands drag down your back, not to comfort, but to arrange. he touches you like he’s correcting something. a tool out of place. a painting hung crooked. “lower,” he says. you sink deeper into the mattress. his palm lands between your shoulder blades, keeping you there. “stay.”
then nothing. just the weight of his hand. the silence. he takes a deep breath. “you have any idea how long i’ve waited for this?”
you don’t answer. he leans down, lips barely brushing your ear. “how many times i pictured you just like this?” his voice is calm, almost bored. “on all fours for me,” he mutters. “but you talk too much. always making jokes. always pretending like you’re not dying for me to shut you up.” his fingers slide down your side, pausing at your hip. “you don’t get to pretend now.” his grip tightens. “so stop fidgeting.” he forces your hips up, adjusts the angle himself like your body’s just another thing to be handled. “just like that,” he says. “good girl.”
he doesn’t rush. doesn’t say more than he needs to. because he knows you’re listening to every breath, every word, every shift in tone. and when his cock teases your cunt and he watches the way your body twitches. the way you don’t stop him. “still so sensitive,” he mutters. “but you’ll take it.” he presses slow, watching you squirm, watching you try to be still. “don’t you dare move.” you breathe out hard. he can hear it. feel it. “that’s what i thought.”
he pushes deeper. drags it out. makes sure you feel every second of it. then he leans back, sitting tall behind you, hands steady on your waist. this isn’t about what you want. not anymore. so he aligns his cock with your drooling entrance again, and smacks his hand in your ass, and you whimper, a whiny whimper. he chuckles, low and provocative. “you’re not gonna come until i say,” he says. “and if you do, i’ll edge you ‘til you cry.”
you whimper into the pillow. “but if you listen?” he continues. “i’ll let you come so hard you forget your own name.” he rolls his hips forward, just once, just enough to make you scream. his cock makes you feel so full already, especially in that position. your legs shake. “choice is yours. not mine,” he adds. “yours.”
he pauses again. then pulls back, only to snap his hips forward harder this time, controlled and deep. again. again. his pace isn’t rushed. it’s mean. efficient. every thrust timed with precision. he watches your hands claw at the sheets. hears the sounds you’re trying to hold back, and it makes him smile. “you were so sure you didn’t like boys,” he mutters. “but look at you now.” another thrust, harder. “fucked out like a bitch.”
his hand slides to your throat from behind again, just resting there. “you’re mine tonight,” he says. “say it.”
“i’m yours,” you whisper.
he grins. “louder.”
“i’m yours, soobin! please!” you choke out.
his grip tightens, choking slightly, just containing you, grounding you to the moment. then he leans in, breath hot against your ear. “yes, yes,” he says. “you are fucking mine.”
if anything, now that you’ve said it—i’m yours—he settles deeper into it, into you. into the full weight of what it means to have you like this: pliant, spread out, quiet except for the sounds you can’t hold back. it’s not just about the physical now. it’s the power. the permission. and he’s going to stretch it as far as it can go.
his hands stay locked on your hips, thumbs pressing into the dip of your waist as he fucks into you slow and heavy, no urgency in his pace, just control. all of it his. he watches your shoulders tighten with each movement, the way your back arches when it’s too much, the way your face twists into the sheets to muffle sounds you don’t want him to hear. he hears them anyway. he loves them.
your hand reaches for the pillow, gripping tight, but you don’t fight him. you don’t even ask him to slow down. he leans over you again, pressing down on your back with one hand to keep you steady, his chest brushing your spine. his breath fans hot against your shoulder as his hips drive into yours again, firmer now, drawing a helpless cry from your throat.
“you gonna keep taking it like this?” he asks, not because he needs permission, but because he wants to hear the sound of you begging again. “or you gonna fall apart like a little brat who talked too much?” your fingers dig into the mattress. “go ahead,” he mutters, almost laughing. “prove me wrong.”
you let out a shaky breath, half a moan, half something broken. he sits back up, dragging you with him by your hips, making you meet each thrust head-on. he doesn’t slow. he doesn’t give. he stays steady and mean, dragging it out just enough to feel cruel. “you wanted to be in charge, right?” he says. “whatever you tell your little girlfriends.”
he leans in again, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back just slightly. “but you came crawling to me. let me put you on your knees. let me fuck you like this.” he pauses, breath heavy. “so which one is it, baby?” he murmurs. “you like being in charge? or you like being ruined?”
you try to answer, but all that comes out is a moan. his grip in your hair tightens just a little. “nah. use your words.”
you manage to whisper, barely audible: “i like it—like this.”
he smirks. “i know you do.”
he lets go of your hair, both hands dropping back to your waist as his movements grow rougher, rhythm sharper now, like he’s chasing something but refusing to let either of you reach it until he decides. you feel your body tighten again, another orgasm building fast, threatening to take over, but you remember what he said earlier. not until he says.
you try to hold it. try to breathe through it. but your legs are trembling, hands fisted in the sheets, and he’s relentless now. he notices. he always notices. “you close again?” he asks. “tsk tsk… already?”
you nod desperately. he chuckles under his breath, dark and satisfied. “don’t come yet.” you whine, legs shaking harder. “nope. not yet,” he says again, slower this time. “you want it? then beg.”
you gasp. “please, soobin—i—i need it—”
“yeah?” he says, still moving, still holding you right on that edge. “wanna cream my cock again?”
“yes—please—”
“beg harder, angel.”
“please—please, i need it, i need you—”
he groans deep in his throat, and finally, finally, his hands shift, his pace changes, more erratic now, more brutal, like he’s losing his own control right along with you. “come for me,” he growls. “right fucking now.”
and you do, loud and raw and completely undone. your whole body tightens and shakes beneath him, and he doesn’t stop. doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. he fucks you through it, eyes locked on the way you break for him. his name’s the only thing that comes out of your mouth.
he follows seconds later, a sharp curse escaping him as he buries in your cunt deep and stills, hands gripping so tight they’ll leave marks on your hips. he breathes through it, shaky and harsh, chest heaving, body pressed to yours like he needs the contact just as much as he needs the release.
the room is silent for a beat. just the sound of two people wrecked and catching up to themselves. finally, he leans down again, presses a kiss to your shoulder, and murmurs against your skin—
“you really don’t hate boys, do you?”
you let out a laugh, a real one. exhausted and a little horrified. “don’t start.”
“no, i’m serious,” he grins, turning his head toward you, as you switch your body, turning around to face him. “i feel like i just contributed something meaningful to your sexual awakening.”
“that’s… such a weird sentence to say out loud.”
“yeah, well. you’re the one who was like, ‘i’m not into guys’ and then came on my cock like, what? four times or something?”
you groan and cover your face with your hands. “i hate you.”
“you’re literally still shaking.”
“shut up.”
he doesn’t. of course he doesn’t. instead, he sits on the edge of the bed right next to you, and his fingers start tracing light, absent-minded patterns along your spine, featherlight, soothing, almost tender. it’s stupid, really, how soft he is now, after everything. after the way he touched you, took you, like he had no intention of being gentle.
and yet here he is, brushing his fingertips over your back like you might break. and you hate how much you like it. how easily it melts something inside you. because it’s not just the touch — it’s him. the contradiction of him. soobin, with his filthy mouth and his gentle hands.
“listen,” he says, voice dropping into a mock-serious tone, he stretches his arms behind his head, still catching his breath like nothing monumental just happened. and then, in that same too-casual voice, he says, “if you ever feel like exploring your… curiosity more, you know, about your preferences or whatever…” you glance over at him, one eyebrow raised. his expression doesn’t change, except for the little shrug he gives, half amused, half dead serious. “i’m available for educational purposes.”
you exhale, slow and disbelieving. “you’re such an asshole.”
“maybe.” he turns his head toward you, gaze dragging over your bare shoulders, his mouth twitching. “but look where it got me.”
you shake your head, but you don’t move away. you don’t slap his arm or tell him to shut up again. instead, you let your knee knock against his, your breath finally starting to feel like your own again. the air shifts between you, not heavy or awkward like you thought it might be. just… different. charged, maybe. softer around the edges. there’s a quiet comfort in it now that you hadn’t expected.
minutes pass, the movie already ended, the blood-streaked screen frozen in place. then your voice breaks through, low and almost thoughtful. “do you think they survived?”
soobin blinks. “who?”
“the girls,” you say, nodding toward the laptop. slumber party massacre, paused on a cheap shot of cleavage and red corn syrup. “from the movie.”
he tilts his head, gives it a second of actual thought. “nah. they’re all dead. definitely.”
you hum in agreement, a small smile playing at your lips. “yeah. figured.”
there’s another beat of silence, and then he says, “but you would’ve made it.” you look at him, unsure what he means. he keeps going. “you’ve got final girl energy. like… the type who doesn’t run upstairs. the type who waits. watches. stabs the killer with his own weapon.”
you laugh under your breath. “i feel like that’s a lot to project onto me.”
he shrugs. “or maybe you’d flirt with the murderer and confuse the shit out of him until he gave up.”
you grin. “there it is.”
he smirks. “i’d be the dumb hot one who dies first.”
“you are the dumb hot one.”
“thank you for seeing me.”
it shouldn’t feel like relief, this moment. but it does. like something that could’ve broken just… didn’t. like maybe it bent a little, stretched out of shape, but held. and somehow, you’re both still here—naked, slightly dazed, watching a bad slasher movie with blood on the screen and probably some still on your thighs.
you peek at him again. he’s looking at you like he never stopped. “you okay?” he asks, voice quieter now.
you nod. “yeah. i’m good.”
his hand finds your knee again, thumb brushing idly across the bone. it’s casual. but it’s not. you let your head fall onto his shoulder, stare at the screen without really seeing it. plastic knife. overexposed skin. predictable death.
and next to you, soobin. the same soobin who still uses three-in-one shampoo and forgets to charge his phone. the same boy who always lets you pick the movie. who saves you the middle seat on the couch. who carries your bag when you complain and never says anything about it. the same boy you trusted enough to call when your heart was broken. the same one you teased too much and touched too often and didn’t admit you wanted until now.
maybe you were never that into guys. but soobin never felt like just a guy. he felt like a constant, a question mark that stayed open too long. and now, with his hand on your leg and that dumb horror movie frozen in front of you, it finally clicks:
maybe you were never into boys. but you were always, always into him.
author’s note: this might be one of the longest pwp fics i’ve ever written and ngl i was so hesitant to post it. the themes felt a little too specific, a little too personal, and i kept going back and forth like “do i really wanna put this out there??” but then i re-listened to 1980s horror film by wallows and my brain just went: okay but what if this was about beomgyu. or soobin. and suddenly i had 15k words of confused bisexual tension, dry humping, and one very persistent movie night. anyway. if you made it this far, thanks for reading!! and for letting me indulge in a character dynamic that’s messy and horny and kinda tender in all the wrong ways 🖤
pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, kang taehyun x you
summary: you love beomgyu — you truly do — you just wish he loved you back, but after a particularly humiliating night in which he shows you just how little he cares, you finally decide enough is enough. enter kang taehyun, a sweet boy who's the polar opposite of beomgyu; but while you begin to develop your relationship with him, beomgyu realizes exactly what he's missing.
genre: ANGST, romance, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end
warnings: toxic relationships
word count: 7.3k
notes: repost/rewrite of one of my first works (formerly titled: to know him is to love him, and i do) THERE WILL BE AN ALTERNATE ENDING, YES the best friend's little brother!beomgyu au won the poll but i'm so hesitant to post it because i hate it so i thought i'd post this for now until i'm able to edit the other work enough to where it's not an actual eyesore.
you're tired. really tired. exhausted, even, as you stalk through the doorway of beomgyu's apartment. you practically tear off your coat, letting it land harshly on the living room floor with a slight thud. beomgyu rolls his eyes and picks it up with a sigh before hanging it up on the rack.
"i told you it was nothing. why are you freaking out?" he asks flatly.
"she was fucking you with her eyes, beomgyu!" you exclaim in frustration.
"and that's my fault how?"
"it's not your fault, but i'm sick of you entertaining women, let alone your actual fucking ex, while i'm standing right next to you!" his ex is just another fish in the barrel, or at least that's what he says, but the thought that they were intimate together at one point still makes you feel sick. truthfully, your boyfriend is handsome, so you've spent the better part of the past 10 months warding off the women who circle him like vultures. you wouldn't mind as much as you do if he seemed at all interested in helping you do so, especially when faced with his ex that you suspect he still has feelings for, but he does not. quite the opposite, actually. it's like he thrives off of the attention and, god, it hurts.
"i'm not entertaining anybody. i told her i have a girlfriend now," he, well, you would say argues, but it's said so nonchalantly it doesn't warrant the term.
"a girlfriend you proceeded to ignore while she hung off of your shoulders and laughed all night! i just don't understand how you don't understand how much it hurts my feelings. i'm a human, too! how would you feel if my ex, who was very clearly interested in me, hung around me right in front of you?" and it's like you're explaining empathy to a child.
"me? i wouldn't give a fuck because it's not that serious," he replies with a slightly irritated shake of his head.
it's always like this. always. you're always the one who cares more between the two of you. you were the one who asked him out in the first place. you were the one who initiated your first kiss. your first fight. hell, even your first reconciliation. you're not stupid, you know he doesn't feel quite the same way you do, but he has to feel something, right? otherwise, why would he say yes to you when he's rejected so many other women? your brain hurts trying to wrap your head around it all.
"you're missing the point! if you were me, you would—" you begin frustratedly, but you cut yourself off. "you know what? i don't even have the energy to explain this to you. i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you, and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" you all but shriek.
"you don't have to do shit, just leave if you're that fucking unhappy," he spits out angrily, which is the first real emotion — besides mild annoyance — you've seen out of him this entire conversation. he gets impatient when you're like this, which usually results in you relenting, but not tonight. you're far too hurt to let go so easily.
"you're right! i am unhappy! i just — why don't you care that i'm unhappy? what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" you have a brave face on but you can feel your eyes getting hot and your voice trembling ever so slightly.
"you could try not being so damn needy, maybe that'd help."
your eyes redden even further and your lips unintentionally twist themselves into a sour frown. you hate it when he calls you needy because you do need a lot from him, it feels like. his time. his care. his attention and affection. yet you never seem to get it.
"do you not love me? like at all?" you ask. all of the venom in your tone has been sucked out mercilessly and you sound more helpless than angry.
"do you not realize how fucking crazy you sound?" he scoffs as if he can't fathom why you'd be upset. as if he's not watching you break down in real time.
"why won't you give me a straight answer?" you question, voice softer than it was before.
he does nothing but scowl, and that's enough of an answer as it stands. he doesn't care. never has. probably never will.
"then why'd you even say yes to dating me?" you truly don't understand. you thought you were different. you thought he saw something in you he didn't see in his harem of other suitors, and trust that there were many.
"i dunno. i was just bored, i guess," he answers with a shrug and your world as you know it collapses. the man you love sees you as nothing more than a way to kill time. he's picking you up right now just to toss you away when the next shiny toy presents itself, and so far, you've let him drag you around because you love him — that's how much you love him — but looking at him now, at how unbothered he is, you wonder if you've even got anything left to give.
"i really do love you," you manage to squeeze out with a bitter smile. your poor heart is on display for the naked eye to see, and it seems like he really couldn't care less, but that won't stop you from asking: "does that mean anything at all to you?"
"well, i'm sorry you feel that way," he says simply, "but that's not my fucking problem."
your heart sinks to your stomach and you feel like you're going to throw up. in this moment, as you watch the love of your life dismiss you like you're a fucking dog begging for scraps of food, you feel an overwhelming sense of clarity as you realize he doesn't love you. he doesn't even like you. he probably hates you, actually. like a mental montage, every moment in which he showed you that exact sentiment plays all at once in your head.
all those times you let him choose everything from movies to dinner because the idea of a compromise was inconceivable. all of those occasions, special and otherwise, where you were supposed to go out on a date, but he'd bail without a word and you'd forgive him with no apology. even something as menial as when you'd offer him your share of dessert because he ate all of his and you knew he wanted more, and he'd take it without so much as a thank you. how you'd sit and listen to him tell stories about how amazing his friends were, but he'd never even ask about your day. when those same friends would jokingly call you the perfect girlfriend, and you thought it was an indication of how good your relationship was, but in reality, it was a way to tease him because the thought of actually being with you was so abhorrent and ridiculous that it must be a joke. nobody likes a desperate girl, after all. all those times you told him you loved him and he'd just smile and kiss you deeper. memories like these flood your brain with a vengeance so cruel it makes your head ache, and in a way, you realize it's ridiculous to be surprised when there was so much proof of his feelings in the first place.
"oh. okay," you say with what you hope is a soft and unbothered laugh, but comes out more as a choked one. "i guess there's nothing left to say. i'll get my shit and go."
you hesitate for a few excruciatingly awkward moments before collecting yourself enough to start gathering your things, which are scattered haphazardly around his apartment from his bedroom to his bathroom. it's like a walk of shame, almost, and you feel even shittier when he plops down on the couch with a long suffering sigh as he begins to massage the bridge of his nose. you feel so small in this moment — like a petulant child who just got done throwing an unsuccessful tantrum — and you're now soaking in the sobering aftermath and sitting with the thought that he just watched you have a meltdown like he was watching a monkey putting on a show. how much more is he going to humiliate you? enough is enough, you think, so before you can actually finish collecting all of your belongings, you're scurrying out of the apartment. before you go, you glance back at him one last time.
"beomgyu?" you ask tentatively, tears clouding your eyes.
"yeah?" he replies with a sigh. this is it, you think.
"i don't want to see you ever again," you say firmly. before he can reply, if he ever intended to in the first place, you slam the door.
-
there's a lot to love about beomgyu. for one, he's handsome, which is obvious, but he has a certain allure you could never help but be drawn in by. he's always been a charming man, but even more so when he's talking to a woman he's interested in. as interested as he could be, that is. he's funny and comically pompous when he wants to be, but still somehow down to earth despite it all.
he's been described as a mood-maker, and while he grew to resent that term, you thought it was at least partially true, if only in the context of your relationship. when he's sad, you're devastated. when he's happy, you're over the fucking moon. his feelings are your whole world — or were, you guess, since all that's over now.
it wasn't all bad all the time, you think. there were times where you thought he really might reciprocate even a fraction of what you felt for him, and most of the time, that was enough. you could work with that. love looks different for everyone, you would reason. maybe he just had a funny way of showing it.
there were days where you'd laugh together and end the night lying in each other's arms while you'd cradle him like he was the most precious thing in the whole world because, to you, he really was. he was normally so boisterous when with his friends, but while he would never admit it to anyone else, he'd tell you about some of his insecurities while you gently combed your fingers through his long, silky hair. he'd speak of regrets and longing for people to take him more seriously. he'd never say it, but he wanted people to see you like you saw him. the real him. you'd let him cry while your hands cupped his cheeks and you'd shush him while he fiddled mindlessly with your hair like a child. you'd kiss the tip of his reddened nose until he laughed instead of cried. times like those, you'd really think you were someone special to him, but now you realize you were wrong. you were just an outlet for him, and anyone willing to be an emotional dumping ground would do the trick, too.
after a few weeks of moping, your sadness has begun to morph into anger and resentment. you spent nearly a year of your life trying to make an emotionally stunted man care about you, and that's not even counting the years of pining over him before you finally worked up the courage to ask him out. it was difficult to see it in the moment, but after being away from him for so long, it's crystal clear that he was honestly just an asshole who didn't really like you. nothing more, nothing less. maybe he'd find someone to change for someday, maybe he'd even work things out with his ex, but for whatever reason, you weren't her. that's just the way it goes, you guess. what really bothers you are the "what if's" of the situation. what if you were prettier, or smarter, or kinder; would he have seen you for who you really are? would he have grown to appreciate you if you had given him more to appreciate?
either way, there's no use crying over spilled milk now. you won't be going back to him any time soon, and he certainly won't come crawling back to you. you'll continue to think of him less and less until your time together fades into a distant (and unpleasant) memory. you smile at the thought.
-
the first time beomgyu realizes just how impactful your absence is, nothing in particular happens. it's a regular tuesday night a week or so after your "breakup" and he's bored out of his mind. he showers, listens to music, texts his friends and makes himself dinner, but something is missing.
as he sits on his couch, he realizes what it is: you. right about now, you should be pestering him to hang out and showing up on his doorstep to watch a movie. he'd roll his eyes at first, but eventually relent as long as he got to pick the movie, of course. he wouldn't say it, but he'd actually enjoy glancing over and seeing your reactions. you were comically expressive and every twist and turn of the plot had your eyes bulging and mouth agape, turning to him for confirmation that he was seeing the same things you were. when you watched inception for the first time, it absolutely rocked your world.
he's alone, but he puts on a movie, anyway. every so often, his head turns to the side with the corner of his mouth raised, but you're not there to give a reaction. he should be used to your absence by the third twist, but he still finds himself subconsciously turning to you throughout the rest of the movie. when the credits roll, he's half expecting to hear you chatter on about how crazy it was, but it's silent. the only time that would happen would be when you'd accidentally drift off in spite of how engrossed you were. you'd try to fight it off like a stubborn kid, but would succumb by the final act. he smiles at the memory before shaking his head in disbelief. what's wrong with him?
moments like these plague him more and more frequently, but the most notable one is the night before his first day at a new job. he briefly talks to his friends about his excitement, but he's too embarrassed to divulge just how anxious he is. times like this, he'd come over and complain for however long he needed. you'd sit and nod, asking questions during his pauses to encourage him to continue, always adding appropriate and thoughtful commentary.
his thoughts wander to how you're doing alone. you really love him, it seems, so he can only imagine how you're faring without him. he wishes you hadn't blocked his number so he could at least ask how you are. maybe you'd even tell him you miss him. not for the first time, he begins to wonder if he pushed you too far this time around. you've gotten angry and given him the silent treatment before, sure, but you've never blocked him and you've certainly never done it for so long.
he looks you up on instagram for the first time since your breakup. he's not terribly surprised when he sees he's blocked on there too, but all it takes is a switch to his photography account, which you had forgotten to block, to see what you're up to now.
the first thing he notices is a picture of you sitting outside with an ice cream cone in hand, sun encircling you. your smile is beaming and your eyes are crinkled and he can almost hear your giggle through the screen. the caption reads "ice cream date with my best friend!”
he scrambles through his memories to try to remember a time in recent history when you two did something similar, but he comes up blank. what he does recall, though, is you mentioning a new frozen yogurt place you wanted to visit with him for your birthday. he nodded in response, but he knew he wouldn't go with you, opting instead to get shitfaced with his friends. in retrospect, maybe you knew it, too. he had checked his phone the next morning and saw he had at least half a dozen missed calls and well over a dozen texts from you. when he finally texted you back, you took almost a full 5 hours to respond, which was uncommon. usually, you'd text back within minutes. it occurred to him later on that that was your version of the silent treatment, and it amused him that you could only hold out for a few hours. he honestly found it kind of cute.
he remembers what you did for his birthday. how you had secretly invited his friends over to his apartment to surprise him after an especially shitty day at work. he came home to an elaborately decorated apartment and all of his favorite people greeting him. he remembers how happy you looked when he opened up your present to him, which was the guitar he had always secretly wanted but could never quite justify buying for himself. you were so excited, any spectator would think he had gotten you the gift of your dreams and not the other way around. you were practically buzzing with excitement when he pulled you in for a kiss. his friends had whooped at the display of affection, and you giggled shyly at their reaction. what did he get you for your birthday again? anything?
he spends days pondering over this and similar circumstances, which eventually turn into weeks upon weeks. what starts as a nagging feeling that he may have gone too far in his neglect for you becomes guilt and anxiety. he recalls just how torn up you seemed the last time he saw you. to be honest, at the time, he was mostly just irritated. but he never thought you'd actually leave. all he can see is that awful look on your face when you finally ended everything, and all he can remember is the fact that he put it there. he knows in his heart that he has no right to feel this way, but he feels it all the same.
-
you would have never imagined you'd actually like somebody other than beomgyu, but taehyun makes it as easy as possible given the sticky circumstances. you met at a club your best friend dragged you to, both you and taehyun had to remain sober (designated drivers, of course) and ended up having a surprisingly engaging conversation amidst the blaring music and strobe lights. after that, the rest is history.
he can tell you've been hurt before, but he gently coaxes you into opening up as you spend more and more time with him. you're afraid of being overbearing and coming across as a lovesick puppy again, but taehyun is gentle and seems to enjoy your attention and affection, even if he's a surface level tsundere. more than that, he actually reciprocates it.
do you still think about beomgyu? of course. do you miss him? well, you'd never admit it to a single soul, but the way you see him in everything has to be an indicator that you do. it's getting better, though. more bearable.
a month or so into your relationship, you post about taehyun for the first time. you don't know why you're so nervous about announcing to the world that you have a boyfriend again, but happiness overwhelms your fear when you're met with nothing but positivity.
-
beomgyu is shellshocked, to put it mildly. the picture of you and your so-called boyfriend is sickly sweet. it's not over the top or anything—just a candid of you in a café holding hands with him while looking over the same menu. the caption is nothing other than a heart and squirrel emoji (why?) and both he and your best friend are tagged. his finger jumps to the boy's profile and he sees the same photo. he scoffs at the cheesiness of it all, but his heart aches at the way all of your friends have commented on the post expressing their happiness for you — they had never approved of him for reasons he's only now beginning to understand.
you always defended him in front of your friends no matter what he did or didn't do. you'd "comfort" him after your friends said something snarky and explain that they just didn't understand him. you'd say that if they knew the real him, they'd see him differently. at the time, he'd scoff and say something along the lines of "i don't need for them to see me differently because i couldn't give less of a fuck about what they think”. you'd be hurt, of course you would be, but you'd never say so.
more and more, like an outsider looking in, he can see just how awful he was to you. it's to his horror that he realizes this must be the case for you, too. the chances of you getting back together with him seem slimmer and slimmer, especially now that you've got that pretty boy on your arm. your words echo in his mind as if to haunt him: "what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" leave, apparently, and don't look back.
he can't keep living like this.
-
a knock on your door is all it takes to ruin your night — you had actually had a really good day up until now. you and taehyun had gone on a breakfast date and napped together until he had to leave in the afternoon, so you're humming now in contentment while applying your nightly skincare, thinking relentlessly about the boy you think you might be starting to love. it feels different from the love you felt for beomgyu, but in a good way. you still think about him and wonder how he's doing, but you always derail that train of thought with a god-given force previously unknown to you. he doesn't care about you, you chant to yourself — it's almost like your daily mantra. in the midst of your thoughts, you hear a knock on the door. you smile widely when you surmise that it's probably taehyun again. you don't realize just how big your grin is until it drops.
standing before you is not your lovely boyfriend, but the man who made you question whether or not you were even lovable in the first place. he has a small smile on his face, and if you were to look a little more carefully, you'd notice that he actually seems a little nervous.
"hi," he says, breaking the silence. his heart is racing a mile a minute, and potential scenarios battered his mind the entire way here. what would you do when you saw him? smile? he could handle that. cry? he could also handle that, even if he didn't want to see your tears. what he is not prepared for is the blankness of your features when you ask:
"what are you doing here?"
his smile falters almost imperceptibly.
"i, uh, i just wanted to see you." you're merciful enough to give him a nod of encouragement to continue. "a-and i wanted to tell you that i haven't stopped thinking about you for the past few months, and that i, um, i think i'm finally ready to be with you," he finishes with a shaky breath.
you're quiet for a moment and squint your eyes as if you're deep in thought.
"but i thought you were dating someone now? your ex?"
"i'm not!" he says almost a little too quickly.
"i heard you were," you counter, not quite believing him. you heard he had been seeing his ex from one of your friends who happened to live in her apartment complex. she had seen his car in the parking lot a few times in the last couple of weeks and had no reason to lie to you.
"w-well, i've seen her a few times, but not seriously. i — to be honest, i was just trying to get over you, but i've finally realized that i can't becau—"
"so, just to make sure i understand, you're not over me so you're seeing her?" his eyes widen in shock before his head hangs in shame as he realizes exactly what he's done and how he must look to you right about now, but you're not finished. "isn't that what you were doing with me?" your voice is low and indifferent, but each word feels tailor-made to slash at his heart. "wow, i guess some things really never change, but don't worry, i'm sure once she moves on, you'll finally see the good in her instead of me," you spit out.
"can you listen to me? please?" beomgyu is so ashamed he wants to die. he fumbles for the right words, but when he accidentally makes eye contact with you, they die on his lips. he wishes you would give him time to process what you're saying and mull over what to respond with because you always knew he was bad with words, but he supposes he lost the right to your patience a long time ago.
"you want me to listen to you so you can fuck with my head until the next person rolls around?" the latter words are strangled by the tightness in your throat, and he can't help but wince. when he thinks it's over, you continue.
"nobody has ever made me feel as small as you have. i hated myself because of you," your lip trembles and before he can say a word, you're raising your hand to shut the door.
"wait, wait, wait! just let me say this," he pleads as he gently grasps the doorframe. "i... i love you." he almost thinks he hears you gasp, but he's too busy looking into your unreadable eyes to know for sure. he has never said anything like this to you before. you're completely silent for a few moments before breaking the tense atmosphere.
"j-jesus, i mean, i guess i just don't know what to say," you sputter and his eyes alight with what looks suspiciously like hope. "except maybe that... i'm sorry you feel that way?" you finish with a sardonic smile and a roll of your eyes. before he can respond, which he actually intends to do this time around, you slam the door in his face.
-
if you were to ask beomgyu if he loved his ex mere months ago, he'd say he didn't know for sure, but probably. they ended things rather messily, which seems to be a trend for him, but if he really thinks about it, he doesn't know what he liked about her after all. if he had to pinpoint it, he liked the thrill of the chase and the idea of never knowing how explosive things would inevitably get between the two of them. he liked the toxicity. only now does he understand that that wasn't love at all, but some sort of sick game of hurting and being hurt he doesn't want to play anymore. he doesn't want to hurt the people around him, especially not you, but it would appear that that sentiment has presented itself a little too late.
there's always been a lot to love about you. always. you're so kind and so incredibly patient, at least with the people you love. you're thoughtful and intentional with your words and actions. you're not perfect, but you try your best to be a good and fair person. and you listen. like, really listen. the kind of listening where you're not just waiting for your turn to talk, but the kind where you genuinely want to know what the other person has to say. even if he didn't know it at the time, beomgyu always did love you. was it in the way you deserved? obviously, with the way things are now, it's perfectly clear it was not.
even if he does bump into you, it's completely pointless. you made it perfectly clear that you want nothing to do with him. the last thing you said to him echoes in his head with an unspeakable viciousness.
"i'm sorry you feel that way." he didn't realize just how cruel those words were until they were falling from your lips instead of his. he didn't realize just how cruel he was in general.
he ponders over how succinctly you summed up your entire dynamic:
"i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you, and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" to be honest? he doesn't understand why you had to do that, either.
contrary to what one might suppose about him given his overall shitty personality, he had actually had a pretty good go at life. he was innately able to make the world sit and watch him go, and he wouldn't let anyone forget it. but what should he do since you don't want to watch him anymore? what should he do since you don't want anything to do with him anymore?
as he sits in the extremely uncomfortable chair of his new least favorite bar, he's confronted by this truth over and over again. he's not completely sure why he's even here — he hates this place, but he remembers you mentioning you liked to come here. in hindsight, there's no doubt that that was a way to hint that you'd like to come with him, but what use is it to recognize it now, after all this time?
not much, apparently. or at least that's what his conscience is telling him. he should leave, he thinks. he should stop coming here every night hoping he'll run into you because it's wrong to make you uncomfortable when you've said in no uncertain terms that you don't want him anymore. he should, he should, he should. and he will, really. in just a minute. that's what he tells himself, but he just watches the door as he gets drunker and drunker, still.
he's on the brink of literally passing out when he hears a sound he'd recognize anywhere: your laugh. he actually thinks he's hallucinating just because he wants to hear it so fucking badly, but it takes the sound of your voice to convince him it's real. you're actually here. he's incredibly drunk, so the idea of being tactful escapes him. he can't miss this chance.
-
you try, and try, and try some more, but you can't seem to forget beomgyu's last words to you. he loves you? you scoff at the idea. does he even know what love is? it doesn't feel like it — truly, it doesn't. if that's what his love feels like, you'd rather not feel it at all.
that's what you keep trying to hammer into your head along with the idea that you're doing well, and you are doing well. seriously. things with taehyun are better than ever and you can really see yourself building a life with him. everything feels so pure and brand new. your feelings for him may lack the intensity that you felt with beomgyu, but that was years in the making, so it's only fair that you nurture the love that's blossoming between the two of you while smothering out the embers of what used to be with beomgyu. it's only right, right? it should be, but the way you're so torn makes your head spin.
so you decide to go to your favorite bar and forget about everything for the night. it's been a long while since you've let loose, and you're excited. you're surrounded by your friends and you're ready to let go. it's only when you excuse yourself to get some fresh air that you realize fate has other plans.
when you're walking to the curb to take a seat, you feel a tug on your elbow and whip around.
"who —" you stop dead in your tracks as your eyes meet with beomgyu's misty ones. the ones you used to love so much.
"hey," he says weakly.
"what do you want?" you seethe while harshly yanking your elbow from his grasp. his lips purse and even in the dim lighting outside of the bar, you can see his eyes water even more. he's always been such a baby when he's drunk.
"i just wanna talk," he pleads. he sounds so out of it and looks so pathetic you almost feel bad for him. almost.
"i have nothing to say to you," you reply coldly.
"but i do." he sounds desperate to a degree that you sincerely never thought you'd hear.
"what, are you gonna tell me you love me again?" you retort with a roll of your eyes. you're obviously being sarcastic, but all he can think in his drunken state is how pretty your eyes shine even when they're impatient to look away from him.
"if you're not gonna say anything, i'm leaving," you snap, turning away, but beomgyu is awoken from his daze and gently pulls you back.
"n-no! i mean, yes. i love you, b-but that's not what i wanted to say."
"well, what did you want to say?" you ask, tone laced with annoyance.
seeing that you'll actually give him a chance to hear him out, he scrambles for a moment before clearing his throat. he’s so anxious that you can see his hands shaking as he wrings them.
"i just want to tell you that i’m sorry. i know i’ve said it before, but i want you to hear it again, and i’ll tell you as many times as it takes for you to believe me. i want to make it up to you — i really do — and i know that i can change. i'm — i just miss you so much i can't stand it. i-if you don’t feel the same way, or don’t care, or however it is, i understand; but i meant it when i said i love you, and i mean it now when i say that i'm so, so fucking sorry," his voice cracks as he finishes and hot tears threaten to find their way down his face.
"beomgyu..." you begin, not really sure what to say. what is there to say? and any hope he has of being with you is almost extinguished when he sees how much you pity him in this moment, but he'll hold on for as long as you'll let him.
"you said you saw the real me. you know i'm not all bad, right? i'm a piece of shit, but i can't be all bad," he pleads, tears now streaming unabashedly from his eyes. maybe if he can just find the right words, you won't leave him.
"beomgyu," you sigh, "i've never thought that about you. i know you're not all bad," his face perks up at this and he's tempted to bury his face in your neck and sob in pure relief. the pain he's been feeling for the past few months is about to be over because you understand him. always have. even though he's like this, you can still see the good in him. just the thought alone is enough to fill him with pure ecstasy. he goes to close the distance between the two of you to pull you into his embrace, but you gently place your hand on his chest before he can come any closer.
"thank you for telling me how you feel, beomgyu, but if you think you can fix everything with a few words, you're delusional." his face crumbles at this and a sense of panic and dread pools in his stomach.
"w-what? b-but you said —"
"i know you're sorry, and i know you'd probably try to make it up to me if i let you, but that's not enough. you really hurt me, okay? and it's just, you know, i'm finally happy now, and i have taehyun. i really like him, beomgyu. and he really likes me," you say with a fond smile, as if you're thinking of taehyun right now, and his heart shatters into a million pieces.
"it's okay," he smiles bitterly, tears still flowing freely. "i... i understand. i just want you to be happy. i want you to be so happy. you deserve it."
"but..."
"go back in," he sniffles. "you don't need to stay here with me anymore." he swipes at his eyes with his sleeve and tries to send you off with a smile, but it's so forlorn, you wish he'd just keep frowning.
"... okay." you turn away, and even though he told you to do it, he can't help but feel an even bigger lump in his throat now that you're actually listening to him.
"beomgyu?" you say softly, before you enter the door.
his damned heart can't help but flutter again against his will.
"yes?"
"don't wait for me anymore, okay?" and he knows you’re being kind, but it feels so final, it hurts more than any hateful words ever could. he should agree, but the ugly and selfish part of him refuses to lie, so he just shakes his head and waves you off. his love is ugly and his heart is broken, but it's still yours to have.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs again to nobody but himself as you enter the bar.
-
“tyuuunn,” you whine into your phone’s speaker. you can’t tell how it's been since your final conversation with beomgyu, but now you’re drunk and all you can think about is taehyun. about his kindness, how happy he makes you feel, and how much you want to give him all of that in return.
“what is it, baby?” he coos. even in your inebriated state, you can hear the smile in his voice and it makes you wanna smile, too.
“miss youuu,” you groan. he laughs at your childishness, and you can feel just how much he’s doting on you. it’s a relatively new feeling, being cared for like this, but it’s one you welcome with fervor.
“let me pick you up from that stupid bar so you can stay the night. how’s that sound?”
“mmm, hurry up,” you pout, and he just laughs again. god, you’re gonna feel so embarrassed by your neediness come tomorrow morning, and he can’t wait to tease you.
taehyun is so eager to see you, he almost gets pulled over twice while making his way to the bar. he just can’t wait to see how cute you’ll look in his arms, all whiny and grumpy and begging for affection; and he’ll baby you, like he always does, because you deserve it. when he had heard about your appalling history with beomgyu, he couldn’t believe how someone could treat a person as sweet as you so cruelly. truth be told, you do have a bit of a softer personality, but that only evoked the need to protect and cherish you in taehyun. he can’t fathom the idea that somebody would see someone so pure and decide to take advantage instead of nurturing that innocence. his friends keep saying he’s a sucker, and they’re probably right, but he’ll happily be one for you.
he’s lost in his thoughts when he pulls into the parking lot of the bar you’re in, but his dopey grin drops the second he sees your dreaded ex stumbling away from the building. his face is red, and he’s feverishly wiping away tears and snot. taehyun is a smart man, so he can easily piece together what must have happened, but the thought that you were still thinking of taehyun in this moment comforts him. you had run into your ex, and instead of running back to him, you’re thinking of your new boyfriend. what a relief. taehyun has always known you were still a little broken up about your split with beomgyu. he came into this relationship fully knowing that, but he liked you so much, he really didn’t care. maybe it was rash of him, but he thought it was worth taking a chance. he thought you were worth taking a chance, and so far, he had been correct.
he parks and stays in his car. if he were a petty person, he might ignore beomgyu and just walk right by him with his arm wrapped around your waist. taehyun, however, is a good person. so good, in fact, he waits for beomgyu’s friend to pick him up before leaving his car to find you.
when he enters the bar, he scans the crowd before he finds you sitting with your friends. your phone is to your ear and it only takes a few seconds for his own to ring. he smiles when he sees your contact photo (the one you both took on a date to your favorite frozen yogurt shop) appear on his screen. he rejects the call and watches you pout before striding over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder. you turn around with a scowl, but your features immediately melt, and you grace him with a toothy grin. you excitedly squeal and wrap your arms around him. he matches your enthusiasm as he peppers your face with kisses.
beomgyu, who has very unfortunately come back to get his phone, watches it all and it’s enough to make him nauseous. he’s in such a daze as he watches you two that he barely registers his own friend honking at him to hurry up. he sees the afterimage of you leaning into taehyun’s touch and accepts the fact that you’ve truly moved on and won’t be coming back. he replays the last conversation you had and he decides he’ll hold onto your words forever. they’re all he has left, after all.
-
you’re so used to taehyun’s apartment that even though you’re drunk enough to see stars, you’re still able to navigate it with ease. taehyun sits you down on his couch and kneels while removing your shoes for you.
“so chivalrous,” you giggle.
“anything for my princess,” he replies cheekily with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.
“why are you so nice?”
“because i like you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“i like you, too.” you whisper while your face warms. your gaze becomes heated, and he cups your cheeks while gently guiding your face towards his. his touch is soft, and his lips? even softer.
he doesn’t push for more. you’re drunk and vulnerable at the moment, so he graciously grabs some of his clothes for you to change into and waits for you to come to bed. when you do, you plop down and he pulls you into his arms. you smile at his earnestness. he locks his arms around you, and for the first time in your life, a man is making you feel so happy and secure you can’t help but melt into the feeling. you feel safe. you feel loved.
“i really like you, you know?” he whispers into your hair, and it’s all you can do to keep your heart inside of your chest.
“i know. i really like you, too.” and you do. things with taehyun are still new, but as his breathing slows, you realize this is how love should be, and you think you want to be with him for a long, long time.
notes pt. 2: yes there will be an alternate ending where she ends up with gyu :,)
no but hear me out: txt watching pole dancer!reader performing
ceo!yeonjun whose colleagues take him to the strip club private room to celebrate a deal, and a private dance from one of the cute lil dancers leads to him becoming a little obsessed w her <3 you don’t have to do all this dancing for other men, he can take care of you <3
bartender!taehyun who can get nasty when someone gets too close to his favorite dancer !! he treats his job like he’s your bodyguard more than he’s just a barkeep, and you can’t understand why >< he protects all of the girls in the club, but especially when it comes to you..
pervy college boy soobin who’s never stepped into a strip club before his friends forced him into one, buy him a private dance as a joke because they want to see him blush and squirm so they can laugh at him lol !! and soob who gets totally obsessed w the experienced older dancer who babies him and shows him a good time ~~ :3
pervy college boys beomgyu and kai who r part of soobin’s friend group.. beomgyu being a total pervert and kai hiding in the corner because he’s so embarrassed !!! beomgyu begging a dancer that catches his eye for a private dance but she’s playing hard to get and he loves it !! kai who admires one dancer from afar but too nervous to approach
