#beomseok

⤷ yeon sieun

he doesn’t say a word when you kneel, just watches you with that intense, unreadable stare. it’s not until your lips wrap around him that his breath hitches—barely audible, but sharp. his fingers curl into the arm of the couch, the only giveaway that he’s actually unraveling.

you go slow, wanting to see what kind of reactions you can pull from him. he swallows hard. his thigh twitches. then, finally, a sound—low and breathy: “don’t stop.” he doesn’t guide you. doesn’t push. but when his hand cups your jaw, there’s something raw in it—like he’s grounding himself with you. he finishes with a tight exhale, eyes fluttering shut, and when he comes back down, he murmurs, “come here,” like he’s desperate to hold you, to take back the control he just gave up.

⤷ ahn suho

he watches you kneel in front of him, his expression shifting from surprised to almost amused. “you sure about this, baby?” he asks, voice still calm, but you can hear the hint of anticipation beneath it.

but the moment your mouth wraps around him, his teasing demeanor fades. “f-fuck—wait—” his hand flies to your hair instinctively, not rough but firm, guiding you just the way he wants. his hips buck upward just a little as he tries to hold himself together, but it's clear he's losing it.

"shit, you feel so good," he groans, voice thick with need. “y-you’re gonna make me—” he cums with a sharp gasp, eyes fluttering shut, his grip tightening in your hair as he shudders. afterward, he pulls you up into his arms, kissing the top of your head with a soft laugh.

“you have no idea what you just did to me,” he whispers, his breath still unsteady, holding you close like he never wants to let go.

⤷ park humin (baku)

“oh my god, wait, wait—holy shit—” he’s already whining before you even start, half laughing, half panicking. you press your mouth to his length and he melts, one hand flying to his hair like he needs to pull it to stay conscious.

he talks through the whole thing—loud, flustered, ridiculous. “you’re so hot, oh my god, i can’t—babe, babe—your mouth is actually insane—” he keeps trying to look down at you, like he doesn’t want to miss a second. every time you suck a little harder, he moans like he’s being possessed.

“i’m gonna cum, oh fuck, i’m—ah, shit—” he whimpers, hand flying down to cover his mouth as you take all of him in. afterward, he lies flat on the bed, panting. “i literally saw god. was that even real? or did i hallucinate?”

⤷ go hyuntak (gotak)

he doesn’t say a word—just watches you silently, jaw clenched. when your lips wrap around him, he inhales sharply through his nose, gripping the edge of the couch so hard his knuckles go white. his voice comes out low and strained—“don’t tease. if you’re gonna do it, do it.” and when you take him deeper, a groan rumbles out of his chest—so deep it makes your thighs clench.

he doesn’t fuck your throat, doesn’t move much at all—but you can feel the tension in his body like a live wire. he cums with a stifled grunt, holding your head there as he spills down your throat. afterward, he leans back, breathing heavy, eyes glazed. “…fuck. that was something else.”

⤷ seo juntae

he looks like he might pass out when you kneel—eyes wide, hands flying up like he’s about to protest but forgets how. “w-wait, you don’t have to—i mean, if you want to, i’m not gonna stop you, but—” and then your mouth is on him and he chokes on a gasp. his hands hover awkwardly in the air for a second before he grips the blanket, knuckles white.

“ohmygod—th-that feels—” his voice is high, barely coherent, broken between moans and shaky breaths. you glance up and his face is flushed, lip caught between his teeth, eyes behind his glasses already watering. he cums with a whimper, hips bucking up with his thighs trembling, immediately covering his face. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to go that fast, i just—holy shit, you’re really good at that.”

⤷ na baekjin

he doesn’t speak when you kneel, but his expression changes—sharpening, almost curious. maybe a little hungry. he stays perfectly still as your mouth wraps around him, but his breathing falters, eyes darkening as he watched his length disappear against your lips, hand twitching once before it settles gently on your head. he groans—quiet but intense, jaw clenching every time your tongue swirls around him. “fuck,” he mutters under his breath, hand tightening in your hair.

you feel his thighs tense under your touch, and his voice breaks when he tells you, “just like that.” his body shivering as you hollow your cheeks. he cums with a gasp, hips barely jerking, breath catching like he didn’t expect it to hit so fast. after, he helps you up, kisses you slow and deep, he touches your jaw gently and pulls you into his arms, forehead to yours and whispers, “thank you, darling.” like you just saved his life.

⤷ geum seongje

he smirks the moment you drop to your knees, eyes glinting with something dark. “damn, baby. didn’t think you had it in you.” but when your mouth sinks down on him, that smirk vanishes—replaced by a look that’s feral.

his hand fists your hair, not rough at first, but when you moan around him? he pulls—hard. “fuck—keep doing that,” he growls, “you look so good like this. fuck, you’re mine.” keeping you there as his hips twitch forward. he pulls—not to hurt you, but to keep you there, like he needs it. his other hand wraps around the back of your neck, firm and possessive, holding you close as he thrusts shallowly into your mouth.

“look at me,” he growls. “i said—look.” his pupils are blown wide, gaze locked on yours like you’ve got him under a spell. “you’re fucking perfect like this,” he pants. “mine. you get that? mine.”

“fuck, you’re gonna make me—” he cums with a sharp gasp, head tilting back as his muscles tighten, breath ragged. the moan he lets out is raw, needy, almost desperate—the kind that lingers in your ears long after.

and afterward, he yanks you into his lap, kissing you sloppily, breathing you in like he needs you to live. “don’t ever do that for anyone else,” he whispers against your lips, “i’ll lose my fucking mind.”

⤷ oh beomseok

he stares when you kneel in front of him—eyes wide behind his glasses, mouth slightly parted like he can’t believe what’s about to happen. “a-are you… really gonna—?” his voice is so quiet, it barely comes out. he shifts back on the bed like he doesn’t know where to put his hands. but he doesn’t stop you—he can’t. and the moment you wrap your lips around him, he breaks. “f-fuck—wait—” his head falls back instantly, a choked gasp punching out of him as his fingers grasp at the sheets.

his glasses slide down a bit, his breath stuttering as the heat rushes straight to his face. he whimpers when you take him deeper, soft and sharp, his thighs trembling slightly as he tries so hard not to move. “you look so good like this,” he pants. “fuck, you’re gonna make me—” he cums suddenly, hips twitching up into your mouth before he can warn you. it’s high-pitched, needy, almost embarrassed as he moans through it—his glasses fogged, his whole body tensed and shaking. afterward, he reaches for you with trembling hands, pulling you against his chest like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “how am i supposed to act normal after that?” his usually deep voice is slightly higher now, still recovering from the high.

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the first time you spoke to him, you asked if he liked the rain. he looked at you for a long moment, eyes unreadable, and said, “i don’t like or dislike things. they just happen.” you nodded. then sat beside him the next day. and every day after that.

friendship with si-eun wasn’t simple. he didn’t laugh much. didn’t talk unless there was something to say. but you learned to read the space between his words. how his fingers twitched when he was thinking hard. how he always bought two bottles of water and silently handed you one without asking. how he walked you home when the sun went down, even if he never said why.

you got used to it — his silence, his stares, the way he always seemed like he was calculating the world and choosing you anyway.

people didn’t get it. they said si-eun was scary. too smart. too closed off. and maybe he was. but not with you.

with you, he listened. when you asked about physics, he explained. when you forgot things, he remembered. when you cried over a bad grade, he let you sulk in his room and only rolled his eyes once, before quietly pushing a packet of snacks your way.

you admired him. that was the simplest truth of it all. not in a puppy love way. not like those girls who whispered about him in the halls. you admired the way he always knew what to do. how he seemed immune to everything that confused you — emotions, impulses, the mess of being young. si-eun had answers. you.. had questions.

you always thought si-eun was a little unreal. not in the dramatic, daydream kind of way. more like he didn’t seem to belong to the same world as everyone else. while your classmates stumbled over themselves, trying to be liked or seen or chosen, si-eun just existed. unbothered. untouched. like the rules everyone else followed didn’t apply to him, and maybe they didn’t.

he was too smart, too fast, too aware of everything. not just in class — though his grades made teachers swoon — but in fights too, the kind that happened in empty stairwells or behind buildings when someone pushed too far. he always won. but to you, he was just si-eun.

you, who couldn’t punch a wall without crying. who didn’t understand half the formulas written on the board. who walked through the world like it was full of things you hadn’t figured out yet. and somehow, for reasons you never fully grasped, he liked being around you.

sometimes you wondered why. you talked too much. you asked questions that made other people look at you funny. once you asked si-eun if he believed in ghosts and spent the next fifteen minutes rambling about the difference between spirits and shadows. he didn’t interrupt. didn’t laugh. just listened, completely still, until you trailed off with a sheepish “…never mind.”

“I think you’re more interesting than a textbook,” he said after a beat and hell you didn’t stop smiling for hours.

the others noticed it, of course. “why does he only talk to you?” su-ho once asked, mouth full of snack crumbs and voice full of suspicion. “like, what do you even do to him?”

“is he maybe into weird girls?” he snorted, dodging a soda can you threw at his head. “it’s kinda funny watching him look at you like that.” he added.

you had no idea what su-ho or they meant. you weren’t doing anything. si-eun was just your friend. your weird, closed-off, unnaturally competent friend who let you fall asleep on his shoulder during movie nights and always stood a little too close in crowded places.

who handed you napkins without being asked when you spilled something. who once got a nosebleed during a fight and still texted you right after: you need help with physics tomorrow?

you didn’t overthink it. you admired him, sure. everyone did. but your admiration was different.

you liked how he remembered small things. like how you hated seafood and couldn’t drink coffee without sugar. you liked how he never tried to make you feel smaller for being confused or slow. even when you whined and said things like “i’m gonna drop out and open a flower shop,” si-eun just nodded and said, “you’d be good at that.”

he didn’t say things unless he meant them. and that made you want to believe every word that came out of his mouth. he wasn’t as expressionless as people thought, either. you learned how to read him.

when he was annoyed, he’d tap his fingers — short, quick movements like he was trying not to snap. when he was amused, he’d blink a little slower, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile.

and when he looked at you, sometimes — just sometimes — there was something different in his eyes. not fondness, exactly. something heavier. softer. you didn’t know what to call it, but it made your skin feel too warm.

si-eun wasn’t much of a talker, but he never shut you out. not really. once, you asked him if he liked being your friend. it was a stupid question. you regretted it the second it left your mouth.

but he looked at you and said, “you’re the only person who makes me feel like.. i’m not just good for fixing things.” you didn’t say anything back. just leaned against him and hoped he could hear your heartbeat. it was loud. embarrassingly so.

and now, you were in si-eun’s room again, the one place that never changed. the curtains were still half-drawn, the light outside dim enough to make everything inside feel like it was holding its breath.

his desk was organized like always — books stacked in perfect columns, black pens lined in a row, a digital clock ticking too quietly. you were on the floor, stretched out on your stomach, chin propped up on your arms, your phone somewhere nearby but forgotten.

si-eun sat behind you, back against the wall, legs stretched long beside yours. he was scrolling through something on his tablet, probably notes you wouldn’t understand even if you tried. you didn’t know why your heart had been beating too fast all day.

maybe it was because you’d started noticing things you used to ignore. like the way his hair had grown just a little longer over his ears. or how his sleeves were pushed up, exposing veins and wrist bones and that thin scar on his forearm that you’d once touched without thinking.

or how his voice sounded different when he talked to you — slower, quieter, like he didn’t need to say much at all to keep you listening. you couldn’t focus. your thoughts were loud in your head, tangled up and restless.

you were thinking about how you’d never kissed anyone before. not seriously. not properly. and you weren’t embarrassed, exactly — it just felt strange. like you were missing something that everyone else seemed to understand instinctively. like you were too far behind, and eventually someone would find out.

but the real problem wasn’t the kiss. it was that you kept thinking about what it might be like if si-eun was the one to teach you. the thought had been creeping in lately. quiet, uninvited. the way his mouth would feel. the way his hand might tilt your jaw.

the way he’d look at you after. it didn’t make sense — you weren’t dating. he wasn’t flirty. he wasn’t even particularly gentle. but there was something in the way he always noticed you. something that made your stomach twist and your fingers curl.

so you said it. you didn’t even mean to. it just slipped out, too casual, too soft, like a pebble dropped into still water.

“hey… can I ask you something?”

si-eun hummed. not looking up yet.

“it’s gonna sound really dumb.”

he glanced at you then. his face was unreadable, but you could feel his attention sharpening. he always listened like that — completely, like he was watching a wire for signs of tension.

you hesitated. your skin prickled.

“…do you know how to kiss someone?”

the silence hit you immediately. thick. loaded. you almost regretted saying it — almost laughed it off, ready to cover it up with a joke, but then he sat forward slightly, tablet lowering to his lap, and your breath caught in your throat.

“why are you asking me that?” his voice was calm. too calm. not teasing, not annoyed, just.. still?

you swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were to him, how the space between your knees and his was barely wide enough to fit a thought.

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice smaller now. “I guess… I was just wondering. you always seem to know everything. and—” you paused. “I haven’t. not really. I mean, I’ve never done it properly.”

si-eun stared at you for a long time. his eyes weren’t cold, but they were heavy, like he was holding something back. something sharp and coiled and dangerous, sitting quiet just under the surface.

“and you want me to teach you?”

you blinked, he didn’t sound surprised, more like he was trying to confirm it. like he’d already run the calculations in his head and was now trying to decide if he should press the button.

you sat up slowly, heart pounding so hard you thought it might echo. “I just thought… if anyone could explain it, it’d be you.”

he let out a breath. not a laugh. just an exhale, low and almost bitter. “you really think kissing someone is something you can explain?”

your mouth opened. closed. “you’re smart,” you tried again, weakly. “you’re good at things.”

“i’m not good at this.”

you tilted your head, trying to read him. “you’ve kissed someone before, right?”

he didn’t answer, which meant yes. you nodded, trying to play it cool, trying to stay where the air wasn’t burning.

“i’m just curious,” you said, softer now. “i’ve never done it. I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

si-eun didn’t move for a long time. then, quietly: “what do you want it to feel like?”

you blinked. “I… don’t know. warm, I guess?” his jaw tensed. his hands stayed in his lap, fingers laced together, like he was trying not to reach for something. you. the air. anything.

you didn’t say anything else. just watched him. waited. the way you always did when he needed time to think. and finally, si-eun looked up. looked at you.

“come here.”

your chest squeezed. you didn’t know what he meant, not exactly — but you moved anyway. toward him. slow. unsure. your knees touched his first. then your legs slid between his. your hands hovered. you didn’t know where to put them. he fixed that for you.

si-eun reached out, and gently — like he’d been imagining this for a long time — he cupped your face. his palm was warm. steady. your skin lit up under his fingers.

he looked at you like he was memorizing you. like he didn’t know whether to pull back or fall forward. and maybe, for the first time in all the years you’d known him, he looked a little unsure.

but his voice didn’t shake. “i’ll show you once,” he said, low. “but after that… you don’t get to pretend you don’t know what you’re doing anymore.” you nodded.

his mouth met yours slowly, at first. like he was testing it — testing you — making sure you wouldn't flinch, wouldn’t pull away once you realized this wasn’t just about helping you anymore. this wasn’t about being smart, or useful, or your reliable best friend. this was him giving in to a thought he shouldn’t have had in the first place.

you didn’t move for the first second. you just felt it. how warm his lips were. how firm. how careful he was, like he was afraid one wrong angle might make you disappear. and then he tilted his head just slightly, hand still cradling your cheek, and kissed you deeper.

and you made a sound — a soft, breathy sound in the back of your throat — that made him freeze. just for a moment. like hearing you respond flipped something in him he hadn’t meant to turn on.

his other hand came up, resting at the side of your neck, and his thumb brushed over the pulse there. and you didn’t even realize you were leaning into him until your knees were bracketing his thighs and your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

“you’re shaking,” he murmured, against your mouth.

“you kissed me,” you breathed back.

he huffed something between a laugh and a groan, thumb dragging lightly across your bottom lip as he pulled back a fraction — just enough to look at you.

“this was your idea.”

“you said just once.”

“do you want me to stop?”

you stared at him, he looked calm, too calm. again. but his eyes — his eyes were glassy, his breath unsteady, and you could feel it in the way his hands stayed on your skin like he didn’t want to let go.

you shook your head, slow. “no.”

his jaw flexed, and then he kissed you again, hungrier. no more holding back. no more waiting. the second his mouth opened over yours, you felt your whole body react — your stomach tightening, thighs pressing in, heart stuttering out of rhythm.

his tongue slid past your lips, coaxing yours to move, to respond, and gosh — gosh — the low sound he made when you kissed him back with more pressure, more curiosity, more want —

you’d never heard that from him before.

your hands were in his hair before you could think about it, fingers digging in as he pulled you closer, mouth hot and desperate now. he shifted beneath you, letting you settle fully in his lap, your knees on either side of his hips — and when your bodies pressed flush like that, you both gasped into the kiss at the same time.

his grip tightened on your waist. “fuck,” he muttered, lips dragging down to your jaw, your neck. “you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

“then show me,” you whispered. “teach me.” he let out a shaky breath. like he was barely hanging on.

“you have no idea what you’re asking for.” but his hands were already sliding beneath your shirt, and you weren’t stopping him.

his fingers slid under your shirt, slow and tentative, careful not to make any sudden movements as if you were something delicate. you weren’t sure why your body trembled at his touch — it was barely anything, just skin grazing skin, the slightest warmth over your waist — but somehow it made you feel stripped raw.

like you were finally standing on the edge of something you’d only ever dared to imagine. you didn’t stop him. you tilted your head instead, offering more of your throat, and his mouth found the hollow there — gentle, reverent, teeth barely brushing.

his palms flattened, spanning across your hips, feeling the rise and fall of your breath like he was memorizing it. “you okay?” he asked you softly, voice lower than usual, hoarse at the edges.

you nodded. “yeah.” he paused, like he was giving you space to change your mind. “you’re sure?” your fingers curled around his wrists, holding him to you. grounding him. “I trust you.”

and that must’ve been all he needed. because something in him cracked. a quiet breaking, not a loud one, like ice melting, like something long-contained finally spilling over.

his mouth was back on yours with a hunger that hadn’t been there before, lips parting yours open, tongue licking into your mouth with purpose. he kissed you like he’d been waiting a lifetime. kissed you like this was all he’d ever wanted but never believed he could have.

and when his hips rolled up against yours, you felt it — him. hard beneath his sweats, thick and undeniable, pressing right where you were already aching. your breath caught. your legs tensed around his sides. you whimpered, just a little, and his forehead dropped to your shoulder with a guttural sound.

“fuck,” he muttered, voice low and shaken. “don’t do that.”

“what?” you breathed.

“make sounds like that. I—” his hands gripped your waist tighter. “i’m trying to go slow.”

you could feel your pulse everywhere now. your thighs clenched again, instinctively, seeking friction. “you want to stop?” he asked, a final out, even now, even with the way his body trembled.

you shook your head. “no. I don’t want to stop.” he lifted his head. his eyes were dark, lashes fluttering slightly like he was holding back something deeper. “do you want me to be your first?”

your answer came in a whisper. “yes.”

he kissed you once more, slower this time. then reached beside the bed, into the drawer, and when he pulled out a condom, you blinked.

“you just… have that?”

his mouth twitched. not quite a smile. “su-ho gave it to me.”

“as a joke?”

“he said something stupid. like, about how I need to ‘get laid before I die cause my pen doesn't work anymore’ or something.”

you laughed, despite yourself. and si-eun’s eyes softened.

“but now,” he said, voice turning quiet again, “i’m glad I have it.”

he rolled it on carefully. you watched, heart pounding, seeing him fully now for the first time. long and thick, flushed at the tip, already leaking. your mouth went dry.

you hadn’t seen a guy naked before, let alone like this, aroused, ready. you swallowed hard, thighs tightening. your whole body ached with nerves and want.

“you okay?” he asked again, brushing hair from your face. “yeah,” you managed. “just… new.”

he leaned down and kissed your temple. “then we’ll go slow.”

he pulled your shorts and underwear down in one motion, so gently it felt like a question. you lifted your hips, let him slide the fabric away, suddenly aware of the cool air on your exposed skin, the vulnerability of being bare in front of someone for the first time. but he didn’t leer. didn’t stare. he looked at you like you were something to be honored. something sacred.

his fingers slid between your legs, testing. your whole body jerked at the first touch — light pressure over your clit that made your thighs twitch.

“you’re already wet,” he said, breath catching. “fuck. you’re soaking.”

your face burned. “sorry—”

“don’t apologize,” he said quickly. “that’s good. that’s so good.”

he dipped one finger lower, easing it into you slowly. you gasped at the stretch. even that was new. he stilled, letting your body adjust, whispering, “breathe,” as he stroked your inner walls gently.

once you relaxed, he added another, curling his fingers, spreading you open with deliberate care. the sound of your slick filled the space between you — wet, soft, real. when he pressed his thumb back to your clit, circling it gently, your hips jolted, and you whined.

“you’re doing so good,” he whispered. “so fucking good.”

your eyes fluttered shut, body rocking helplessly against his hand. when his fingers finally slipped away, you felt empty. needy. but then he was positioning himself, cock brushing against your entrance.

“deep breath,” he murmured. “i’ll go slow.”

and he did.

the first push was the hardest. you tensed without meaning to, your cunt clenching, breath hitching — but he paused, whispered to you again, and let your body guide him.

once you opened up, he eased in deeper. your fingers clawed at his shoulders, trying to hold onto something. the stretch burned. it was full, unrelenting, almost too much.

he was big. bigger than you’d expected. and still he moved gently, carefully, until his hips were flush with yours and you’d taken all of him.

“jesus christ,” he breathed, shaking. “you feel—so tight. so fucking perfect.”

you exhaled shakily. “you’re big.”

he chuckled softly, forehead pressing to yours. “you’re doing amazing.”

he didn’t move right away. just kissed your cheek, your collarbone, brushing his nose against your skin like he was grounding himself.

your walls fluttered around him, already adjusting, and when he finally started to thrust — slow and shallow — it knocked the air from your lungs.

each movement was controlled. each drag of his cock inside you purposeful. he hit deeper with every rock of his hips, and it didn’t take long before your body began to want it.

your breath hitched. your fingers dug in. you let out a moan — small, involuntary — and si-eun groaned. “fuck. that sound.”

you tilted your hips toward him instinctively, seeking more, and he took the cue. he rolled his hips, found a rhythm. and when he shifted slightly — angled deeper — you cried out.

“right there?”

you nodded helplessly. “si-eun—please—”

his hand found your clit again, rubbing you just right while he fucked you through slow, deep strokes. your head fell back. the tension was building fast now, tight, molten, dizzying. your cunt squeezed around him with every thrust, every perfect touch.

and then you broke. your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, rushing through your body, stealing your breath, leaving you writhing beneath him. your cunt fluttered around his cock, milking him, and that’s what pushed him over.

he groaned your name, voice wrecked, and fucked into you one last time, deep and hard. you felt him twitch, felt the heat of him spill into the condom as he came, hips stuttering, body pressed tight to yours, jaw clenched.

you collapsed into each other, breathless and shaking, his arms wrapping around you like he couldn’t bear to let you go. neither of you spoke for a while. but eventually, he kissed your shoulder and whispered, “you’re mine now, you know.”

and you smiled, because you already were. you didn’t know how long the silence stretched between you after it was over, only that you didn’t want to move from the warmth of his body or the way his arms had circled around you so tightly, like he was afraid you’d slip away.

his breath was still a little uneven against your skin, his chest rising and falling against your back now that he’d pulled you into a side hold, your legs tangled under the sheets and your heart still thudding softly in your chest.

he hadn’t said anything more since the last kiss he’d pressed to your shoulder. hadn’t asked how you were. hadn’t pulled away or shifted like he was finished with you.

he was just holding you.

you weren’t sure what came over you, but your fingers reached out and curled lightly into the soft fabric of his shirt, he’d pulled it on again after discarding the condom and wiping you up with the gentlest hands, like it was the most natural thing in the world to clean and dress you himself.

you hadn’t even realized how shy you felt until that part, but he hadn’t teased. hadn’t smirked. just murmured, “tell me if anything hurts, okay?” and you remembered thinking then, he really did think everything through. even now.

“you’re really quiet,” you whispered, voice still hoarse.

his arm tightened around your waist. “thinking.”

“about what?”

he paused for a beat, and then his voice came out low. “how lucky i am.”

you blinked.

your heart stuttered in a different way now, softer, almost painful. he wasn’t the type to say things like that. si-eun didn’t do grand confessions or obvious declarations. he always kept his feelings close to his chest. but now, lying here in the dim warmth of your room, the words felt like they’d slipped out before he could stop them.

you didn’t say anything back. just nudged your head gently under his chin and curled into him more fully.

and for the first time, you felt his lips brush your hair. not in a lustful way. not in a way that tried to start anything again. just quiet affection. soft. steady. like he didn’t want the moment to end either.

you don’t remember when you fell asleep, only that you woke up the next morning still in his arms.

he was already awake when you opened your eyes, blinking blearily against the sunlight seeping in through your curtains. his hair was a little messy, eyes on you like he’d been watching you for a while now, but not in a way that made you nervous. he looked.. calm. at peace. like maybe sleeping beside someone had made him rest easier than he had in years.

“morning,” he murmured, voice rough.

you smiled sleepily. “hi.”

he looked like he wanted to say something, then settled for brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “you still good?”

“mmhmm.” you stretched slightly, muscles sore but not unpleasantly so. “better than good.”

he looked relieved. and then, like something clicked in his head, he muttered, “wait—class. what time is it?”

“we have plenty of time,” you said, laughing softly. “I always set an early alarm.”

he groaned and flopped back beside you, an arm thrown over his eyes. “you’re too responsible.”

“well, you need me to keep you on track.”

you hadn’t meant it to come out so naturally, but the second you said it, you felt his hand drop from his face and his eyes meet yours again. and not that heavy, unblinking stare you used to catch him slipping into when he thought no one noticed.

his eyes had always carried something haunted in them, ever since the day you met. something fractured, a little hollow, like he’d learned too early that the world could betray you if you weren’t ready for it.

but this morning, it was different. you didn’t notice it right away. it was in the tiny shift. the way his gaze warmed instead of hardened. how he blinked slower, more at ease, like the knots in his chest had loosened overnight. you stared at him for a long second, trying to trace what had changed — and then you realized.

the sadness was still there. maybe it always would be. but it wasn’t all-consuming anymore. not sharp. not cold. there was something softer behind his eyes now.

something that bloomed quiet and tender, like spring cracking through frost. and for the first time, he didn’t look like he was fighting himself just to be here. he looked like he wanted to be.

you leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “you’re different today.”

he raised a brow. “already?”

“I mean it in a good way,” you said. “your eyes don’t look sad.”

he was quiet for a second, then laughed under his breath. “maybe it’s because you kissed me back.”

“maybe it’s because I let you fuck me.”

he turned to face you fully, lips twitching into a smirk now, but not cocky. still fond. “both.”

you rolled your eyes and shoved at him lightly. he caught your hand. and then he said, “can I take you somewhere today?”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“after class. I wanna take you out. just us.”

your heart flipped a little. “a date?”

he nodded.

“okay,” you whispered. “i’d really like that.”

the walk to campus that morning felt strangely new, even though it was the same sidewalk you took every morning. the sun was a little too bright, your bag slung too casually over your shoulder, and si-eun was right beside you — hands in his pockets, that unreadable expression on his face that made most people wary of him.

but not you. not anymore. not with the way his pinky kept brushing yours on purpose as you walked. not with the way he leaned in to murmur, “you’re sure you’re not sore?” while your classmates were still ten feet behind.

and definitely not with the way you glanced up and saw it again — that look in his eyes. no longer cold, no longer cracked, still intense, still si-eun.

but clearer, softer, like he could breathe a little easier. like you were the first thing he’d ever let soften him. and god, you wanted to protect that softness for as long as he’d let you.

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Beomseok turns into a bundle of nervous care once he's spent, hovering over you with wide eyes to check if you're okay. He fetches water, wipes sweat from your skin with a soft cloth, and pulls you into his arms, peppering your forehead with apologetic kisses if he got too carried away. His fingers massage any aches gently, whispering sorrys even if you loved every second, until you're both relaxed and tangled together. He also loves if you take care of him afterwards, sometimes ending up crying from the overwhelming amount of comfort he feels by you caring for him.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

He likes his lips best—soft and full, great for sucking marks into your neck or wrapping around your nipples, also for making you cum over and over again when you're ovulating and his cock is too spent already. On you, it's your neck and collarbones; he obsesses over kissing and nipping there, watching goosebumps rise as he trails down to your breasts, hands cupping them while he lavishes attention on that sensitive strip of skin. He also loves marking them because he loves knowing that you have that trust towards him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Beomseok cums in hot spurts, often pulling out to spill across your belly or thighs because he's scared of the responsibilities of getting you pregnant, blushing as he watches it drip down your skin. He loves when you make him finish on your pussy—he'll lick it off afterwards, tasting himself mixed with you, or finger it into you with shaky breaths because you claim it can't stick that way (you just want to get knocked up by him fr).

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Beomseok secretly gets off on the idea of you dominating him in front of a mirror, making him watch as you ride his cock or grind on his face. He imagines your commands forcing him to hold back, the humiliation of seeing his flushed face and leaking tip making him throb harder—he's too shy to ask, but practices alone sometimes iykwim (definitely feels embarrassed afterwards).

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not experienced at all, but he's a quick learner of your body. He learns your cues fast—where to lick, how hard to thrust—eagerly practicing until his fingers curl just right inside you or his mouth hits your clit perfectly, turning awkward thrusts into rhythmic pounding that has you writhing beneath him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary so he can see your face, burying his face in your neck as he slides in deep, hips rolling steadily as he sucks on the sensitive skin on your neck. He also craves you on top, hands gripping your waist while you bounce on his cock, his eyes glued to your tits jiggling with each drop down his length.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

A mix—he starts nervous, cracking shy smiles or stuttering mid-thrust, but gets serious when you're moaning, brows furrowing in concentration. Light laughs escape if you tease him, like when his rhythm falters, but he pushes through with determined grunts. Can also get sentimental at times but tries not to show it because he's embarrassed.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Beomseok grooms neatly, trimming his pubic hair short and soft, a lighter patch that grazes your nose slightly when you go down on him. Sometimes he shaves it all but his main goal is to just keep it neat and trimmed. Does not give a fuck about if you shave or not.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He's all about closeness, holding your gaze as he pushes inside slowly, whispering your name like a prayer. Hands intertwine, bodies pressed flush—he kisses you through every thrust, making love feel personal and deep, even when he picks up speed and fucks harder. To him it's important that you always feel loved and cherished during intimate moments like this.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Beomseok strokes himself in bed at night, hand slick with lube as he pictures your pussy clenching around him. It's frantic, hips bucking into his fist until he cums with a muffled groan, often using your panties stolen from the laundry to wrap around his shaft for the scent. Also jerks of to your Instagram pictures more often than he'd like to admit, he just can't help himself when he has such a pretty partner.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise kink hits him hard—you calling him good boy while he eats you out makes him devour your clit desperately. He also loves light bondage, letting you tie his wrists so you can use his cock however you want, or marking him with bites to match the ones he leaves on you. Don't go to hard on him though cause he's sensitive :(

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His or your room feels safest to him, door locked as he lays you on his bed and explores every inch. He will also fuck you in a public place if you beg him enough because he can't say no to you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your encouragement lights him up—words like "fuck me harder" or touches on his bulge make him instantly hard. Seeing you vulnerable, like after a bad day, flips a switch; he wants to bury himself in you, proving he can make you feel good amid his insecurities.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing violent or degrading—he panics at real pain, pulling back if it hurts. Turn-offs are roughness without consent or anything public where he's exposed too much; he needs trust, hating the idea of being watched without control.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves giving, kneeling between your thighs to lap at your pussy eagerly, tongue flicking your clit while fingers pump inside. Receiving makes him shy at first, but he eventually starts to thrusts into your mouth with soft whines, hands in your hair as you suck him dry.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Starts slow and sensual, savoring each slide into your wet heat, but builds to fast and needy, hips snapping erratically as he chases release. He matches your pace, going rough if you claw his back, gentle if you sigh into his kisses—it's all about your comfort and pleasure to him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are not his favorite but if you really want to have a quickly between classes or before leaving his apartment, he'd be up to it. Just make sure not to make them too regular because he'll start overthinking about the fact that you may be using him for sex.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He's cautious but willing, trying new angles or kinks if you ask him enough times. Will never do anything too risky though and does not want to end up being a teenage parent, so no unprotected sex.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two solid rounds before he's spent, but he lasts decently, drawing out pleasure with pauses to kiss you. Recovery is quick if you stroke him, hardening again for a slower, deeper session until you're both exhausted. Will always be down to please you in other ways if he's too tired to fuck you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No toys, how tf would he get one with his strict ass father? Also because he's insecure that they'd bring you more pleasure than he can give you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not very—he's too eager, diving in when you want it. But he learns to tease, ghosting fingers over your slit or sucking your nipples without touching below, giggling nervously at your frustrated bucks until he gives in.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Tries to be quiet but he's whiny and vocal—soft moans escape as he thrusts, escalating to breathy "fuck"s and your name when close. He gasps into your skin, begging quietly, loving when you hush him or moan back to spur him on.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If he catches you masturbating in your room, he will stand at the door and stroke himself while watching you, a hand clamped over his mouth as he tries his hardest not to get caught by you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Beomseok's cock is average length, around six inches, not too girthy with a flushed head that leaks pre-cum steadily. Straight and eager, it twitches visibly when hard, veins pulsing as he grinds against your thigh. His tip is light pink btw. (source; trust me bro)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High but repressed—he's constantly half-hard around you, daydreaming about bending you over. Once started, he can't stop, humping your leg if denied, sex drive spiking with every brush of your body.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Fifty-fifty. Sometimes he falls asleep super easily and sometimes he lays awake for hours, overthinking every single thing and hoping that he didn't disappoint you in any way.

⸻

The restaurant was huge. Loud with voices—dads talking business, the clinking of glasses blending with the soft clash of cutlery on porcelain plates. Everything screamed luxury. Not the warm kind.

And you… you were used to it. Maybe too used to it.

But Beom Seok?

He didn’t belong there.

You didn’t even notice him at first. He had on a plain black sweater, collar of a shirt peeking out faintly. Sat upright, stiff, hands clasped over his knees, knuckles pale as paper. Like someone had dropped him off and vanished.

You didn’t realize you were staring— Not until he noticed.

He turned his head slightly, caught your eyes for a heartbeat, then looked away almost instantly. That was the first time your eyes met.

His gaze was distant. Uneasy. Almost guilty.

Like he was silently saying, “Don’t look at me.”

But it was already too late.

Your father was laughing at something when you gently turned your head, pretending to be politely bored. But your mind stayed on him.

Everyone was talking, everyone was laughing, life moved on—

But he stayed frozen. Right there. Like he was afraid even breathing wrong would ruin something.

And for just a second, a thought crossed your mind:

What happened to him?

But you didn’t ask. You knew these dinners too well. You answer what’s asked. You say what’s needed. The rest? Gets lost in eye contact.

When your eyes met his again, he didn’t look away this time. Not immediately. He tried to hold your gaze—but failed. His pupils shrank, his jaw tensed. Like not just your presence, but his own existence was too much for him in that moment.

Because you…

You were something else entirely to him.

Maybe the child his father wished he had.

Maybe someone he could never be.

Maybe just… you.

You kept your face neutral. No smile. No judgment. Just attention. The kind people give when they’re trying to understand the difference.

But he mistook that too.

Took it as pity.

After that night, it became a routine—seeing them, eating with them. Your dads were close and wanted to hang out often.

⸻ /TIMESKIP/

Beom Seok’s mom greeted you at the door. She smiled, but didn’t say a word. Just a soft nod, then silence. It was so quiet your heels felt too loud. As you took off your shoes at the entrance, your eyes drifted—he was already there. Sitting across the living room.

At the table, the dads jumped into conversation—politics, the market, the usual nonsense. You poked at your food, listening quietly. Beom Seok did the same. Every bite he took seemed to last forever. Or maybe he just needed time. You couldn’t tell.

Then it happened.

His dad suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Like he’d been holding something in and couldn’t anymore. He slammed his fork down.

“You skipped school again today,” he said.

Beom Seok didn’t lift his head.

“Who were you with this time? Those delinquent friends of yours?”

The air in the room shifted.

Forks froze.

Even you turned without meaning to.

Beom Seok didn’t move. Didn’t say a thing.

That silence only made his dad angrier.

“How long are you going to keep disgracing this family?”

His voice rose.

Your father stepped in, smiling politely, trying to calm things down.

“Come on now, he’s just a kid. We were all young once. Friends matter.”

But Beom Seok’s dad snapped toward him.

Eyes narrowed like he was waiting for this chance.

“Easy for you to say. You’ve got YN. Always so quiet, so well-behaved. She sits like a lady. I hear she’s doing great in school too. Not like my failure of a son.”

Everyone turned to look at you.

You smiled.

Didn’t say a word.

Beom Seok still hadn’t spoken.

His eyes locked onto a spot on his plate.

There was nothing there, but he wouldn’t look away.

His mom?

Didn’t say a word.

Didn’t even look at him.

Kept eating like no one was being torn apart in the same room.

Your dad looked like he wanted to say something else, but the man had already changed the subject.

Your eyes met again—but he pulled away.

This time, not just from you.

He looked at the corner of the room like he wanted to disappear into it.

⸻

The dinner was over. The adults had sunk into the living room couches, drinks in hand, crystal glasses clinking with slow-melting ice.

You sat in a corner, quiet.

Nodding, smiling when needed. Pretending to listen.

But your mind was elsewhere.

There was an absence.

Beom Seok had left the table a while ago.

He hadn’t returned.

No one noticed.

No one called for him.

Like he was never really there to begin with.

You didn’t say a word.

Just stared at your water glass.

Finger tracing the rim.

Then: “Can I use the bathroom?”

No one objected.

Out in the hallway, it was even quieter.

No more laughter leaking through.

Your steps felt weightless on thick rugs, past clean-cut furniture.

You knew where his room was.

The door was sliding.

You didn’t knock.

You just placed your palm on the cold wood, held your breath—

And slowly slid it open.

There he was.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched forward.

Hands dangling between his knees.

Glasses in one hand.

Eyes locked on the floor.

He wasn’t thinking. Or maybe he was thinking everything at once.

He flinched when he saw you.

His shoulders jumped.

His eyes found yours.

Silence.

“Can I come in?” you asked.

He didn’t look at you for long. Just gave a small nod, patted the space beside him.

You stepped inside.

Now there wasn’t much space between you.

He was still gripping his glasses.

His hands were tense.

He didn’t speak.

So you whispered, “Why do you do this to yourself?”

“You let them crush you. Don’t you ever wanna fight back?”

That’s when he turned to look at you.

But not gently this time.

His eyes were sharp.

There was a fire in them.

Like every word you said had cut deeper.

“You don’t know anything,” he said.

Cold.

Tight in his throat.

“You don’t know me. You don’t know my dad. You don’t know this place. But you talk like you do.”

He turned fully toward you.

“Your life’s easy. Everyone likes you. You sit there and get praised. No one ever humiliates you. What would you know about being me?”

You hadn’t expected that tone—but your face didn’t flinch.

No fear.

Just disgust.

You didn’t hide it.

Your lips curled.

You stood up slowly.

“Oh God,” you said.

Just that.

And it chilled the whole room.

“Maybe your dad’s right,” you added.

“Your loser friends really did mess you up.”

You didn’t stay.

Turned around.

Slid the door shut behind you.

Left.

But some part of you…

Some part of you stayed in that room.

Because in Beom Seok’s eyes, there was a loneliness so deep—

Even rage couldn’t cover it.

Even you walking away… couldn’t erase it.

⸻ /TIMESKIP/

The restaurant was crowded.

Wealthy laughter, the thick smell of food, and the clinking of ice-filled glasses were all competing to be heard.

You sat quietly in your seat.

Pretending to listen, but you weren’t really hearing anything.

Slowly, you stood up. No one thought twice about it.

“I’m going to the restroom,” you said.

You didn’t walk too fast. You didn’t want unnecessary attention.

As you moved between the seats, the fabric of your dress brushed against your legs. Your heels tapped lightly on the wooden floor.

When you entered the hallway, the sound of the restaurant began to fade behind you.

Only your footsteps remained now.

You stepped into the women’s bathroom. It was empty.

You placed your bag on the counter.

Took out a makeup brush.

Touched it lightly to your cheeks.

Not too much. Just a little.

But then the door opened.

A hum ran down your spine.

You didn’t even need to turn around to know who those echoing footsteps belonged to.

It was him.

And just like that—he closed the door behind him.

Then… he locked it.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

You watched your face in the mirror first. Then slowly turned to look at him.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

Trying to stay calm, though the weirdness of the moment unsettled you.

Still, you stood your ground.

You weren’t scared of him. But… you didn’t understand.

Beom Seok took a step toward you.

It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t soft either.

But it was certain.

His eyes were locked onto yours.

There was something open in them this time.

Like a darkness mixed with hurt.

He spoke slowly.

“I’m sorry… for last time.”

You saw the shame in his eyes.

But what you felt wasn’t sympathy.

Just a brief pause.

“It's okay,” you said.

You didn’t want to drag this out.

You didn’t want to fix it with a confrontation or a conversation.

You turned toward the door. You wanted to leave.

But…

Suddenly, he grabbed your wrist.

Not tightly.

But firmly.

You didn’t pull away.

You slowly turned back.

He gently pulled you toward the counter in front of the big mirror.

Cold marble touched your back.

You shivered as it met your skin.

He was in front of you.

So close.

Not even an inch between you.

Your eyes drifted to his.

But this time, you couldn’t glare.

Because the tension inside you… was turning into something else.

It was hard to speak.

“What?” you asked.

Beom Seok’s eyes were frozen.

But the cracks were showing now.

“I don’t want to be your enemy,” he said.

His face was so close to yours.

You could feel his breath on your skin.

You looked away for a moment, then looked back again.

“We’re not,” you replied.

Short. Clear.

But he wasn’t satisfied.

“Then why do you… look at me like you pity me?”

His voice was low.

“Why do you act like I disgust you sometimes?”

That sentence—

It hit you like a nail in your brain.

You swallowed hard.

You didn’t answer.

Maybe because you didn’t have one.

Or maybe you did… but it was too close. Too raw. You didn’t know what it would touch if you let it out.

In that silence… Beom Seok’s eyes fell to your lips.

Your eyes were locked on his face.

And then—

For a moment.

Quick.

Sudden.

He kissed you.

The touch of his lips on yours—

It wasn’t warm.

It wasn’t soft.

It was short.

But it hit you like lightning in the chest.

Your eyes widened.

Your cheeks burned.

Your body froze for a second.

Then he pulled away immediately.

Almost like he startled himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

His breath was shaky.

“I don’t know why I did that.”

He looked down.

His face was burning red.

You were still standing there.

But your heart wasn’t.

Everything had scattered.

He walked to the door.

Unlocked it.

Opened it… and left.

You stood in front of the mirror for a while.

Just stayed there.

You didn’t know what to feel.

⸻ /TIMESKIP/ 🔞

Dinner had been over for a while. Everyone was sitting in the living room, chatting casually. This time, the gathering had taken place at your house. You never really understood why both families insisted on having a full meal every time they met. God, how boring they were…

You were in the kitchen, reaching for the plates on the counter, loading the dishwasher.

Each time you bent down and stood up again, the back of your dress tightened just a little. Your hair fell over your shoulder.

It was quiet.

Just the soft drip of water from the faucet and the clink of porcelain against porcelain.

You were placing the last plate when you heard footsteps.

Slow, deliberate…

There was a slight pause before someone entered.

You didn’t need to look back. You already knew.

Beom Seok.

You weren’t surprised. But he hadn’t known you’d be here.

A subtle smirk tugged at your lips the moment you realized.

You weren’t going to test him.

But you weren’t about to run, either.

A little mischief wouldn’t hurt.

You straightened up.

Turned around.

Beom Seok paused slightly when he saw you.

Like someone had flipped on the lights in a dark room.

His shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

His expression… not guilty, not exactly sorry—

But definitely uneasy.

Still, he composed himself.

Didn’t look away.

But didn’t look into you either.

You crossed your arms.

Didn’t take a single step back.

“What is it?” you asked.

Beom Seok hesitated.

As if the weight of what he wanted to say was sitting right at the edge of his tongue.

Finally, he seemed to gather up the nerve.

“About that day…” he said.

His words were scattered, like he’d rather die than have this conversation—

But could no longer avoid it.

“I mean… that kiss. If it felt disrespectful to you—”

“It didn’t,” you cut in, flatly.

His eyes locked on yours.

He held his breath, but you could feel it—whatever he’d been holding back was about to burst free.

“Yes, sometimes I do look at you with disgust,”

you said, tilting your head slightly.

Your words were cold—

But carried a strange heat underneath.

And then you took a step forward.

Slow. Deliberate.

“But you look at me like you want to eat me alive,”

you murmured,

“and that turns me on like crazy.”

Beom Seok’s eyes widened.

His lips parted, but no words came out.

Something flickered on his face—confusion, arousal, surprise.

By then, you were already right in front of him.

One step. Just one step left between you.

You leaned in, lips brushing near his ear.

Your breath grazed his neck.

“If you want to fuck me, don’t bother hiding it…”

You looked him in the eye. Whispered again.

“Because no matter how hard you try, your pants are already giving you away.”

It was jarring, hearing something so filthy come from someone like you.

On the outside, you looked so composed—

That contrast threw Beom Seok off completely.

In that moment…

His body stiffened.

His eyes locked onto yours.

“Good. I want it. Now.” he said suddenly.

You pulled back. That wasn’t your plan.

You just wanted to tease him and disappear—

You didn’t expect this.

His hand had already reached the edge of the kitchen counter, pinning you between it and his body.

“Not now,” you whispered. “Someone might catch us.”

But he didn’t care.

He stepped in closer.

Closed the distance.

His body pressed against yours.

His hands slid over your curves—possessive, rough.

“Just a quick fuck” he murmured into your ear.

His warm breath sent a shiver down your spine.

He leaned in, captured your lips in a harsh kiss.

One hand slid up, cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your dress.

Your lips crashed harder. Your breathing grew heavy.

But life continued outside—

People were still moving around in other rooms.

Anyone could walk in.

You both knew it.

He unzipped his pants just enough—

In a way he could quickly fix if needed.

He didn’t undress you.

Just pushed your panties aside.

He lifted one of your legs, hooked it around his waist.

Pulled your dress up.

At first, he only slid in the tip—

And even that felt so damn good, you almost moaned—

But he quickly slapped a hand over your mouth.

You pushed yourself closer to him, wanting more.

And the moment he realized what you needed,

he buried himself deeper, without hesitation.

Bigger than you imagined.

It felt like he might tear you apart.

Too much. Too full.

“I-it won’t fit,” you gasped against his hand.

He didn’t answer.

Just kept pushing.

You bit your lip to stifle your moan.

His movements got faster, more desperate.

His hand tightened around your mouth.

You were wet enough to help him slide in and out without making too much noise.

You had the advantage.

He pulled you even closer—

His thrusts became shorter, deeper.

He was trying to hold it in, finish without a sound,

but it was getting harder with every push.

He buried his face in your neck to muffle his groans.

His other hand gripped your ass tightly,

fingers digging in.

With one last deep thrust, he came inside you.

Both your bodies trembled from the intensity.

He stayed inside for a moment, holding his breath.

Then he quickly pulled out, fixing his pants.

Left you panting, back pressed against the cold kitchen counter.

“Damn…”

⸻

The air in the kitchen still felt hot and electric, your bodies buzzing with aftershocks.

You both stood there, breathless.

Your chest rising and falling rapidly, heart pounding loud in your ears.

You couldn’t meet his eyes.

Your hands trembled.

What the hell did I just do? you asked yourself over and over.

Beom Seok looked just as stunned—

But a hint of pride lingered on his face.

You stood side by side,

a strange silence hanging between you—

An invisible curtain that hadn’t been there before.

Just then, the kitchen door creaked open.

Your mom walked in.

You quickly pulled yourself together,

smiling like nothing had happened.

“Mom?” you said calmly,

like this had been just another ordinary minute.

She smiled gently.

“Oh… I was just wondering where you two disappeared to. Looks like you finally became friends, huh?” she teased.

“Come on now,” she added, gesturing toward the door.

“You're about to go home.” she said, giving Beom Seok a little glance.

You and he shared a brief look—

Still carrying the tension,

but on the outside,

you were just two perfectly normal people.

⸻

Life went on surprisingly normally after that.

Neither of you pretended it hadn’t happened.

Because it had—

And neither of you regretted it.

Still, you had to hide.

Moments no one else knew about, saw, or even suspected.

Secret meetings began.

In quiet cafés, in parks, in alleyways…

You’d meet without a word.

Quick glances, stolen touches.

Now that your families sat you next to each other at dinners,

he’d always find a way to touch your thigh under the table—

Or you’d simply hold hands in secret.

Sometimes in crowded places, like restaurants or cafés,

you’d excuse yourself to the bathroom—

and he’d silently follow.

Your hands would meet, your lips would crash—

and you’d have quick sex behind closed doors.

Those brief moments washed away the exhaustion of the week,

lit new fires in your hearts.

What you were doing wasn’t exactly right.

But you kept doing it.

And you would—

for a long time.

Eventually, the families would find out.

But it wouldn’t be the kind of scandal that destroyed reputations.

If anything, if things got serious,

it might even bring both families closer.

"I'm telling you Beomie, we can leave whenever you want. You sure?" I search his eyes, taking hold of his shaking hands. He cast his gaze to the ground for a second as I gently squeeze his hands, before looking back at me. He softly shakes his head, "I'm okay." I smile, nodding in understanding.

"We'll leave in like—thirty minutes. Wanna find a room to chill in?" He looks away for a second, thinking. He nods and I tighten my grip on his hand.

I weave through the crowd of dancing bodies, clutching his hand tightly so I don’t lose him. The music is piercing as I head past a speaker, the bass booming and the music flooding my brain. I throw a hand over my ears, looking back to see how Beomseok was fairing.

He winces as we pass by the speaker and I try to yell over the music. "Cover your ears." I motion to my ears with my free hand and he covers the one closest to the speaker as I continue pulling him along.

Fuck, it's suffocating like a maze in here.

Whose house even is this?

I can barley think with the music blasting, making every other noise impossibly quiet.

I lead him to a staircase where people are sitting on every other stair, making out and practically fucking. I pull him along and up the stairs, yelling apologies over the music.

I make it upstairs with Beomseok while attempting to shove past the people crowding the halls. The stench of alcohol hangs thick in the air, making my nose scrunch. I head right to the first door I see, which is at the end of the crowded hall. I push past people, pulling Beomseok into the unlocked room and shutting the door.

From what I can see in the lowlight of the moon, there's a large bed with a canopy in the center of the room, inviting me over. The music is almost muffled in this room, and I sigh in relief, thankful to not have to yell anymore.

I let go of his hand, flopping onto the bed. "I'm so damn tired."

It's quiet for a moment save for the muffled music downstairs and I realize Beomseok is still standing by the door as I sit up, propping my elbows on the bed. I look him up and down, drinking up his flushed state.

He’s wearing a buttoned-up cardigan, soft and slightly oversized, with dark dress pants that hang just loose enough to bunch around his ankles. His black suede shoes are perfectly lined up, his hands clasped behind him like a nervous schoolboy.

His head is bowed, hair falling into his face, the faintest flush creeping up his neck and I can just barely see the smooth skin of his chest through the V of the cardigan.

Looks like he's not wearing anything underneath.

He looks so cute like this.

"Come here baby, no need to be nervous." I pat the spot on the bed next to me and he looks up, pushing his glasses onto his face. He saunters over with no hesitation. He perches on the far edge of the bed, his gaze drifting everywhere but in my direction.

"Why sit so far?" I fully sit up now, getting off the bed. I plop myself next to him, scooting myself impossibly close to him. His thigh touches mine. So does his arm. He gulps, Adams apple bobbing with the movement.

"I don't bite," I scoot that much closer, bringing my voice to barley above a whisper.

"Unless you like that."

I can see how the words effected him as soon as he shivers, scanning the room and avoiding my eyes like I'd turn him to stone.

"I do—I mean I, I just haven't you know—" He stumbles over his words, and I nod, placing a comforting hand over his.

"I know, do you want to try?" He looks at me then, his eyes growing wide.

"Yeah—I'd like that." He grabs my hand then, rubbing a comforting hand over my own. It's something he does to calm himself I've noticed. I feel a smile tug at the corners of my lips. "We can start off slow if you'd like." He nods, a soft smile growing on his face.

"It's okay to be nervous baby, if at any point you wanna stop or slow down promise to let me know?" I bring a hand up to his face, gently turning him to face me. He looks at me with hooded eyes, gentle tufts of breath hitting my face.

"I promise." He blinks. He takes these things so seriously and it really warms my heart.

He looks sort of dazed and a couple beats of silence pass as I drink him in.

"You're so beautiful." He sighs, gaze lingering on my lips. I softly laugh. The air suddenly feels heavier with something else now as we both go quiet. I lean in closer and his breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut. I brush a piece of hair from his eyes, placing a soft peck to his lips.

His breath fans against my lips, hot and shakily like he can't bare to look at what's coming next.

I smile, thinking about just how long it took to get him to this point. When we first started dating he was so shy, hesitant to kiss or even hold hands. He's grown so much since we first met.

I press my lips to his and his hands crawl up my body, coming to play at the straps of my top, just thumbing with the fabric there. I cup his jaw, bringing him in all the closer as his lips part slightly.

I slip my tongue into his awaiting mouth. He tastes slightly of mint and a hint of alcohol. He grabs onto the strap of my shirt then, grabbing the fabric tightly.

Several moments pass and he whimpers into the kiss, pulling away to catch his breath. His chest rises and falls deeply as I snake a hand up his sweater from the bottom, feeling the smooth skin of his chest as his heart thumps under my fingertips.

I follow the red flush of his chest through his dress shirt up to his neck where I caress the soft skin there.

What a smooth canvas to paint with bruises.

"Your hearts racing baby, do you wanna take a break or stop?" He takes a deep breath in before replying, "No, let's keep going—fuck, you're so hot." he breathes, going in for another kiss. I lean forward, slightly parting my lips. I bring my hand down from his neck to thumb at his nipple and his body jolts as he moans quietly into my mouth. I pull away, hand resting on his stomach.

"Was that okay?" I breathe, gazing at him with lidded eyes. I can feel my own heart thumping in my rib cage as I look at him.

God—he's so fucking cute.

He bites his lip, silent for a second. "I—I liked it." He looks at me with wide eyes.

"I actually can't take It you are so fucking cute Beomie," I smile, swiping a thumb over his cheek lovingly. His face is smooth save for the occasional pimple, which is understandable. He leans into the touch, and my thumb dips into his parted mouth where he takes a hesitant lick, looking into my eyes.

"For fucks sake Beomie, you're really gonna make me fuck you right here." He laughs and I feel myself smile with him, laughter overtaking me also.

"But seriously—" I pull away, hands resting at the bottom of his shirt. "Let's take this off." He nods, and I pull the fabric over his head, him pulling his arms out helpful.

His chest is flushed red, beauty marks scattered across the skin. I must've been staring for a while because he broke the silence. "Do you think I look good?" he looks away shyly, like he would curl into a ball if I said anything but yes.

"Fuck yeah, you look more than good." I smile, looking at his slightly toned chest. I look into his eyes once more, "I wanna devour you."

He shudders at the words and I stand as I shimmy my pants and panties off of me and onto the floor. "Your turn." He bites his lip, eyes scanning my body and stopping when he gets to my tits. He stands suddenly, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants off, they hit the floor noiselessly and he immediately puts his hand over his dick, the flush seemingly spreading everywhere.

It's silent save for the soft breathing of us both.

"Can I—" he pauses, lip pouting and eyebrows furrowing like he doesn't know how to phrase the sentence right. "Can I eat you out?" He says like a question, and could swear I almost came right then and there.

I bite my lip with a nod as I saunter over to him. I push his chest softly, making him hit the bed with a quiet thump. I climb on top of him, stopping when I reach his neck.

I leave a soft kiss on the reddening canvas that is his throat and his back arches slightly. I put my hand on his chest, lightly pushing him back onto the bed. "Are we okay to continue?" I peck his lips, our faces so close I can see the depth of his eye bags and the dilation of his pupils.

"Yes, more than okay, fuck—I love you." he says, pulling me into a kiss as he places his hands on the back of my head, pulling me all the closer. I smile into the kiss, pulling away and sitting up. I slide myself down his body till I'm pressed against his leaking and hard cock. "mmph—please," he moans, hands resting against the silk sheets.

"Whatever you want Seokie," I whisper, lifting myself up and reaching behind me to grab his cock and guide it into me. I hum to myself as I slowly lower myself until I'm flush with his pubic bone.

I moan lowly at the stretch as Beomseok hums, eyes fluttering shut.

I catch my bottom lip between my top teeth as I begin to move, hands glued to his chest and I slowly grind against him. "Fuck," he moans, hands clenching and unclenching the sheets.

I grab his sweaty, slender hands and place them onto my waist as I lower myself onto his chest, lips flush with his perky nipples. I circle the skin there, leaving open mouthed kisses on his flushed skin.

His head lols to the right limply like his bones were made of jelly. I began to suck on his chest, leaving behind dark purple marks as his back arched into me, drawn tightly like a bow and arrow.

He whimpers as I suck dark marks into his skin and I know full and well he's gonna feel these tomorrow.

Is it already tomorrow? Shit, what time is it?

I feel like I'm getting lost in the feeling of him, him stretching my walls so perfectly and the quiet and drawn out moans of my name into the air.

He sounds heavenly like this and my chest warms at the thought. He whines my name, moaning when I clench around him. My hands fly to his neck, bringing him all the closer as I begin to whisper.

"You're doing so well baby," I kiss his bruised chest once again as I bring a hand up to his hair. He moans as I tug slightly, back falling onto the bed.

I begin riding him seriously now, the sudden change in pace making him grip my waist harshly and I groan at the thought of the bruises I'll be dealing with tomorrow. I can feel myself getting closer as I pant, fully intending on milking him of everything he had and more.

"Shit—m' gonna come," he groans, panting as he opens his eyes.

Our eyes meet as I grind harshly onto him, his hips bucking into me sporadically. "Fuck Beomseok—" I clench around him once more as the knot in my stomach snaps. "Come with me, now." The hand in his hair comes down to the flushed skin of his neck, tightening slightly.

His brown eyes roll back into his skull as he moans louder than he has all night and I feel the warmth pumping into me as he jolts and shudders, hips stuttering as he empties himself into me.

His back hits the bed with a thump and he lays still, shuddering occasionally through the aftershocks as he pants.

His eyes flutter shut and he looks almost sleepy as he looks up at me with dazed eyes.

"Was that good?" I pant, sitting up and resting my hand against his chest.

He throws a hand over his eyes and I can see the slow smile spreading across his face.

"It was more than good, I've never—"

At that very moment, the door flies open over the noise of panting. Suho is standing there, mid sentence before he stops. "Have you guys seen—" His eyes widen, jaw going slack as he takes in the scene before him.

"Holy shit—"

—

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