baek0hyunjoo

[baek0hyunjoo]

When Our Eyes Met

Yeon Si-eun x Male reader (Weak Hero)

Word count 888 | not proof read | nsfw - handjob, fluff

Yeon Si-eun - the boy you caught yourself staring at more often than you’d care to admit since the first day of school, suddenly snapped and knocked out the bully in your class. 

You hadn't noticed it, something was definitely wrong with the way he acted earlier, and it happened so fast. Your best friend, Su-ho came to stop him before he stepped on the bully's face. 

Si-eun started to swing the metal chair, and you grabbed it, halting it's swing before it could hit anyone else. Your heart skipped a beat as you locked eyes with Si-eun, and shit, his gaze-blazing with fury-is so intense yet somehow... it looked so pretty. You definitely wouldn't mind getting hit by him.

Right then, when you were about to say something, the teacher interrupted and the fight was over, leaving you standing there, lost in your own thoughts-trying to make sense of what just happened, and why you couldn’t stop thinking about Si-eun.

Su-ho succeeded in befriending Si-eun, who automatically also became your friend. The three of you started hanging out more, and you even began teaching Si-eun how to take down opponents stronger than him. But there was one thing that always left you weak in the knees-the way he looked at you.

One faithful night, when Su-ho had to take an order, you were left alone with him. It was late, so without thinking, you offered-no, insisted- that Si-eun let you give him a ride home.

You placed your helmet on his head, your hands brushing his hair for just a second, and then hopped onto your motorbike, You were ready to drive him home, just another routine favor-until he climbed behind you.

And then, shit- he was so close. His body pressed against yours, his chest practically sticking to your back as he settled in behind you. You could feel every inch of him, the warmth of his presence sending your heart into overdrive. This wasn’t how you imagined it at all.

You couldn't focus at all, your mind racing as you drove him home. The hum of the engine was drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You kept praying he couldn’t hear it, praying he couldn’t feel the way your body tensed with every inch of space between you two that didn’t exist anymore.

Arriving infront of his apartment, you let out a sigh of relief when he climbed down your bike. But then he turned around, helmet still in hand, and casually said, ‘Come in for a sec. My dad brought back some snacks from his trip. I saved some for you and Su-ho.’

How could you possibly say no to him? Before you even realized it, your feet were already moving, carrying you inside like they had a mind of their own.

The door shut behind you with a soft click, and just like that, you were sitting on his soft couch. You were lost in your own thoughts, your eyes wandering across his home, you didn't notice him sitting down beside you.

You finally noticed him, sitting so close, his presence pulling you back to reality. Your eyes met- again-and that familiar, dangerous flutter hit your chest like a punch. Sensing that you might do something stupid if you stayed any longer, you started to stand up, but before you could, Si-eun grabbed your wrist and pulled you to him.

His soft lips pressing against yours, and hell, you couldn't pull away from him. Everything you've been holding back, it all shattered the moment he kissed you. You kissed him back like it was the only thing that made sense in the world.

You placed your hand on his waist while guiding him down softly onto the arm of the couch, still kissing him. You didn't want to break it. 

Eventually, Si-eun broke the kiss because he had to catch his breath, he looked so messy, his hair disheveled and his hoodie ridden up, thanks to your wandering hands. His chest rose and feel, trying to recover from the kiss.. you just stared, because damn, you did that to him.

You started to kiss Si-eun's neck. You want to do all the way in, but you held yourself back, not wanting to scare him. You felt his cock hard- the same goes for you. Tugging down his zipper while your other hand reached for your own. 

You wrapped your hands around his cock, as you guided his hands to do the same for yours. Grunting and rubbing against each other, you stared into his pretty eyes- the ones that got you weak and even hornier now. 

You both reached the climax soon after. With your foreheads pressed together, you stayed there-panting, quiet, hearts still racing in sync.

Yes you slept over at his house after that, curled up in each other’s arms, your bodies tangled beneath the sheets, and sleeping facing one another.

When morning came, you stirred awake with a hazy mind, half-convinced it was all a dream. But then you saw him. Si-eun, still asleep, hair a little messy, lips parted just slightly, face soft and unguarded in the quiet light of morning.

You closed your eyes with a smile as you pulled him closer, and let yourself drift back to sleep with him in your arms.

I finished watching weak hero class 2 yesterday, and wanted to read a 'x male reader' fic but there's not much of it, so I decided to make it myself at 3am. Enjoy stars!

[baek0hyunjoo]

CUPID☆— minhwan ma x reader. request here

“Theres no way in hell im going in that thing!”

“It’l be fun, pleaaaseee?”

You and Minhwan were in the street—particularly in the shopping district— and found a photo booth. A real one. You didnt even know that they made those things any more, but the moment Minhwan saw the pink booth he immediately begged you to go take pictures with him.

“ugh, fine!” You groaned as you gave in to his puppy eyes, his pale lips pouting as a way to get you to take the pictures.

“Yay! It’ll be Just this once-“

“good.”

You both stepped into the booth setting your shopping bags on the floor. Minhwan put the money into the machine, and waited for the screen to load. You grumbled, watching him pick effects and filters for the photos.

“Alright, say cheese!”

Minhwan pulled you closer to him in front of the camera, with the brightest smile that you’d ever seen. You’d almost forgotten he was insane.

You blushed and smiled into the camera, wrapping your arms around Minhwan’s small frame. The filters werent shown on the screen as you both took your pictures.

when you both were finished, Minhwan grabbed the bags and rushed to the outside of the booth where the photos came out.

“Oh my—Hey, why do I look like that?” You looked down at the photos and squinted, looking at all of the insane stuff that was projected onto your face.

“I want a do-over! And i pick the filters this time!”

Minhwan showed you his cat-like smile, and shrugged his shoulders.

“Sure!”

[baek0hyunjoo]

Heyy, could you write something fluffy for lee hyunwoo?

hey 😄 uhm late again, sorry about that 😔 anyway-

You know... it's really hard to gauge the type of person he is from how little we have seen of him. Both in the show and the webtoon. So most of this is purely based on imagination.

!!Soft like petals<3

He makes you want to bash his head in, that's the type of tease he is.

He often plays with your hair and curls the ends around his fingers.

He likes to be matching with you but in an inconspicuous way. Like having matching social media handles, matching profile pics, lock screens etc.

Bro is broke. And as much as he understands that you're willing to pay for your dates, he still works two jobs to save up for special dates. Like anniversaries, valenties, birthday, any new achievements type shit. Like bro is trying to spoil you to the best of his abilities. He ain't your sugar daddy but at least he can be your salt.

Gets really shy around you. But hides it with humour.

Jokingly flirts with you all the time but absolutely crumbles once you flirt back. Boy is weak.

Tries to convenience you in every way possible. Even takes advice from Jiwoo.

He always has at least one hair tie on his wrist at all times, he always keeps the little notes you write to him in a makeshift journal, always asks if you've eaten, always down to hear you rant and ramble about your day, got anything you need to get off your chest? He's all ears.

He seems like the type who would really love kissing. Of course on the lips are his favourite but there's just something about the twinkle in your eyes when he kisses your forehead or cheek that really gets him going.

He always knows what to do on your period. Courtesy of Jiwoo of course..

He likes to always be touching you when you guys are in private. Like an arm around your waist or your shoulder.

He ruffles and messes up your hair when he's flustered. And if you're wearing a hood, he'll pull it down halfway and run off.

He's really good at braiding and likes to braid your hair when sorting his thoughts.

Surprisingly academically gifted, so he often helps you out with homework.

Your dates mostly consist of picnics, study dates, library dates, movie nights. Home-y stuff.

[baek0hyunjoo]

Hide & Seek — Minhwan Ma x F!Reader

Just as the metallic click of Min-Hwan’s modified gun froze her veins, a whisper—“I see you”—came from behind, and when she turned, he was already there.

tw : hair pulling, noncon, gun play and manhandling let me know if i missed any.

Crouched low behind a bookshelf, My breath came in shallow, rapid gasps. The library was unnaturally silent after hours—dark, claustrophobic, haunted only by the soft hum of the emergency lights and the occasional creak of wood. I pressed myself deeper into the shadows, every muscle locked, listening.

Then I heard it.

A whistle.

Low. Mocking. 

Min-Hwan.

His footsteps followed—slow and almost playful as they echoed across the hardwood floor.

���sweetheart…” His voice slithered through the air like smoke. “Baby, why are you hiding from me? I thought we were just starting to have fun.”

A crash split the silence—the brutal sound of books hitting the ground. I flinched and clamped a hand over my mouth.

He wasn’t just knocking them over. He was hurling them. Books slammed to the floor like bodies, pages fluttering like broken wings.

Thud.

Another shelf.

Closer this time.

“You always liked games, didn’t you?” he crooned. “Hide and seek is my favorite.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice dripped with poisoned sweetness.

“Come on, sweetheart. I promise I won’t be mad.”

Liar.

Then came the sound that froze her veins—the metallic click of his toy. The modified gun. Not quite lethal. But precise enough to drop her in one shot.

My pulse roared in her ears.

Min-Hwan chuckled—softly.

Another crash.

A chair this time.

I squeezed my eyes shut, breath trembling.

Silence fell again.

Too long.

Too quiet.

Then—

A whisper. Right behind me.

“I see you.”

My heart stopped.

I turned my head—and froze.

Min-Hwan was standing there.

Right there.

Towering over me like a nightmare. His face was dipped in shadow, but his eyes—cold, gleaming with a sick thrill—were locked onto mine.

Before I could move, before my body even remembered how to, his hand tangled in my hair—tight and brutal—yanking me to my feet with a savage jerk.

I gasped in pain, my scalp screaming, hands flying to his wrist. But it only made him laugh.

“There you are, baby,” he murmured, dragging me toward a chair in the center of the aisle. “Playing hard to get again?”

He shoved me down onto it—cold wood biting into my skin—then loomed over me, fingers still twisted tight in my hair.

“You’re such a little bitch when you run,” he sneered, voice slick with venom. “Do you like making me chase you? Huh?”

I struggled, but his grip only tightened, wrenching my head back until my neck arched painfully.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his breath hot against my cheek. “Pathetic little thing. Shaking like a leaf.”

He laughed again—low, broken—and the sound echoed through the empty library like a death bell.

The gun hung loosely in his other hand.

But he didn’t need it.

Not really.

Because the look in his eyes told me everything.

Min-Hwan didn’t need a weapon to hurt me.

He was the weapon.

I couldn’t move.

Not with his hand still fisted in my hair, not with my back pressed against the back of the chair, and especially not under that gaze—sharp, hungry, and too calm for someone who had just dragged me out of the dark like prey.

Min-Hwan tilted his head, studying me.

His free hand lifted the gun—not to aim, not to threaten. That would’ve been too obvious. Instead, he dragged the cold barrel across my collarbone, trailing it like a whisper down the center of my blouse.

I flinched.

He smiled.

“I’ve been wanting to see what you look like under this uniform,” he murmured, voice low and laced with something dangerous. The gun slid up again, brushing beneath my jaw before pausing at the bottom of my throat. 

His fingers replaced the steel. He let go of my hair only to stroke the side of my face, slow, deliberate. A mockery of gentleness that made my skin crawl.

I wanted to look away.

But I couldn’t.

Not when he touched me like he was memorizing the shape of my fear.

His thumb ghosted over my lips, tracing the outline softly, reverently.

“You’ve got such a pretty mouth when it’s not screaming,” he whispered. “Bet it’s good for all kinds of filthy things.”

The barrel tapped gently against my thigh.

Once.

Twice.

Not enough to hurt but just enough to remind me it was there.

Min-Hwan leaned in, and I could smell his cologne, the metallic tang of the gun, and something darker—hunger.

“You’re not going to run again, are you?” he said, voice mocking, almost playful.

He already knew the answer.

My legs weren’t moving.

My breath was shallow.

Despite the terror clawing up my spine, something inside me had stopped resisting.

His eyes flicked down, then back to my face.

“I want to see everything,” he murmured. “And I want to take my time doing it.”

Then he brought the barrel to my lips.

“Open,” he said softly.

Not harsh.

Just sure.

I hesitated. My eyes flicked up to his—and what I saw there wasn’t rage. It was lust.

Slowly, I parted my lips.

Min-Hwan’s breath hitched—just a little—as he guided the cold steel inside, resting it heavy on my tongue.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb brushing my cheek.

He didn’t push further. 

He just watched—his gaze dark and razor-sharp—as I sat there, mouth wrapped around his gun, pulse thundering in my throat, the whole library holding its breath with me.

His hand slid behind my neck, holding me still. “You look better like this,” he said. “Mouth full.”

He moved the barrel slowly, inch by inch, testing the limits of my mouth. Reading every tremble in my jaw, every flicker in my eyes.

This wasn’t about force.

It was about power.

Min-Hwan pulled the gun out with a slow, wet drag. A strand of saliva clung to the barrel before breaking.

“Messy little thing,” he murmured, tilting my chin up with it. “You like being used, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

His hand slipped down my neck, possessive and slow, trailing along the edge of my pristine collar.

He chuckled. “Still wearing this like it means something. Like you’re still the good little girl.” He leaned close, lips brushing my ear. “But I know what’s underneath all this.”

He started undoing the buttons.

One.

Then another.

Each pop exposing more skin, peeling me open like a secret.

“For someone so smart,” he murmured, dragging another button free, “you’re real fucking stupid to think you could hide from me.”

The shirt slipped from my shoulders, baring my chest to the cold air and his hotter gaze.

“You wanted this,” he said, voice rougher now. “To be talked down to. Stripped. Used. Touched like you’re nothing.”

His hand trailed lower.

“Look at you. You’re already falling apart. And I haven’t even told you to beg yet.”

I shivered.

Min-Hwan’s eyes lit with that same dark satisfaction. He drank in my fear like it was the finest thing he’d ever tasted.

“The way you tremble for me…” His voice turned into a low, filthy rasp. “It’s intoxicating.”

He tugged my head back by my hair, forcing me to meet his gaze.

The gun trailed mockingly down my neck.

“I could snap your pretty little neck right now,” he whispered, pressing the barrel harder. “But where’s the fun in that?”

His gaze roamed my body, lingering on the rise of my breasts beneath my bra.

“Perfect,” he sneered, cupping one roughly. “I’m going to mark every inch of you.”

Then his hand slid lower.

Under the skirt.

Slow.

Purposeful.

He found the damp lace.

“Oh, you’re soaked,” he murmured, rubbing slow circles. “You can’t even pretend you’re not desperate.”

Without warning, he shoved my panties aside and plunged two fingers inside me.

I cried out.

He didn’t stop.

He pumped them in deep, hard strokes, grinding his knuckles into me until my thighs trembled.

“Pathetic,” he hissed. “You act like you’re in control, but your pussy tells me the truth.”

His mouth curved into a cruel grin.

Then he yanked me up by the hair and threw me to my knees.

I stumbled, breathless, off the chair, and he took my place—sprawling into it like a king.

“Get those panties off,” he ordered, already unbuckling his belt. “Then get over here and ride this cock.”

His thick shaft sprang free—long, hard, already leaking. He stroked it lazily, eyes locked on mine.

“You want it, don’t you?” he said, voice low, cruel. “Want me to fuck the brat out of you.”

I slipped my panties off with trembling hands.

“Fucking whore,” he muttered. “You’ve been dying for this.”

I made my way between his spread thighs, feet dragging against the carpet. His cock throbbed against my palm as I lined him up.

The second I started to lower myself, Min-Hwan thrust up—hard.

I gasped as he filled me in one brutal motion.

“That’s it,” he snarled, gripping my hips. “Take it all like the cock-drunk little slut you are.”

He began moving me, bouncing me hard in his lap, each thrust a savage command.

Skin slapped against skin. The chair creaked beneath us. My body was his to use.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled. “This pussy was made to be used. Mine.”

I whimpered, the force of him tearing sounds from my throat I didn’t recognize.

His grip tightened as he drove up into me, faster, harder—his pleasure a storm he dragged me into.

“Take it,” he roared, head tipping back. “Show me what a fucking slut you are.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks.

Pleasure and pain crashed through me like waves, merciless and unrelenting.

And then—he slammed me down one final time, locking me in place.

With a guttural moan, he came—deep inside me, hot and endless, claiming every inch of me from the inside out.

“Take it,” he hissed. “Take all of it.”

I sobbed, still trembling around him, overwhelmed by heat, by fullness, by the terrifying intimacy of it all.

He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“Look at me,” he said. “Don’t look away.”

I met his eyes.

He kissed me.

Slow.

Gentle.

And that was what scared me the most.

Because in the quiet after, as I collapsed against him, I knew one awful, inevitable truth.

I would never escape Min-Hwan.

Not ever.

fin

© 2025 mymelllllinda

[baek0hyunjoo]

hi could u make a one shot of minhwan ma x reader with reader helping him pierce his ears if you can do it tyy!!

(Edited version: 27/12/2024)

You were sitting on the couch of your and Minhwan's shared apartment, the one that he bought personally for you both to goof around in.

It was probably around the afternoon when Minhwan suddenly burst into the doors of your apartment, Bags in his hands, one of groceries and the other... You don't know.

"Y/n! It's boring right now, so can you help me piece my ears?" Unhinged and sudden, that was how he spoke.

"...why me??"

Anyways, he somehow did manage to convince you to actually pierce his ears. Though you did say that if he got an ear infection, blame himself for letting you do it.

The entire process, he'd be very whinny. Letting out dramatic hisses that makes you purposely stop to see if he's okay or not. He takes the time to eat up your reactions though, It's funny to him. After you're done with it, he'd be impressed but also a tad bit disappointed since it was quick. Too quick.

Though, expect yourself to also be begged by him to get matching piercings too. Whether you did accept or refuse, he'll still take pictures of you both, posting it to his social media accounts with captions as "Y/n helped pierce my ears today" or how badass he looks.

[baek0hyunjoo]

HOPELESSLY DEVOTED TO YOU— Hanwool Phi, Minhwan Ma request here

HUSBAND! HANWOOL who has his wedding in another country—away from his father, and (somehow) smuggled Hansol so she could be the flower-girl for the wedding!! He only invites a few very close friends. So, most of the venue is filled with people you know—people who you trust, because he cant trust many people because of who his father is.

HUSBAND! HANWOOL who refuses to have you included in his line of work, aside from the occasional gala or get together. Seeing who his father is, it’d be hard gor him to remove himself from that line of…business, but he wants you out of it.

HUSBAND! HANWOOL who cooks for you—and it tastes amazing. No matter how hard work is, he always wants to treasure you and make sure that you’re taken care of.

HUSBAND! HANWOOL who will do everything in his power to make sure that you wont leave him— he has it set in his heart that you’re with him because you pitied him ;( no amount of kisses can fix that.

HUSBAND! HANWOOL who treats you like a goddess. He has very few boundaries (like not going to his work), and he’ll quite literally let you do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t go against/breaks them :)

HUSBAND! MINHWAN who wants a grand wedding, with people he doesnt even know that well attending. He wanted to show his lovely spouse off, can you blame him?

HUSBAND! MINHWAN who forces you to take trips with him. You attended every meeting, if you like it or not. He needs everyone to see you, to know that you belong to Minhwan.

HUSBAND! MINHWAN who likes to make you jealous. He likes to see you being possessive of him, he likes to know that you care.

HUSBAND! MINHWAN who follows you around everywhere. Around the house, in the store—it doesn’t matter. Its his own way of making sure that you’re safe!

[baek0hyunjoo]

CUPID☆— minhwan ma x reader. request here

“Theres no way in hell im going in that thing!”

“It’l be fun, pleaaaseee?”

You and Minhwan were in the street—particularly in the shopping district— and found a photo booth. A real one. You didnt even know that they made those things any more, but the moment Minhwan saw the pink booth he immediately begged you to go take pictures with him.

“ugh, fine!” You groaned as you gave in to his puppy eyes, his pale lips pouting as a way to get you to take the pictures.

“Yay! It’ll be Just this once-“

“good.”

You both stepped into the booth setting your shopping bags on the floor. Minhwan put the money into the machine, and waited for the screen to load. You grumbled, watching him pick effects and filters for the photos.

“Alright, say cheese!”

Minhwan pulled you closer to him in front of the camera, with the brightest smile that you’d ever seen. You’d almost forgotten he was insane.

You blushed and smiled into the camera, wrapping your arms around Minhwan’s small frame. The filters werent shown on the screen as you both took your pictures.

when you both were finished, Minhwan grabbed the bags and rushed to the outside of the booth where the photos came out.

“Oh my—Hey, why do I look like that?” You looked down at the photos and squinted, looking at all of the insane stuff that was projected onto your face.

“I want a do-over! And i pick the filters this time!”

Minhwan showed you his cat-like smile, and shrugged his shoulders.

“Sure!”

[baek0hyunjoo]

Lips

Yeon Si-eun x Male reader

Word count: 1,405 | Kiss only no smut | <tbh, I'm not sure what I wrote here.. so good luck if you still want to read. Also I'll be doing more Si-eun fic cz I'm obsessed.>

You were suspended for a week after getting in a fight with some punk from another school. When you came back, Su-ho, your best friend, was hanging out with Si-eun, the quiet, top-of-the-class guy while you were gone.

Apparently he fought back against some bully in the class and sent him to the hospital for getting question wrong in a mock test. Wild, right?

You’ve always been kinda curious about him, but this is the first time you’ve even stood this close to him—let alone talked to him.

"I were gone for only a week and you already searched for a new buddy?" You said, plopping down in front of Su-ho's desk—your usual spot.

"Yeah and he's cooler than you." Su-ho said with a shrug.

You kicked Su-ho’s chair lightly, "Wow. Ok rude."

You turned to Si-eun—and your eyes locked.

His eyes were... pretty. Like, unfairly pretty. You realized you’ve been staring too long. Like… too long.

You cleared your throat, shoved your hand forward, and blurt, "Let’s be friends or rivals or—I don’t know, just don’t stab me in the back like Su-ho did."

Si-eun just blinked. "I don’t stab people. Usually." Si-eun takes your hand. His grip was warmer than you expected.

Su-ho immediately broke the moment with a loud, obnoxious laugh. "God, you two are weird already. I love this."

From that day on, you guys hung out together.

---

The air was crisp, your shift finally over, and your back was aching from standing too long. But the city lights looked kind of nice, and your mood was decent. Until you saw him.

Si-eun.

He was across the street, standing under a flickering lamppost, looking like he walked straight out of a drama—hands in his pockets, dark hair tousled, expression unreadable as always. Probably just finished one of those extra courses, he always ditched us for.

He was heading the same way you were, so I figured—why not? You caught up and decided to walk home with him.

You both were chatting about some silly things Su-ho did, and then the punk you beat up a few weeks ago showed up, ready for round two and this time, he brought 4 more with him. Pussy.

The two of you started fighting shoulder-to-shoulder, you took on 3, he handled 2. By the end of it, they were all groaning on the ground, too beat up to stand.

Shit.

This was the first time you’d ever seen him fight.

And damn—he was brutal. He fought like he was built for survival. One of them got taken out with a pen, another blinded with sand he randomly kicked up from the ground, and he literally smashed the last guy with a trash can lid like it was a weapon in a video game.

You just stared at him, wide-eyed, panting.

Yeah. You’re never messing with him. Ever.

You glanced at Si-eun, both of you bruised and bleeding like you just walked off a movie set. His lip was split and blood trailing down his arm from a shallow cut.

Nope. Ain’t no way you’re sending him home like that.

“Come to my place,” you said, already turning toward your building. “I live alone. I’ve got a first aid kit and like… frozen peas or whatever.”

He didn’t argue. Just followed without a word.

---

You’ve already patched up most of his visible wounds—cleaned the scrape on his arm, bandaged his knuckles. He hasn’t flinched once, but you can tell he’s watching you. Quietly. Closely.

Then your eyes landed on the cut just under his bottom lip. Small. Bloody. Kind of stupidly attractive in a messed-up way. You grabbed the ointment.

Si-eun raised a brow. "What now?"

You squeezed a bit onto your thumb, then lean in, hand cupping his jaw lightly as you tilt his face up.

"Hold still," you murmured.

He did.

Your thumb brushed gently over the cut. His skin was warm under your fingers. His lips parted slightly—not in a dramatic way, just instinctively—and you felt it. That moment. That little shift in the air.

Your thumb lingered a second too long. You both noticed. He looked at you. His eyes, usually cold and unreadable, were suddenly softer. Deeper. Your heart went boom-boom-boom like it was trying to escape.

You cleared your throat and snatched your hand back. "There. Now you won’t die of lip infection or whatever," you muttered, looking anywhere but at him.

But Si-eun just stayed there, staring at you. That unreadable look back in his eyes.

The silence sat between you, heavy and weirdly loud. “You wanna drink?” you blurted. “Water. Not like… alcohol. Not that I have alcohol. Unless—okay, shutting up.”

He actually laughed—a soft, surprised sound—and it made your heart do the absolute dumbest little cartwheel. “Water’s fine.”

You handed Si-eun a glass of water. "Thanks" You nodded. Cool. Normal. Chill. Except you were definitely staring at his lips again. STOP THAT.

You both sat on the couch. One cushion apart. Very normal. Totally casual. Your knees almost touched. You pretended not to notice. He probably didn't notice. Right?

He reached out and touched the cut on your cheek—the one you’d totally forgotten about.

“You didn’t clean yours."

You stilled. “It’s fine. Just a scratch.”

But he didn’t pull away. His fingers hovered by your skin, barely touching. His eyes met yours.

“It’s not fine.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “You can clean it."

He nodded once, then stood. “Where’s your first aid kit?”

You pointed toward the bathroom.

And when he disappeared down the hallway, you flopped back on the couch, covered your face with your hands, and let out the most dramatic groan known to mankind.

---

“You’re really gonna patch me up?” you asked, trying not to think about the fact that his knees were between your legs. Chill. Normal. Totally platonic.

Si-eun didn’t even blink. “You did it for me.”

He pulled out some antiseptic and leaned in close, tilting your face just a little with his fingers. “This might sting.”

You flinched a little when the cotton dabbed your cheek. His hand on your jaw steadied you.

“Stay still.”

“Stop being so gentle then,” you mumbled.

His brows lifted. “Would you prefer if I punched you?”

You gave him a look. “Honestly? I wouldn't mind.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept cleaning your cut, then placed a little bandage on it like it was a precious artifact or something. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears.

And then it got quiet again. Too quiet. Too close.

He was looking at you. Again.

And something in you just… froze.

Your heart was racing. Your stomach was doing parkour. His eyes flicked down—just briefly—to your lips. And you knew. Ohhh you knew that he thought about it. Just for a second.

Fuck it, right?

You leaned in, just enough to close that stupidly small gap between you.

Si-eun didn’t pull away.

Your lips brushed his, he froze for half a second, but then kissed you back- like he’d thought about this too. Maybe more than once. Maybe for a while. His hand found the side of your face, warm and grounding, thumb brushing your cheek like he was memorizing it.

You forgot how to breathe.

This wasn’t some messy, desperate movie kiss. This was something deeper. Something earned. It felt like the kind of kiss that came with a secret. Like he’d been waiting to find out if you'd ever be brave enough to do it first.

And you were.

You pulled back, just barely—foreheads close, noses brushing. Si-eun’s eyes opened slowly, his lips barely parted, still tilted toward you like he hadn’t finished yet.

He finally leaned back, just slightly, and ran a hand through his hair like he was trying to ground himself. “So what now?”

You gave a half-smirk. “Well, traditionally, I think you either kiss me again or we pretend it didn’t happen and suffer in silence until one of us combusts.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Option one sounds less exhausting.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that you asking for a sequel?”

Instead of answering, he just leaned in again. This kiss was slower. More confident. Like you’d already crossed the line and now it was just a matter of deciding how far you were willing to go.

You didn’t know what this meant yet.

But you knew what it felt like.

And that was enough—for now.

Critique is always accepted and appreciated, it helps me improve. English is not my first language, so pardon me. Thanks for reading (sobs dramatically)

[baek0hyunjoo]

heyy! i hope this isn't too much for you but can i request male reader fingering sieun while they make out in sieun's room (sieun just finished studying btw)? it can include more than that if you want tho

if you do write this, thank youuu!

after study

gif creds: @yveshb

pairing yeon sieun x male reader

summary when sieun finishes studying, you can't hold back anymore

word count ~950

warnings/tags smut, praise kink, spit as lube

a/n i think i'm just gonna refer to ygs as y/n for now 😭 reader feels kinda awkward

you rested your head on sieun's desk, slouching back in your chair. you admired sieun as he diligently solved his math problems, still studying even after hours.

you had long given up on studying an hour ago. your brain was fried, and no amount of sieun's nagging would make you willingly open your textbook again.

raking your eyes all over sieun, you start to lick your lips. sieun's eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and you could see the determination in his eyes. the sight was hot but you had to keep your hands to yourself until he was done. otherwise, he would purposely avoid your touch as a silent punishment for the rest of the night.

as sieun swiftly finished up his last problem, you sat up and watched as he packed up his things. you leaned back and patted your thigh softly—a silent invitation for sieun to sit in your lap.

sieun let out a soft breath, and sat down on your thighs, facing you.

"hi," you breathed out, smiling at him. your hands moved to hold sieun's waist, pulling him closer. your faces were inches apart. sieun stayed silent, but you could see it in his eyes that he was growing desperate for you to do something.

sieun's eyes flicked down to your lips, before quickly going back up and you leaned forward to close the distance. sieun's eyes fluttered closed and he let out a small, content hum before wrapping his arms around your neck.

the kiss stayed soft and slow before sieun broke it to get air, shifting in your lap. both of your cock's grazed each other and sieun squeaked as his thighs unconsciously twitched around yours. the movement pressed sieun up against you with more pressure, and you groaned as your hands tightened on sieun's waist.

the air became heated with tension as you pull sieun's hips closer to yours, encouraging him to grind against you. sieun rested his head in your shoulders, his mouth automatically latching onto your lower neck.

at first, sieun hesitantly grinds his hips down like he's scared to, but soon he starts to develop a rhythm that has you moaning in tandem with him. your hands start to trail down, slipping past his waistband to start kneading his ass.

you bring one hand up and gently lift sieun's head off your neck, pushing your fingers into his mouth.

"make sure they're lubed up enough," you say as you press down on sieun's tongue, causing him to gag a little. his eyes widened at the implication, and he obediently licks at your fingers.

drool starts to run down the sides of sieun's mouth, and you deem your fingers wet enough. you pull his pants down and start to press lightly at sieun's hole, only applying the slightest of pressure.

sieun starts to frown, and his face starts resembling a kicked puppy. you chuckle quietly, pressing a small kiss to sieun's cheek as you slowly press one finger in.

there wasn't any need for words. you could read sieun's actions to know what he wanted. his eyes alone spoke enough.

sieun presses his face into your shoulder, whimpering as you start thrusting your middle finger in and out. your ring finger eventually joins, and you start searching for the one spot that'll make sieun lose his composure.

you wanted to draw any sound you could from him—to hear every gasp, every moan, every whimper that escaped his mouth. sieun held back too much to your liking, and you were determined to reduce him to as much of a sputtering mess you could.

feeling sieun jolt paired with a loud moan as you pressed against his prostate lit that desire further. yousped up, aiming for that spot every time.

sieun gripped at your shoulders as he struggled between moving his hips back to meet your fingers or frotting against your cock. with every choked back moan, you could practically hear his resolve crumbling.

"it's just me baby, you don't have to keep holding back." you mutter into his ear, slipping a third finger in.

something in sieun gave way as his breath hitched and he started to chase your touch, rolling his hips with more fervor. sieun's noises grew in volume and tears started to build in the corner of his eyes.

"y/n-ah, i'm close," sieun breathes out, his eyes closed in bliss. your other hand gripped onto his hip tighter, and you started to grind up and meet sieun's movements.

with a drawn out moan, you felt sieun clamp up around you. you thrusted shallowly, milking out his orgasm. you stared at sieun's fucked out face as you palmed yourself to completion.

the two of you say in silence as you caught your breath, eventually bringing sieun in for another quick kiss. his lips were slightly parted and swollen, and his eyes were hooded as he gazed at you.

silent like always, sieun let out a shaky exhale and you were almost ready to start another round. you picked him up and laid him on his bed, climbing in next to him.

he didn’t resist, just letting you move him. you trailed your hands over his stomach, drawing barely there shapes with your fingernails. his skin was hot to the touch, and you felt his goosebumps rise.

"you okay?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

a small, barely there nod.

you smirked, leaning into his ear. "good, because i'm not done with you just yet."

sieun shuddered slightly, and his hips instinctively twitched. licking your lips, you settled between his thighs. you could see his cock already stirring and half hard.

how insatiable, you smile to yourself.

fin

[baek0hyunjoo]

If you have time please please please write some more beomseok stuff I beg of you, I will give you my heart and my soul 🙏

There is simply not enough content anywhere to calm my hyperfixated mind- I apologize.

Doesn’t have to be nsfw just please no angst 😭

Dating Oh beom seok Headcannons

- Beom seok is incredibly nervous the moment yall start dating, he so scared to hold your hand or even look at you

- At first it is a bit awkward with him but eventually he warms up and starts talking more and more with you, talking about his day, his friends, and etc

- The moment he held your hand he was in like heaven, he was so smiley and his cheeks was so red, eventually he does gets to used to holding your hand

- Beom seok would give you small quick kisses since he’s nervous and especially if yall are in public but in private he would give you long kisses

- He buys you gifts all the time just randomly, he always pays for the dates and stuff

- He wouldn’t want you to get too close to his friends cause he doesn’t get jealous very easily

SLIGHT NSFW

- Beom seok loves to make out with you messily

- He likes to leave you hickeys so people could see them and praise him for being able to even actually touch you

- The first time with him he’s a bit awkward and stiff but he learns over all

- the more and more yall do it he learns things like how to eat your pussy correctly and what feels good and what doesn’t

- When his evil mode having sex with him was crazy, it was sweaty, messy, rough sex, he’s still gentle with you when you want him to be

- He likes to show his new ��friends” videos of yall just to brag a bit

[baek0hyunjoo]

Burning shame

Pairing: Oh Beom-seok x female reader

Summary: You swore it was a mistake—one reckless night with the school’s biggest loser. But now you can’t stop craving the way he made you feel.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, rough sex, toxic dynamics, dubious consent, emotional manipulation, and themes of shame and power imbalance.

You can’t get it out of your head. No matter how hard you try to focus on anything else, your mind keeps drifting back to that night. It invades your thoughts at the worst times—during class, on the bus ride home, even in the quiet of your bedroom when you’re supposed to be sleeping. It’s been three days, and every time you close your eyes, you feel him again: the press of Beom-seok’s body against yours, the bruising grip of his fingers on your hips, the rough drag of his teeth on your neck as he growled filthy words into your ear.

Your cheeks burn at the memory. Shame coils in your stomach, hot and nauseating, as you replay those moments in your head for what must be the hundredth time. It’s humiliating—beyond humiliating. You, of all people, let him do that to you. You even… liked it.

That’s the worst part. That you enjoyed every degrading, intense second. Now you’re left struggling to reconcile that wild, overwhelming pleasure with the cold reality of who it was with. Because Beom-seok is a loser. At least, you’ve always thought so.

He and Yeon Si-eun have been on the fringes of your social circle since the start of senior year. They’re both quiet, awkward in their own ways—nothing like your friend Ahn Suho, who practically oozes easy confidence and warmth. Suho is someone you clicked with instantly; he’s affable, tough, and popular. Si-eun and Beom-seok, though? Misfits. One a studious loner, the other a timid rich boy with nervous eyes. Losers, you used to call them behind their backs, and sometimes to their faces when you were feeling particularly cruel. Not that either ever said anything back. Si-eun would just give you that flat, impassive stare of his, and Beom-seok would flinch like a kicked puppy.

You never felt bad about it. Why would you? It’s not like you were bullying them—just stating the facts as you saw them. They were losers. Pathetic, really. Si-eun with his top grades and zero social skills, Beom-seok with his stammering attempts to fit in. You figured the only reason Suho hung around those two was out of pity. He has a bit of a hero complex, always looking out for the underdog. And in a school full of violent bullies and cutthroat cliques, Si-eun and Beom-seok clearly needed the backup.

You were fine with that arrangement. You tolerated the two tag-alongs for Suho’s sake, but you never bothered to truly befriend them. They weren’t your friends; they were just… there. Background characters in your life, occasionally crossing into your periphery in the cafeteria or at the arcade after class. You’d laugh a little when Suho tousled Beom-seok’s hair or slung an arm over Si-eun’s shoulders, because the contrast was so stark—Suho shining bright, the other two like his dull shadows.

Even up until three nights ago, you held them in contempt. Especially Beom-seok. Lately he’d been changing, and not for the better. You’d heard whispers that he was hanging out with a rougher crowd from another school. You noticed he stopped wearing those dorky glasses of his and started sporting a slightly edgier haircut, presumably trying to look cooler. It only made you roll your eyes. A loser trying to play tough guy—how laughable.

That night, you all ended up at a senior’s house party. You weren’t even planning to go at first, but Suho convinced you. He said something about needing to keep an eye on Beom-seok, that he was worried about him falling in with the wrong people. You sighed and agreed to come along. Secretly, you’d been hoping for a chance to finally get Suho alone, maybe even confess the crush you’d been harboring for months. A party, a few drinks, and maybe you could muster the courage.

Unfortunately for you, things didn’t go as planned.

The house was packed and noisy, the air thick with music bass and alcohol fumes. At first, you stuck close to Suho’s side, as always. Si-eun hovered at the edge of your little group, nursing a single beer, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Beom-seok, on the other hand, disappeared shortly after you arrived. You spotted him across the living room at one point, hanging on the outskirts of some rowdy bunch of guys you vaguely recognized from another school—probably those “friends” you’d heard about. He had a drink in hand and was laughing a bit too loudly at something one of the other boys said, like he was trying to belong. It made you smirk in disdain. Pathetic. The puppy trying to run with wolves.

As the night wore on, you drank more than you intended. What started as a nerve-calming attempt to maybe flirt with Suho later turned into several cups of cheap soju and beer. Suho, ever responsible, cut himself off early since he was the designated driver for some friends. He left your side a couple times to help an intoxicated classmate or to chat with someone. Each time, you poured yourself another drink to stave off boredom and disappointment. By midnight, a heavy, pleasant fog had settled over your mind. You were tipsy, verging on drunk, but not so far gone that you didn’t notice when Suho finally started making his rounds to say goodbye.

“Hey, you okay? Need a ride home?” he asked over the thump of music, gently touching your shoulder. His eyes were warm with concern.

You wanted to say yes. You wanted to cling to him and let him whisk you away like a prince saving the princess from her own stupidity. But your pride — and the liquor — made you stubborn. You were annoyed he was leaving so early, ruining your chance to confess. Annoyed that he’d spent more time tonight playing babysitter to everyone else than paying attention to you. So you just shrugged him off with a forced smile.

“I’m fine. I’ll get home on my own later. Go, they’re waiting for you,” you shouted back, waving vaguely toward the door where a few stumbling classmates leaned on each other.

Suho hesitated, clearly uneasy with leaving you behind. But then Si-eun appeared at his elbow. “I’ll stay a bit more,” Si-eun offered, eyeing you briefly. “I can make sure she gets home safe.”

You scowled at that. The last thing you wanted was Yeon Si-eun of all people chaperoning you. You opened your mouth—whether to protest or hurl an insult, you weren’t sure—but Suho was already nodding in relief.

“Thanks, Si-eun. I owe you one,” he said gratefully. He turned back to you, leaning in so you could hear him. “Don’t overdo it, okay? And call me if you need anything.”

Then he was gone, swallowed by the crowd as he guided the others out.

That left just you and Si-eun from your usual group, surrounded by mostly unfamiliar faces. The party was thinning out now, only the heavier drinkers and partiers remaining. You felt a spike of irritation. How dare Suho pawn you off on Si-eun like that? You didn’t need a babysitter, especially not someone you could barely stand.

For a while, an awkward silence hung between you and him. He stood near the wall, scrolling on his phone, not speaking. Fine by you. You ignored him right back and joined a couple of girls from your class in finishing off a bottle of something fruity and strong.

Time passed in a blur. You remember laughing too hard at a stupid joke. You remember dancing in the living room to a throwback song, the room spinning pleasantly around you. You remember needing some air and stumbling out onto the back patio, which was littered with red plastic cups and cigarette butts.

What you don’t remember—at least not clearly—is how you lost track of Si-eun. Maybe he left while you were dancing. Maybe you wandered off and didn’t notice him calling after you. It’s hazy. But by the time you realized how late it had gotten, you were alone, and the house was nearly empty.

The sudden quiet disoriented you. One moment, music and laughter; the next, just the faint thump of bass from a distant room and the buzz of the patio light overhead. Most people had cleared out. A couple lay passed out on the couch inside. Some guy was puking in a toilet upstairs from what you could hear. The revelry had died, leaving a few stragglers in its wake—including you. And, as luck would have it, Oh Beom-seok.

You saw him when you wobbled back indoors, rubbing your arms against the slight chill of the autumn night. He was in the kitchen, of all places, sliding bottles and trash into a garbage bag. At first you thought he must be a hallucination—why on earth would Beom-seok still be here, and cleaning up no less? But as you took a few unsteady steps closer, you realized it really was him.

He hadn’t noticed you yet. He moved with brisk efficiency, dumping leftover drinks down the sink, gathering empty cups. His jaw was clenched, posture tense. From the doorway, you watched in tipsy silence. There was something oddly fascinating about seeing him like this—focused, almost angry in the way he slammed cabinet doors and kicked a stray bottle aside.

Your foot must have scuffed the floor, because suddenly his head jerked up. His eyes locked on you across the kitchen, and he froze, a half-filled trash bag in one hand.

For a second, neither of you spoke. You leaned against the doorframe, trying to look composed despite the alcohol making everything sway gently. He just stared, expression unreadable, chest rising and falling like he’d been exerting himself.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Didn’t peg you as the housewife type,” you slurred, nodding at the trash bag with a crooked smirk.

Beom-seok’s eyes flashed with something—irritation, maybe embarrassment. He looked away and resumed scraping a pile of empty cans off the counter. “Just cleaning up a little,” he muttered. His voice was low, rougher than usual.

You pushed off the frame and sauntered unsteadily into the kitchen. The room tilted slightly as you moved; you grabbed the edge of the counter to steady yourself. “Why? This isn’t even your house,” you said, genuinely curious. It wasn’t like you ever expected someone like him to care about being helpful at a party. If anything, you imagined he’d be the type passed out drunk or slinking away without a word.

He didn’t meet your gaze. “The guys who live here… they’re my friends.” There was a bitterness to the word “friends” that you might have missed if you were sober. “Figured I’d do something nice. Show my appreciation.”

You squinted at him. Something about that answer sounded off, but your foggy brain couldn’t pinpoint why. Instead, you snorted. “Your friends, huh? You mean those meatheads from Shinheung High or wherever? Real charming bunch.”

Beom-seok shot you a sharp look. “They’re not meatheads.”

You lifted a brow, surprised he was talking back. Normally, Beom-seok barely spoke two words to you, especially if you were being insulting. Emboldened by liquor and annoyance, you rolled your eyes dramatically. “Please. I had a class with one of them last year—Jung-chan? He can’t count to ten without using his fingers. And that other one, Tae-hoon, spent the whole night trying to grope every girl that walked by. Totally a meathead.”

His shoulders stiffened. “Shut up,” he snapped, voice taut.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He dumped the cans into the bag with a clatter and finally turned to face you fully. There was color high on his cheekbones, a flush that could be anger or alcohol or both. “Just… shut up. You don’t know them. You don’t know anything about me, or who my friends are. So stop acting like you’re better than everyone.”

His sudden hostility took you off guard. For a moment you simply gawked at him. Beom-seok had never spoken to you like that. Had never spoken to anyone like that in your hearing. The timid boy who usually shrank into the background was glaring at you with open animosity, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

Your own temper flared in response. “Are you seriously telling me to shut up?” You laughed harshly. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Beom-seok stepped closer, just one step, but it closed some of the distance between you. He was roughly your height; when you straightened up off the counter, your eyes were nearly level with his. “I’m nobody, right?” he said bitterly. “Just the loser. The pathetic little tag-along. That’s what you think of me, isn’t it?”

He was advancing another step with each sentence, and you instinctively backed up until the counter edge dug into your lower back. You felt a flicker of uncertainty. The kitchen was dimly lit, the only light coming from the range hood lamp overhead. In the half-shadows, Beom-seok’s eyes looked almost black.

“You’re drunk,” you said, forcing your tone to remain mocking, even as your heart thumped faster. “Why don’t you go sleep it off, Beom-seok.” You tried to inject as much derision into his name as possible.

“I’m not that drunk,” he muttered. Another step. He was standing close now—too close. You could smell the mix of beer and sweat on him, see the slight tremor in his jaw muscle. “And you didn’t answer the question.”

You bristled. “What question?”

He leaned in, and for the first time you realized the position you’d put yourself in—half perched against the counter, with him effectively caging you in without even touching you. One of his hands rested on the counter near your hip, palm flat. “You think I’m a loser?” he asked, voice low. “Say it. To my face, say it.”

The challenge in his tone ignited your stubbornness. You lifted your chin, even as your pulse kicked up. “I don’t think you are. I know you are,” you sneered. “I’ve always known.”

Something snapped. Maybe in both of you.

Later, you’d wonder if he was already teetering on the edge of some cliff that night and your words just shoved him over. In the moment, all you registered was a blur of motion as Beom-seok lunged forward.

You flinched, a gasp catching in your throat, as his hand suddenly clamped around the back of your neck. Before you could process anything beyond the flash of alarm, he crushed his mouth against yours.

It wasn’t a kiss—it was an assault. His lips collided with yours hard enough to bruise, teeth scraping. You froze in shock, a muffled cry escaping against his mouth. Your first instinct was to shove him away, to protest, but the counter behind you and his body in front of you left nowhere to go. His free arm slid around your waist and yanked you forward, pressing you flush against him.

Your hands flew up, pushing at his chest. He was surprisingly solid under the thin cotton T-shirt, not the soft, frail boy you’d assumed. Still, you shoved, and he broke away from your lips with a ragged breath.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hissed, your voice coming out embarrassingly breathless. Your mind was reeling. Did Beom-seok just—kiss you? No, not a kiss. He practically tried to eat your face. And now he was panting in front of you, eyes wild, as if you were the one who’d attacked him.

His grip on the back of your neck tightened slightly, fingers weaving into your hair near the nape. It wasn’t painful exactly, but the implication was there: he wasn’t letting go. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” he said, breath warm and smelling of alcohol as it fanned over your cheek.

You gaped at him. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re insane!”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t play dumb. You think I haven’t seen the way you hang off Suho? You wanted someone to fuck you tonight, didn’t you? Sorry your prince charming left early. But hey—” His eyes flicked over you, and in the dim light, you caught the glint of something dangerous. “I’m still here.”

For a second, you forgot how to breathe. The sheer audacity, the vulgarity of what he said—your face flooded with heat. “You—you’re insane,” you sputtered, voice trembling.

He pressed forward abruptly, crowding into your space. Instinctively you arched back over the counter, bending away as far as the counter would allow. Beom-seok only followed, his hips pinning yours against the cabinets.

You sucked in a breath as you felt… oh god… the hardness in his jeans grinding against your stomach. A jolt of electric shock went through you at the realization: he was hard.

You tried to summon anger, to snarl at him to get off, but the words died in your throat. Instead, a weak sound of protest escaped as you planted your hands on his chest. Yet even now, your attempts to shove him away were feeble, lacking any real conviction. He had you effectively trapped against the counter… but if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t pushing him as hard as you could have.

He must have sensed that flicker of hesitation, because his lips twisted into a bitter smirk. “Thought so,” he murmured.

Before you could formulate a response, he kissed you again. If you could even call it a kiss. His mouth was hot and desperate on yours, more teeth and tongue than finesse. A broken sound—half protest, half something else—rose in your throat. You managed to turn your head enough to break the seal of his lips, gasping.

Beom-seok made a frustrated noise. His hand on your waist moved suddenly, roughly hiking up your skirt. The feel of his fingers scraping along your bare thigh snapped you back to reality. You slapped at his shoulder, panicking.

“Wait—” you started, but he chose that moment to bite down on your exposed neck, just above your collarbone. Not gentle at all; it was a deliberate sting of pain. You cried out, the sound echoing in the empty kitchen.

Then something unexpected happened: the sharp nip of pain seemed to shoot straight down between your legs. You choked on a gasp as a wave of heat rolled through you. Fuck. Why did that… why did that feel good?

Your reaction wasn’t lost on him. When he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes gleamed with a realization that made your stomach flip. “You like that,” he said, sounding almost astonished, his voice husky. His hand on your thigh inched higher, fingertips dragging against the edge of your panties. “You’re so fucking weird,” he whispered, but there was a strange intensity in his tone.

“I—I am not—” you tried to protest, but it came out as a whimper when his thumb suddenly pressed over the thin fabric between your legs, directly against your clit.

A bolt of pleasure nearly knocked the wind out of you. Your knees buckled, and only his body pinning you kept you upright. Beom-seok heard the involuntary moan that escaped you; you saw his eyes darken in triumph or maybe lust—likely both.

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is weak, trembling. “Shut up, shut up—”

He chuckled, a low, harsh sound, even as his own breathing grew ragged. “Make me,” he dared.

Then he kissed you again, swallowing whatever retort you might have made. This time, his tongue forced its way past your lips, and you let him in. God help you, you let him. He tasted like cheap beer and bitterness. He kissed like he was starving, devouring your mouth in a messy, punishing rhythm that had your head spinning.

And worst of all, you found yourself kissing him back.

You don’t know when your resistance officially crumbled. It might have been when his fingers slipped under the elastic of your underwear and found how embarrassingly wet you were. Or maybe when he growled “knew it” against your lips in that smug, angry way. At some point, your hands slid up from his chest to wrap around his shoulders instead of pushing him away. At some point, your hips began rocking forward, seeking more of that friction his palm offered.

It’s like your body had betrayed you completely, acting on pure primal need. Because yes, you needed something—something to fill the aching emptiness blooming inside you. And here he was, rough and demanding and giving you exactly that dark, forbidden thrill you never knew you craved.

“Turn around,” he ordered roughly against your ear when you both broke apart gasping for air. His hand withdrew from your soaked panties only to yank at them from behind, snapping the waistband against your skin. You yelped at the sting.

“N-no,” you stammer, instinctively balking. If you turn around, you won’t see his face. It feels too vulnerable, too risky—

He growls in frustration. With little effort, he manhandles you, physically spinning you until your front is pressed to the counter and your back to his chest. Your skirt is bunched around your hips now. You can feel the solid heat of him through his jeans, nudging against your ass as he grinds forward. A whimper escapes you, hands splaying on the countertop to brace yourself.

“Fuck, just like that…” he mutters. One of his hands splays over the small of your back, pressing you down so your upper body is flat on the counter. The cold surface against your cheek is a shock. You can see the kitchen sideways from your left eye: the overturned cups, the half-closed patio door, the flickering light. It’s surreal, this moment—bent over a stranger’s kitchen counter while Oh Beom-seok of all people paws at you from behind.

You squeeze your eyes shut. This isn’t happening. This is insane. You should scream, shove him off, do something. But when you open your mouth, a ragged moan spills out instead, because he’s slid your panties down to your thighs and you feel the blunt head of his cock—oh god, when did he unzip, when did he take it out?—sliding against your dripping slit.

“Fuck, fuck…” you curse, voice cracking. You’re trembling—fear, anticipation, desire, you can’t tell anymore. All you know is that you’re seconds away from letting Beom-seok, the loser you always mocked, stick his cock inside you. And that you want it so badly you could cry.

He seems to pause behind you. One hand still pins your back, but the other is fumbling between your bodies. You hear the crinkle of plastic and realize in a daze that he’s tearing open a condom wrapper with his teeth. The fact that he has a condom at all, that he’s clear-headed enough to use one, sends a strange pang through you. Relief? Disappointment? He’s obviously done this before, part of you notes—the part that isn’t drowning in lust. The wrapper falls to the floor. You hear him rolling the latex on with shaky breaths.

Then his hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. “You want this?” he asks suddenly, voice strained and deep. There’s a quiver in it, like he’s barely hanging on. “Tell me you want this.”

Your pride rears its head one last time, battling through the drunken haze and raging arousal. You make a strangled, bitter laugh. “I want—” My dignity back? My sanity? But the words that leave your mouth betray you completely: “I want… I want you to fuck me.”

Beom-seok swears under his breath. And then, with one brutal thrust, he slams into you.

He’s not gentle. He doesn’t ease in or give you time to adjust. The sudden stretch of him inside you knocks all the air from your lungs. You cry out—half pain, half shocked pleasure—fingers scrabbling uselessly against the smooth countertop as he buries himself to the hilt.

“Shit,” he chokes out behind you. “So… tight…” His nails bite into your hipbones as he holds himself deep for a moment, breathing hard like he’s trying not to explode. The fullness is almost too much; you feel like you might break around him. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, the sensation toeing the line between pleasure and pain.

It’s overwhelming. He’s overwhelming—every nerve ending alight with sensation, with the awareness of him stretching you, filling you. And dammit, your traitorous body is adjusting, melting around the intrusion. The discomfort is already ebbing, replaced by a growing heat as your walls flutter and clench, slick and welcoming despite everything.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Beom-seok groans. His voice sounds wrecked, barely above a whisper. You turn your head to the side, cheek still plastered to the counter, and catch a glimpse of him behind you. His jaw is clenched, eyes shut tight like he’s in pain, dark hair falling over his forehead. It hits you in a rush that he’s just as affected by this as you are—this wild, unlikely coupling.

He opens his eyes then and notices you looking. Something unreadable passes over his expression. Then his features harden, that anger from before flickering back to life. “Is this what you wanted?” he growls suddenly. Without warning, he pulls out halfway and slams back into you, wrenching a startled scream from your throat. “Huh? This what you needed?”

You gasp, tears spilling now at the sheer intensity. Every thrust forces a broken sound from you, the edge of the counter digging into your hips with each forward snap. He’s ruthless, setting a punishing pace like he’s trying to fuck the very air out of your lungs. And maybe he is. Maybe he’s imagining every thrust knocking some sense of regret or apology out of you, or pounding the memory of every time you belittled him straight into your core.

But you… you’re beyond words. Any cutting remark or protest you could have made dissolves into moans and incoherent babble. The kitchen fills with obscene sounds—skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of him driving into your soaked cunt, his ragged grunts and your keening cries. It should mortify you. Some distant part of your brain registers that anyone still nearby could probably hear you, that you sound like a desperate whore letting herself be taken on a hard countertop. But that only adds to the twisted excitement coiling in you.

Beom-seok fists a hand in your hair suddenly, yanking your head back. Your back bows and you gasp at the mix of pain and pleasure the new angle causes as he continues to hammer into you. “Say it,” he pants against your ear, his voice savage. “Say I’m not a loser now.”

Your mind swims, barely comprehending the demand. His hips drive forward with particular force, punctuating his words. “Say it.”

“Nngh—” You try to form a sentence, but all that spills out is a guttural moan. He pulls harder on your hair, slowing his thrusts to deep, grinding rolls that press into spots that have you seeing stars. Each deliberate push rubs against a spot inside that steals your breath.

“Say it,” he commands again, a desperate edge in his tone. “Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

Oh god. Your pride is a distant memory, scattered to the wind. He’s reduced you to raw need. Every nerve in your body is focused on the relentless pleasure building with each drag of his cock. It’s humiliating how quickly you break.

“Y-you,” you sob, barely recognizing your own wrecked voice. “You, Beom-seok… oh fuck… you are—”

He rewards you with a harder thrust that makes you cry out. “I am what?” he hisses.

“Not—not a loser,” you gasp out in a rush. “You’re not a loser, okay? Just— please—”

A strangled sound rips from his throat, something between a laugh and a snarl. His grip on your hair gentles, sliding to the nape of your neck again, pinning you down. And then he loses any semblance of control.

He fucks you like he’s unleashing years of pent-up rage and frustration. The counter squeaks under the onslaught of your bodies. His fingers dig bruises into your skin. He mutters a stream of filthy words that barely register in your ear—something about how tight you are, how you’re taking him so well for all your talk, how no one else could make you feel like this.

He’s cursing, grunting your name mixed with expletives, and all you can do is clutch the far edge of the counter to keep from being shoved forward with each thrust. You feel everything—every vein and ridge of him as he pistons inside, every shockwave of pleasure that radiates out from where your bodies join. The coil in your belly draws tighter and tighter, a roaring in your ears overtaking the last of your rational thought.

“I hate you,” you whisper brokenly at some point, tears wet on your cheeks, though whether it’s true or you just need to say something—anything—besides his name which keeps threatening to fall from your lips, you’re not sure.

He just growls, barely hearing you, or maybe he doesn’t care. His hand slides around from your hip to between your legs and he finds your clit without mercy, rubbing harsh circles that rip a wail from you. Stars explode behind your eyelids. Your entire body tenses, and you can’t hold it back any longer.

You come apart with a scream, clenching hard around his cock. The world whitens out; pleasure sears through you, overwhelming and all-consuming. You dimly register him cursing as your pulsing walls milk him, and then he slams into you one, two more times before he shudders and stills. A low, guttural groan vibrates against your back as he comes, the heat of it filling the condom deep inside you.

For a long moment, the only sound is both of you gasping for breath. Your ears are ringing. Your body feels limp, splayed over the counter in a sticky, shaking mess. Beom-seok’s weight presses into you as he slumps forward slightly, forehead briefly dropping against the back of your shoulder. His chest heaves against your sweat-damp spine.

It’s in that fleeting aftermath that reality starts to filter back in. The reality that you just let him fuck you. That you just had the most intense, toe-curling orgasm of your life with a boy you claimed to despise. That you enjoyed every degrading second of it.

A strangled sob bubbles up in your throat, but you bite it back. No. You will not cry in front of him. You won’t give him that satisfaction—if he’s even looking for it.

Beom-seok stirs, pulling out of you slowly. You both hiss—him at the sensitivity, you at the sudden emptiness and the soreness that makes itself known. You stay prone, cheek still pressed to the counter, unable to muster the strength to move yet. Behind you, he ties off the condom and tucks himself back into his pants. He’s silent, save for his still-labored breaths.

After a moment, he speaks, voice raw. “Are you… did I…?” He trails off. You feel his hand hover uncertainly over your lower back, like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch you now. The hesitation is jarring compared to his earlier roughness.

It takes you a second to realize he’s asking if you’re okay—if he hurt you. The absurdity of it makes you want to laugh and scream all at once. He just ravaged you on a kitchen counter; of course he hurt you. The evidence is all over your body—from the bite on your neck to the bruises forming on your hips, to the ache between your thighs. Yet, what hurts even more is the confusing tangle of emotions in your chest.

Without answering, you shakily push yourself upright. Your legs tremble as you stand, and you yank your crumpled panties back up over your thighs with as much dignity as you can muster. Your skirt falls back down, mercifully hiding the evidence of what you just did. You can’t meet his eyes. Instead, you busy yourself smoothing your hair, which he left thoroughly disheveled. When your fingers brush over a particularly sore spot on your scalp where he pulled, you wince.

Behind you, Beom-seok shifts awkwardly. “…I’ll take you home,” he mumbles.

That makes you snap. You whirl around, finally looking at him. He looks wrecked—hair messy, shirt askew, a sheen of sweat on his skin. His lips are red and swollen (you did that, a voice in your head says). And his eyes… he looks conflicted, uncertain. Maybe even ashamed. Good, you think bitterly. He should be.

“I can get home on my own,” you spit, voice shaking. You spot your phone on the counter and snatch it up, praying your battery isn’t dead. The screen lights up. 2:42 AM. Missed texts from a friend asking where you went. Nothing from Suho—he probably assumed Si-eun had you covered. Some protector he turned out to be.

Beom-seok takes a step toward you. “At least let me call a cab or something. You shouldn’t be—”

“Just stay away from me,” you snap, backing up. Your eyes finally meet his properly, and something in your face must make him stop short. He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Fine,” he says quietly.

Without another word, you turn on your heel and walk out. You make it as far as the front door before you realize you left your coat somewhere. No way are you going back to search for it with him still there. So you step out into the chilly early morning air without it. The cold helps numb the chaotic whirl inside your head as you find the nearest bus stop and slump onto the bench to wait for the first dawn bus.

That was three days ago.

Now, as you sit in class staring blankly at the chalkboard, you absently rub at the fading bruise on your wrist, finger-shaped, from where he pinned your arm down at some point—you don’t even clearly remember when. The teacher’s voice washes over you without meaning. Your gaze flickers to the back corner of the room, where Beom-seok sits.

He hasn’t looked at you once since that night. Not when you finally made it back to school on Monday, not when you passed each other in the hallway, not even in this class where he’s just a few rows away. It’s like you don’t exist to him.

What infuriates you is that you don’t know what you want him to do. Do you want him to acknowledge you? To corner you and apologize? To brag to his friends? To pretend it never happened? Nothing feels right. So he does nothing, and you stew in your own obsession and confusion.

Because that’s what it is now: an obsession. You replay the events of that night like a broken record. Every time you close your eyes, you see fragments: his face contorted in pleasure, the flash of hurt fury in his eyes when you called him a loser, the way his lips wrapped around a curse when he was about to come. And fuck, every time, you get embarrassingly wet and flustered.

It’s like he’s burned himself under your skin. The more you try not to think about him, the more you crave it again—that heat, that intensity. It’s as if he awoke something in you that night, something dark and hungry that only responds to him.

You hate it. You hate him, you insist to yourself in the dark of night when your hand is between your thighs and you’re desperate for relief. But even then, it’s his face you picture behind your eyelids. It’s his name that trembles on your lips when you come with your fingers pumping inside yourself—never quite as satisfying as how he filled you. Not even close.

And god, you’ve tried to chase that high again. Two nights ago at another small gathering, you let a guy from another class put his hands on you. You even kissed him, pressed his hand between your legs to try to ignite the same spark. But the moment he touched you, all you felt was irritation. His touch was too soft, too hesitant. When he whispered in your ear, you recoiled because his words weren’t rough enough, dirty enough. He wasn’t Beom-seok. You’d shoved the poor boy away and left abruptly, making some excuse.

Now that you’ve had that, how can anything else compare? The realization sickens you. What does it say about you that the best sex of your life was with someone who by all accounts despises you and whom you despise in turn? That you got off on being treated like that—like a receptacle for someone’s anger and lust?

A hot flush crawls up your neck. You drop your head, letting your hair curtain your face as you stare sightlessly at your notebook. The pages are blank. You haven’t absorbed a damn thing today. How are you going to survive this week, let alone the rest of the year, with him sitting right there and these memories haunting you?

The lunch bell rings, jolting you. Around you, students shuffle to pack up books and head out. You stay frozen for a moment, watching out of the corner of your eye as Beom-seok stands, grabs his bag, and walks out with two guys you recognize as his new buddies—the ones from that party, Jung-chan and Tae-hoon. He’s been spending more and more time with them lately, drifting away from you and Suho and Si-eun… not that you were ever truly his friend, but still.

Something twists in your gut as you see him leave, still without a glance your way. Is that it? He uses you like that and then pretends you’re nothing? The injustice of it sparks your temper. What right does he have to act high and mighty? He’s the one who—who basically ambushed you. (A treacherous voice reminds you that you could have stopped him. You didn’t.)

Before you quite know what you’re doing, you’ve slung your bag over your shoulder and marched out of the classroom. You catch sight of him down the corridor. Without letting yourself overthink, you follow.

His two buddies peel off toward the cafeteria, but he continues down the hall, turning a corner that leads toward the back exit of the school. You quicken your pace. Where is he going? He usually eats lunch with those guys now.

Just as you round the corner, you see him slip into an empty classroom—the old chemistry lab that’s not used this period. You pause, heart thumping. He’s alone. Why has he gone in there by himself? Perhaps to avoid people, or to have a quiet lunch? You do recall he hasn’t been sitting with Suho and Si-eun at lunch anymore. Maybe he didn’t feel like hanging with the new friends today either.

Regardless of why, this is your chance. To do what exactly, you’re not entirely sure—yell at him? Demand an apology? Or…

Your feet carry you to the chemistry lab door before your brain catches up. The corridor is empty, most students having flocked to the cafeteria or courtyard by now. Taking a breath to steel yourself, you push the door open and step inside, closing it behind you with a soft click.

Beom-seok stands by the teacher’s desk at the front, a sandwich in hand mid-bite. He freezes when he sees you. Slowly, he lowers the sandwich, chewing and swallowing as if bracing himself.

“What are you doing here?” he asks flatly, voice guarded. There’s none of the heat from three nights ago, none of the shaky vulnerability from the immediate aftermath either. His face is carefully blank. It infuriates you.

“We need to talk,” you say, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag.

He exhales sharply through his nose, a humorless sound. “No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do,” you insist, taking a few steps closer. You will not be dismissed. Not after everything he’s put you through— everything you can’t stop putting yourself through because of it.

He sets the sandwich down on the desk, eyes flicking toward the door behind you as if considering escape. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he mutters. “It was a mistake. Let’s just pretend it never happened.”

A mistake. Pretend it never happened.

You knew he was avoiding the topic, but hearing him reduce it to nothing twists the knife in your chest. The humiliation flares, coupled with a spike of anger. How dare he? He doesn’t get to waltz away unscathed, acting like he didn’t—like you didn’t—

“Is that what you’re doing?” you snap. “Just forgetting about it?”

He doesn’t answer, jaw ticking as he clenches it.

Your hands tremble, fury and desperation warring within you. “It happened, Beom-seok. You—” your voice hitches, “you fucked me. On a goddamn kitchen counter. Or did you black out and conveniently erase that part?”

His eyes flash. “Keep your voice down,” he hisses, darting a glance at the door again.

“Why? Afraid someone will hear?” you taunt bitterly. “Maybe they should. Maybe I should just walk out there and inform everyone what their precious Assemblyman’s son did to me.”

His face pales. In two strides, he’s in front of you, gripping your upper arm. “Don’t,” he says, panic underlying the anger in his voice. “Why would you—do you want everyone to know?”

You glare up at him, chest heaving. “No, you idiot. But I’m tired of you acting like it didn’t happen. You owe me a conversation at least.”

He studies you, his grip slowly loosening. “Fine,” he mutters at last. “Fine. Talk.”

You weren’t actually prepared to get this far. Now that you have his attention, your mouth goes dry. What do you even want to ask? Why he did it? You provoked him—that answer is obvious. Why he hasn’t said a single word to you since? He’d probably say there’s nothing to say, or that he thought you wouldn’t want him to.

Or maybe the question burning deepest: why it felt so fucking good—so right—in spite of everything, and does he feel that way too? But you can’t ask that.

As you struggle to gather your thoughts, you realize he’s still standing close, hand lingering near your arm. His gaze flickers over you and then away, as if being near you makes him uncomfortable.

“You bruised me,” you say instead, the words coming out more accusatory than you intended. You pull back slightly and tug up your sleeve, showing him the faint marks on your wrist. “Here. And here—” you tilt your head to the side, pulling down the collar of your shirt enough to reveal the edge of the bite on your neck. It’s mostly healed, but a few red marks remain.

Beom-seok’s eyes darken as he takes in the evidence. He looks almost sick. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. There’s genuine remorse in his tone, which surprises you. You didn’t think he’d apologize at all.

You drop your sleeve, awkwardly crossing your arms. “Then why did you do it?”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “You know why,” he mutters. “You were saying all that shit… I just… I lost it.” His gaze drops. “I shouldn’t have. I’m not—” he swallows, “I’m not proud of it, okay?”

That admission deflates some of your anger. You bite your lip. “Are you… are you going to tell anyone?”

He looks up sharply. “Of course not.” A humorless laugh. “Who the hell would I tell? ‘Hey guys, guess what, I fucked that girl who thinks I’m scum.’ Yeah, that’d go over well.”

You flinch a little. His blunt phrasing stings. “I don’t think you’re—” You stop. That’s a lie, and he knows it. Or at least, you did think that. And maybe still do? You’re not sure of anything anymore.

Silence falls. He steps back, leaning against the teacher’s desk, crossing his arms. The defensiveness of the pose isn’t lost on you. He’s bracing himself.

Maybe honesty is the only way now. You take a breath. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. It feels like a confession of sin. “What happened. I…” You falter, heat crawling up your cheeks.

Beom-seok’s eyes snap to yours, wide with surprise. He clearly hadn’t expected that. “Why?” he asks cautiously, as if it might be a trap.

You laugh hollowly. “That’s what I’d like to know. Because I’ve been trying—” you break off, pressing your lips together. You were about to say trying to forget, trying to replace it, but that would be even more mortifying to admit. You shake your head. “Doesn’t matter. I just… can’t.”

His brows furrow slightly. He uncrosses his arms, hands gripping the edge of the desk. “You were drunk,” he says slowly, like he’s testing the waters. “Maybe it’s just… curiosity or something.”

“I wasn’t that drunk,” you retort. You remember every heated detail, unfortunately.

He looks away. “So what then? Why are you bringing this up?” There’s a touch of frustration, but under that, you think you hear a tremor of something like hope. Like he’s been thinking about it too, but doesn’t dare to believe you might want it again.

The thought emboldens you. If he feels even a fraction of this restless need… maybe…

In two quick strides, you close the gap between you. He tenses as you reach out, fingers hovering over the front of his uniform tie. You’re shaking, but you manage to speak. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” you repeat quietly, looking up into his eyes, “because I… want to do it again.”

His breath catches. For a moment he just stares, searching your face for any sign of deception. Whatever he sees makes his carefully blank mask crumble. “You’re out of your mind,” he says, but it comes out weak.

“Probably,” you whisper. Your heart is hammering so loud you’re sure he can hear it. Every instinct is screaming at you that this is a terrible idea. But you plow on, driven by a hunger that’s eclipsing reason. “Tell me you don’t want to.”

Beom-seok inhales sharply. His hands flex on the desk edge. He doesn’t tell you that. He says nothing at all. And in his silence, you find your answer.

You fist your hand in his tie and pull him down as you rise onto your toes, crashing your lips against his.

This time, you’re the one who initiates the chaos. And he responds immediately. A low groan rumbles in his chest as he kisses you back feverishly, the months of pent-up tension between you snapping like a live wire.

It’s different from that night in the kitchen. Still messy, still desperate, but now there’s a startling fervor on both sides. You’re not pushing him away—you’re pulling him closer, pouring your confusion and longing and anger into the clash of lips and tongues. He tastes like peanut butter and jealousy; you can’t get enough.

He breaks away briefly, panting, “We—ngh—should lock… the door—” even as he’s kissing down your jaw.

“Do it,” you gasp, unwilling to separate fully. He stumbles the few steps to the door, dragging you with him as your fingers refuse to let go of his shirt. He fumbles blindly for the lock and twists it. The soft click barely registers through the haze of desire.

The moment it’s done, he spins you around and presses you against the door, his body flush to yours from behind—uncannily similar to how he bent you over that counter. The memory sends a thrill through you.

“You sure about this?” he rasps against your ear. His hands rest on your hips, almost hesitant. This gentleness, this asking for permission, is so at odds with how he took you last time. It makes something melt inside you, even as your impatience flares.

“Yes,” you breathe, reaching back to tangle a hand in his hair at the nape of his neck. You tug, and he hisses in pleasure. “Just shut up and fuck me, Beom-seok.”

Something like relief, even a dark glee, rumbles in his throat. “You really are so fucking weird,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it this time—almost like it’s a twisted term of endearment now.

Then he’s on you. His hands splay across your front, one sliding up to cup your breast through your blouse, squeezing greedily. The other bunches your skirt up at your thighs once more. He grinds forward and you feel his erection prodding insistently against your lower back, already straining through his pants. A moan spills from you. God, you want that inside you again, immediately.

He seems to be on the same page, because his fingers move to your blouse buttons, clumsy in his haste. He pops a few open, enough to slip his hand inside and roughly tug down your bra cup. You gasp as his palm meets your bare breast, followed by the roll of his fingers over your nipple. Pleasure jolts through you. You arch back into him, your ass pressing against his hardness.

“Fuck,” he groans, biting down lightly on your shoulder through your uniform shirt. “You drive me crazy… you know that?”

You open your mouth to retort, but it dissolves into a whine as he tweaks your nipple harder and simultaneously slides his other hand between your thighs. He rubs your pussy over your panties, growling in appreciation at the dampness he finds. “Already soaked… You’re so fucking ready, aren’t you? You like this, huh? Being felt up like a slut where anyone could walk in?”

Your cheeks burn, but you nod frantically, beyond words. Yes, yes, you do like it. You love it. The risk of being caught, the forbidden nature of it, his filthy words—it’s all igniting your blood.

He shoves your panties aside and plunges two fingers into your heat without warning. You slap a hand over your own mouth to muffle the cry that rips out of you. Holy shit—you’re still a bit sore from before, but that slight ache only heightens the sensation as he pumps the digits in and out of you rapidly, curling just right. Lewd squelching sounds fill the small space of the classroom, mixing with your stifled moans and his harsh breathing against your ear.

“Feel that?” he pants, almost in awe. “Feel how fucking wet you are for me? And you call me pathetic…”

His fingers scissor inside you, and you buck against his hand, eyes rolling. You bite your palm to keep from screaming. It’s embarrassing how quickly you’re hurtling towards orgasm like this; you guess your body has just been on a hair-trigger since that night, desperate for any stimulation.

Then he withdraws his fingers abruptly and you whine at the loss, but he spins you around to face him. His mouth crashes onto yours again, hungry and bruising, as he lifts you by the thighs. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist.

He carries you a few steps and drops you unceremoniously onto one of the lab tables at the front. Equipment rattles; a forgotten beaker tips over and rolls off onto the floor with a thud. Neither of you care. He pushes your skirt up to your hips and yanks your panties down your legs and off, tossing them aside. Then he hastily unbuckles his belt and frees himself from his trousers.

For a brief second, you both pause, staring at each other in the dusty sunlight filtering through the windows. His chest rises and falls raggedly, his length jutting out hard and thick from the open fly of his uniform pants. You lick your lips, throat dry at the sight. His eyes flicker down to the spot between your thighs, where you know you’re glistening with arousal. The corner of his mouth twitches, and something like pride crosses his features.

The tension is thick, charged, as you sit there, legs spread and heart pounding. Then, with trembling fingers, he fishes a condom from his pocket—bless whatever forethought or luck that made him carry another. Your pulse quickens in anticipation as he sheaths himself.

No words are needed. He steps forward, hooking his arms under your knees, lifting and spreading you wider. The blunt tip of his cock nudges your entrance and you both inhale sharply.

Your hands fly to grip the edges of the table beside your hips. You hold your breath.

Beom-seok surges into you with a single, powerful stroke.

Your cry echoes off the tiled walls. He muffles his own groan through clenched teeth. The fullness is immediate, overwhelming—a perfect stretch that borders on too much. You’re so sensitive from earlier that the moment he bottoms out, you’re already fluttering and clenching around him.

He notices, and a broken curse falls from his lips. “Shit, you’re gonna make me cum too fast,” he grits out, voice shaking. To your surprise, he stills, buried inside you, and presses his forehead to your shoulder. He takes a few steadying breaths, trying to regain control. His fingers dig into your thighs, which he’s pushed up nearly to your chest in the position.

Your heart clenches unexpectedly at the gesture—he’s trying to hold back, to make it last. Last time he didn’t care, he just went for it. But now… it’s almost sweet, the thought of him savoring this, wanting to draw it out.

That softness stirs something dangerous in you—something like affection. You quickly smother it, opting instead to tighten your muscles teasingly around him. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper hotly against his ear, daring. “I want you to fuck me like you did that night. I want all of it, Beom-seok.”

The effect is immediate. He growls, lifting his head to look you in the eye. There’s that familiar fire lighting up in his gaze again, wiping away any tenderness. “Yeah?” he rasps. “You sure? You want me to treat you like a slut again?”

“Yes,” you hiss, unabashed. “Do it. Use me. Fuck me rough.”

His composure snaps. With a snarl, he pulls almost all the way out, then slams back in, hard. The table shakes under you. You gasp, legs quivering in his hold. There it is—that punishing pace, that raw force that had you addicted. He gives it to you again, and again, thrusting so fiercely that the heavy oak table inches back with each slam of his hips.

Your fingers scrabble for purchase. You end up grabbing onto the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer even as he pounds you into the varnished wood. His face is inches from yours now. You can see the flickers of emotion across his features: concentration, desperation, ecstasy. You wonder what he sees on yours.

As he fucks you, he captures your lips in another kiss—if it can even be called that, it’s teeth and tongue and filthy moans exchanged between you. You swallow each other’s sounds, trying to keep quiet but failing miserably. He swallows your whimpers as he drills into that spot inside that makes you clench and see sparks. You bite his lower lip when he groans your name against your mouth. It’s carnal and feverish and so good.

He shifts one hand to grip the back of your neck, keeping your mouth pressed to his, while his other arm snakes around your lower back to support you. The new angle brings your pelvis up and he drives even deeper. You nearly sob into his mouth at the sensation. The table creaks ominously beneath you, but neither of you care if it outright breaks at this point.

“Fuck, you’re perfect like this,” he mutters against your lips, voice wrecked. “Taking me so fucking well.”

Your only response is a high-pitched keen as he pounds particularly hard.

He breaks the kiss, trailing his mouth down your throat. His teeth scrape over the fresh bruises he’s no doubt leaving. The sting mingles with pleasure until you’re dizzy with it. “Such a pretty slut,” he breathes, nipping at your collarbone. “Who do you belong to right now, huh?”

“You,” you moan immediately, brainlessly. “Only you.”

“That’s right,” he grits out. “Mine.”

His. The word reverberates through you, and you can’t even find it in yourself to hate it. Not when his cock is hitting every perfect spot inside, not when his hand releases your neck to snake down and rub your swollen clit with ruthless efficiency.

It’s too much. Pressure builds in your core so fast it makes your head spin. You hook your ankles around his waist and hang on for dear life as he ravages you. Each snap of his hips slams you closer and closer to that edge. Your breaths turn to frantic pants; your nails rake down his back even through his shirt.

“I’m—” you gasp, unable to form the words. He knows. He can feel the way you’re clamping down like a vice.

“Do it,” he hisses. “Cum for me. Come on, baby, let me feel it.”

The raspy endearment—whether intentional or not—sends you flying. Your orgasm crashes over you violently. You arch, eyes rolling back as you clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the near scream that tears from your throat. Wave after wave of ecstasy wracks through you; your whole body trembles uncontrollably.

“Fuck, that’s it… oh fuck,” Beom-seok chokes. You feel him pulse inside you as you milk him taut. With a guttural groan, he slams deep one final time and releases, hot spurts filling the condom as he grinds desperately against you through his own climax. His head drops to your shoulder, and you feel him bite down there, lightly, as if trying to stifle his own cries. The vibration of his moan against your skin as he cums might be the most erotic thing you’ve ever felt.

You cling to him, eyes shut, riding out the aftershocks. For a long few moments, neither of you move or speak. The only sound is your heavy breathing and the distant chatter of students out in the fields beyond the windows.

Eventually, the haze of pleasure begins to ebb, and what replaces it is an awkward awareness. You just did it again—in a freaking classroom during lunch break, no less. You should feel horrified at your own behavior. You should feel twice as ashamed. And a part of you does, waiting anxiously for the crushing guilt. But mostly… you feel sated. And oddly light, like a pressure that had been building in your chest finally released.

Beom-seok lifts his head first, looking at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher. A question seems to hang in his eyes, but before either of you can break the silence, a loud crack echoes in the room. Both of you jump. In your haze, neither of you noticed that one of the table legs was slowly giving way—until it finally did.

The corner of the heavy lab table collapses suddenly, sending you and Beom-seok scrambling. He catches you as you slide off, holding you up as the table slumps to one side, contents clattering to the floor.

For a split second, you stare at each other in shock. Then an incredulous giggle bubbles out of you. Of all things to happen… breaking a damn table. It’s so absurd, so perfectly indicative of how reckless this was, that you can’t help it. You press a hand to your mouth to stifle the laugh, but your shoulders shake.

Beom-seok’s eyes widen at the sight of you trying not to laugh, and then, unbelievably, a grin cracks his face. A real one, not bitter or mocking but genuine and boyish—like you’ve never seen on him before. It transforms him, and your heart does a stupid little flip. He huffs out a breath of laughter as well, quickly smothering it by biting his lip.

“Shit,” he murmurs with a half-smile, looking at the broken table. “We’re in so much trouble if someone finds out we did that.”

You bite back another giggle and whisper, “Then we’d better get out of here.”

His smile falters a little as his eyes return to you. You realize then that he’s still holding you, his arms around your waist, your bodies only just separated. Gently, he sets you on your feet, steadying you until you’re sure your legs will support you. Your underwear is across the room—no time to get that; you’ll have to do without. Quickly, you fix your bra and blouse, buttoning up, smoothing your rumpled skirt. He zips up his pants, buckles his belt, and adjusts his tie that you nearly yanked off.

The silence that falls is slightly awkward as the laughter fades. Reality is creeping back in. You’re both disheveled, sweaty, and just had wild sex in a forbidden place. What now?

You hesitate, not sure what to say. Do you just go back to ignoring each other after this? Can you?

Beom-seok clears his throat. “So, um.” He runs a hand through his messy hair. “I guess… we talked.”

That draws a snort from you. “Yeah. We… definitely did.” Not much actual talking happened in the end, but you figure you both got the answers you really wanted directly through… other means.

His gaze darts toward the door. The lunch period will end soon. You know you both need to leave. But an inexplicable heaviness weighs on you at the thought of just parting ways like nothing happened—again. You realize you don’t want that. You did that once already and it ate you alive inside. If you go back to pretending again, you’re just going to repeat the cycle of obsession and frustration. And now… now you know he wants you too.

“Beom-seok,” you say softly, before you lose your nerve. He looks at you warily. You bite your lip. “This doesn’t have to mean nothing.”

His eyes widen slightly. “What… what do you mean?”

Heat creeps up your face. “I mean… if you want… we could… do it again. Sometimes.” You cringe at how clumsy that sounds. But you press on. “Not ignore each other. I just—I don’t know. I can’t go back to how it was before.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, studying you. Then, tentatively, he reaches out and takes your hand. It’s such a simple, unexpected gesture that it startles you. His hand is warm, a little calloused at the fingertips. His grip is gentle. “I don’t want to go back to before either,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. There is vulnerability in those words, naked and earnest.

Your heart skips. Did you misjudge him? Beneath all the anger and bravado, maybe he… cared? Or could grow to care, if given the chance? The thought is terrifying but also strangely hopeful.

You squeeze his hand lightly, an unspoken agreement passing between you. Whatever this is, you’ll explore it—secretly, carefully, on your own terms. Because you’re both too deep now to let it go.

He lets go of your hand then, glancing at the door. “We should—”

“—get to class,” you finish with a small nod. Reluctantly, you step away from each other, putting some distance as a precaution.

Beom-seok moves to unlock the door. Just before he does, he pauses and turns back to you, a faint smirk on his lips. “Guess you don’t think I’m such a loser now, huh?” he says, attempting a teasing tone, though you detect a hint of genuine inquiry behind it.

You feel your cheeks warm, and you lift your chin a bit. “Don’t let it go to your head,” you reply archly. “You’re still kind of a loser. But…” Your eyes trace over him—his swollen lips, the love bite peeking above his collar, the lingering flush on his face—and you allow yourself a tiny, private smile. “Maybe I like losers.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. But there’s a brightness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. With that, he unlocks the door and cracks it open, peering out to ensure the coast is clear. He glances back at you one more time, expression soft for just a second.

Then he slips out. A moment later, you follow, quietly closing the door behind you. The hallway is empty save for a few distant stragglers.

Beom-seok is already halfway to the stairwell. Before he descends, he shoots a quick look back at you and catches your eye. It’s only an instant, but in it is a world of unspoken understanding—and anticipation for whatever twisted, exhilarating road you’ve both started down.

As he disappears from view, you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You’re shaking again, but this time not from shame or nerves, but from something almost like excitement.

Because god help you, you know this won’t be the last time. Far from it. You crave him—crave the way he makes you feel so alive, crave the filthy things he whispers and the brutal way he takes you. You crave Oh Beom-seok, the loser who proved himself anything but when he’s buried deep inside you.

And if that makes you just as pathetic? If wanting him means you’re a loser too?

Well… it’s a secret you’ll happily keep.

[baek0hyunjoo]

Random headcanons in your relationship with them✨

Featuring: Yeon Si Eun x Reader(f), Ahn Su Ho x Reader(f), Oh Beom Seok x Reader(f), Seo Jun Tae x Reader(f), Park Hu Min (Baku) x Reader(f), Go Hyeon Tak x Reader(f)

A/N: English is not my native language! Sorry for the mistakes! I was also asked to write with these boys.

Yeon Si Eun

The guy likes to help you with your homework. Despite the fact that he doesn't like to be distracted while studying, he has a completely different attitude towards you. He is ready to explain the same thing to you until you understand the material. In secret, he is amused by the fact that you are embarrassed by such attention on his part to your grades. It's just that he really wants you to have a good future and is ready to do anything for this.

- Damn, I don't understand this math at all. - you sigh nervously, sitting on his bed, he just looks at you carefully, the corner of his mouth twitches slightly, saying that he is smiling.

- I'll explain everything to you now.

- But you've already done it..

- I'll explain again until you understand. - You don't understand how you deserved love from such a secretive and quiet person like him.

Ahn Su Ho

The guy loves your food madly, he is ready to give up any other, just to eat only yours. Knowing his love, you cook for him all the time. And bring lunch and dinner to him at work, to a restaurant or before he goes to deliver orders. It is important for you to know that your boyfriend is full of energy and not starving, and he has a very good appetite. He will say a million compliments to you, your talent and your food.

- Oh my God, my princess came to save me from hunger. - he says, when you enter the restaurant, Si Eun looks at him strangely.

- You're in a restaurant, you could have eaten here.

- Dude, you won't understand. - he waves it off with a smile, running up to you and hugging you tightly.

Oh Beom Seok

You know his relationship with his father, so you are always ready to help and support him in difficult moments. He often runs away from home after quarrels, he comes to you. Yes, he is ashamed, he is shy, because he has to protect you, not you, but you don't mind at all and are happy to take him in. Your parents don't mind either, because they know his situation, but they don't question him. At home, you will feed him, let him take a shower, and put him on your bed, next to you, so that he feels safe. And he is really grateful to you, and in his heart he believes that he did not deserve you.

- Thank you. - he says quietly, before you both plunge into the kingdom of Morpheus, he will also lightly kiss you on the cheek as a sign of gratitude and love.

Seo Jun Tae

Despite the fact that the guy is a high school graduate, he loves to watch cartoons, but no one knows about it, not even his friends. But you are an exception. When you learned about his passion for cartoons, you gladly accepted his passion and began to arrange home dates with him, where ate sweets and watched various cartoons.

- What cartoon are we going to watch today? - he asked when he brought chips, marmalade and soda to the room, you answered without thinking twice.

- Let's watch "Sponge Bob: Square Pants".

- Great idea. - he replied with a shy smile.

Park Hu Min (Baku)

Your boyfriend was a knight to you, and you were his princess. That's why he constantly met you from school or extra classes, no matter where and what time they are, he will still come. Baku will follow you to your favorite places, whether it's various fashion stores or something like that. At first you wondered why he protected you so much, but when he told more about himself, everything fell into place. He is very afraid to lose you, so he will watch over you as the most important treasure in the world.

- What time do you finish today? - he asks when he brought you to school.

- I'll finish at five.

- Okay, honey, I'll come exactly at this time. - he said, kissing you on the lips.

Go Hyeon Tak

He had two passions. It's you and basketball. So you weren't surprised when he chose a basketball court as a place for dates. He really wanted to teach you how to play so that you could play basketball together later. You didn't burn much with desire, but you agreed for him, because you knew that your boyfriend wanted you to have common interests with him.

- Well, are you ready to fight me today? - he said cheerfully, taking the ball in his hands.

- But I didn't really learn!

- No need to say that, you already know how to do a lot, so at the same time let's see how you learned my lessons.

✨✨✨

[baek0hyunjoo]

GUILTY AS SIN ── ♡ MINHWAN MA

It was difficult to pinpoint the reason for Minhwan's undoing. Was it you and your inability to decide whether you loved or despised him? Was it him and his volatile greed and boredom? Or was he simply destined to be forsaken from God's loving light? Disclaimer: The plot follows the webtoon, not the drama.

Dante’s Inferno describes Satan as a winged creature with three faces. He resides in the ninth circle of Hell, grotesque and shunned from God’s love. If anyone were to ask you, however, you’d say the devil takes the form of Minhwan Ma.

He’s on his phone, as typical as it is for him, his feet kicked up on the abandoned desk as he occasionally rocks in his seat. You aren’t sure what the point was in calling you up to the rooftop if he fully intended to ignore you as he scrolled through videos he derived little entertainment from. However, you weren’t keen on speaking first, because in your mind it was equivalent to “losing”.

Not that you have raked up many wins since meeting him.

The metal door is slammed open with gusto, and you turn towards the source of the sound. Two of Minhwan’s lackeys, whose names you couldn’t care to remember, arrive at the scene and linked around their arms is a boy. He’s frail-looking, visibly thin from how his uniform doesn’t sit correctly over his frame. He keeps his gaze lowered to the ground, even when he’s unceremoniously pushed into Minhwan’s direction. This gives you pause, sparing a questioning glance towards the blue-haired delinquent. He looks up from his phone and his lips curl upwards, eyes closing tightly as he waves. His fake cheerfulness, before he begins any act of cruelness. It’s laughably routine for him and your attention diverts back to the boy kneeling on the ground, trembling as the weight of the situation dawns on him. Almost piteously, you wonder what he had done to incur Minhwan’s wrath.

“Oh, it’s you… ah, what was your name again… Minjae? Minjun?” Minhwan muses breezily, as if talking to a coworker near the water coolers. The boy flinches, finally looking up. His face is akin to canvas haphazardly painted in reds and blues. His left eye is swollen to the extent you can barely make out the colour of his eye. Purple and blue hues are smeared on every inch of exposed skin, with his nose and lips caked in drying blood. His bottom lip trembles.

“Please,” he rasps out. “I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again! I swear! Please forgive me this time!”

You click your tongue at the naive idea that Minhwan would have mercy for a sight as pathetic as this. You don’t think he’s capable of forgiveness even when his debtor is six feet under. The creditor in question finally stands to full height, stalking over to the student who keeps his gaze wide and pleading.

“You know, I never understood why you people do this,” He tuts, stopping until the tip of his shoes could almost graze the other’s face. “You ask for my service, then cry when you can’t pay me?”

Minjun has the sense to not refute, his forehead pressed to the tiled floor as he shakes. The sight brings a gleam in Minhwan’s irises that you are all too familiar with. Finally, he turns to you for the first time today.

“How about you do the honours of dealing with this annoying fly today?” He’s expectant, eyes narrowed, inviting. You fix him with an unimpressed stare.

“You called me up to fix your problems?” You scoff, leaning your foot against the fence of the roof. His smile twitches.

“So? Is this any different from when Hanwool tells you to beat someone up?”

“Last I checked you aren’t Hanwool.”

It happens so quickly that it could be mistaken for a trick of the light. His eyebrows furrow, his lips pulled to a sneer. You don’t doubt that from inside his pockets, his hands are clenched into fists. Then, it’s gone. Frigid, less welcoming, undoubtedly annoyed, but he keeps his composure in front of expectant eyes. If you hadn’t known him for years, perhaps you’d be one of the naive fools to mistake this for his patience. You know you’ve fallen from grace in his eyes, and yet he doesn’t push.

After a minute silence, you leave without sparing another glance. When you shut the door behind you, shrill screams shake through the atmosphere. You give a silent apology to the boy on the rooftop, who will now carry the brunt of Minhwan’s anger in your stead.

When you find him, you whistle lowly.

The degrading sound is enough for Minhwan to slowly lift his head. His eyes are shaky, unable to fix his gaze towards you. He’s smeared in blood. His, someone else’s, you don’t know. He is barely supported by the trash cans he has been disgracefully dumped next to. He’s holding onto consciousness by the skin of his teeth.

He spits out your name like it’s a curse, but the widening of his eyes betrays how he feels. You kneel, inspecting more closely at the wounds littering his body. His once clear, fair skin is littered with open gashes and bruises, a sight you never thought you’d be seeing in your lifetime. His breathing is shallow, chest rising and falling slowly as if it were a herculean effort. Minhwan Ma is a beautiful, disgusting mess.

“How was it? Getting to hold a real gun?” You graze the back of your hand against his cheek. He doesn’t answer, or perhaps he’s unable to, but something of a smile reaches his cracked and red-coated lips. You remembered, it looks as if he wants to say. Your touch moves, thumb grazing the corner of his mouth as you gather dried blood smeared across the skin.

“You’ll go to jail,” You state simply. “But you won’t be in for long.”

His breathing drops in pace, and you know the clock is ticking before he loses consciousness and the police begin to make their rounds around the alleyways. You lean closer and the proximity causes him to blearily lift his head. You keep him steady with your hands cupping his cheeks.

“You will be expelled, and I will still be going to school. I have no interest in joining YB,” Your breath now mingles with his, and you think he’s grasping onto you now. You aren’t sure anymore. “I wonder where you will go from here, Minhwan Ma.”

The first brush of your lips is uncharacteristically gentle despite the fact you can taste copper on your tongue. He doesn’t move against you, but he manages to keep a grip on your arm with trembling strength. You’re sure this slow and almost loving pace would infuriate him. Minhwan always liked everything to be all-encompassing and aggressive. Hence, you keep your touch as light as a feather. Maybe by tomorrow, he won’t even be able to remember the ghost of your kiss.

You pull away when you hear the first screeching of a siren, hoisting yourself up as his head finally lolls to his side. Your last image of Minhwan is seared into memory. His eyes are dull in colour, fluttering shut even when his view is fixated on you. His expensive jacket is covered in blood. Battered and beaten. Yet, not dead.

His jealousy. His fear. His insatiable desire. All of his undoings predestined the minute he took up his mantle as a demon in human flesh.

However, even Satan was once a sympathetic figure.

[baek0hyunjoo]

Yoon Ga-min NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare

Very gentle. He doesn’t say much, but his actions speak. He wipes you down with a warm cloth, gets you water, and tucks you into his arms. He stays skin-to-skin until your breathing slows.

B = Body part

On you: your hands — especially when they touch his chest or hold his face during sex. On himself: his back. He loves when your nails leave red trails down it.

C = Cum

He finishes deep inside you, gripping your hips and breathing raggedly. He likes seeing it drip out afterward — something about it feels possessive. He’s not messy, but always leaves a mark.

D = Dirty talk

Usually quiet, but when he talks, it’s intense and low:

“You feel that? How deep I am? You’re mine. Say it.”

He doesn’t talk much unless you bring it out of him.

E = Experience

Not very experienced, but extremely intuitive. He learns fast and focuses on what you like. If you teach him something once, he’ll do it perfectly next time.

F = Favorite position

• Missionary — slow, deep, and intimate. He likes seeing your face.

• Cowgirl — loves when you ride him slow and grind, watching you take control. His hands never stop roaming.

Bonus: Against the wall when he’s rougher.

G = Goofy

Almost never. He’s focused, serious, and intense in bed. The only time he smiles is when you kiss him mid-thrust and giggle — it makes his expression soften for a second.

H = Hair

Natural and soft. He trims below for cleanliness but doesn’t obsess. You running your fingers through his hair when he’s eating you out or thrusting into you? He melts.

I = Intimacy

If he’s sleeping with you, it’s serious. Even rough sex is emotionally heavy. He’s quiet but very present, like he’s memorizing every sound you make and the way your body moves under his.

J = Jack off

Not often. When he does, he thinks of you — your mouth, how you moan his name, the way you claw at his back. Usually finishes with a low grunt and heavy breath.

K = Kinks

• Praise kink — he wants to know he’s making you feel good.

• Marking — loves leaving hickeys and being scratched.

• Dom/sub energy — he’s quiet dominant, but open to you taking control sometimes.

• Breeding kink (quietly intense; the thought of you full of him drives him crazy).

L = Location

• Bedroom.

• Couch.

• Against your bedroom door with the lock on.

Anywhere private where he can take his time and not worry about being overheard.

M = Motivation

Your voice. The way you say his name softly, or how you look at him with need. If you kiss him and grind a little too long, he’ll press you against the nearest surface.

N = No

• Public sex

• Anything degrading

• Threesomes or sharing

• Being filmed

He’s possessive and protective. If anyone else sees you like that, he’ll lose it.

O = Oral (Giving/Receiving)

Giving: Obsessed. He’ll stay between your legs until your thighs are shaking and your voice is hoarse.

Receiving: Tries to stay quiet but ends up gripping the sheets, jaw clenched, eyes fluttering shut.

Length: He’s about 6.4 inches (16.3 cm), thick and slightly curved upward — perfect for hitting deep spots.

P = Pace

Slow and deep — he wants to feel every second of it. When he’s emotional or jealous, he’ll go harder, rougher, pulling you close and grunting your name through clenched teeth.

Q = Quickie

Rare, but if needed, he’ll press you against a wall or drag you onto his lap. It’s rushed but hot — deep thrusts, teeth on your neck, and him finishing with a breathless growl.

R = Risk

Cautious. He doesn’t like taking big risks with sex, but in private? He’ll push your limits. You saying “stop” is all he needs to back off instantly — your safety is sacred.

S = Stamina

One round? Never. He can go two or three with a short break between. He’s the type to go again after cuddling, especially if you start teasing him again.

T = Toys

Not big on toys himself, but if you pull one out, he’ll watch and help — fingers in your mouth, voice in your ear. But he secretly prefers when you fall apart from just him.

U = Unfair

Very unfair. He’ll tease your inner thigh, hover his mouth over you without touching, and whisper, “Beg for it.” He likes control — likes making you squirm and beg before he finally gives in.

V = Volume

Low, breathy groans. The occasional sharp gasp when you clench around him or say his name. He pants against your ear, voice rough when he’s about to come.

W = Wild card

When he’s jealous, he’s a different person. He’ll fuck you harder, eyes locked with yours, low grunts in your ear: “Only I get to see you like this.” Rough hands, bruising kisses, possessive thrusts.

X = X-ray (Size)

Length: About 6.4 inches (16.3 cm)

Thick, enough to stretch you nicely — especially in certain positions. Slight upward curve for deep, targeted thrusts.

He’s not the biggest, but the way he uses it? Devastating.

Y = Yearning

Always. Even when he doesn’t say it, you can feel it — in the way he touches you, how long he holds eye contact, how he grips your waist like you’re slipping away.

Z = ZZZ

He stays awake just long enough to pull you close and kiss your shoulder. He’ll fall asleep holding you, body pressed tightly to yours, heart still beating hard against your back.

[baek0hyunjoo]

✎　 STUBBORNLY, PATIENTLY 　( 윤가민 )

genre hurt/comfort , yoon gamin x fem!reader   cw spoilers for study group up to episode 8 , the fic takes place during the events of/references events of ep 8 , not proofread   wc 1475   request for @lexeees and @candewlsy   note slytherinshua kdrama fic era is back too 😼😼😼 i always pull through for my man minhyun and i love study group hehe (i rly need to watch the last few eps lmao)   net @kstrucknet

“Shit. We’d be having endless meat at a buffet if we went with the plan.” 

You could recognize Jiwu’s annoyed tone from halfway across the Earth. 

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine— the owner said he planned to get a new machine.”

Jun, who somehow took the role of the mediator in more situations than you originally thought possible for the red-haired boy.

“Gochujang, you’re actually the one to blame!” Your eyes drifted to the window of the convenience store, watching Jiwu’s arm fly out to point an accusatory finger at Jun. “Why did you have to be so stubborn?”

Their voices muffled from your ears as your gaze shifted to the left, seeing the figure of your boyfriend slumped over the table. You predicted he might be feeling down today. Last year after exams, he spent the day in his room, not answering your calls. If you were lucky, you’d get a reply to a text, but the occurrences were about as rare as the correct answers on his test. You often schemed with his mother on how to cheer him up, as you both hated to see him in that state. Often the only solution was waiting it out, especially when he refused to open his bedroom door. 

This year, however, was different than previous ones. Not only did Gamin have even higher expectations for himself coming into the exam, but he was also surrounded by friends who didn’t quite understand the pressures Gamin put on himself yet. As his expectations climbed higher, he also had a steeper way down to fall when they were crushed yet again. He needed something to ground him— and that wasn’t going to happen surrounded by the loud voices of Jun and Jiwu bickering. 

The chime of the convenience store bell caught the attention of Sehyeon and Heewon, but the noise wasn’t loud enough to break the dark fog that was clouding Gamin’s head. Your touch usually did the trick, though. 

“Hey. Was wondering where you guys might be after exams ended,” you said with a smile, addressing the rest of the group as your hand moved to your boyfriend’s shoulder. He looked up at you, a million thoughts swirling behind those glasses. 

“You should’ve come with us, Y/n! We went to the arcade and—” 

Heewon’s cheery voice was cut by Jun’s interruption. 

“—Gamin absolutely plundered the strength machine, but it was my fault—” 

“That all sounds fun, but there was no getting around my part time job today.” Your explanation earned a chorus of hums and nods. Apart from studying with the group, you also worked part time at an animal shelter, caring for stray kittens. Heewon had begged for you to take her to see them sometime soon, and you were fairly sure Sehyeon would want to tag along as well. Everything had just been so hectic leading up to exams that you could barely find time in your schedule. 

However, when it came to your boyfriend, you could always find time. And it was clear that Gamin needed some of it today. 

“Gamin, let’s go back to my house. You can sleep over tonight. I already told your mom,” you whispered into his ear, hand soothingly rubbing circles on his back. He gave you a curt nod, the saddened expression on his face still not wavering. 

“We’ll catch you guys tomorrow, okay?” You helped your boyfriend up and led him out of the store, waving a quick goodbye to your friends.

The walk back to your apartment was silent. You held onto Gamin’s hand tightly as you thought of ways to make him feel better. You’d given him the same talk time and time again. He knew how important he was to you, that he had value in your eyes no matter what he did. But, to him, having his hard work give him the same underwhelming results year after year ate away at his motivation. It would be tiring for anyone. Sometimes you weren’t even sure how he still bounced back days later. 

Your apartment always smelled comforting to Gamin. Hours had been spent here together— studying, talking, laughing, kissing. There was something freeing about hanging out at your house, like it was hidden away from the rest of the world. You lived alone, and it was nice to get out of the way of the adults sometimes. 

The same routine fell into place the moment Gamin stepped inside the door. He didn’t have to think hard for his legs to lead him to your bedroom, or for his body to fall onto your bed. Your familiar ceiling allowed some of the most comforting memories to flood back to his brain. The first time he saw you, or your first kiss. Every time he had been there to comfort you, and every time you had helped him study. 

You soon joined him, laying down right next to him, your head resting on your outstretched arm and your eyes gazing at him with concern. You wondered what was going through his mind at the moment as his body lay completely still and soft even breaths escaped his slightly parted lips. The silence was gentle but delicate. At any moment it would crack and things would break. You could sense it. But you waited until it was time, hoping that now the little action of seeing your face and feeling the comfort of your soft mattress would be enough to start working away at the storm the day had rained down on him.

“Gamin,” your utterance was barely above a whisper. His eyes glanced at you and then settled back up at the ceiling. If he looked at you for too long, he was sure his resolve would break. “I love you. Remember what I said? A big change will happen eventually. Just be steady.”

Sometimes you felt like you were repeating the same words over and over again, unsure if they would really help him. But you would never give up on him. You’d always be right by his side, being his comfort, being his strength when he gave out. 

“I know you. You’re so patient, Gamin.” At the call of his name for the second time your fingers brushed his wrist. Hands finding each other once again and all at once his persistence fell.

Gamin never cried. It was almost unnatural to him. Every hardship had to be faced with a smile and unbreaking tenacity. He couldn’t pinpoint the last time he had truly cried. Not that he hadn’t struggled or felt pain or felt like giving up. But rarely were the circumstances so that he felt comfortable enough to do it. Only with you. Only when you were the sole person there to see him. 

His tears rolled down the side of his cheek slowly. He was still quiet through it all. The only sign being his grip on your hand tightening, almost desperately wanting to hold you closer. 

You often watched your boyfriend, observing his eyes or his lips or his hands as he focused on something. His quirks and motions kept pulling you in. You didn’t know it was possible to be so mesmerized by a single person before you met Gamin. His determination, his drive, his resilience— there was so much about him that was admirable if you looked beneath the surface. Yet he had always been ignored and pushed aside for his grades and intelligence in school. He was dropped into a box that didn’t fit him, confined to a space that only restricted him further. But Gamin loved studying; he loved learning. It was something no one could take away from him, even as the world beat down on his back, testing to see when he would give up and finally stop trying. 

But he wouldn’t. Gamin’s stubbornness was both his strength and weakness. It hurt, but it made him who he was. 

As he wept silently in your arms, melting ever closer to your embrace, you could only feel pride simmering in you at his hard work. His effort would pay off in due time. You knew it would. For now, he would have to continue being patient, lingering at the feeling of the sweet kisses you gave him as comfort until a day when he felt a bit stronger to stand on his own. 

As his tears dried and quick soft kisses were pressed to his warm skin and lips that he could barely muster the energy to reciprocate, he tried to smile. Tried. Moments like these were usually something he enjoyed. Quiet comfort with you holding him so close. But it was still hard to ignore the sickening lurch in his stomach from anxiety at the thought of exam results. It seemed like this time of the year would never get easier for him. 

k-drama taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @cha3w0n-hearts,, @candewlsy,, @cosmicwintr,, @blossominghunnie,, @parkjennykim,, @seunghancore,, @emmylksblog,, @bananabubble,, @hrtsvivis,, @hursheys,, @lexeees,, @cupidslovearrows

[baek0hyunjoo]

ONE FOR THE COURAGE

Kwon Jiyong x Reader

Prompt: drunk confessions (BigBang April challenge day 8)

Warnings: none

Summary: you got a little bit wasted

Word count: 2.5k

AN: that was literally the last minute rewrite, I wanted something a little bit different but the idea killed itself mid process lol

The second to last city on the BigBang MADE tour was a wave crushing the rocks that day, japanese fans singing in unison sending the wave of noise so powerful you heard it in the backstage, sitting in your green room. All of you were excited, but also tired beyond the human body's ability. The tour was exhausting to say the least, your band just got used to make a few shows per month, maybe two, three at best, and then YG made you tour with BigBang as their opening act.

Were you excited? Absolutely. All of you girls loved your sunbaenims, to be on the same stage with them was a dream for any new group in the industry. So when Yan Hyungsuk decided on the opening act and gave you the papers to sign you almost jumped as if you were electrocuted.

Now, however, a full year after the tour started, you was ready to curse the day you signed the papers. The amount of shows you've done was astonishing, but the most agonizing thing in that tour was, of course, bearing with five idiots. The legends they were, but also just men, absurd and idiotic ones per se.

The long months shared with them made a bond that was not so easy to break: you were sharing hotel rooms, changing rooms, you were sleeping in the same beds and even sharing a shower - not because YG didn't have enough money, but because BigBang were a bunch of kids in adult male bodies. - with time everyone got used to it, and Jiyong falling down on your bed and snuggling into your side at 2am turned into something you wouldn't rise your eyebrows at, more like breathe in slowly and kick his boney ass off your bed.

A few weeks ago, though, something changed. Neither of you could understand what exactly, but Jiyong became softer, and the glances you were throwing at him lingered for longer than usual. During rehearsal he wouldn't take his eyes off you, a little smile would appear on his face, the one Jiyong wouldn't even feel, but the boys would notice.

"Just tell her, man." Youngbae stared at you, following Jiyong's gaze, his hands wrapping around Ji's shoulder energetically to tug him out off the trans.

Jiyong shook his head, his neon green locks falling down his face, finally blocking the view. "She doesn't feel the same, I just know."

On the other side of the stage, however, when the music stopped and you went for the nearest water bottles, your band members circled you tight.

"You mess up so much lately, Y/N..."

"Yeah, I've noticed too, what's happening?"

"She can't stop looking at Jiyong, that what's happening."

You growled, fingers stiffened around the thin plastic of the bottle almost making the water go over the edge. "Girls, shut up!"

Your voice was more of a whisper than a growl, eyes darting at all three of your friends and slipping between their head, cathing the glimpse of green in the distance, your stomach swirling at the thought of Jiyong hearing this conversation.

"Just tell him!" One of the girls wailed, getting a hard elbow strike in her ribs for causing too mach noise.

"How do you see it? Me just coming to him randomly and goin all "hi, Jiyong, the show was great btw I love you let's fuck"?" Wailing, your voice barely a hissing whisper, you turned around to place the bottle down on the table and pic up the mic.

"He's practically living in your bed, Y/N, just kiss him the next time he decides to throw his ass on your bed."

You would never let them know, but the idea of kissing Jiyong struck thunder bolts through your entire body. You couldn't stop thinking about casually shifting around in your bed with Jiyong lying there exhausted to the bone, completely wrecked after the long days of rehearsal and shows, and giving him a lingering kiss.

͏✧✧͏✧✧

Daesung's phone ringed ones, but he never cared to check the notification: the mangers have always called them if something was needed to be discussed, and they couldn't think of anything that would hold the same level of importance during the tour.

The boys were sitting in the bar, at the first floor of the lavish hotel YG booked for both BigBang and your group, the girls were sitting in the different room, minding the scandalous articles that were bound to be published if anyone would spot the two groups drinking together. Cause god forbids friends to have a drink, right?

Youngbae saw countless of waiters going up the elevator with endless drinks on their trays - getting a room service from the bar wasn't too common, and some of the hotel residents were going wild that night.

"I can't believe this whole tour is coming to an end, guys..." Youngbae looked down at his half empty bottle of sake, gulping heavily. "One more city to go, and we're free!" Taking the bottle off the table he straightened his hand to the center of the table, waiting for others to join him, as he heard Seunghyun pouting dramatically.

"And in the military..." The bottles clinked. "Cheers..."

"C'mon, hyung, it can't be that bad!" Daesung's lowd laughter ringed through the room and resonated off the walls, filling the small private cabin.

His phone vibrates once more, than again, and again a minute after it.

"Just check your phone, Dae!" Jiyong snapped, the endless ringing getting on his already light head.

Daesung turned his phone screen up, seeing a numerous notifications from your Instagram account:

Y/N started live

Y/N ended live

Y/N started live

Y/N ended live

Y/N started live

"I think our Y/N has a problem with handling her Instagram" Dae chuckled, scrolling through the notifications. "She kept messing up her live broadcast."

"She's doing a live broadcast?" Jiyong jolted, bending over the table and grabbing Daesung's phone out of his hands. "Let's see!"

He turned on the live, placing the phone on the table for everyone to watch. Your face appeared on the screen: puffed, heated, your eyes red and lips swollen just slightly, the bottle of sake in your hand. You've been reading the comments, eyes trembling as you tried to focuse on the tiny words, light giggles rolling off your lips once in a while.

"Am I drunk? Yup..." The words trailed off into nothingness as you started absentmindlessly into the screen, gulping out of the bottle. The soft laughter resonated though the speakers as you gulped down another portion of sake, almost spilling it out of your mouth. "Wanna know whyyyyyy am I drunk?... Ima bout to do somethin' stupid... Don't judge m'kay???"

As soon as you shifted on your bed, Youngbae's jaw dropped - the bottle you held in your hand was fifth one, if he counted the empty sake bottles that were spread on your bad correctly.

"She's not drunk, she's waisted..." Seunghyun laughed into his fist to die down the sound.

"Sooooooo...." All five of them have plastered back to the screen, eyes and ears picking up every little thing that was about to break free from you. "There's one guy and I'm too shy and I need to boost myself and get loose and ugh"

Daesung bent lower to the table, trying to read the comments that strated to running way too fast. "Is it GD? My girl has a crush on G Dragon? Jiyong got another girl under his charm; OMG my fave girl and my fave boy, yessss" at the end, he was laughing, darting sneaky glances at Jiyong, who was sitting there way too quiet, his dark eyes open wide and jaw clenched.

The second they heard the low laughter from the speaker they shat up, watching what were you about to say, lingering on Jiyong's name. "Jiyo-oong .. we sleep together, from time to time, nights with him are the best!" You melted into the wide lazy green, resting your chin on the bottle, eyes closing slowly in a dreamy motion.

Boys hadn't noticed when Jiyong disappeared, his spot got empty so fast they could only see his heels shining behind the closing door as he ran off to your suit.

"We sleep together in m'be-ed..." Your eyes sparkled as you read through the comments, your finger close to the camera, cathing the words. A mischievous giggle left your mouth when you mouthed one of the questions, words bubbling on your tongue. "Is he really good in bed? Hmmm" you mused into the air, curling the strand of your hair on your fingertip, face melting into the lazy smile. The second later your phone was placed on a pillow as you fell face down on the mattress, stretching on your bed, whimpering sweetly. "He's the best..." You cheeks heated up even more than before being buried into the pillows, covered with your hands tightly.

The comments went wild, live stream being tossed around between the fanpages as you were broadcasting, going from hundred people to thousands in a mere minute, all typing curious questions, words of surprise or else downright insults. You were telling people you slept with Jiyong, your hazy mind not making difference between your fantasies and reality anymore, giggles and whimpers filling the air of your suit as you were reading more provocative questions.

In the bar Daesung, Seunghyun and Taeyang were already panicking, the scandal could ruin the sweet taste of tour ending.

The next thing they hear from the video was loud thug and a scream. Jiyong appearing on Daesung's screen, sprinting from the door to your bed, the video wobbling for a couple of seconds as the mattress was pushed down and the phone snatched from your hand.

His face popping close to the camera, panic struck eyes glancing through the comments, as he blurted "We didn't" and ended the broadcast, throwing your phone on the other side of the bed.

"Y/N?" You felt his hands being wrapped around your shoulders, but your body had zero response to it, as he tried to turn you around on the mattress. "Y/N, what are you doing?"

Looking at the mess your suit had become, numbers of empty sake bottles lying all over your bed, some empty shot jitters on the nightstand, bowl with untouched fruits on the floor under your bed, Jiyong sighted, sliding his hands down his face.

"You're such a trouble maker..." He couldn't even be angry at you, fully realizing what mess this broadcast will create in just pure minutes.

"You're trouble-mak'r..." You mumbled, your hand finding its way to Jiyong's and tugging down on it, making him fall down on your bed. The second his body was smashed to the mattress, you wrapped him like a tree, leg thrown over his waist and hands wrapped around his neck. "Your fault"

You nuzzled into Jiyong's hair, tracing the scent of cigarettes and wooden cologne, mewling into him. Jiyong's whole body stiffened both from not being able to move and from you being so close to him, your skin almost melted into each other.

Just a few seconds later he heard you breathing slowly, drifting away into the sleep, a soft smile stretching on his face on the sound.

"I love you, Jiyong..."

The smile on his face froze. Could it just be your dreamy mind saying gibberish, or was it... Alcohol telling the truth that was buried deep down inside?

͏✧✧͏✧✧

You woke up to a dozen water bottles scattered all around your room, groaning as you held yourself up to a sitting position.

"What happened?.." you mused to yourself, hands wrapping around your ringing head, and jolted on Jiyong's voice echoenig from the bathroom.

"You got wasted on Instagram live." A few seconds later he popped out in the doorframe, his shirt hanging on his shoulder as he brushed his teeth. "You said we slept together." He shrugged, being way too relaxed.

"I said what?" You screeched, regretting it the same second as the pain stuck your head as if you were pierced with a spear. Jiyong jogged to your side, snatching the bottle of water on his way and opening it in a swift motion.

"You said that I'm good in bed." The look of his smug face made your stomach swirling, both from how stupidly lovely he looked and how you hated the words he just said. He pressed the bottle to your lips, waiting for you to make a few gulps. "You also said you love me..."

Slapsh. The water was on Jiyong's face, you coughing roughly, each cough breaking your hangovered head into billion sharp pieces.

"I... Did I said it on live?" Breathing heavily, you watched Jiyong climb onto your bed, making himself comfortable right in front of you.

Thankfully, he shook his head. "No, you just said it to me..."

The look on his face was unreadable. You wanted him to show you any signs of what he felt, was he disgusted or was he delighted by your words, you wanted at least something that would help you decide on what to say now. You eyes were wandering around Jiyong's face, trying to catch some emotions.

Jiyong? Jiyong was way too scared to even think of what he felt. He was waiting for you to make it or break it, waiting for you to either laugh it off or go all in. His eyes was set on yours firmly, the wait way agonizing.

"Jiyong I..." You head fell loose, eyes darting at your fingers fidgeting the light fabric of the blanket. You squinched your eyes shot, right before blurting the words out, hoping Jiyong will just miss it. "I do"

When you opened your eyes, it wasn't from his answer or the lack of it. It was from the pressure of his lips on yours, his arms on your sides, putting you closer as if you were Jiyong's lifeline. The kiss wasn't desperate, it was passionate yet shy, both of you too scared it will ruin everything you've built on this tour.

The kiss was broken only because your lungs needed more air.

"Youngbae told me weeks ago to just tell you..." The nervous chuckle rolled off Jiyong's lips melting into the skin of your cheek, his body trembling softly from the laugher.

"Girls told me to tell you too." You chortled, making a face on a sudden headache.

"They won't live it down"

"Never..."

You both laughed, Jiyong nuzzling into the crook of your neck, and for the first time with him you didn't know what to do with your hands. You never hesitated to slap him, or shake him, even embrace him friendly, but now you let your hands wave over his neck a few inches away, wavering between touching him softly and keeping your hands away.

"Let's keep it a secret til the end of the tour?" You jolted when Jiyong lifted his head, the skin of his neck brushing over your hand that was still mid air, the quick change of his face to something undeniably ecstatic melted you to the core.

You nodded, gaze lingering on the soft features of Jiyong's face melting into your touch.

challenge taglist: @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @loveesiren @sevendaysummer @gdinthehouseee @eru-vande @bluesunss @emmiesoverthemoon @petersasteria @currentloser @makeitworse @berfgrimm @sherxoo @aizshallnotbefound @keiraryan

Tag: @xxxicddbr88

[baek0hyunjoo]

I think I need myself some secret romance T.O.P and GD's little sister

Discretion ? I don't think So

Hello ! So, first of all, I'm sorry for the wait, it often take me some time to do the request cause I need time to think and get inspired. The challenge with that was to make it in one part so it's more of a relation than romance. Otherwise for a fanfiction it probably could have been a cute Slow Burn. I hope you will still Like it. TW : Not full Smut but mention of it.

You stepped out of the train and directly rushed into Jiyong's arms when you noticed him. Since you didn't live  at Seoul and didnt have a car Yet, when you want to visit your brother, you always take the train and of course, he’s always there to bring you at the train station. With all the fame Big bang has, having you around is always a little bit dangerous. Even If you are G-Dragon's little sister and all the fanbase knows about you, sneaking you into the house is not that easy. After all, your brother lives with other guys and if the fans came to know about you staying with them even for vacation, that could be a problem. Who knows what can happen in those walls. And actually, The fanbase wouldn't be wrong this time. After all, you are secretly in a relationship with Seung Hyun for almost a year now and even your own brother doesn't know about it. When You visit him at Seoul, it's of course to see and spend time with him but also with your boyfriend. When you can’t do a trip to Seoul, it happen that Seung Hyun come to see you or his days off and pass two or three day at your place and as much as you like to have him around, it’s kinda hard since you can’t do activities like a normal couple outside of the horse so you prefer to see him at Seoul. It’s easier to plan things and have more privacy. On your way to the boys house, you talk with Ji Yong about recent things that happened at work and some drama around it. You said how some coworkers are annoying, asking you out again and again, making him laugh.

_Why are you Laughing ? _They seem to like you a lot to ask you again and again. Why do you not accept to just go out with one of them ? _Well, because… I don’t want a Boyfriend. I need to focus on my work and I don’t want any distraction. And if things didn’t end well, I don’t want things to be weird or the other coworker to involve themselves into everything. _Yeah, now that you mention it, it’s totally fair.

It’s kinda hard to not be able to say to Him that you already have a Boyfriend. Normally I would have been the first to know, but since this person is a member of his group, you prefer to keep it secret to avoid potential problems. As much as you wish to marry Seung Hyun and end your life with him, you are still careful cause you both don’t want to create issues if your relationship has to come to an end.

Once you entered the boys house, you could smell something nice in the air and smiled. Daesung and Taeyang, who were playing video Games came to greet you and hugged you. Seung Hyun was the last one to come see you and when you saw him, you couldn’t help it and smiled more. He wore a dirty apron, making you guess he was one who cooked tonight. He does that often when he comes to see you at your place. Actually He never let you cook when he’s around. You hope it’s not cause once Ji Yong told everyone you messed up some easy recipes like rice or eggs. You even burned some cookies you had made for school when you were sixteen. Now you are way better at cooking things since you live alone.

_What are you making for us Tonight, Seung Hyun ? Asked your brother _Oh, you're gonna see. Something you will probably enjoy, he answered as he gave you a look. _And How do you know she will ? _You talk about her so much, I start to guess what she will like, he answered before his eyes went back to you. You will have to excuse me for not giving you a hug like the others did, I'm sort of… dirty. _It’s fine, let’s save this for later, you answered with a smile. Do you need help in the kitchen? _Hell No, answered Ji Yong, I would like to still have a Kitchen by the end of the evening. Let Seung Hyun handle it while we go put your stuff in your room.

The boys laugh at your brother’s comment and you blush,embarrassed. Your brother let you use Taeyang old room. Since he lives with his wife now, this room is empty most of the time and almost became yours. You planned to stay a week so you packed a lot of outfits and even some more… revealing, hoping to have at least one moment alone with your boyfriend. As you put everything in the drawers, someone knocked at your door before it open. You turn around to see who it was and smile when you notice Seung Hyun. He had removed his dirty apron. You didn’t lose time and threw yourself in his arms, hugging him tightly as he hug you back.

_I missed you, you said. _I missed you too.

You stayed a little more in his arms before he let you go. You gave him a kiss on the cheek and went back to your clothes duties.

_For how long did you plan to stay, he asked. _A week, at least. I took vacation from work because I wanted to spend more time with you. I hope it’s okay.. _Of course, We will figure out when we can have a little date.

You both heard Ji Yong's voice from the kitchen, saying the meal will burn if Seung Hyun does not come back to watch after it. You rolled your eyes as your boyfriend opened the door.

_See you later, love, He said before leaving.

The first evening you had with the guys was fun. Seung Hyun's food was delicious as alway, he even cooked cookies. He was right about how much you will enjoy it, cause you did. After dinner, you helped the boys to clean the kitchen and discussed having a game night. Taeyang refused, saying he had to go home, but all the others agreed. Ji Yong and Daesung left to go grab some snacks at the grocery store, leaving you alone with Seung Hyun. You quickly decided to go take a shower. As you undressed in the bathroom, the door behind you slowly opened before you could feel your boyfriend’s arms around you and his lips on your naked shoulder. You shiver and smile.

_Want to take a Shower with me ? You asked softly. _I would love to, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. The guys will come back soon.

You turned around and passed your arms around his neck, still smiling.

_So we're gonna have to make it quick.

You pressed your Lips against SeungHyun's, as your fingers slided in his air.  His hands on your hips pulled you closer to him as he answered your kiss. You slowly take a step back, still holding him, carefulling making your way to the shower, your lips still glued to his. When you were close enough, your hands went down to the base of his top and removed it, pulling away from his lips before you crashed it back to it.

_Okey, You win, Go first, I will join you in a minute, said Seun Hyun against your lips.

You pulled away, smiling before you started the shower and entered it.  When your boyfriend was ready, he joined you in it and pushed you against the cold wall of the shower. His lips came back to yours  and you quickly started to forget that you had to make it really quick. The room was filled by the steam of the shower but also from the heat of your bodies collapsing against each other.  Once you finished ‘’ taking a shower ‘’ you got out and rolled yourself in a big towel as Seung hyun put his around his hips. He gently kissed you on the forehead and left the room first. That’s when you heard your brother’s voice coming from the living room.

_What about time guys. You could have told us at least that you wanted to be alone.

Seung hyun had frozen in the living room when he noticed JiYong and Daesung on the couch. You felt your cheeks burning and you quickly put on your pyjama before getting out of the bathroom to join them in the living room. This time, you had nothing to say. No excuses could be used.

_From how long have you been back ? You asked _Long enough to hear things I would like to never hear again. But at least we had our headphones.

You looked at Seung Hyun, he looked as embarrassed as you.

_I know you guys are a thing but next time, warn us. Since when ? Asked your boyfriend _I had my doubts when Once a month your snapchat map says you are at my sister’s house. And We also caught you when we came back from the studio and you were asleep on the couch last time Y/N visited. And after today I can be certain that discretion is not your thing at all.

As much embarrassed you felt, you were sort of happy that your brother knew. You will not have to hide anymore in front of him or any other group member, at least.