sooo remember when some of you asked for a pt 2 to either the sieun or suho fic? well . . SURPRISE ! one of them is getting another part !! I won’t say who just yet ( nyeheehee secret for now 🤭 ), but I’ve been writing and I’m almost done : ) just a little heads up tho . . this one’s gonna hurt a bit 🥀
where’d you go imma need u to spin back that suho fic by the time i come back from the hospital please 😭🙏
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I’m so sorry for disappearing help ong I went on a whole unplanned hiatus 💔 BUT I’m back neoow and si-eun ( and the rest of the boiz heh ) are still in my drafts waiting to be unleashed ! I hope you’re doing okay and recovering well from the hospital too 🫶🏻
WDYM YOU HAVE ONLY TWO MASTERPIECES ABOUT WHC BOYS AS THE BEST WRITER?!!?? LIKE LITERALLY CAME ACROSS YOUR PAGE AND I WAS READY TO DEVOUR MORE😣😣😣 my fav writer HANDS DOWN🛐🛐🛐
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STAWP you’re literally too sweet omg. it makes me so happy you found my page even if I only have 2 whc fics up so far 🥹🫶🏻 I promise I haven’t abandoned the boys !!
I SAW I SAW pleeease write for yushi or riku next ❤️🩹 it doesn't even have to be a full fledged fic, i'd just love to hear what your thoughts are on how they'd be during the newlywed stage :> and any thoughts you may have on yushi's libido
soft but passionate, a little wild in private — yushi might come across as pure and gentle, but when it’s just the two of you, he lets his desires flourish. his grip on your hips, the way he leaves purple love bites along your collarbone, or how he slowly traces his fingertips down your stomach, he’s not afraid to show you just how much he wants you.
he loves positions where he can see your face, watch your expressions, and gauge your pleasure — missionary, spooning, or you straddling his lap. he especially adores adding a few kisses to your most sensitive spots, he’s a generous lover who aims to make you feel worshipped.
he’s a big believer in consent and communication — a whispered “is this okay..?” or “baby, should I go faster?” is a constant thread during your most intimate moments. his confidence grows alongside your growing trust, making every new experience a shared adventure.
he loves the feeling of skin-on-skin — after a passionate moment, you’re often left resting against him, your breaths syncing, hearts slowing together. he finds pure happiness in simply feeling you close, a kind of vulnerable, raw connection that leaves both of you feeling complete.
he’s a generous pleaser — for yushi, there’s something profoundly intimate about making you feel good. he’d press kisses down your stomach, linger at your thighs, and slowly learn the most sensitive, vulnerable spots that make you tremble. his libido might be high, especially during the newlywed phase, but he’s always careful to make sure you’re comfortable and completely at ease.
he loves initiation from you, too — when you tug him back into bed with a mischievous glimmer in your eyes or boldly straddle him after a shower, it drives him wild. his grip tightens, a shaky breath leaves his lips, and a rush of pure need crosses his face, he’s completely yours in those moments.
he’s a big cuddler afterwards — HE JS LOVES THE FEELING OF SKIN-ON-SKIN, limbs intertwined, he traces circles along your back and plays with your hair. his heart feels so full, he can’t help but whisper “I love you” against your skin. sometimes, he falls asleep with his face resting against your stomach or your sternum, safely anchored by you.
yushi LOVES kissing your forehead first thing in the morning — just a gentle peck to say, “I’m here, you’re safe, you’re mine.” and then he lingers there for a moment, closing his eyes and smiling against your skin. sometimes, he’ll press another small kiss to your nose, then your lips, until you’re both smiling and reluctantly forced to wake up.
he leaves small notes all over your home — a “thought of you today”, “can't wait to see you after work”, or a simple “I love love love you” alongside a doodle of a heart or your initials intertwined. sometimes you find them slipped into your wallet, your shoe, or even your book, turning every corner of your routines into a romantic surprise.
he prefers slow-dancing with you in the kitchen while you cook together — the two of you humming quietly to whatever song is on, resting his chin on your shoulder, letting the moment sink in while you fold batter or chop veggies side by side. it's pure happiness, a calm refuge from the chaos outside :)
he insists you carry matching keychains or rings, a symbol that you’re connected no matter the distance or time — a small, shimmering thread tying your hearts together across space and routines.
he plans surprise date nights — a rooftop dinner under the purple sunset, a spa bath for two filled with rose petals and essential oils, a midnight walk hand in hand with the city’s pulse all around you, just to make sure you feel valued, cared for, and celebrated.
he loves resting his head against your stomach or your lap while you’re reading or listening to your favorite song — closing his eyes and syncing his breaths with yours, feeling completely at peace in your warmth.
⋆ 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗨
dream-like romance with a side of temptation — riku might be gentle, but he certainly isn’t timid in the bedroom. he loves turning up the warmth, kissing you slowly down your stomach, tugging at the waistband of your panties, making you tremble in nervous, eager anticipation.
he’s passionate but patient — riku lets you set the pace, adding small, deliberate touches that slowly bring you toward a passionate release. he prefers positions where he can feel close to you, doggy style with a romantic twist, reverse spooning, or straddling him while he guides your movements. he loves to grip your thighs or your hips, adding pressure at just the right moment.
he finds greatest happiness in making you feel desirable and wanted — riku’s kisses are deep and passionate, his words a mixture of affirmation and temptation, whispering in your ear just how much he craves you. he might say, “you’re so beautiful.. so perfect.. I want to make you feel everything…”, turning your senses up a notch until there’s only you, him, and pure passion.
he’s a passionate explorer — riku loves trying new things with you, from adding a small silky blindfold for a bit of mystery, to tying your hands with a ribbon ( with your consent, of course ), adding a gentle flavor of domination. his main objective is making sure you feel desirable, cared for, and completely unpressured.
he’s a master of afterplay — after making you come, riku doesn’t rush away; instead, he kisses up your thighs, traces patterns with his fingertips, and murmurs affectionate words until you’re fully back down from your high.
he again finds pure happiness in your trust — for riku, there’s something profoundly intimate about you trusting him with your vulnerabilities. so he strives to make each moment together feel comforting, passionate, and healing — a refuge for both of you.
he melts every time you call him “husband” — his cheeks grow rosy, his pulse races, and he cannot hide his happiness. it’s a word that resonates deep within him, a symbol of loyalty, unity, and eternal connection.
he draws you a warm bath after a tiring day — adding flower petals, a few drops of essential oil, lighting a small group of scented candles, creating a restful sanctuary just for you. then he quietly stands by, towel in hand, ready to wrap you up in softness afterwards.
he loveslovesloves resting his head on your lap while you watch a movie or read together — it's his safest, most vulnerable spot, where worries fade away and the world feels distant. sometimes, he falls asleep there, his breaths growing heavy and deep against you, a pure expression of trust.
he brings you breakfast in bed frequently — pancakes, strawberries, a small note with a sweet confession of his growing affection. sometimes he traces a small heart on the plate with syrup or arranges the food to form a heart-shaped meal, just to make you smile first thing in the morning :b
he quietly collects photos and mementos — turning them into a scrapbook filled with stories, moments, and promises for your future together. each page is a testament to your growing bond — a love that deepens with each passing day.
he finds magic in the small routines you share — washing dishes side by side, folding laundry together, or simply sitting quietly in each other’s company, not needing words to feel connected c':
𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: while some of these fluffier moments are especially sweet during the newlywed phase, they’re really not limited to just that ! 🩶 these gestures ( big or small ) can happen at ANY point in your relationship, whether you’re just dating, engaged, or years into your marriage. yushi and riku’s love evolves, but it’s the kindness, patience, and affection that keep it alive, no matter the stage.
Hi, sweets! Just wanna say i love your writing! You really wrote and captured their characters so well, like it's really on point. Anyway, thank you for writing these delightful fics, please continue to write more! (Especially sieun, i love him but you do you dear! You're the writer, write however you want!❤️)
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anon hii omjjj thank you so so much for this ily !!! i’m actually blushing reading it help jdsjjdshd the fact that you think I captured their characters well means everything to me fr huhuhu . . and YES si-eun truthers rise !! I def wanna write him again soooon and write more more more <3
hii! ur writing is so good. like phenomenal. pleasee continue writing these amazing works <333
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emi hi helloo !! your message actually made me squeal fr what do you meannnn “phenomenal” omfg i’m gonna cry . . I pinky promise i’ll keep writing more for you :b take care always !!
your sieun and suho fics were so good… characterised on point and the perfect read 😭 atp we need one for every character 🙏🏻🙏🏻 fr made me feel like a virgin again LOL
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anonnnn you’re actually so real for this 😭 the “made me feel like a virgin again” part has me ROLLING omg i’m so happy you loved both si-eun and su-ho’s fics !!! I really tried my best to keep them in-character while still making it a little indulgent hehehe and YESSS I agree we do need one for every character now 😋 guess it’s time to cook again fr, maybe next w seong-je ??
ㅤsypnosis ⁝ㅤㅤa curious question turns into something much more intimate — with su-ho being surprisingly good at teaching.ㅤㅤ〝 cw.ㅤㅤprotected sex, oral sex ( f & m rec. ), light praise kink, best friends to ??ㅤㅤ﹪ㅤㅤ𝖺𝗁𝗇 𝗌𝗎-𝗁𝗈 × 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
you met su-ho during orientation week — he was late, loud, and still somehow the most magnetic person in the room. you were the opposite. quieter, awkward, unsure where to stand, too anxious to even hold your own schedule right-side-up.
you remember it clearly: him crashing into a folding chair, laughing too hard, calling your name like he already knew it. he made you feel like you belonged in a room you had just started shrinking away from. and that’s all it really took.
from then on, it was you and su-ho. always in the same frame. your classmates joked about it constantly — if they saw one, they expected the other. he became your person, the one who waited outside your labs, the one who shared earphones on the train back, the one who’d text yo dummy u eat yet at ungodly hours like it was part of your daily survival.
you were different, but you got each other. he’d distract you during exams, you’d calm him down before presentations. it just.. worked. and maybe that’s why no one ever suspected anything deeper. not even you.
you were used to being mistaken for the girl who liked si-eun — he was the calm one, the smart one, the one people admired from a distance. and truthfully? you did admire him.
it was hard not to. but it never made your stomach flip. not like the way su-ho looked at you sometimes. not like the way he’d lean back on his arms, grin at you sideways, and say things like “what, you thinking dirty thoughts or something?” just because you zoned out for two seconds.
you laughed it off like always. he joked about everything. teased like it was his default language. but lately — lately, it’s been harder to ignore how warm your face gets. how your chest does that annoying twisty thing when he slings an arm over your shoulder. how you catch yourself wondering if he actually knows more than he lets on.
because the thing is — you don’t know anything. not really. not when it comes to sex. not beyond vague textbook definitions and secondhand stories from friends. you never bothered asking before. it always felt far away, not something meant for you.
until you realized you didn’t want to be left behind.
until you realized you wanted to understand.
and more than that — more than anything — you wanted to ask him.
you weren’t sure why at first. maybe it was because su-ho always made you feel safe, even when you were dumb or confused or too flustered to speak. maybe it was because he never made you feel stupid for not knowing.
maybe it was because part of you, deep down, knew he’d be honest. or maybe it was just the way he said your name sometimes. like he was waiting for you to ask something — anything.
you don’t know when exactly it started. the way your eyes would linger on his lips when he laughed. the way your heart did that unexplainable flutter when he licked honey off his thumb one morning during breakfast. it wasn’t about romance. it wasn’t about being in love. it was about wanting to know. about needing to understand.
and su-ho.. su-ho was the first person that came to mind.
it’s little things, really. the things you used to ignore. like how su-ho always sprawls himself out across your bed when he visits, like it’s his own. he’ll toss his phone aside, prop himself up on one elbow, shirt riding a little too high, and say, “you’re not gonna fail your midterms if you lie down for five minutes. c’mon.” and you’ll cave. you always do. you’ll end up beside him, shoulder to shoulder, his knee brushing yours.
he never moves away. there’s no reason to panic, you tell yourself. you’re friends. he’s like this with everyone. maybe he just doesn’t care about personal space.
maybe the way his voice dips a little when he calls you “baby” is just a joke. he says that to strangers too, doesn’t he?
but then there are the nights he talks quieter. like when you’re both half-asleep after cramming for exams, the light from your desk still casting a soft gold against the room.
he’ll mutter something like, “you’re too cute when you’re sleepy, y’know that?” and you’ll freeze. because it doesn’t feel like a joke. not then.
and maybe he doesn’t realize the effect he has on you. maybe he doesn’t see the way your breath catches when he leans over your shoulder to check your notes, the warmth of his chest ghosting your back.
maybe he doesn’t notice the way your thighs press together when he lounges back and pats the space between his legs with a casual, “you can sit here, dummy. I don’t bite.”
but you notice.
you notice everything now.
you notice how he smells — like warm fabric softener and that faint trace of cologne he probably thinks you don’t recognize. you notice the way his hands look when he’s typing or fiddling with his rings.
you notice how low his voice can drop when he’s serious — or when he’s annoyed, like that time someone tried to flirt with you at a party. he got quiet. didn’t say anything for ten minutes after.
just passed you your drink and stared across the room like he was trying to set something on fire. and yet, even with all of that — with how aware you’ve become of him — you still don’t know how to bring it up. not the way you want to.
not the way it’s started echoing in your head at night, in the quiet moments between being awake and asleep.
you’ve had dreams. not always clear, not always intense — but enough. enough to wake up and feel heat between your thighs, confusion in your chest. enough to leave you sitting there, alone in your sheets, wondering what it would feel like.
to be touched.
to be wanted.
to be taught.
and for some reason, you can’t imagine anyone else doing it but su-ho.
not si-eun, not a stranger, not someone from a checklist. just him. the boy who knows your favorite drink and the password to your phone. the one who holds your wrist when you’re walking through crowded streets. the one who grins like he’s never met someone funnier than you, even when you’re not trying.
you’re not in love, you don’t think. but you do think about how it would feel to be touched by someone who already knows all your soft parts.
who’s already seen you at your most unguarded. who calls you “trouble” in the same breath he offers you his last bite of food.
you wonder — if he touched you, would it still feel like friendship? or would it finally feel like the answer to everything you’ve been too scared to ask?
it happens on a thursday. nothing particularly special about it — your classes ended early, your hair’s still a little damp from a rushed shower, and su-ho’s on your bed again, hoodie sleeves pushed up, legs stretched long like always.
he’s scrolling through something aimlessly on your phone, and you’re sitting at your desk, pretending to be preoccupied with your laptop, but mostly just staring at nothing.
there’s something different in the air today. maybe it’s just you. maybe you’ve been holding it in too long. you’ve gone through every possible version of this in your head: how to say it, how he might react, what it would mean.
maybe he’d laugh. maybe he’d tease you for the rest of your life. or maybe — just maybe — he’d say yes. and it’s that maybe that makes your stomach twist.
that makes your fingers tighten around your mug and your tongue feel too big for your mouth. you don’t look at him when you finally say it.
“can I ask you something?”
your voice comes out smaller than expected. like you’re already regretting the thought. he hums lazily, doesn’t look up. “you just did.”
“no, like—seriously.”
that gets his attention. he shifts, sits up a bit straighter, and turns to you, brows raised. “you good?”
you nod, too fast. “yeah. yeah, just—”
the words feel heavier in your mouth than they did in your head. this felt easier when it was 1am and you were half-asleep and desperate. now, with him actually looking at you, it feels like you’re about to step off a cliff with your eyes wide open.
“can you teach me?”
he blinks. “teach you what?”
you don’t really know how long you sit there, legs tucked under you on the edge of your chair, while su-ho stays crouched in front of you like he’s not even thinking about how awkward that must feel for his knees.
there’s something in his eyes that you haven’t seen before — not even when he’s being overly gentle, not even when he’s drunk and slurring jokes and leaning his weight on you like he trusts you to carry it..
“so,” he starts again, voice low, a little careful. “when you say ‘teach,’ what exactly do you mean?”
you hesitate, then — in the quietest voice you’ve ever used — you say, “about sex.”
the silence that follows is unreal. like the air thins, like time stalls for a second too long. you want to hide. maybe crawl under your desk. maybe vanish entirely. but then you hear him shift again, a soft rustle of fabric, and when you finally glance at him —
his expression isn’t mocking, it isn’t judgmental, it’s just still. quiet, a little wide-eyed, like he’s trying to make sure he heard you right.
“wait,” he says, voice low. “you’re serious?”
you nodded, your throat is dry. his brows furrow slightly, but there’s no laughter, no teasing. just something unreadable flickering across his face. he leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes searching yours.
you swallow. “I mean—like, I know what sex is, obviously. I just…” you trail off, scrunching your face. “I don’t know what it’s actually like. or how to do it. or what’s supposed to feel good. i’ve never done anything. not even with myself.”
his brows lift, surprised — but not in a mocking way. if anything, he looks more thoughtful. his voice stays quiet, almost too gentle.
“you’ve never?”
you shake your head. “no.”
“not even kissing?”
“not really. maybe like… dumb little pecks in high school. never something serious.”
su-ho exhales slowly through his nose and leans back a little, settling cross-legged on your rug now, chin tilted up to still meet your gaze. “okay. wow. okay.”
“is that bad?”
“no,” he says quickly, firmly. “not bad. not at all. it’s just—” he runs a hand through his hair, a little stunned. “i didn’t know. you never seemed like someone who’d be shy about stuff like this.”
you shrug, suddenly very interested in your desk lamp. “I guess I just never trusted anyone enough. or cared enough. until…”
you don’t finish the sentence. you don’t have to. he looks at you for a long moment. and then his expression softens.
“okay,” he says again, slower this time. “so you’re not asking me for a hookup. you’re asking me to… guide you?”
you nod.
“and this is what you want?”
you glance at him, then down at your hands. “I think so. but I don’t want to regret anything. I don’t want it to feel like… just a lesson. like you’re doing me a favor or something.”
he shakes his head, almost laughing under his breath. “believe me,” he mutters, “if I didn’t want it, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
you look up. “you’d want to? with me?”
he rolls his eyes a little, teasing now. “you’re cute, you know that?”
your heart jumps stupidly.
but he’s already reaching for your hand, holding it between both of his like it’s nothing — like it’s something he’s always wanted to do but never got around to.
“look,” he says, thumbs brushing slow circles into your skin. “if we do anything, I want it to be because you feel safe. because you’re curious and I get to help you understand your body. not because you think you’re behind or missing out.”
you nod again, slower this time. “I just want to feel close to someone. and I… I guess I trust you the most.”
his smile turns soft, so soft it feels like a hug.
“then we’ll take it slow,” he murmurs. “you set the pace. we talk through everything. and we stop whenever you feel weird, no questions asked.”
your chest tightens in the best kind of way. not scared. not shy. just warm. like you’re really being held, even without his arms around you.
“can I ask things?” you say. “like, stupid things?”
“you can ask me anything,” he says. “even if it’s what that little flap on condoms is for.”
you laugh, a little too loud. “you know I almost asked you that once.”
“I know. I saw you hovering over the search bar in incognito mode.”
you groan, tossing your head back, but su-ho’s grinning now, bright and proud like he lives to make you flustered.
“so, okay,” he says. “i’ll answer stuff. we’ll go slow. and we’ll make it, y’know… a learning experience. a good one. no pressure. no tests at the end. just…” he pauses. “just me and you. figuring it out together.”
you squeeze his hand back, and when you finally look up again — his eyes are still soft. still watching you like you’re something rare and good. and for once, you believe it.
the first time his mouth finds its way between your legs, it’s nothing like what your imagination tried to prepare you for.
there’s no rush, no hunger, no mess of fingers fumbling to strip you bare all at once. just su-ho, kneeling at the edge of your bed, coaxing you to lie back while his hands trail slow up your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.
“i’m gonna teach you how to enjoy this,” he murmurs, thumbs pressing softly at the inside of your knees to spread them apart. “and how to tell me what feels good. okay?”
your voice comes out small. “okay.”
he leans down, kisses your knee. then a little higher. then a little higher than that.
you’re already wet — he makes some low, surprised noise when he slides your underwear down and sees it for himself — but he doesn’t tease. doesn’t smirk or comment or make you feel like this is some joke.
instead, his hands keep you open, warm and steady, while his mouth lowers between your legs like it belongs there. the first press of his tongue to your slit makes you twitch.
“oh—”
“it’s okay,” he says, voice muffled but soothing. “just relax. tell me if anything feels too much.”
and then he starts again.
soft, slow licks at first, more about getting you used to the feeling than chasing anything. you feel like you’re floating — like your whole body’s pulling taut, breath catching every time he flattens his tongue against your cunt and draws a long stripe up through your folds. when he finds your clit, you nearly jolt again, gasping.
“there?” he murmurs. “that sensitive?”
you nod quickly. “yeah—y-yeah.” he hums, and the vibration makes you arch slightly.
“good,” he says. “it’ll get more sensitive the more turned on you are. it’s not about pressure—it’s about rhythm. like this.”
he circles it gently with the tip of his tongue, again and again, unhurried, careful not to overwhelm you too quickly. his hands stroke over your thighs, calming you as your body stutters and writhes. the sounds coming from you are soft, unsure, breathy little moans that escape before you can stop them.
he lifts his head only briefly. “you’re doing so good, baby. i’m proud of you.”
that single sentence makes your heart squeeze, makes your hips lift up for more. he smiles, then goes back in — and this time he’s firmer, more purposeful. you can tell he’s been holding back, and now that he knows you’re okay, he gives in a little more.
suckling your clit between his lips, tracing his tongue in slick circles, pausing every few seconds to hear how your breath catches, to listen to what makes you moan.
you’re not even thinking when you whisper, “I feel something—i think—”
“let it happen,” he whispers against you. “don’t be scared. let it build.”
and when it does — when the knot inside you snaps and everything floods hot and sharp and overwhelming — you feel his hands hold you down, grounding you, his mouth never leaving you until it all ebbs and your legs are shaking.
you don’t even realize there are tears in your eyes until he’s crawling up your body, wiping them away gently.
“too much?”
you shake your head. “no. that was… that was so good.”
he kisses your forehead. then your lips. “told you.”
you laugh breathlessly. “you’re actually a really good teacher.” he smirks at that, but it fades into something softer. more thoughtful.
“wanna try something now?” he asks, settling beside you. “you don’t have to, but if you want, I can show you what I like too.”
you nod. “yeah.. I want to. teach me, I asked for this, remember?”
he breathes out slowly, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes so quickly.
“okay,” he says. “c’mere.”
he guides your hand down first — shows you how to unbutton his jeans, how to ease them down. his cock is already hard, flushed, leaking at the tip, and when your eyes widen, he grins.
“it looks big,” you mumble.
“it won’t hurt,” he promises. “not if we go slow. and besides, i’m not asking you to take it all. not yet.”
you swallow. “so… what do I do?”
he leans back slightly against the pillows, voice a low rumble now.
“start with your hand,” he says. “wrap your fingers around it, gentle. just like that—yeah. perfect.”
you’re fascinated. it’s hot and heavy in your grip, pulsing a little when you stroke up. su-ho groans, a quiet sound that sends a jolt straight between your legs again.
“use your thumb,” he pants. “over the tip. fuck—that’s it. damn, you’re a fast learner.”
you watch his face as he reacts to every little thing you try, how his jaw clenches when you squeeze a little, how his chest rises when you lick a tentative stripe up the length of his cock.
he guides you without pressure, encouraging you softly, telling you what feels good, what he likes.
“use your mouth,” he breathes. “just the tip. go slow, baby. just like that—fuck.”
his hand settles lightly at the back of your head but doesn’t push, just rests there, as you wrap your lips around him. it’s warm, salty, a little overwhelming — but the way he moans your name makes you want to keep going.
he’s so vocal, breathy and praising between gasps. “you’re doing so good,” he whispers. “so pretty like this. your mouth feels so fucking nice—shit.”
you hollow your cheeks, experiment with your tongue, and when you glance up at him, when your eyes meet his while you suck slowly, he curses under his breath and pulls you off with a shaky hand.
“if you keep going,” he says, voice wrecked, “i’ll come. and I don’t wanna come yet.”
you smile, dazed, lips slick with spit. “was i good?” he laughs, short, breathless, affectionate.
“you’re perfect.” and then he leans in to kiss you again, deeper this time.
“you okay?” su-ho asks again, quieter now, brushing your hair away from your face. his thumb strokes your cheek while his other hand rests over your waist, the heat of his palm grounding you, still holding onto the last of your breathless high from before.
you nod. “mm-hmm.” then softer, “more than okay.”
he smiles, then leans in and kisses you gently — slow, like he’s giving you time to change your mind, even now.
but when you kiss him back with that same neediness you’ve been carrying since you first asked him to teach you, his hand slides lower, resting on your hip.
“you wanna keep going?”
you nod again. “yeah. I… I think I want to try.”
his gaze scans your face. you know he’s checking for nerves, doubt, fear — but all he finds is a quiet kind of trust. something that makes his voice go softer when he speaks again.
“okay,” he says, “but we talk first. that’s part of it too.”
you blink. “talk?”
he nods. “before sex. especially your first time. communication makes everything better. safer. and honestly?” he grins a little, “hotter too.”
you bite your lip. “what do we talk about?”
“a few things,” he murmurs, kissing down your jaw. “protection first.”
he shifts away for a moment, reaching for his backpack on the floor. he pulls something out — silver foil, crinkly — and raises his brows at you like he’s been waiting to use it for this exact moment.
“su-ho,” you say slowly, “why do you have a condom in your backpack.”
he snorts. “remember the frat party? si-eun and I saw it in the cr, he didn't want it so I picked it up.”
you roll your eyes. “you guys are idiots.”
“probably,” he shrugs. “but at least i’m a responsible idiot.” you watch as he sets the condom gently on the nightstand, not rushing to open it.
“we use this,” he says, “every time. unless we both get tested and talk about it first. cool?” you nod. “cool.”
he smiles. “good. next topic: positions.” you blinked, “there’s more than one?”
his laugh is soft, affectionate. “there are a lot. but for your first time, we should pick one that feels safest and lets me see your face. missionary’s the classic. I can also be on my knees with your legs over my thighs. or we can spoon. slow and close.”
you flush, trying to picture any of them. “you choose. I trust you.”
his gaze warms at that, softening again in that way you’ve only ever seen in rare moments.
“then we’ll go slow. missionary. but we can adjust anything if it gets uncomfortable. just tell me, alright?”
you hum a quiet okay, and then he leans in closer. “next,” he says, voice lower now, “I wanna know what turns you on.”
your eyes widen. “I—I don’t know yet?” he nods, unbothered. “that’s fine. that’s what this is for. we’ll find out together.”
his fingers trail up your bare thigh again, light and thoughtful. “some people like rough. some like being praised. some like being told what to do. or doing the touching. or slow teasing. you reacted to my voice earlier, when I praised you.”
you flush, remembering.
“I think you like being talked to,” he murmurs, his voice dipping, lips brushing your ear. “you like feeling good and hearing how good you’re doing. am I right?”
you breathe out shakily. “yeah…”
he smiles, kisses your neck. “good. that’s a start. anything you don’t want to try?”
you think. then shake your head. “i’ll tell you if something feels off.”
“perfect,” he says, then kisses you again. this time, his body presses more firmly into yours, and you can feel him — his cock heavy against your thigh through his boxers, thick and pulsing with restraint.
“last question,” he murmurs. “do you want me now?”
you meet his eyes. “yes.”
he nods once, slowly, and then everything moves like a softened blur: his fingers easing between your legs, gently checking, making sure you’re still wet, still relaxed. then him rolling the condom on with practiced care, breath hitching when your hand lingers on his hip.
when he kneels between your legs, you shift beneath him, legs opening, heart thudding in your chest.
“you sure?”
“yes,” you whisper again, this time steadier. “please.”
he exhales slowly — then reaches to guide himself to your entrance. “deep breath,” he says softly. “just relax.”
you did, and the first push is slow, barely there, until your body stretches around him. it’s strange, at first — tight, full, unfamiliar — but he holds still, whispering praise, letting you adjust.
“you feel amazing,” he breathes. “so warm, so tight. doing so good, baby.”
he kisses you through the sting, rubs your clit gently to distract you, and only when you nod again — wordless, aching — does he move. slow. so slow.
you feel him first, hovering over you, his body heat settling around you like a blanket, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently it almost makes you shiver.
the moment feels quiet, almost suspended in time, as if the air around you recognizes the shift — how the weight of what you’re doing finally lands between your ribs and expands there, soft and all-consuming.
su-ho’s gaze, as always, is steady and sure, but there’s a kind of reverence in his expression now, something new that makes your heart skip.
his hands are careful, so careful, as he rolls the condom down the length of his cock, fingers trembling slightly despite how composed he always seems. he aligns himself to your entrance, his eyes not leaving yours even once.
“tell me the second you feel uncomfortable,” he whispers, voice already low and thick. “and if you want to stop—”
“I won’t,” you murmur, fingers curling around his wrist where he steadies himself beside your head. “I just… want to know what it feels like. with you.”
he breathes out through his nose. closes his eyes for a second. and when they open again, they’ve darkened, not with lust alone, but something deeper. a kind of hunger laced with restraint. a kind of want that you know he’s held back for a while.
his hips move slowly, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance, where you’re already soaked for him, eager and warm and open. he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you gently, pausing when he feels your breath hitch.
“okay?” he asks again, jaw clenched tight, the muscles in his forearm straining as he holds himself still.
you nod, voice barely a whisper. “keep going.”
so he does. gradually. so slow that every bit of him feels distinct as he slides into you — the stretch, the burn, the fullness of it. you gasp softly, head tipping back into the pillow, one hand flying to grip the sheets while the other stays pressed against his chest, feeling the thrum of his heart.
he doesn’t move for a long second once he’s fully inside, buried in you to the hilt. you can feel him shaking slightly, his breath warm against your shoulder, a soft groan vibrating in his throat as he tries to stay still.
“you’re so tight,” he finally breathes, and it sounds like a confession. “feels like you’re made for me.”
you feel yourself clench at his words, and he groans again, deeper this time. you nod, giving him permission, and that’s all it takes — he starts to move, slow and steady, each thrust a gentle press of his hips against yours, a roll rather than a sharp snap. the drag of him inside you is like nothing you’ve ever felt, so overwhelming and yet addictively good, like it lights something up inside you you didn’t know was there.
your legs wrap around him without thinking, pulling him closer, and the new angle has him hitting a spot that makes your mouth fall open. he notices immediately, adjusting again to make sure every thrust brushes right there.
“right there?” he asks, voice strained, lips brushing your ear.
“yeah,” you gasp, arms wrapping around his back now, clinging. “feels so—su-ho, please—”
“fuck,” he breathes, hips pushing deeper now, grinding down just enough to make your entire body tremble under him. “you’re so warm. you’re doing so well, baby.”
the endearment makes your stomach twist in the best way, and when his thumb drifts between your legs again, circling your clit in slow, practiced movements, it pushes you closer to the edge so fast your vision blurs.
he watches your face the entire time. every expression, every sound. he’s studying you with the same intensity he brings to everything else, but this time, it’s just for you.
“look at you,” he murmurs, watching the way your face twists with every grind of his hips. “taking all of me. like you were made for it.”
you moan, and he groans in return — like he’s feeling how much you want this. his pace picks up a little. not rushed, just deeper. more deliberate. your walls pulse around him and he curses again, biting back the urge to just let go.
“you don’t even know what you do to me,” he grits out, pressing his forehead to yours. “every sound you make—every little gasp—it’s fucking perfect.”
you can barely answer him, too focused on the slow roll of his hips and the weight of him inside you. but your hands move on their own, clutching his back, your nails dragging lightly across his skin.
he gasps. “shit—do that again.” you did, and he thrusts deeper. you whimper his name, and his rhythm stutters.
“you close?” he asks, thumb still moving, his cock grinding into that perfect spot over and over again.
“so close,” you manage, hips bucking up against his. “su-ho, i’m—”
“cum for me,” he whispers, his thrusts picking up, still deep but just a little faster now. “let me feel you.”
and you do. everything tightens, your legs locking around his waist, your walls clenching down on him so hard he groans your name like it’s a prayer, his forehead falling to your shoulder.
you tremble under him, your climax washing over you in waves, and it’s only a few thrusts later that he follows, hips jerking forward as he cums deep inside the condom with a low, desperate sound.
for a moment, the only sound in the room is your breathing, tangled and uneven, in sync. he stays there, bodies still connected, his weight resting gently over you, careful not to crush you but unwilling to pull away just yet.
he presses a kiss to your temple. then your cheek. then your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks again, softer this time. almost reverent.
you nod slowly, arms still holding him close. “yeah. better than okay.”
he exhales, and you feel the tension drain from him all at once. “you were… incredible.”
“you too,” you murmur, smiling into his neck. “best lesson ever.”
he laughs softly, and you feel it echo in his chest. “we’ll have to review next week, then.” you roll your eyes but kiss his jaw anyway.
you’re both still wrapped up in each other, limbs tangled and breathing gradually slowing down, the quiet hum of the night pressing in around you like a gentle lullaby. you didn’t move for a while, just letting his body settle over yours, the weight of him heavy and warm and safe.
his chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths right against your back, and you can’t help but feel a kind of calm you didn’t expect — like all the noise inside your head has finally quieted down. it’s strange how something so simple as just being held could feel like the most important thing in the world.
his fingers begin to roam gently, tracing soft, aimless patterns on your arm. the touch is featherlight, like a whisper, but it grounds you in a way nothing else can. you let your hand find his, fingers curling around his palm instinctively, and he squeezes back, the pressure steady and reassuring. no words are needed right now — the silence between you is comfortable, filled with understanding and something close to reverence.
“you did really well,” his voice is low, thick with a tenderness you haven’t heard from him before. “better than I expected.” there’s a pause, and you can hear him swallow the hint of vulnerability in his own admission. “i’m proud of you.”
you smile softly, your breath catching when he presses a gentle kiss just below your ear, the warmth of his lips lingering there like a promise. “you made it easy,” you say, voice barely more than a breath, but you mean it. it’s not just his skill — it’s how careful he is, how present, how much he respects you.
he shifts slightly, pressing another kiss against your temple, then your cheek, slow and deliberate like he’s memorizing every inch of your face. “we’ll go at whatever pace you want,” he murmurs, fingers weaving through your hair, the touch light and soothing. “there’s no rush here. this is your time. your experience.”
you close your eyes and lean into him, letting the softness of his words and the warmth of his skin wash over you. there’s no pressure, no expectations — just this quiet bubble of safety and trust you never knew you needed but always wanted.
your fingers trace lazy circles on his forearm, feeling the taut muscle beneath his skin and the steady beat of his pulse. “thank you,” you whisper, meaning more than just the moment. for the patience, for the care, for being the first person who made you feel like you could explore this without fear or shame.
he hums softly, lips brushing the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “I want you to feel comfortable. to know that with me, it’s always okay to ask, to say no, to take a break—whatever you need.”
you nod against him, the trust between you deepening with every word. “i’m glad it’s you,” you say quietly. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”
he smiles against your skin, the movement gentle and full of warmth. “and i’m glad it’s you.”
time stretches around you both, slow and easy. you talk in hushed tones about everything and nothing —
about your favorite music, the dumb jokes he made that morning, su-ho’s surprising seriousness when it comes to protecting the people he cares about. your voices blend together like a quiet symphony, filling the room with something real and alive.
eventually, he shifts, pulling you closer into a warm embrace, your faces mere inches apart. “class tomorrow together, yeah?” he asks softly, thumb stroking along your collarbone. “i’ll walk you to every lecture. maybe we can grab something after.”
you smile, heart fluttering in a way that feels new but right. “i’d like that.”
it felt easy, honest. like something real could start from this, not because you were rushing into anything, but because there was trust here. because with him, it didn’t feel scary. it just felt right.
You keep cooking with ur fics omg that suho fic was also SO GOOD🙂↕️ ur feeding us so well and personally I love fics that are beautifully thought out, more mature and serious scenes!! Good job again!!!
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aaaaa thank you sm !! 🥹 knowing that it hits like that for you makes me wanna write even more :d i’m so glad the su-ho ( and si-eun ) fic hit that note for you ! there’s plenty more coming hehe
ㅤsypnosis ⁝ㅤㅤa curious question turns into something much more intimate — with su-ho being surprisingly good at teaching.ㅤㅤ〝 cw.ㅤㅤprotected sex, oral sex ( f & m rec. ), light praise kink, best friends to ??ㅤㅤ﹪ㅤㅤ𝖺𝗁𝗇 𝗌𝗎-𝗁𝗈 × 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
you met su-ho during orientation week — he was late, loud, and still somehow the most magnetic person in the room. you were the opposite. quieter, awkward, unsure where to stand, too anxious to even hold your own schedule right-side-up.
you remember it clearly: him crashing into a folding chair, laughing too hard, calling your name like he already knew it. he made you feel like you belonged in a room you had just started shrinking away from. and that’s all it really took.
from then on, it was you and su-ho. always in the same frame. your classmates joked about it constantly — if they saw one, they expected the other. he became your person, the one who waited outside your labs, the one who shared earphones on the train back, the one who’d text ‘yo dummy u eat yet’ at ungodly hours like it was part of your daily survival.
you were different, but you got each other. he’d distract you during exams, you’d calm him down before presentations. it just.. worked. and maybe that’s why no one ever suspected anything deeper. not even you.
you were used to being mistaken for the girl who liked si-eun — he was the calm one, the smart one, the one people admired from a distance. and truthfully? you did admire him.
it was hard not to. but it never made your stomach flip. not like the way su-ho looked at you sometimes. not like the way he’d lean back on his arms, grin at you sideways, and say things like “what, you thinking dirty thoughts or something?” just because you zoned out for two seconds.
you laughed it off like always. he joked about everything. teased like it was his default language. but lately — lately, it’s been harder to ignore how warm your face gets. how your chest does that annoying twisty thing when he slings an arm over your shoulder. how you catch yourself wondering if he actually knows more than he lets on.
because the thing is — you don’t know anything. not really. not when it comes to sex. not beyond vague textbook definitions and secondhand stories from friends. you never bothered asking before. it always felt far away, not something meant for you.
until you realized you didn’t want to be left behind.
until you realized you wanted to understand.
and more than that — more than anything — you wanted to ask him.
you weren’t sure why at first. maybe it was because su-ho always made you feel safe, even when you were dumb or confused or too flustered to speak. maybe it was because he never made you feel stupid for not knowing.
maybe it was because part of you, deep down, knew he’d be honest. or maybe it was just the way he said your name sometimes. like he was waiting for you to ask something — anything.
you don’t know when exactly it started. the way your eyes would linger on his lips when he laughed. the way your heart did that unexplainable flutter when he licked honey off his thumb one morning during breakfast. it wasn’t about romance. it wasn’t about being in love. it was about wanting to know. about needing to understand.
and su-ho.. su-ho was the first person that came to mind.
it’s little things, really. the things you used to ignore. like how su-ho always sprawls himself out across your bed when he visits, like it’s his own. he’ll toss his phone aside, prop himself up on one elbow, shirt riding a little too high, and say, “you’re not gonna fail your midterms if you lie down for five minutes. c’mon.” and you’ll cave. you always do. you’ll end up beside him, shoulder to shoulder, his knee brushing yours.
he never moves away. there’s no reason to panic, you tell yourself. you’re friends. he’s like this with everyone. maybe he just doesn’t care about personal space.
maybe the way his voice dips a little when he calls you “baby” is just a joke. he says that to strangers too, doesn’t he?
but then there are the nights he talks quieter. like when you’re both half-asleep after cramming for exams, the light from your desk still casting a soft gold against the room.
he’ll mutter something like, “you’re too cute when you’re sleepy, y’know that?” and you’ll freeze. because it doesn’t feel like a joke. not then.
and maybe he doesn’t realize the effect he has on you. maybe he doesn’t see the way your breath catches when he leans over your shoulder to check your notes, the warmth of his chest ghosting your back.
maybe he doesn’t notice the way your thighs press together when he lounges back and pats the space between his legs with a casual, “you can sit here, dummy. I don’t bite.”
but you notice.
you notice everything now.
you notice how he smells — like warm fabric softener and that faint trace of cologne he probably thinks you don’t recognize. you notice the way his hands look when he’s typing or fiddling with his rings.
you notice how low his voice can drop when he’s serious — or when he’s annoyed, like that time someone tried to flirt with you at a party. he got quiet. didn’t say anything for ten minutes after.
just passed you your drink and stared across the room like he was trying to set something on fire. and yet, even with all of that — with how aware you’ve become of him — you still don’t know how to bring it up. not the way you want to.
not the way it’s started echoing in your head at night, in the quiet moments between being awake and asleep.
you’ve had dreams. not always clear, not always intense — but enough. enough to wake up and feel heat between your thighs, confusion in your chest. enough to leave you sitting there, alone in your sheets, wondering what it would feel like.
to be touched.
to be wanted.
to be taught.
and for some reason, you can’t imagine anyone else doing it but su-ho.
not si-eun, not a stranger, not someone from a checklist. just him. the boy who knows your favorite drink and the password to your phone. the one who holds your wrist when you’re walking through crowded streets. the one who grins like he’s never met someone funnier than you, even when you’re not trying.
you’re not in love, you don’t think. but you do think about how it would feel to be touched by someone who already knows all your soft parts.
who’s already seen you at your most unguarded. who calls you “trouble” in the same breath he offers you his last bite of food.
you wonder — if he touched you, would it still feel like friendship? or would it finally feel like the answer to everything you’ve been too scared to ask?
it happens on a thursday. nothing particularly special about it — your classes ended early, your hair’s still a little damp from a rushed shower, and su-ho’s on your bed again, hoodie sleeves pushed up, legs stretched long like always.
he’s scrolling through something aimlessly on your phone, and you’re sitting at your desk, pretending to be preoccupied with your laptop, but mostly just staring at nothing.
there’s something different in the air today. maybe it’s just you. maybe you’ve been holding it in too long. you’ve gone through every possible version of this in your head: how to say it, how he might react, what it would mean.
maybe he’d laugh. maybe he’d tease you for the rest of your life. or maybe — just maybe — he’d say yes. and it’s that maybe that makes your stomach twist.
that makes your fingers tighten around your mug and your tongue feel too big for your mouth. you don’t look at him when you finally say it.
“can I ask you something?”
your voice comes out smaller than expected. like you’re already regretting the thought. he hums lazily, doesn’t look up. “you just did.”
“no, like—seriously.”
that gets his attention. he shifts, sits up a bit straighter, and turns to you, brows raised. “you good?”
you nod, too fast. “yeah. yeah, just—”
the words feel heavier in your mouth than they did in your head. this felt easier when it was 1am and you were half-asleep and desperate. now, with him actually looking at you, it feels like you’re about to step off a cliff with your eyes wide open.
“can you teach me?”
he blinks. “teach you what?”
you don’t really know how long you sit there, legs tucked under you on the edge of your chair, while su-ho stays crouched in front of you like he’s not even thinking about how awkward that must feel for his knees.
there’s something in his eyes that you haven’t seen before — not even when he’s being overly gentle, not even when he’s drunk and slurring jokes and leaning his weight on you like he trusts you to carry it..
“so,” he starts again, voice low, a little careful. “when you say ‘teach,’ what exactly do you mean?”
you hesitate, then — in the quietest voice you’ve ever used — you say, “about sex.”
the silence that follows is unreal. like the air thins, like time stalls for a second too long. you want to hide. maybe crawl under your desk. maybe vanish entirely. but then you hear him shift again, a soft rustle of fabric, and when you finally glance at him —
his expression isn’t mocking, it isn’t judgmental, it’s just still. quiet, a little wide-eyed, like he’s trying to make sure he heard you right.
“wait,” he says, voice low. “you’re serious?”
you nodded, your throat is dry. his brows furrow slightly, but there’s no laughter, no teasing. just something unreadable flickering across his face. he leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes searching yours.
you swallow. “I mean—like, I know what sex is, obviously. I just…” you trail off, scrunching your face. “I don’t know what it’s actually like. or how to do it. or what’s supposed to feel good. i’ve never done anything. not even with myself.”
his brows lift, surprised — but not in a mocking way. if anything, he looks more thoughtful. his voice stays quiet, almost too gentle.
“you’ve never?”
you shake your head. “no.”
“not even kissing?”
“not really. maybe like… dumb little pecks in high school. never something serious.”
su-ho exhales slowly through his nose and leans back a little, settling cross-legged on your rug now, chin tilted up to still meet your gaze. “okay. wow. okay.”
“is that bad?”
“no,” he says quickly, firmly. “not bad. not at all. it’s just—” he runs a hand through his hair, a little stunned. “i didn’t know. you never seemed like someone who’d be shy about stuff like this.”
you shrug, suddenly very interested in your desk lamp. “I guess I just never trusted anyone enough. or cared enough. until…”
you don’t finish the sentence. you don’t have to. he looks at you for a long moment. and then his expression softens.
“okay,” he says again, slower this time. “so you’re not asking me for a hookup. you’re asking me to… guide you?”
you nod.
“and this is what you want?”
you glance at him, then down at your hands. “I think so. but I don’t want to regret anything. I don’t want it to feel like… just a lesson. like you’re doing me a favor or something.”
he shakes his head, almost laughing under his breath. “believe me,” he mutters, “if I didn’t want it, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
you look up. “you’d want to? with me?”
he rolls his eyes a little, teasing now. “you’re cute, you know that?”
your heart jumps stupidly.
but he’s already reaching for your hand, holding it between both of his like it’s nothing — like it’s something he’s always wanted to do but never got around to.
“look,” he says, thumbs brushing slow circles into your skin. “if we do anything, I want it to be because you feel safe. because you’re curious and I get to help you understand your body. not because you think you’re behind or missing out.”
you nod again, slower this time. “I just want to feel close to someone. and I… I guess I trust you the most.”
his smile turns soft, so soft it feels like a hug.
“then we’ll take it slow,” he murmurs. “you set the pace. we talk through everything. and we stop whenever you feel weird, no questions asked.”
your chest tightens in the best kind of way. not scared. not shy. just warm. like you’re really being held, even without his arms around you.
“can I ask things?” you say. “like, stupid things?”
“you can ask me anything,” he says. “even if it’s what that little flap on condoms is for.”
you laugh, a little too loud. “you know I almost asked you that once.”
“I know. I saw you hovering over the search bar in incognito mode.”
you groan, tossing your head back, but su-ho’s grinning now, bright and proud like he lives to make you flustered.
“so, okay,” he says. “i’ll answer stuff. we’ll go slow. and we’ll make it, y’know… a learning experience. a good one. no pressure. no tests at the end. just…” he pauses. “just me and you. figuring it out together.”
you squeeze his hand back, and when you finally look up again — his eyes are still soft. still watching you like you’re something rare and good. and for once, you believe it.
the first time his mouth finds its way between your legs, it’s nothing like what your imagination tried to prepare you for.
there’s no rush, no hunger, no mess of fingers fumbling to strip you bare all at once. just su-ho, kneeling at the edge of your bed, coaxing you to lie back while his hands trail slow up your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.
“i’m gonna teach you how to enjoy this,” he murmurs, thumbs pressing softly at the inside of your knees to spread them apart. “and how to tell me what feels good. okay?”
your voice comes out small. “okay.”
he leans down, kisses your knee. then a little higher. then a little higher than that.
you’re already wet — he makes some low, surprised noise when he slides your underwear down and sees it for himself — but he doesn’t tease. doesn’t smirk or comment or make you feel like this is some joke.
instead, his hands keep you open, warm and steady, while his mouth lowers between your legs like it belongs there. the first press of his tongue to your slit makes you twitch.
“oh—”
“it’s okay,” he says, voice muffled but soothing. “just relax. tell me if anything feels too much.”
and then he starts again.
soft, slow licks at first, more about getting you used to the feeling than chasing anything. you feel like you’re floating — like your whole body’s pulling taut, breath catching every time he flattens his tongue against your cunt and draws a long stripe up through your folds. when he finds your clit, you nearly jolt again, gasping.
“there?” he murmurs. “that sensitive?”
you nod quickly. “yeah—y-yeah.” he hums, and the vibration makes you arch slightly.
“good,” he says. “it’ll get more sensitive the more turned on you are. it’s not about pressure—it’s about rhythm. like this.”
he circles it gently with the tip of his tongue, again and again, unhurried, careful not to overwhelm you too quickly. his hands stroke over your thighs, calming you as your body stutters and writhes. the sounds coming from you are soft, unsure, breathy little moans that escape before you can stop them.
he lifts his head only briefly. “you’re doing so good, baby. i’m proud of you.”
that single sentence makes your heart squeeze, makes your hips lift up for more. he smiles, then goes back in — and this time he’s firmer, more purposeful. you can tell he’s been holding back, and now that he knows you’re okay, he gives in a little more.
suckling your clit between his lips, tracing his tongue in slick circles, pausing every few seconds to hear how your breath catches, to listen to what makes you moan.
you’re not even thinking when you whisper, “I feel something—i think—”
“let it happen,” he whispers against you. “don’t be scared. let it build.”
and when it does — when the knot inside you snaps and everything floods hot and sharp and overwhelming — you feel his hands hold you down, grounding you, his mouth never leaving you until it all ebbs and your legs are shaking.
you don’t even realize there are tears in your eyes until he’s crawling up your body, wiping them away gently.
“too much?”
you shake your head. “no. that was… that was so good.”
he kisses your forehead. then your lips. “told you.”
you laugh breathlessly. “you’re actually a really good teacher.” he smirks at that, but it fades into something softer. more thoughtful.
“wanna try something now?” he asks, settling beside you. “you don’t have to, but if you want, I can show you what I like too.”
you nod. “yeah.. I want to. teach me, I asked for this, remember?”
he breathes out slowly, like he wasn’t expecting you to say yes so quickly.
“okay,” he says. “c’mere.”
he guides your hand down first — shows you how to unbutton his jeans, how to ease them down. his cock is already hard, flushed, leaking at the tip, and when your eyes widen, he grins.
“it looks big,” you mumble.
“it won’t hurt,” he promises. “not if we go slow. and besides, i’m not asking you to take it all. not yet.”
you swallow. “so… what do I do?”
he leans back slightly against the pillows, voice a low rumble now.
“start with your hand,” he says. “wrap your fingers around it, gentle. just like that—yeah. perfect.”
you’re fascinated. it’s hot and heavy in your grip, pulsing a little when you stroke up. su-ho groans, a quiet sound that sends a jolt straight between your legs again.
“use your thumb,” he pants. “over the tip. fuck—that’s it. damn, you’re a fast learner.”
you watch his face as he reacts to every little thing you try, how his jaw clenches when you squeeze a little, how his chest rises when you lick a tentative stripe up the length of his cock.
he guides you without pressure, encouraging you softly, telling you what feels good, what he likes.
“use your mouth,” he breathes. “just the tip. go slow, baby. just like that—fuck.”
his hand settles lightly at the back of your head but doesn’t push, just rests there, as you wrap your lips around him. it’s warm, salty, a little overwhelming — but the way he moans your name makes you want to keep going.
he’s so vocal, breathy and praising between gasps. “you’re doing so good,” he whispers. “so pretty like this. your mouth feels so fucking nice—shit.”
you hollow your cheeks, experiment with your tongue, and when you glance up at him, when your eyes meet his while you suck slowly, he curses under his breath and pulls you off with a shaky hand.
“if you keep going,” he says, voice wrecked, “i’ll come. and I don’t wanna come yet.”
you smile, dazed, lips slick with spit. “was i good?” he laughs, short, breathless, affectionate.
“you’re perfect.” and then he leans in to kiss you again, deeper this time.
“you okay?” su-ho asks again, quieter now, brushing your hair away from your face. his thumb strokes your cheek while his other hand rests over your waist, the heat of his palm grounding you, still holding onto the last of your breathless high from before.
you nod. “mm-hmm.” then softer, “more than okay.”
he smiles, then leans in and kisses you gently — slow, like he’s giving you time to change your mind, even now.
but when you kiss him back with that same neediness you’ve been carrying since you first asked him to teach you, his hand slides lower, resting on your hip.
“you wanna keep going?”
you nod again. “yeah. I… I think I want to try.”
his gaze scans your face. you know he’s checking for nerves, doubt, fear — but all he finds is a quiet kind of trust. something that makes his voice go softer when he speaks again.
“okay,” he says, “but we talk first. that’s part of it too.”
you blink. “talk?”
he nods. “before sex. especially your first time. communication makes everything better. safer. and honestly?” he grins a little, “hotter too.”
you bite your lip. “what do we talk about?”
“a few things,” he murmurs, kissing down your jaw. “protection first.”
he shifts away for a moment, reaching for his backpack on the floor. he pulls something out — silver foil, crinkly — and raises his brows at you like he’s been waiting to use it for this exact moment.
“su-ho,” you say slowly, “why do you have a condom in your backpack.”
he snorts. “remember the frat party? si-eun and I saw it in the cr, he didn't want it so I picked it up.”
you roll your eyes. “you guys are idiots.”
“probably,” he shrugs. “but at least i’m a responsible idiot.” you watch as he sets the condom gently on the nightstand, not rushing to open it.
“we use this,” he says, “every time. unless we both get tested and talk about it first. cool?” you nod. “cool.”
he smiles. “good. next topic: positions.” you blinked, “there’s more than one?”
his laugh is soft, affectionate. “there are a lot. but for your first time, we should pick one that feels safest and lets me see your face. missionary’s the classic. I can also be on my knees with your legs over my thighs. or we can spoon. slow and close.”
you flush, trying to picture any of them. “you choose. I trust you.”
his gaze warms at that, softening again in that way you’ve only ever seen in rare moments.
“then we’ll go slow. missionary. but we can adjust anything if it gets uncomfortable. just tell me, alright?”
you hum a quiet okay, and then he leans in closer. “next,” he says, voice lower now, “I wanna know what turns you on.”
your eyes widen. “I—I don’t know yet?” he nods, unbothered. “that’s fine. that’s what this is for. we’ll find out together.”
his fingers trail up your bare thigh again, light and thoughtful. “some people like rough. some like being praised. some like being told what to do. or doing the touching. or slow teasing. you reacted to my voice earlier, when I praised you.”
you flush, remembering.
“I think you like being talked to,” he murmurs, his voice dipping, lips brushing your ear. “you like feeling good and hearing how good you’re doing. am I right?”
you breathe out shakily. “yeah…”
he smiles, kisses your neck. “good. that’s a start. anything you don’t want to try?”
you think. then shake your head. “i’ll tell you if something feels off.”
“perfect,” he says, then kisses you again. this time, his body presses more firmly into yours, and you can feel him — his cock heavy against your thigh through his boxers, thick and pulsing with restraint.
“last question,” he murmurs. “do you want me now?”
you meet his eyes. “yes.”
he nods once, slowly, and then everything moves like a softened blur: his fingers easing between your legs, gently checking, making sure you’re still wet, still relaxed. then him rolling the condom on with practiced care, breath hitching when your hand lingers on his hip.
when he kneels between your legs, you shift beneath him, legs opening, heart thudding in your chest.
“you sure?”
“yes,” you whisper again, this time steadier. “please.”
he exhales slowly — then reaches to guide himself to your entrance. “deep breath,” he says softly. “just relax.”
you did, and the first push is slow, barely there, until your body stretches around him. it’s strange, at first — tight, full, unfamiliar — but he holds still, whispering praise, letting you adjust.
“you feel amazing,” he breathes. “so warm, so tight. doing so good, baby.”
he kisses you through the sting, rubs your clit gently to distract you, and only when you nod again — wordless, aching — does he move. slow. so slow.
you feel him first, hovering over you, his body heat settling around you like a blanket, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently it almost makes you shiver.
the moment feels quiet, almost suspended in time, as if the air around you recognizes the shift — how the weight of what you’re doing finally lands between your ribs and expands there, soft and all-consuming.
su-ho’s gaze, as always, is steady and sure, but there’s a kind of reverence in his expression now, something new that makes your heart skip.
his hands are careful, so careful, as he rolls the condom down the length of his cock, fingers trembling slightly despite how composed he always seems. he aligns himself to your entrance, his eyes not leaving yours even once.
“tell me the second you feel uncomfortable,” he whispers, voice already low and thick. “and if you want to stop—”
“I won’t,” you murmur, fingers curling around his wrist where he steadies himself beside your head. “I just… want to know what it feels like. with you.”
he breathes out through his nose. closes his eyes for a second. and when they open again, they’ve darkened, not with lust alone, but something deeper. a kind of hunger laced with restraint. a kind of want that you know he’s held back for a while.
his hips move slowly, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance, where you’re already soaked for him, eager and warm and open. he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you gently, pausing when he feels your breath hitch.
“okay?” he asks again, jaw clenched tight, the muscles in his forearm straining as he holds himself still.
you nod, voice barely a whisper. “keep going.”
so he does. gradually. so slow that every bit of him feels distinct as he slides into you — the stretch, the burn, the fullness of it. you gasp softly, head tipping back into the pillow, one hand flying to grip the sheets while the other stays pressed against his chest, feeling the thrum of his heart.
he doesn’t move for a long second once he’s fully inside, buried in you to the hilt. you can feel him shaking slightly, his breath warm against your shoulder, a soft groan vibrating in his throat as he tries to stay still.
“you’re so tight,” he finally breathes, and it sounds like a confession. “feels like you’re made for me.”
you feel yourself clench at his words, and he groans again, deeper this time. you nod, giving him permission, and that’s all it takes — he starts to move, slow and steady, each thrust a gentle press of his hips against yours, a roll rather than a sharp snap. the drag of him inside you is like nothing you’ve ever felt, so overwhelming and yet addictively good, like it lights something up inside you you didn’t know was there.
your legs wrap around him without thinking, pulling him closer, and the new angle has him hitting a spot that makes your mouth fall open. he notices immediately, adjusting again to make sure every thrust brushes right there.
“right there?” he asks, voice strained, lips brushing your ear.
“yeah,” you gasp, arms wrapping around his back now, clinging. “feels so—su-ho, please—”
“fuck,” he breathes, hips pushing deeper now, grinding down just enough to make your entire body tremble under him. “you’re so warm. you’re doing so well, baby.”
the endearment makes your stomach twist in the best way, and when his thumb drifts between your legs again, circling your clit in slow, practiced movements, it pushes you closer to the edge so fast your vision blurs.
he watches your face the entire time. every expression, every sound. he’s studying you with the same intensity he brings to everything else, but this time, it’s just for you.
“look at you,” he murmurs, watching the way your face twists with every grind of his hips. “taking all of me. like you were made for it.”
you moan, and he groans in return — like he’s feeling how much you want this. his pace picks up a little. not rushed, just deeper. more deliberate. your walls pulse around him and he curses again, biting back the urge to just let go.
“you don’t even know what you do to me,” he grits out, pressing his forehead to yours. “every sound you make—every little gasp—it’s fucking perfect.”
you can barely answer him, too focused on the slow roll of his hips and the weight of him inside you. but your hands move on their own, clutching his back, your nails dragging lightly across his skin.
he gasps. “shit—do that again.” you did, and he thrusts deeper. you whimper his name, and his rhythm stutters.
“you close?” he asks, thumb still moving, his cock grinding into that perfect spot over and over again.
“so close,” you manage, hips bucking up against his. “su-ho, i’m—”
“cum for me,” he whispers, his thrusts picking up, still deep but just a little faster now. “let me feel you.”
and you do. everything tightens, your legs locking around his waist, your walls clenching down on him so hard he groans your name like it’s a prayer, his forehead falling to your shoulder.
you tremble under him, your climax washing over you in waves, and it’s only a few thrusts later that he follows, hips jerking forward as he cums deep inside the condom with a low, desperate sound.
for a moment, the only sound in the room is your breathing, tangled and uneven, in sync. he stays there, bodies still connected, his weight resting gently over you, careful not to crush you but unwilling to pull away just yet.
he presses a kiss to your temple. then your cheek. then your shoulder. “you okay?” he asks again, softer this time. almost reverent.
you nod slowly, arms still holding him close. “yeah. better than okay.”
he exhales, and you feel the tension drain from him all at once. “you were… incredible.”
“you too,” you murmur, smiling into his neck. “best lesson ever.”
he laughs softly, and you feel it echo in his chest. “we’ll have to review next week, then.” you roll your eyes but kiss his jaw anyway.
you’re both still wrapped up in each other, limbs tangled and breathing gradually slowing down, the quiet hum of the night pressing in around you like a gentle lullaby. you didn’t move for a while, just letting his body settle over yours, the weight of him heavy and warm and safe.
his chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths right against your back, and you can’t help but feel a kind of calm you didn’t expect — like all the noise inside your head has finally quieted down. it’s strange how something so simple as just being held could feel like the most important thing in the world.
his fingers begin to roam gently, tracing soft, aimless patterns on your arm. the touch is featherlight, like a whisper, but it grounds you in a way nothing else can. you let your hand find his, fingers curling around his palm instinctively, and he squeezes back, the pressure steady and reassuring. no words are needed right now — the silence between you is comfortable, filled with understanding and something close to reverence.
“you did really well,” his voice is low, thick with a tenderness you haven’t heard from him before. “better than I expected.” there’s a pause, and you can hear him swallow the hint of vulnerability in his own admission. “i’m proud of you.”
you smile softly, your breath catching when he presses a gentle kiss just below your ear, the warmth of his lips lingering there like a promise. “you made it easy,” you say, voice barely more than a breath, but you mean it. it’s not just his skill — it’s how careful he is, how present, how much he respects you.
he shifts slightly, pressing another kiss against your temple, then your cheek, slow and deliberate like he’s memorizing every inch of your face. “we’ll go at whatever pace you want,” he murmurs, fingers weaving through your hair, the touch light and soothing. “there’s no rush here. this is your time. your experience.”
you close your eyes and lean into him, letting the softness of his words and the warmth of his skin wash over you. there’s no pressure, no expectations — just this quiet bubble of safety and trust you never knew you needed but always wanted.
your fingers trace lazy circles on his forearm, feeling the taut muscle beneath his skin and the steady beat of his pulse. “thank you,” you whisper, meaning more than just the moment. for the patience, for the care, for being the first person who made you feel like you could explore this without fear or shame.
he hums softly, lips brushing the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “I want you to feel comfortable. to know that with me, it’s always okay to ask, to say no, to take a break—whatever you need.”
you nod against him, the trust between you deepening with every word. “i’m glad it’s you,” you say quietly. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”
he smiles against your skin, the movement gentle and full of warmth. “and i’m glad it’s you.”
time stretches around you both, slow and easy. you talk in hushed tones about everything and nothing —
about your favorite music, the dumb jokes he made that morning, su-ho’s surprising seriousness when it comes to protecting the people he cares about. your voices blend together like a quiet symphony, filling the room with something real and alive.
eventually, he shifts, pulling you closer into a warm embrace, your faces mere inches apart. “class tomorrow together, yeah?” he asks softly, thumb stroking along your collarbone. “i’ll walk you to every lecture. maybe we can grab something after.”
you smile, heart fluttering in a way that feels new but right. “i’d like that.”
it felt easy, honest. like something real could start from this, not because you were rushing into anything, but because there was trust here. because with him, it didn’t feel scary. it just felt right.
you have no business writing as good as you do! ur fic was fantastic
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aa anon thank you !! i’m so happy you liked the si-eun fic, he was such a fun one to write c: I actually just wrapped up the su-ho fic too ( after 398349 months lmao ), so he's coming right after ! hope you’ll enjoy that one too 🫶🏻
ㅤsypnosis ⁝ㅤㅤif you were going to learn anything, why not ask the smartest person you know ?ㅤㅤ〝 cw.ㅤㅤprotected sex, mentions of virginity ﹢ sexual curiosity, light body worship / praise, best friends to ??ㅤㅤ﹪ㅤㅤ𝗒𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗂-𝖾𝗎𝗇 × 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
you met si-eun when you were sixteen. he sat alone at the back of the classroom, a thin shadow against the window, always half-lit by grey skies and never once acknowledging the chatter around him. he was the type of person who didn’t seem real at first. quiet in a way that wasn’t shy, just detached. still. not like a boy, but like a blade, folded cold and sharp.
you, on the other hand, were always a little too soft. not dumb. not loud. just… curious in a way people didn’t always understand. you liked to ask questions no one else thought to ask. and si-eun, for all his silence, never once ignored you when you did.
the first time you spoke to him, you asked if he liked the rain. he looked at you for a long moment, eyes unreadable, and said, “i don’t like or dislike things. they just happen.” you nodded. then sat beside him the next day. and every day after that.
friendship with si-eun wasn’t simple. he didn’t laugh much. didn’t talk unless there was something to say. but you learned to read the space between his words. how his fingers twitched when he was thinking hard. how he always bought two bottles of water and silently handed you one without asking. how he walked you home when the sun went down, even if he never said why.
you got used to it — his silence, his stares, the way he always seemed like he was calculating the world and choosing you anyway.
people didn’t get it. they said si-eun was scary. too smart. too closed off. and maybe he was. but not with you.
with you, he listened. when you asked about physics, he explained. when you forgot things, he remembered. when you cried over a bad grade, he let you sulk in his room and only rolled his eyes once, before quietly pushing a packet of snacks your way.
you admired him. that was the simplest truth of it all. not in a puppy love way. not like those girls who whispered about him in the halls. you admired the way he always knew what to do. how he seemed immune to everything that confused you — emotions, impulses, the mess of being young. si-eun had answers. you.. had questions.
you always thought si-eun was a little unreal. not in the dramatic, daydream kind of way. more like he didn’t seem to belong to the same world as everyone else. while your classmates stumbled over themselves, trying to be liked or seen or chosen, si-eun just existed. unbothered. untouched. like the rules everyone else followed didn’t apply to him, and maybe they didn’t.
he was too smart, too fast, too aware of everything. not just in class — though his grades made teachers swoon — but in fights too, the kind that happened in empty stairwells or behind buildings when someone pushed too far. he always won. but to you, he was just si-eun.
you, who couldn’t punch a wall without crying. who didn’t understand half the formulas written on the board. who walked through the world like it was full of things you hadn’t figured out yet. and somehow, for reasons you never fully grasped, he liked being around you.
sometimes you wondered why. you talked too much. you asked questions that made other people look at you funny. once you asked si-eun if he believed in ghosts and spent the next fifteen minutes rambling about the difference between spirits and shadows. he didn’t interrupt. didn’t laugh. just listened, completely still, until you trailed off with a sheepish “…never mind.”
“I think you’re more interesting than a textbook,” he said after a beat and hell you didn’t stop smiling for hours.
the others noticed it, of course. “why does he only talk to you?” su-ho once asked, mouth full of snack crumbs and voice full of suspicion. “like, what do you even do to him?”
“is he maybe into weird girls?” he snorted, dodging a soda can you threw at his head. “it’s kinda funny watching him look at you like that.” he added.
you had no idea what su-ho or they meant. you weren’t doing anything. si-eun was just your friend. your weird, closed-off, unnaturally competent friend who let you fall asleep on his shoulder during movie nights and always stood a little too close in crowded places.
who handed you napkins without being asked when you spilled something. who once got a nosebleed during a fight and still texted you right after: you need help with physics tomorrow?
you didn’t overthink it. you admired him, sure. everyone did. but your admiration was different.
you liked how he remembered small things. like how you hated seafood and couldn’t drink coffee without sugar. you liked how he never tried to make you feel smaller for being confused or slow. even when you whined and said things like “i’m gonna drop out and open a flower shop,” si-eun just nodded and said, “you’d be good at that.”
he didn’t say things unless he meant them. and that made you want to believe every word that came out of his mouth. he wasn’t as expressionless as people thought, either. you learned how to read him.
when he was annoyed, he’d tap his fingers — short, quick movements like he was trying not to snap. when he was amused, he’d blink a little slower, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile.
and when he looked at you, sometimes — just sometimes — there was something different in his eyes. not fondness, exactly. something heavier. softer. you didn’t know what to call it, but it made your skin feel too warm.
si-eun wasn’t much of a talker, but he never shut you out. not really. once, you asked him if he liked being your friend. it was a stupid question. you regretted it the second it left your mouth.
but he looked at you and said, “you’re the only person who makes me feel like.. i’m not just good for fixing things.” you didn’t say anything back. just leaned against him and hoped he could hear your heartbeat. it was loud. embarrassingly so.
and now, you were in si-eun’s room again, the one place that never changed. the curtains were still half-drawn, the light outside dim enough to make everything inside feel like it was holding its breath.
his desk was organized like always — books stacked in perfect columns, black pens lined in a row, a digital clock ticking too quietly. you were on the floor, stretched out on your stomach, chin propped up on your arms, your phone somewhere nearby but forgotten.
si-eun sat behind you, back against the wall, legs stretched long beside yours. he was scrolling through something on his tablet, probably notes you wouldn’t understand even if you tried. you didn’t know why your heart had been beating too fast all day.
maybe it was because you’d started noticing things you used to ignore. like the way his hair had grown just a little longer over his ears. or how his sleeves were pushed up, exposing veins and wrist bones and that thin scar on his forearm that you’d once touched without thinking.
or how his voice sounded different when he talked to you — slower, quieter, like he didn’t need to say much at all to keep you listening. you couldn’t focus. your thoughts were loud in your head, tangled up and restless.
you were thinking about how you’d never kissed anyone before. not seriously. not properly. and you weren’t embarrassed, exactly — it just felt strange. like you were missing something that everyone else seemed to understand instinctively. like you were too far behind, and eventually someone would find out.
but the real problem wasn’t the kiss. it was that you kept thinking about what it might be like if si-eun was the one to teach you. the thought had been creeping in lately. quiet, uninvited. the way his mouth would feel. the way his hand might tilt your jaw.
the way he’d look at you after. it didn’t make sense — you weren’t dating. he wasn’t flirty. he wasn’t even particularly gentle. but there was something in the way he always noticed you. something that made your stomach twist and your fingers curl.
so you said it. you didn’t even mean to. it just slipped out, too casual, too soft, like a pebble dropped into still water.
“hey… can I ask you something?”
si-eun hummed. not looking up yet.
“it’s gonna sound really dumb.”
he glanced at you then. his face was unreadable, but you could feel his attention sharpening. he always listened like that — completely, like he was watching a wire for signs of tension.
you hesitated. your skin prickled.
“…do you know how to kiss someone?”
the silence hit you immediately. thick. loaded. you almost regretted saying it — almost laughed it off, ready to cover it up with a joke, but then he sat forward slightly, tablet lowering to his lap, and your breath caught in your throat.
“why are you asking me that?” his voice was calm. too calm. not teasing, not annoyed, just.. still?
you swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were to him, how the space between your knees and his was barely wide enough to fit a thought.
“I don’t know,” you said, your voice smaller now. “I guess… I was just wondering. you always seem to know everything. and—” you paused. “I haven’t. not really. I mean, I’ve never done it properly.”
si-eun stared at you for a long time. his eyes weren’t cold, but they were heavy, like he was holding something back. something sharp and coiled and dangerous, sitting quiet just under the surface.
“and you want me to teach you?”
you blinked, he didn’t sound surprised, more like he was trying to confirm it. like he’d already run the calculations in his head and was now trying to decide if he should press the button.
you sat up slowly, heart pounding so hard you thought it might echo. “I just thought… if anyone could explain it, it’d be you.”
he let out a breath. not a laugh. just an exhale, low and almost bitter. “you really think kissing someone is something you can explain?”
your mouth opened. closed. “you’re smart,” you tried again, weakly. “you’re good at things.”
“i’m not good at this.”
you tilted your head, trying to read him. “you’ve kissed someone before, right?”
he didn’t answer, which meant yes. you nodded, trying to play it cool, trying to stay where the air wasn’t burning.
“i’m just curious,” you said, softer now. “i’ve never done it. I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.”
si-eun didn’t move for a long time. then, quietly: “what do you want it to feel like?”
you blinked. “I… don’t know. warm, I guess?” his jaw tensed. his hands stayed in his lap, fingers laced together, like he was trying not to reach for something. you. the air. anything.
you didn’t say anything else. just watched him. waited. the way you always did when he needed time to think. and finally, si-eun looked up. looked at you.
“come here.”
your chest squeezed. you didn’t know what he meant, not exactly — but you moved anyway. toward him. slow. unsure. your knees touched his first. then your legs slid between his. your hands hovered. you didn’t know where to put them. he fixed that for you.
si-eun reached out, and gently — like he’d been imagining this for a long time — he cupped your face. his palm was warm. steady. your skin lit up under his fingers.
he looked at you like he was memorizing you. like he didn’t know whether to pull back or fall forward. and maybe, for the first time in all the years you’d known him, he looked a little unsure.
but his voice didn’t shake. “i’ll show you once,” he said, low. “but after that… you don’t get to pretend you don’t know what you’re doing anymore.” you nodded.
his mouth met yours slowly, at first. like he was testing it — testing you — making sure you wouldn't flinch, wouldn’t pull away once you realized this wasn’t just about helping you anymore. this wasn’t about being smart, or useful, or your reliable best friend. this was him giving in to a thought he shouldn’t have had in the first place.
you didn’t move for the first second. you just felt it. how warm his lips were. how firm. how careful he was, like he was afraid one wrong angle might make you disappear. and then he tilted his head just slightly, hand still cradling your cheek, and kissed you deeper.
and you made a sound — a soft, breathy sound in the back of your throat — that made him freeze. just for a moment. like hearing you respond flipped something in him he hadn’t meant to turn on.
his other hand came up, resting at the side of your neck, and his thumb brushed over the pulse there. and you didn’t even realize you were leaning into him until your knees were bracketing his thighs and your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
“you’re shaking,” he murmured, against your mouth.
“you kissed me,” you breathed back.
he huffed something between a laugh and a groan, thumb dragging lightly across your bottom lip as he pulled back a fraction — just enough to look at you.
“this was your idea.”
“you said just once.”
“do you want me to stop?”
you stared at him, he looked calm, too calm. again. but his eyes — his eyes were glassy, his breath unsteady, and you could feel it in the way his hands stayed on your skin like he didn’t want to let go.
you shook your head, slow. “no.”
his jaw flexed, and then he kissed you again, hungrier. no more holding back. no more waiting. the second his mouth opened over yours, you felt your whole body react — your stomach tightening, thighs pressing in, heart stuttering out of rhythm.
his tongue slid past your lips, coaxing yours to move, to respond, and gosh — gosh — the low sound he made when you kissed him back with more pressure, more curiosity, more want —
you’d never heard that from him before.
your hands were in his hair before you could think about it, fingers digging in as he pulled you closer, mouth hot and desperate now. he shifted beneath you, letting you settle fully in his lap, your knees on either side of his hips — and when your bodies pressed flush like that, you both gasped into the kiss at the same time.
his grip tightened on your waist. “fuck,” he muttered, lips dragging down to your jaw, your neck. “you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”
“then show me,” you whispered. “teach me.” he let out a shaky breath. like he was barely hanging on.
“you have no idea what you’re asking for.” but his hands were already sliding beneath your shirt, and you weren’t stopping him.
his fingers slid under your shirt, slow and tentative, careful not to make any sudden movements as if you were something delicate. you weren’t sure why your body trembled at his touch — it was barely anything, just skin grazing skin, the slightest warmth over your waist — but somehow it made you feel stripped raw.
like you were finally standing on the edge of something you’d only ever dared to imagine. you didn’t stop him. you tilted your head instead, offering more of your throat, and his mouth found the hollow there — gentle, reverent, teeth barely brushing.
his palms flattened, spanning across your hips, feeling the rise and fall of your breath like he was memorizing it. “you okay?” he asked you softly, voice lower than usual, hoarse at the edges.
you nodded. “yeah.” he paused, like he was giving you space to change your mind. “you’re sure?” your fingers curled around his wrists, holding him to you. grounding him. “I trust you.”
and that must’ve been all he needed. because something in him cracked. a quiet breaking, not a loud one, like ice melting, like something long-contained finally spilling over.
his mouth was back on yours with a hunger that hadn’t been there before, lips parting yours open, tongue licking into your mouth with purpose. he kissed you like he’d been waiting a lifetime. kissed you like this was all he’d ever wanted but never believed he could have.
and when his hips rolled up against yours, you felt it — him. hard beneath his sweats, thick and undeniable, pressing right where you were already aching. your breath caught. your legs tensed around his sides. you whimpered, just a little, and his forehead dropped to your shoulder with a guttural sound.
“fuck,” he muttered, voice low and shaken. “don’t do that.”
“what?” you breathed.
“make sounds like that. I—” his hands gripped your waist tighter. “i’m trying to go slow.”
you could feel your pulse everywhere now. your thighs clenched again, instinctively, seeking friction. “you want to stop?” he asked, a final out, even now, even with the way his body trembled.
you shook your head. “no. I don’t want to stop.” he lifted his head. his eyes were dark, lashes fluttering slightly like he was holding back something deeper. “do you want me to be your first?”
your answer came in a whisper. “yes.”
he kissed you once more, slower this time. then reached beside the bed, into the drawer, and when he pulled out a condom, you blinked.
“you just… have that?”
his mouth twitched. not quite a smile. “su-ho gave it to me.”
“as a joke?”
“he said something stupid. like, about how I need to ‘get laid before I die cause my pen doesn't work anymore’ or something.”
you laughed, despite yourself. and si-eun’s eyes softened.
“but now,” he said, voice turning quiet again, “i’m glad I have it.”
he rolled it on carefully. you watched, heart pounding, seeing him fully now for the first time. long and thick, flushed at the tip, already leaking. your mouth went dry.
you hadn’t seen a guy naked before, let alone like this, aroused, ready. you swallowed hard, thighs tightening. your whole body ached with nerves and want.
“you okay?” he asked again, brushing hair from your face. “yeah,” you managed. “just… new.”
he leaned down and kissed your temple. “then we’ll go slow.”
he pulled your shorts and underwear down in one motion, so gently it felt like a question. you lifted your hips, let him slide the fabric away, suddenly aware of the cool air on your exposed skin, the vulnerability of being bare in front of someone for the first time. but he didn’t leer. didn’t stare. he looked at you like you were something to be honored. something sacred.
his fingers slid between your legs, testing. your whole body jerked at the first touch — light pressure over your clit that made your thighs twitch.
“you’re already wet,” he said, breath catching. “fuck. you’re soaking.”
your face burned. “sorry—”
“don’t apologize,” he said quickly. “that’s good. that’s so good.”
he dipped one finger lower, easing it into you slowly. you gasped at the stretch. even that was new. he stilled, letting your body adjust, whispering, “breathe,” as he stroked your inner walls gently.
once you relaxed, he added another, curling his fingers, spreading you open with deliberate care. the sound of your slick filled the space between you — wet, soft, real. when he pressed his thumb back to your clit, circling it gently, your hips jolted, and you whined.
“you’re doing so good,” he whispered. “so fucking good.”
your eyes fluttered shut, body rocking helplessly against his hand. when his fingers finally slipped away, you felt empty. needy. but then he was positioning himself, cock brushing against your entrance.
“deep breath,” he murmured. “i’ll go slow.”
and he did.
the first push was the hardest. you tensed without meaning to, your cunt clenching, breath hitching — but he paused, whispered to you again, and let your body guide him.
once you opened up, he eased in deeper. your fingers clawed at his shoulders, trying to hold onto something. the stretch burned. it was full, unrelenting, almost too much.
he was big. bigger than you’d expected. and still he moved gently, carefully, until his hips were flush with yours and you’d taken all of him.
“jesus christ,” he breathed, shaking. “you feel—so tight. so fucking perfect.”
you exhaled shakily. “you’re big.”
he chuckled softly, forehead pressing to yours. “you’re doing amazing.”
he didn’t move right away. just kissed your cheek, your collarbone, brushing his nose against your skin like he was grounding himself.
your walls fluttered around him, already adjusting, and when he finally started to thrust — slow and shallow — it knocked the air from your lungs.
each movement was controlled. each drag of his cock inside you purposeful. he hit deeper with every rock of his hips, and it didn’t take long before your body began to want it.
your breath hitched. your fingers dug in. you let out a moan — small, involuntary — and si-eun groaned. “fuck. that sound.”
you tilted your hips toward him instinctively, seeking more, and he took the cue. he rolled his hips, found a rhythm. and when he shifted slightly — angled deeper — you cried out.
“right there?”
you nodded helplessly. “si-eun—please—”
his hand found your clit again, rubbing you just right while he fucked you through slow, deep strokes. your head fell back. the tension was building fast now, tight, molten, dizzying. your cunt squeezed around him with every thrust, every perfect touch.
and then you broke. your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, rushing through your body, stealing your breath, leaving you writhing beneath him. your cunt fluttered around his cock, milking him, and that’s what pushed him over.
he groaned your name, voice wrecked, and fucked into you one last time, deep and hard. you felt him twitch, felt the heat of him spill into the condom as he came, hips stuttering, body pressed tight to yours, jaw clenched.
you collapsed into each other, breathless and shaking, his arms wrapping around you like he couldn’t bear to let you go. neither of you spoke for a while. but eventually, he kissed your shoulder and whispered, “you’re mine now, you know.”
and you smiled, because you already were. you didn’t know how long the silence stretched between you after it was over, only that you didn’t want to move from the warmth of his body or the way his arms had circled around you so tightly, like he was afraid you’d slip away.
his breath was still a little uneven against your skin, his chest rising and falling against your back now that he’d pulled you into a side hold, your legs tangled under the sheets and your heart still thudding softly in your chest.
he hadn’t said anything more since the last kiss he’d pressed to your shoulder. hadn’t asked how you were. hadn’t pulled away or shifted like he was finished with you.
he was just holding you.
you weren’t sure what came over you, but your fingers reached out and curled lightly into the soft fabric of his shirt, he’d pulled it on again after discarding the condom and wiping you up with the gentlest hands, like it was the most natural thing in the world to clean and dress you himself.
you hadn’t even realized how shy you felt until that part, but he hadn’t teased. hadn’t smirked. just murmured, “tell me if anything hurts, okay?” and you remembered thinking then, he really did think everything through. even now.
“you’re really quiet,” you whispered, voice still hoarse.
his arm tightened around your waist. “thinking.”
“about what?”
he paused for a beat, and then his voice came out low. “how lucky i am.”
you blinked.
your heart stuttered in a different way now, softer, almost painful. he wasn’t the type to say things like that. si-eun didn’t do grand confessions or obvious declarations. he always kept his feelings close to his chest. but now, lying here in the dim warmth of your room, the words felt like they’d slipped out before he could stop them.
you didn’t say anything back. just nudged your head gently under his chin and curled into him more fully.
and for the first time, you felt his lips brush your hair. not in a lustful way. not in a way that tried to start anything again. just quiet affection. soft. steady. like he didn’t want the moment to end either.
you don’t remember when you fell asleep, only that you woke up the next morning still in his arms.
he was already awake when you opened your eyes, blinking blearily against the sunlight seeping in through your curtains. his hair was a little messy, eyes on you like he’d been watching you for a while now, but not in a way that made you nervous. he looked.. calm. at peace. like maybe sleeping beside someone had made him rest easier than he had in years.
“morning,” he murmured, voice rough.
you smiled sleepily. “hi.”
he looked like he wanted to say something, then settled for brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “you still good?”
“mmhmm.” you stretched slightly, muscles sore but not unpleasantly so. “better than good.”
he looked relieved. and then, like something clicked in his head, he muttered, “wait—class. what time is it?”
“we have plenty of time,” you said, laughing softly. “I always set an early alarm.”
he groaned and flopped back beside you, an arm thrown over his eyes. “you’re too responsible.”
“well, you need me to keep you on track.”
you hadn’t meant it to come out so naturally, but the second you said it, you felt his hand drop from his face and his eyes meet yours again. and not that heavy, unblinking stare you used to catch him slipping into when he thought no one noticed.
his eyes had always carried something haunted in them, ever since the day you met. something fractured, a little hollow, like he’d learned too early that the world could betray you if you weren’t ready for it.
but this morning, it was different. you didn’t notice it right away. it was in the tiny shift. the way his gaze warmed instead of hardened. how he blinked slower, more at ease, like the knots in his chest had loosened overnight. you stared at him for a long second, trying to trace what had changed — and then you realized.
the sadness was still there. maybe it always would be. but it wasn’t all-consuming anymore. not sharp. not cold. there was something softer behind his eyes now.
something that bloomed quiet and tender, like spring cracking through frost. and for the first time, he didn’t look like he was fighting himself just to be here. he looked like he wanted to be.
you leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “you’re different today.”
he raised a brow. “already?”
“I mean it in a good way,” you said. “your eyes don’t look sad.”
he was quiet for a second, then laughed under his breath. “maybe it’s because you kissed me back.”
“maybe it’s because I let you fuck me.”
he turned to face you fully, lips twitching into a smirk now, but not cocky. still fond. “both.”
you rolled your eyes and shoved at him lightly. he caught your hand. and then he said, “can I take you somewhere today?”
you blinked. “what do you mean?”
“after class. I wanna take you out. just us.”
your heart flipped a little. “a date?”
he nodded.
“okay,” you whispered. “i’d really like that.”
the walk to campus that morning felt strangely new, even though it was the same sidewalk you took every morning. the sun was a little too bright, your bag slung too casually over your shoulder, and si-eun was right beside you — hands in his pockets, that unreadable expression on his face that made most people wary of him.
but not you. not anymore. not with the way his pinky kept brushing yours on purpose as you walked. not with the way he leaned in to murmur, “you’re sure you’re not sore?” while your classmates were still ten feet behind.
and definitely not with the way you glanced up and saw it again — that look in his eyes. no longer cold, no longer cracked, still intense, still si-eun.
but clearer, softer, like he could breathe a little easier. like you were the first thing he’d ever let soften him. and god, you wanted to protect that softness for as long as he’d let you.
That sieun fic was sososos good 😭😭😭 I loved how you characterized sieun in a situation like that!! The smut aside, I loved how fluffy it is and how their relationship is just slowly blooming:’) good job on that!! Excited to see more from you🫶🫶
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I was a lil nervous about writing si-eun in such a soft, intimate situation while still staying true to his character, so your words really mean a lot anon !! thank you <3
ㅤsypnosis ⁝ㅤㅤif you were going to learn anything, why not ask the smartest person you know ?ㅤㅤ〝 cw.ㅤㅤprotected sex, mentions of virginity ﹢ sexual curiosity, light body worship / praise, best friends to ??ㅤㅤ﹪ㅤㅤ𝗒𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗂-𝖾𝗎𝗇 × 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
you met si-eun when you were sixteen. he sat alone at the back of the classroom, a thin shadow against the window, always half-lit by grey skies and never once acknowledging the chatter around him. he was the type of person who didn’t seem real at first. quiet in a way that wasn’t shy, just detached. still. not like a boy, but like a blade, folded cold and sharp.
you, on the other hand, were always a little too soft. not dumb. not loud. just… curious in a way people didn’t always understand. you liked to ask questions no one else thought to ask. and si-eun, for all his silence, never once ignored you when you did.
the first time you spoke to him, you asked if he liked the rain. he looked at you for a long moment, eyes unreadable, and said, “i don’t like or dislike things. they just happen.” you nodded. then sat beside him the next day. and every day after that.
friendship with si-eun wasn’t simple. he didn’t laugh much. didn’t talk unless there was something to say. but you learned to read the space between his words. how his fingers twitched when he was thinking hard. how he always bought two bottles of water and silently handed you one without asking. how he walked you home when the sun went down, even if he never said why.
you got used to it — his silence, his stares, the way he always seemed like he was calculating the world and choosing you anyway.
people didn’t get it. they said si-eun was scary. too smart. too closed off. and maybe he was. but not with you.
with you, he listened. when you asked about physics, he explained. when you forgot things, he remembered. when you cried over a bad grade, he let you sulk in his room and only rolled his eyes once, before quietly pushing a packet of snacks your way.
you admired him. that was the simplest truth of it all. not in a puppy love way. not like those girls who whispered about him in the halls. you admired the way he always knew what to do. how he seemed immune to everything that confused you — emotions, impulses, the mess of being young. si-eun had answers. you.. had questions.
you always thought si-eun was a little unreal. not in the dramatic, daydream kind of way. more like he didn’t seem to belong to the same world as everyone else. while your classmates stumbled over themselves, trying to be liked or seen or chosen, si-eun just existed. unbothered. untouched. like the rules everyone else followed didn’t apply to him, and maybe they didn’t.
he was too smart, too fast, too aware of everything. not just in class — though his grades made teachers swoon — but in fights too, the kind that happened in empty stairwells or behind buildings when someone pushed too far. he always won. but to you, he was just si-eun.
you, who couldn’t punch a wall without crying. who didn’t understand half the formulas written on the board. who walked through the world like it was full of things you hadn’t figured out yet. and somehow, for reasons you never fully grasped, he liked being around you.
sometimes you wondered why. you talked too much. you asked questions that made other people look at you funny. once you asked si-eun if he believed in ghosts and spent the next fifteen minutes rambling about the difference between spirits and shadows. he didn’t interrupt. didn’t laugh. just listened, completely still, until you trailed off with a sheepish “…never mind.”
“I think you’re more interesting than a textbook,” he said after a beat and hell you didn’t stop smiling for hours.
the others noticed it, of course. “why does he only talk to you?” su-ho once asked, mouth full of snack crumbs and voice full of suspicion. “like, what do you even do to him?”
“is he maybe into weird girls?” he snorted, dodging a soda can you threw at his head. “it’s kinda funny watching him look at you like that.” he added.
you had no idea what su-ho or they meant. you weren’t doing anything. si-eun was just your friend. your weird, closed-off, unnaturally competent friend who let you fall asleep on his shoulder during movie nights and always stood a little too close in crowded places.
who handed you napkins without being asked when you spilled something. who once got a nosebleed during a fight and still texted you right after: you need help with physics tomorrow?
you didn’t overthink it. you admired him, sure. everyone did. but your admiration was different.
you liked how he remembered small things. like how you hated seafood and couldn’t drink coffee without sugar. you liked how he never tried to make you feel smaller for being confused or slow. even when you whined and said things like “i’m gonna drop out and open a flower shop,” si-eun just nodded and said, “you’d be good at that.”
he didn’t say things unless he meant them. and that made you want to believe every word that came out of his mouth. he wasn’t as expressionless as people thought, either. you learned how to read him.
when he was annoyed, he’d tap his fingers — short, quick movements like he was trying not to snap. when he was amused, he’d blink a little slower, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile.
and when he looked at you, sometimes — just sometimes — there was something different in his eyes. not fondness, exactly. something heavier. softer. you didn’t know what to call it, but it made your skin feel too warm.
si-eun wasn’t much of a talker, but he never shut you out. not really. once, you asked him if he liked being your friend. it was a stupid question. you regretted it the second it left your mouth.
but he looked at you and said, “you’re the only person who makes me feel like.. i’m not just good for fixing things.” you didn’t say anything back. just leaned against him and hoped he could hear your heartbeat. it was loud. embarrassingly so.
and now, you were in si-eun’s room again, the one place that never changed. the curtains were still half-drawn, the light outside dim enough to make everything inside feel like it was holding its breath.
his desk was organized like always — books stacked in perfect columns, black pens lined in a row, a digital clock ticking too quietly. you were on the floor, stretched out on your stomach, chin propped up on your arms, your phone somewhere nearby but forgotten.
si-eun sat behind you, back against the wall, legs stretched long beside yours. he was scrolling through something on his tablet, probably notes you wouldn’t understand even if you tried. you didn’t know why your heart had been beating too fast all day.
maybe it was because you’d started noticing things you used to ignore. like the way his hair had grown just a little longer over his ears. or how his sleeves were pushed up, exposing veins and wrist bones and that thin scar on his forearm that you’d once touched without thinking.
or how his voice sounded different when he talked to you — slower, quieter, like he didn’t need to say much at all to keep you listening. you couldn’t focus. your thoughts were loud in your head, tangled up and restless.
you were thinking about how you’d never kissed anyone before. not seriously. not properly. and you weren’t embarrassed, exactly — it just felt strange. like you were missing something that everyone else seemed to understand instinctively. like you were too far behind, and eventually someone would find out.
but the real problem wasn’t the kiss. it was that you kept thinking about what it might be like if si-eun was the one to teach you. the thought had been creeping in lately. quiet, uninvited. the way his mouth would feel. the way his hand might tilt your jaw.
the way he’d look at you after. it didn’t make sense — you weren’t dating. he wasn’t flirty. he wasn’t even particularly gentle. but there was something in the way he always noticed you. something that made your stomach twist and your fingers curl.
so you said it. you didn’t even mean to. it just slipped out, too casual, too soft, like a pebble dropped into still water.
“hey… can I ask you something?”
si-eun hummed. not looking up yet.
“it’s gonna sound really dumb.”
he glanced at you then. his face was unreadable, but you could feel his attention sharpening. he always listened like that — completely, like he was watching a wire for signs of tension.
you hesitated. your skin prickled.
“…do you know how to kiss someone?”
the silence hit you immediately. thick. loaded. you almost regretted saying it — almost laughed it off, ready to cover it up with a joke, but then he sat forward slightly, tablet lowering to his lap, and your breath caught in your throat.
“why are you asking me that?” his voice was calm. too calm. not teasing, not annoyed, just.. still?
you swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were to him, how the space between your knees and his was barely wide enough to fit a thought.
“I don’t know,” you said, your voice smaller now. “I guess… I was just wondering. you always seem to know everything. and—” you paused. “I haven’t. not really. I mean, I’ve never done it properly.”
si-eun stared at you for a long time. his eyes weren’t cold, but they were heavy, like he was holding something back. something sharp and coiled and dangerous, sitting quiet just under the surface.
“and you want me to teach you?”
you blinked, he didn’t sound surprised, more like he was trying to confirm it. like he’d already run the calculations in his head and was now trying to decide if he should press the button.
you sat up slowly, heart pounding so hard you thought it might echo. “I just thought… if anyone could explain it, it’d be you.”
he let out a breath. not a laugh. just an exhale, low and almost bitter. “you really think kissing someone is something you can explain?”
your mouth opened. closed. “you’re smart,” you tried again, weakly. “you’re good at things.”
“i’m not good at this.”
you tilted your head, trying to read him. “you’ve kissed someone before, right?”
he didn’t answer, which meant yes. you nodded, trying to play it cool, trying to stay where the air wasn’t burning.
“i’m just curious,” you said, softer now. “i’ve never done it. I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.”
si-eun didn’t move for a long time. then, quietly: “what do you want it to feel like?”
you blinked. “I… don’t know. warm, I guess?” his jaw tensed. his hands stayed in his lap, fingers laced together, like he was trying not to reach for something. you. the air. anything.
you didn’t say anything else. just watched him. waited. the way you always did when he needed time to think. and finally, si-eun looked up. looked at you.
“come here.”
your chest squeezed. you didn’t know what he meant, not exactly — but you moved anyway. toward him. slow. unsure. your knees touched his first. then your legs slid between his. your hands hovered. you didn’t know where to put them. he fixed that for you.
si-eun reached out, and gently — like he’d been imagining this for a long time — he cupped your face. his palm was warm. steady. your skin lit up under his fingers.
he looked at you like he was memorizing you. like he didn’t know whether to pull back or fall forward. and maybe, for the first time in all the years you’d known him, he looked a little unsure.
but his voice didn’t shake. “i’ll show you once,” he said, low. “but after that… you don’t get to pretend you don’t know what you’re doing anymore.” you nodded.
his mouth met yours slowly, at first. like he was testing it — testing you — making sure you wouldn't flinch, wouldn’t pull away once you realized this wasn’t just about helping you anymore. this wasn’t about being smart, or useful, or your reliable best friend. this was him giving in to a thought he shouldn’t have had in the first place.
you didn’t move for the first second. you just felt it. how warm his lips were. how firm. how careful he was, like he was afraid one wrong angle might make you disappear. and then he tilted his head just slightly, hand still cradling your cheek, and kissed you deeper.
and you made a sound — a soft, breathy sound in the back of your throat — that made him freeze. just for a moment. like hearing you respond flipped something in him he hadn’t meant to turn on.
his other hand came up, resting at the side of your neck, and his thumb brushed over the pulse there. and you didn’t even realize you were leaning into him until your knees were bracketing his thighs and your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
“you’re shaking,” he murmured, against your mouth.
“you kissed me,” you breathed back.
he huffed something between a laugh and a groan, thumb dragging lightly across your bottom lip as he pulled back a fraction — just enough to look at you.
“this was your idea.”
“you said just once.”
“do you want me to stop?”
you stared at him, he looked calm, too calm. again. but his eyes — his eyes were glassy, his breath unsteady, and you could feel it in the way his hands stayed on your skin like he didn’t want to let go.
you shook your head, slow. “no.”
his jaw flexed, and then he kissed you again, hungrier. no more holding back. no more waiting. the second his mouth opened over yours, you felt your whole body react — your stomach tightening, thighs pressing in, heart stuttering out of rhythm.
his tongue slid past your lips, coaxing yours to move, to respond, and gosh — gosh — the low sound he made when you kissed him back with more pressure, more curiosity, more want —
you’d never heard that from him before.
your hands were in his hair before you could think about it, fingers digging in as he pulled you closer, mouth hot and desperate now. he shifted beneath you, letting you settle fully in his lap, your knees on either side of his hips — and when your bodies pressed flush like that, you both gasped into the kiss at the same time.
his grip tightened on your waist. “fuck,” he muttered, lips dragging down to your jaw, your neck. “you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”
“then show me,” you whispered. “teach me.” he let out a shaky breath. like he was barely hanging on.
“you have no idea what you’re asking for.” but his hands were already sliding beneath your shirt, and you weren’t stopping him.
his fingers slid under your shirt, slow and tentative, careful not to make any sudden movements as if you were something delicate. you weren’t sure why your body trembled at his touch — it was barely anything, just skin grazing skin, the slightest warmth over your waist — but somehow it made you feel stripped raw.
like you were finally standing on the edge of something you’d only ever dared to imagine. you didn’t stop him. you tilted your head instead, offering more of your throat, and his mouth found the hollow there — gentle, reverent, teeth barely brushing.
his palms flattened, spanning across your hips, feeling the rise and fall of your breath like he was memorizing it. “you okay?” he asked you softly, voice lower than usual, hoarse at the edges.
you nodded. “yeah.” he paused, like he was giving you space to change your mind. “you’re sure?” your fingers curled around his wrists, holding him to you. grounding him. “I trust you.”
and that must’ve been all he needed. because something in him cracked. a quiet breaking, not a loud one, like ice melting, like something long-contained finally spilling over.
his mouth was back on yours with a hunger that hadn’t been there before, lips parting yours open, tongue licking into your mouth with purpose. he kissed you like he’d been waiting a lifetime. kissed you like this was all he’d ever wanted but never believed he could have.
and when his hips rolled up against yours, you felt it — him. hard beneath his sweats, thick and undeniable, pressing right where you were already aching. your breath caught. your legs tensed around his sides. you whimpered, just a little, and his forehead dropped to your shoulder with a guttural sound.
“fuck,” he muttered, voice low and shaken. “don’t do that.”
“what?” you breathed.
“make sounds like that. I—” his hands gripped your waist tighter. “i’m trying to go slow.”
you could feel your pulse everywhere now. your thighs clenched again, instinctively, seeking friction. “you want to stop?” he asked, a final out, even now, even with the way his body trembled.
you shook your head. “no. I don’t want to stop.” he lifted his head. his eyes were dark, lashes fluttering slightly like he was holding back something deeper. “do you want me to be your first?”
your answer came in a whisper. “yes.”
he kissed you once more, slower this time. then reached beside the bed, into the drawer, and when he pulled out a condom, you blinked.
“you just… have that?”
his mouth twitched. not quite a smile. “su-ho gave it to me.”
“as a joke?”
“he said something stupid. like, about how I need to ‘get laid before I die cause my pen doesn't work anymore’ or something.”
you laughed, despite yourself. and si-eun’s eyes softened.
“but now,” he said, voice turning quiet again, “i’m glad I have it.”
he rolled it on carefully. you watched, heart pounding, seeing him fully now for the first time. long and thick, flushed at the tip, already leaking. your mouth went dry.
you hadn’t seen a guy naked before, let alone like this, aroused, ready. you swallowed hard, thighs tightening. your whole body ached with nerves and want.
“you okay?” he asked again, brushing hair from your face. “yeah,” you managed. “just… new.”
he leaned down and kissed your temple. “then we’ll go slow.”
he pulled your shorts and underwear down in one motion, so gently it felt like a question. you lifted your hips, let him slide the fabric away, suddenly aware of the cool air on your exposed skin, the vulnerability of being bare in front of someone for the first time. but he didn’t leer. didn’t stare. he looked at you like you were something to be honored. something sacred.
his fingers slid between your legs, testing. your whole body jerked at the first touch — light pressure over your clit that made your thighs twitch.
“you’re already wet,” he said, breath catching. “fuck. you’re soaking.”
your face burned. “sorry—”
“don’t apologize,” he said quickly. “that’s good. that’s so good.”
he dipped one finger lower, easing it into you slowly. you gasped at the stretch. even that was new. he stilled, letting your body adjust, whispering, “breathe,” as he stroked your inner walls gently.
once you relaxed, he added another, curling his fingers, spreading you open with deliberate care. the sound of your slick filled the space between you — wet, soft, real. when he pressed his thumb back to your clit, circling it gently, your hips jolted, and you whined.
“you’re doing so good,” he whispered. “so fucking good.”
your eyes fluttered shut, body rocking helplessly against his hand. when his fingers finally slipped away, you felt empty. needy. but then he was positioning himself, cock brushing against your entrance.
“deep breath,” he murmured. “i’ll go slow.”
and he did.
the first push was the hardest. you tensed without meaning to, your cunt clenching, breath hitching — but he paused, whispered to you again, and let your body guide him.
once you opened up, he eased in deeper. your fingers clawed at his shoulders, trying to hold onto something. the stretch burned. it was full, unrelenting, almost too much.
he was big. bigger than you’d expected. and still he moved gently, carefully, until his hips were flush with yours and you’d taken all of him.
“jesus christ,” he breathed, shaking. “you feel—so tight. so fucking perfect.”
you exhaled shakily. “you’re big.”
he chuckled softly, forehead pressing to yours. “you’re doing amazing.”
he didn’t move right away. just kissed your cheek, your collarbone, brushing his nose against your skin like he was grounding himself.
your walls fluttered around him, already adjusting, and when he finally started to thrust — slow and shallow — it knocked the air from your lungs.
each movement was controlled. each drag of his cock inside you purposeful. he hit deeper with every rock of his hips, and it didn’t take long before your body began to want it.
your breath hitched. your fingers dug in. you let out a moan — small, involuntary — and si-eun groaned. “fuck. that sound.”
you tilted your hips toward him instinctively, seeking more, and he took the cue. he rolled his hips, found a rhythm. and when he shifted slightly — angled deeper — you cried out.
“right there?”
you nodded helplessly. “si-eun—please—”
his hand found your clit again, rubbing you just right while he fucked you through slow, deep strokes. your head fell back. the tension was building fast now, tight, molten, dizzying. your cunt squeezed around him with every thrust, every perfect touch.
and then you broke. your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, rushing through your body, stealing your breath, leaving you writhing beneath him. your cunt fluttered around his cock, milking him, and that’s what pushed him over.
he groaned your name, voice wrecked, and fucked into you one last time, deep and hard. you felt him twitch, felt the heat of him spill into the condom as he came, hips stuttering, body pressed tight to yours, jaw clenched.
you collapsed into each other, breathless and shaking, his arms wrapping around you like he couldn’t bear to let you go. neither of you spoke for a while. but eventually, he kissed your shoulder and whispered, “you’re mine now, you know.”
and you smiled, because you already were. you didn’t know how long the silence stretched between you after it was over, only that you didn’t want to move from the warmth of his body or the way his arms had circled around you so tightly, like he was afraid you’d slip away.
his breath was still a little uneven against your skin, his chest rising and falling against your back now that he’d pulled you into a side hold, your legs tangled under the sheets and your heart still thudding softly in your chest.
he hadn’t said anything more since the last kiss he’d pressed to your shoulder. hadn’t asked how you were. hadn’t pulled away or shifted like he was finished with you.
he was just holding you.
you weren’t sure what came over you, but your fingers reached out and curled lightly into the soft fabric of his shirt, he’d pulled it on again after discarding the condom and wiping you up with the gentlest hands, like it was the most natural thing in the world to clean and dress you himself.
you hadn’t even realized how shy you felt until that part, but he hadn’t teased. hadn’t smirked. just murmured, “tell me if anything hurts, okay?” and you remembered thinking then, he really did think everything through. even now.
“you’re really quiet,” you whispered, voice still hoarse.
his arm tightened around your waist. “thinking.”
“about what?”
he paused for a beat, and then his voice came out low. “how lucky i am.”
you blinked.
your heart stuttered in a different way now, softer, almost painful. he wasn’t the type to say things like that. si-eun didn’t do grand confessions or obvious declarations. he always kept his feelings close to his chest. but now, lying here in the dim warmth of your room, the words felt like they’d slipped out before he could stop them.
you didn’t say anything back. just nudged your head gently under his chin and curled into him more fully.
and for the first time, you felt his lips brush your hair. not in a lustful way. not in a way that tried to start anything again. just quiet affection. soft. steady. like he didn’t want the moment to end either.
you don’t remember when you fell asleep, only that you woke up the next morning still in his arms.
he was already awake when you opened your eyes, blinking blearily against the sunlight seeping in through your curtains. his hair was a little messy, eyes on you like he’d been watching you for a while now, but not in a way that made you nervous. he looked.. calm. at peace. like maybe sleeping beside someone had made him rest easier than he had in years.
“morning,” he murmured, voice rough.
you smiled sleepily. “hi.”
he looked like he wanted to say something, then settled for brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “you still good?”
“mmhmm.” you stretched slightly, muscles sore but not unpleasantly so. “better than good.”
he looked relieved. and then, like something clicked in his head, he muttered, “wait—class. what time is it?”
“we have plenty of time,” you said, laughing softly. “I always set an early alarm.”
he groaned and flopped back beside you, an arm thrown over his eyes. “you’re too responsible.”
“well, you need me to keep you on track.”
you hadn’t meant it to come out so naturally, but the second you said it, you felt his hand drop from his face and his eyes meet yours again. and not that heavy, unblinking stare you used to catch him slipping into when he thought no one noticed.
his eyes had always carried something haunted in them, ever since the day you met. something fractured, a little hollow, like he’d learned too early that the world could betray you if you weren’t ready for it.
but this morning, it was different. you didn’t notice it right away. it was in the tiny shift. the way his gaze warmed instead of hardened. how he blinked slower, more at ease, like the knots in his chest had loosened overnight. you stared at him for a long second, trying to trace what had changed — and then you realized.
the sadness was still there. maybe it always would be. but it wasn’t all-consuming anymore. not sharp. not cold. there was something softer behind his eyes now.
something that bloomed quiet and tender, like spring cracking through frost. and for the first time, he didn’t look like he was fighting himself just to be here. he looked like he wanted to be.
you leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “you’re different today.”
he raised a brow. “already?”
“I mean it in a good way,” you said. “your eyes don’t look sad.”
he was quiet for a second, then laughed under his breath. “maybe it’s because you kissed me back.”
“maybe it’s because I let you fuck me.”
he turned to face you fully, lips twitching into a smirk now, but not cocky. still fond. “both.”
you rolled your eyes and shoved at him lightly. he caught your hand. and then he said, “can I take you somewhere today?”
you blinked. “what do you mean?”
“after class. I wanna take you out. just us.”
your heart flipped a little. “a date?”
he nodded.
“okay,” you whispered. “i’d really like that.”
the walk to campus that morning felt strangely new, even though it was the same sidewalk you took every morning. the sun was a little too bright, your bag slung too casually over your shoulder, and si-eun was right beside you — hands in his pockets, that unreadable expression on his face that made most people wary of him.
but not you. not anymore. not with the way his pinky kept brushing yours on purpose as you walked. not with the way he leaned in to murmur, “you’re sure you’re not sore?” while your classmates were still ten feet behind.
and definitely not with the way you glanced up and saw it again — that look in his eyes. no longer cold, no longer cracked, still intense, still si-eun.
but clearer, softer, like he could breathe a little easier. like you were the first thing he’d ever let soften him. and god, you wanted to protect that softness for as long as he’d let you.
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