You shouldn't be worrying about anyone or anything more than yourself, my love. I mean, you and your well-being should always come first, no matter what.
Besides, the moment something we consider a hobby stops making us feel happy, excited, or entertained, and instead starts making us feel drained or miserable... it loses all the magic that made us love it in the first place. At that point, it starts feeling more like a burden than something to enjoy.
And honestly, the biggest enemy we have isn't anyone else—it's ourselves and our own minds. No matter the situation. There's nothing wrong with having expectations, and there's nothing wrong with wanting reassurance that you're doing well. That's just how people work, especially nowadays. Words genuinely carry so much more weight than most people realize.
And when it comes to not receiving the support you feel your work deserves... it really sucks how much that can affect your mood. I'm not saying that to judge you or point fingers, but because I'm not unfamiliar with how you're feeling or everything you're expressing. I truly understand it. I honestly wish everyone could understand you too and respect the way you feel, because your feelings are far more valid than you probably give yourself credit for, babe.
Working hard for other people, only for your effort to go unnoticed or unappreciated... it's incredibly frustrating. And I think it's also when people should stop and ask themselves how considerate they really are toward those who put so much effort into creating something meaningful for others.
At the same time, it makes you realize that maybe we should spend more time creating things to satisfy ourselves rather than constantly trying to satisfy everyone else.
We're complicated by nature, and we're living in pretty awful times. And honestly... I think artists—no matter what kind of art they create— are the ones who end up carrying the heaviest burden.
So, I'm telling you this with all my heart: you're incredible. Your work is incredible. You're a wonderful person, and you're doing the best you can and that's more than enough. And if what you need right now is a break... then take all the time you need. Take time for yourself, to clear that brilliant mind of yours, and to figure out, with a clearer head, what you truly want to choose in the long run.
Not because you feel pressured. Not because you're relying on other people's opinions. But because it's what you want—because it's the choice that makes you feel the most at peace with yourself and with whatever you decide to do. Because I'll say it again : you are the most important person here. Your well-being and your feelings will always matter more than anything else.
No one blames you for being human, babe. If anything, thank you for being honest enough to share how you're feeling.
I'm sending you the biggest, warmest hug. Please remember that you're loved and supported. And if you ever need to talk more in depth, don't hesitate to reach out to me, seriously. You're not alone. Sending you so, so much love~ 🫂❤️🩹
— 💕.
i cried my eyes out the second i saw your response. thank you, sincerely, for being here and simply for understanding.
honestly, i never thought that something i enjoyed as much as i did when i started out would take such a toll on me later down the line. and that is because i started comparing myself to others. to the engagement and praise / amount of likes others received within certain time periods. that was my own fault. i allowed comparison to steal the enjoyment i had for something that was effortless before.
i started dissecting and picking apart my work to see what i did wrong compared to my fellow writers. and i started doubting my own work and creative ability because of it :(
truly, i thank you for the shift in mindset you have given me and i think after taking my break, i'll be able to return to writing, writing what i like best. what will be fulfilling for me. not what i think will get the most likes in under a week or the most engagement within a month's time :)
i had sat with this for a few weeks and decided it was time to let it out. i didn't want to talk to anyone specific about this and dump it all on them, i just wanted to be honest. it was weighing on me longer than it should have and although this is not posted on my main blog, i wanted to at least have my thought-process out there before going silent on this platform without a word.
i'll take my time before coming back as a writer, to finish my last series. and now i need to meditate on your words and truly take them in before doing anything else or making any permanent decisions. thank you for giving me perspective <3
once again, thank you for your warm words of encouragement and understanding. and thank you for making yourself available to me. i am so incredibly grateful for your presence and the sweet affirmations you never fail to send right back to me ♥︎
the urge to log off as a writer has become so strong these past few weeks, if not the past month. i originally joined tumblr a few years ago simply to read and that was my escape.
i started writing again september of last year, because i had so many fic ideas for writers, but later chose to keep them to myself and create my own stories and my own fics. i started writing and posting as a creative outlet and it has been fun, but i didn't realize how quickly i'd lose my drive for this when the response to my work wasn't as large as i expected. my last fic hadn't received as much engagement as i thought it would, which was especially discouraging after having put the most effort into that piece that i've ever put into any fic before.
unfortunately, to my own undoing, i am overly dependent on feedback and affirmation and i do appreciate and will always cherish every word of praise i've received for the works that i have put out thus far, but what started out as a fun hobby and an outlet became obligation in search of more engagement – and i started overlooking the praise i had already received.
i had known i wasn't the best of writers when i chose to start exposing myself to this platform, yet i still presented my works with high expectations. and i shouldn't have. i cannot rely on a platform like tumblr and my readers / mutuals for the validation i seek for my creativity or my ideas, in order to fill a void. that is not my readers' nor my mutuals' responsibility. that is my own shortcoming.
genuinely, i hope the series i'm working on right now will not be my last. i hope i will be able to gather the motivation to finish it. until then, i'll be tuning in on this platform just as a reader.
that was my escape before. my safety net. and i fear i am returning to that which i originally began with on here.
honestly, this feeling comes and goes and i might change my mind in a few weeks time and get back to writing. i think i just need to take some time off.
i am not leaving tumblr, nor am i deleting my works! i will simply not push myself to do something i was not cut out to do! ♥︎.
✦ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 : New York, 1920s. At the pinnacle of the golden society, Heeseung Lee is the perfect heir: impeccable, cold, and calculating. But every night, after leaving behind the heavy expectations of his family name, he escapes to the lower Manhattan streets to meet his greatest secret and his most dangerous weakness. You, a flapper who dances in a clandestine speakeasy, are everything he shouldn’t desire… and the only thing he truly needs. Amidst forbidden jazz, bootleg gin, and the constant threat of their relationship being exposed, Heeseung is willing to risk his reputation, his future, and his name for you. Because in the darkness of a back alley, inside his black Packard, the flawless heir transforms into a man obsessed, possessive, and desperately in love.
୨ৎ ֹ : There’s actually more to this, but I’m only posting a small part of it for now. Even then, it’s probably considered “too long” since a lot of ppl only care about the smut content. Still, I hope u guys enjoy it, and if it gets decent support, I might post more parts later.
The atmosphere in the Waldorf-Astoria’s grand ballroom was stifling, thick with the scent of gardenias, imported cigars, and the overpowering perfume of New York high society debutantes. Heeseung kept his back straight under the weight of his impeccable tailcoat, holding a glass of champagne he had barely touched. In front of him, a Wall Street banker gestured enthusiastically about the stock market, and Heeseung responded with the exact measure of courtesy: a perfect nod, a polished smile that didn’t reach his eyes but left his father’s business associates satisfied. He was the heir to an impeccable name, playing the role that Fifth Avenue expected of him.
Seizing the moment when the banker was distracted greeting another guest, Heeseung slipped his left hand into the pocket of his vest. His fingers found the cold, engraved surface of his pocket watch, a solid gold family heirloom. He flicked the lid open with a soft click of his thumb. Midnight had already passed.
It was time.
Without breaking composure, he waited for the precise second to excuse himself with a quiet murmur about a persistent headache caused by the tobacco smoke. He moved with the agility of a shadow through the sea of silks, satins, and genuine pearl necklaces, dodging the watchful gazes of the matrons patrolling the room. No one questioned the movements of a Lee; his respectability was an indisputable fact. He crossed the marble foyer and stepped out onto the main staircase, where the icy Manhattan night air struck his face, clearing the lethargy of the event.
“The Packard.” he ordered the valet in a voice stripped of the political warmth he had used all evening.
The employee nodded promptly, intimidated by the cold authority radiating from the young man. A few minutes later, the imposing black automobile stopped at the curb, its engine purring softly like a tame but dangerous beast. Heeseung slid into the driver’s seat, dismissed the valet with a silver coin, and before the door had fully closed, pressed his foot down on the accelerator.
As the Waldorf faded behind him and the lights of the skyscrapers dissolved into the darker streets of lower Manhattan, Heeseung’s perfect facade began to crumble. With one hand on the wheel, he used the other to open the glove compartment. The latch gave way, and nestled among the vehicle’s documents gleamed the deep blue of a small velvet box. His hand lingered for a second over it, caressing the texture of the case that had hidden the sapphires for days. A genuine smile, tense with anticipation yet filled with an almost violent devotion, curved his lips. He slammed the compartment shut.
Every turn of the wheel took him further from the hypocrisy of his world and closer to you. In recent months, that drive had become his only moment of true clarity. He thought about your bold haircut, the way you defied gravity on stage, and the warmth of your skin. He drove fast, bordering on reckless, devouring the streets still wet from the recent drizzle.
Finally, the car slipped into the back alley behind the “speakeasy”. It was a narrow passage that reeked of dampness and cheap illegal gin, a stark contrast to the opulence he had just left. Yet for him, that cracked pavement was a sanctuary. The alley was the only silent witness to his escapes, the only place where he could worship you without the gossip columns tearing your name apart. It infuriated him that he had to hide. If it were up to him, he would take you by the hand and drag you into the center of the Waldorf, forcing that stale dynasty to bow before you. Because you were worth more than any of those insipid heiresses; you were worth every risk, every lie, and every reputation he put on the line, even if you were the first to doubt it and demand secrecy.
He turned off the engine but left the headlights on, casting sharp silhouettes across the rain-soaked alley. He stepped out of the Packard and pushed open the heavy wooden back door of the club, bypassing the guard who already knew his face, and especially the thickness of his tips.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, the wall of sound hit him instantly. The raw, hot notes of jazz floated through the air thick with cigarette smoke. The place was packed. There were businessmen who had loosened their ties, local gangsters in pinstripe suits, and sailors looking to forget the docks. Most were already showing the effects of bootleg alcohol, with glassy eyes and overly loud laughter. Heeseung stood out immediately. Even in this underground dive, the fall of his coat, the refinement of his features, and the rigidity of his posture made it clear that although classes mixed here, there were still levels. He belonged at the very top.
He scanned the crowd with thinly veiled disdain. To these men, the women dancing on stage or serving drinks were mere merchandise, a pretty flesh to satisfy carnal desires in a dark corner and forget by dawn. They felt entitled to possess them with their eyes.
Heeseung clenched his jaw as he crossed the room toward the dressing area. He wasn’t there for a fleeting whim. What he felt for you went far beyond the physical; it was absolute possession, a fire that consumed his chest and threatened to explode if he didn’t claim you right away.
The hallway leading to the dressing rooms was a narrow labyrinth, thick with the smell of sweat, talcum powder, hair spray, and the sickly-sweet residue of cheap perfume. Heeseung walked with firm steps, ignoring the bustle around him; the constant coming and going of flappers adjusting their stockings, laughing shrilly, or passing around flasks of bootleg liquor.
Halfway down the corridor, one of them stepped into his path. She was a woman with endless legs and generous curves, wrapped in a silk fringed dress that left very little to the imagination. She leaned against the wall with languid familiarity, exhaling a thick cloud of cigarette smoke before fixing her kohl-lined eyes on him. Her gaze swept over Heeseung’s tailcoat, instantly recognizing the impeccable cut that only Fifth Avenue money could buy.
“Well, well… looks like we have a genuine high-society gentleman around here,” she purred, taking a step forward that dangerously closed the distance between them. “You look a little tense, handsome. All that formalwear must be exhausting. If you’re looking for some entertainment to forget about business and have a good time… I know exactly how to make you relax.”
Heeseung looked down at her from his height with an icy stare that would have made anyone retreat. Inside, a biting curse crossed his mind; he was disgusted that they breathed the same air as you, disgusted that they assumed he was like the rest of the pigs who paid for company. When the woman, emboldened by her own audacity, reached out to touch the lapel of his jacket. He shifted back an inch, and before her fingers could touch the fabric, he gripped her wrist with iron strength. He didn’t hurt her, but the hold was firm enough to stop her cold.
“I’m not interested,” he stated, his voice so sharp it seemed to freeze the hallway. “Out there at the tables there are dozens of men with pockets full of cash, more than willing to use you in the way you seem so eager for. Go find them.”
Without waiting for a reply, he pushed her aside with a brusque motion and continued on his way, leaving the woman stunned, her pride barely intact thanks to the young man’s haste.
Heeseung didn’t stop until he reached the door he knew by heart. Without bothering to knock, he turned the handle and pushed it open. The collective dressing room was a chaos of feathers, mirrors lit by bare bulbs, and delicate lingerie. His intrusion drew a chorus of muffled gasps and surprised squeaks from the dancers, who were in various states of undress and preparation for the next number.
None of them mattered to him. His gaze swept across the room like radar until it found you at the back, sitting in front of the vanity, putting the finishing touches on your lipstick. When his reflection appeared in the mirror, your eyes widened with a mix of surprise and panic. Acting on pure instinct before the others could start whispering, you stood up, strode toward him, grabbed his hand, and dragged him out of the dressing room, slamming the door shut behind you.
The moment the latch clicked and you were alone in the dim hallway, Heeseung didn’t give you time to breathe. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest with an almost painful urgency, clinging to you as if you were the only real thing after hours of enduring the Waldorf’s falsehood. His face buried itself in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.
“How can you be so reckless?” you whispered against his shoulder, trying to keep your voice low while your hands rested on his chest. “You keep coming here like it’s nothing, without worrying that someone might recognize you. You don’t even try to hide who you are.”
Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you. An adoring smile, completely unlike the stiffness he had shown minutes earlier, lit up his features. His dark eyes shone with absolute devotion.
“The last thing I care about in this life is what the city’s gossipmongers can invent about me,” he replied, his tone soft but unyielding. “I thought you already knew that by now, my love.”
Then, closing the distance even further, he took your gloved hand and slowly brought it to his lips. He pressed a reverent kiss to your knuckles, holding your gaze through his lashes without breaking eye contact for even a second.
“You have no idea how agonizing it’s been waiting for you all night. I’ve been desperate to see you since the moment I woke up.”
You smiled with a mix of resignation and tenderness. It was impossible to keep up any pretense of anger with a man who looked at you like you were a goddess, someone who seemed willing to kiss the very ground you walked on.
“I missed you too,” you admitted with a sigh, softening your posture, “But understand me… The last thing I want is for your reputation to be tarnished because of me. Your family, your name…”
Heeseung let out a heavy sigh and closed the distance in one swift motion. He pushed you gently but possessively against the wall. His right hand immediately rose to your face, cupping your cheek with his long fingers, forcing you to look at him as he captured your lips in a deep kiss. It was a hungry kiss, filled with all the tension he had held back throughout the week, a silent claim that left you breathless. Your tongues met in a slow, possessive rhythm that made your knees weaken.
When you finally pulled apart, gasping for air, you looked at him in astonishment, cheeks flushed and pulse racing. Heeseung leaned in to place a tender kiss on your forehead, resting his own forehead against yours as he spoke to you in a low, husky, intimate voice.
“Listen to me carefully. There isn’t a single risk in this world I wouldn’t take for you. I’d leave everything behind if that was the price to be with you openly, in the light of day. My name means nothing if you’re not part of it.”
A soft, melodic laugh escaped your lips at his drama. You gave his arm a playful pat, looking at him with a spark of amusement in your eyes.
“It seems your feelings are clouding your judgment, darling,” you said teasingly, shaking your head. “Those definitely didn’t sound like the words of the smart, calculating man you’re supposed to be. There’s no doubt that love is a real danger… an absolute threat to coherence and logic.”
Heeseung let out a low chuckle, a vibrant sound that was muffled against your neck before he pulled back to look at you again. His fingers slowly traced the contour of your cheek, capturing the warmth of your skin.
“I have no way to refute that,” he admitted, his eyes shining in a way he would never show in the salons of Fifth Avenue. “I’m fully aware of my own recklessness and my complete lack of reason right now. But you have to admit it’s entirely your fault; you’ve got me completely foolish.”
Your laughter rang out clear and light in the hallway, untouched by the peeling walls or the clamor of the club. It was a sound so full of life that Heeseung felt a violent flip in his chest. His heart raced in an almost painful way, confirming what he already knew: there was no room for regret. In all of New York, in the entire world, there wasn’t a single woman capable of making him feel so ridiculously alive.
“You’ve definitely lost your mind, Lee,” you said, crossing your arms with perfectly feigned indignation. You lifted your chin, looking up at him with a haughty, arrogant expression that only dazzled him more. “Though, if we’re being honest, you were already a bit of a fool the first time we met.”
Heeseung shook his head, amused, adoring that sharp, daring spark that made you unique.
“Enough talking, my lady” he declared without warning. Before you could protest, he lifted you off the ground. Your feet left the floor and you had to cling to his shoulders as he settled you in his arms with astonishing ease. He wasn’t willing to leave you in that place a second longer, not now that he finally had you all to himself.
He crossed the hallway and the main room with firm steps, completely ignoring the sideways glances and obscene comments a couple of drunk men threw his way. Heeseung clenched his teeth, barely holding back the curses burning in his throat. The mere idea that those men dared to look at you turned his stomach, but his priority was getting you out of there.
He pushed open the back door and the cold night air greeted them in the alley. The cracked pavement glistened under the drizzle, reflecting the imposing silhouette of the Packard. With care, as if carrying the most valuable piece of contraband, he opened the rear door of the car and gently placed you on the leather seat before climbing in beside you and closing the door with a solid thud, shutting out the noise of the outside world.
As soon as he settled next to you, the urgency in his gaze shifted into an almost boyish anticipation.
“There’s something I’ve been keeping for you. And I can’t wait another minute to give it to you.” he said, his voice dropping a little lower. He reached over the back of the seat toward the front of the car. His long fingers quickly opened the glove compartment and returned holding the small velvet box. He offered it to you, holding your gaze. “I saw it and thought of you immediately. There was no way to avoid it.”
You stared at him wide-eyed before accepting the expensive case. When you opened it, the sparkle under the glove compartment light stole your breath. It wasn’t costume jewelry or a cheap imitation like the chorus girls usually wore. It was a wide choker necklace, a genuinely choker with perfectly aligned pearls set around a central diamond that caught the faint light of the alley with blinding purity.
Surprise was written all over your face.
“You’re getting more and more drastic with your gifts and the way you spoil me, Heeseung.” you whispered, running your fingertips over the gems.
Heeseung didn’t answer with words. He took the necklace from your hands and motioned for you to turn slightly. His fingers, warm despite the night, gently brushed aside the strands of your bob haircut to wrap the pearls around your neck. Before fastening the clasp, he leaned in to leave a slow kiss on your collarbone, followed by another, longer and firmer, on the side of your neck.
“Nothing is too drastic when it comes to you,” he rasped against your skin, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “You deserve the best in the world, and I’m showing you that I can give it to you without reservations, without complications.”
He secured the clasp and let his hands slide down to your shoulders, turning you to face him once more. The diamond sparkled right at the base of your throat, looking obscenely beautiful against your skin.
“If you finally decided to ignore the prejudices and the fear of what others might say… there would be many more improvements in your life. Improvements I would lay at your feet the moment you asked for them.”
“Heeseung…” you whispered his name, fully aware of the social storm it would cause for the Lee heir to appear hand in hand with a flapper from a speakeasy.
But you couldn’t finish the sentence. Just like before, Heeseung leaned in and kissed you to silence you.
But this time the kiss was different. There was no reverent tenderness from moments ago, nor the patient promise of a gentleman. It was a complete shift, an immediate, heavy wave of possession that sought to erase any trace of doubt from your mind and remind you exactly who you belonged to in the darkness of that car. His mouth claimed yours with an urgency that transformed the atmosphere into something thick, hot, and suffocating, marking the beginning of the night’s true rhythm.
And a moment later… the alley behind the speakeasy reeked of bootleg gin and rain-slicked pavement now. Inside the idling Packard, the world outside ceased to exist. Heeseung’s tuxedo jacket now lay discarded across the front seat, his tie hanging loose around his neck like a forgotten noose. You were already in his lap, knees sinking into the butter-soft leather, the jet-beaded fringe of your dress shoved up to your waist in an impatient rustle.
“God, I missed you, so badly” he growled against your lips, his voice rough from hours of barely contained hunger. His hands, still bearing the heavy family crest ring, slid down your body with blatant need. The beads clattered like spilled coins as he pushed the fabric higher, exposing the sheer silk stockings and the delicate satin garter belt he’d brought you from Paris a month ago. No knickers underneath, just your bare, already soaked cunt glistening in the faint glow of the dashboard.
His fingers parted your slick folds without preamble. You were drenched, hot, slippery arousal coating his knuckles instantly, strings of it clinging between his digits when he spread you wider. The swollen lips of your sex parted with a wet sound; your clit throbbed visibly under his thumb, engorged and dark. He dragged two fingers through your cream, then pushed them knuckle-deep inside you, curling hard against that spongy front wall until your inner muscles fluttered and sucked at him greedily.
You moaned, low and wrecked, the sound vibrating against the thick glass and steel cocoon of the car. “Heeseung… drive first. Someone might see…You might get in trouble for that…—”
“No.” He yanked his fingers free. Slick strands stretching and snapping, and fisted his cock through his open fly. He was brutally hard, veins standing thick under the flushed skin, the fat head already leaking a steady bead of precome that smeared across your inner thigh when he notched himself at your entrance.
One brutal upward snap of his hips and he sheathed himself to the root in a single, searing glide. The stretch was obscene, your walls yielding and then clamping down like a vise around his girth, every ridged inch forcing your cunt to open wider, to take him deeper. The sudden fullness punched the air from your lungs; you felt the blunt head lodge against your cervix, a dull, delicious ache blooming outward as your body struggled to accommodate him.
The car rocked violently once, twice, suspension groaning. Then it settled into the filthy, liquid rhythm of flesh slapping flesh. Each time he bottomed out, your arousal squelched loudly around his shaft, wet, sucking noises that echoed in the tight space, mingling with the creak of leather and your broken gasps.
His mouth latched onto the side of your throat, teeth scraping before he sucked hard enough to bruise. The skin bloomed hot and tender under his lips; you could feel the blood rushing to the surface, the faint copper-salt taste of your own skin when his tongue laved over the mark. “You feel that?” he panted, breathing against your pulse point. “That’s mine. Every goddamn inch of you is mine, and I’m tired of pretending you’re not.”
You rode him harder, hips rolling with the same sinuous snap you used on stage. Your inner walls dragged along his length on every lift, then sucked him back in on the drop, milking the thick ridge under the head. The friction was scalding, velvet heat squeezing him so tightly his breath hitched every time your cunt fluttered. Sweat gathered in the dip of your spine, also trickling between your breasts; the necklace he’d given you swung heavily, stones and pearls slapping against sweat-damp skin with every bounce.
He gripped your ass cheeks, fingers digging in until the flesh whitened then flushed red under his hold. Nails bit sharp half-moons into the plush meat.
“I bought you that necklace,” he rasped, voice fraying. One hand slid up to trace the heavy pearls, cool against fever-hot skin, while the other kept your hips pinned so he could grind the base of his cock against your clit on every deep thrust. “Diamonds and pearls, the exact ones you like the most. I want to see it sparkle in daylight, not just when I’m buried inside you in some back alley. Why the hell do you make me keep us a secret?”
You clenched deliberately around him, slow, rhythmic pulses that made his eyes roll back and his hips jerk erratically. Your cunt was so wet now that every withdrawal dragged a glistening coat of your arousal down his shaft, pooling at the base where his dark curls met your bare lips. The obscene slickness coated his balls, dripped onto the leather in fat, sticky drops.
“Because you’re Heeseung Lee,” you gasped, voice splintering on a moan as he punched particularly deep. “Society prince. Moral compass. One whisper of a flapper dripping on your cock and they’ll tear you apart.”
He snarled, flipped you in one brutal motion so your back hit the seat. One knee shoved your thigh high and wide; the other braced on the floorboard. The new angle let him sink impossibly deeper, cockhead kissing your cervix on every punishing stroke, the pressure so intense it bordered on pain and still made pleasure spike white-hot behind your eyes.
The car shook with the force of his thrusts. Your necklace clasp clicked rhythmically against the seatback; your stockings rasped against his trousers. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your collarbone, slid between your breasts in salty rivulets. His thumb found your clit, swollen, slippery, hypersensitive, and rubbed tight, merciless circles that made your thighs quake.
“I don’t give a damn, never did” he hissed, voice shredded. “Let them talk. Let them stare. I want to take you to the Waldorf on my arm. I want to fuck you in our own bed, not this goddamn car after playing the perfect gentleman all night.” His thumb pressed harder; your cunt spasmed violently around him, inner walls rippling, trying to pull him deeper. “I love you, damn it. I love you so much it’s eating me alive.”
The orgasm tore through you like bad gin set alight, sharp, consuming, unstoppable. Your walls clamped down in hard, rhythmic pulses, milking his cock so fiercely his rhythm broke. A gush of fresh slick flooded around him, soaking his shaft, his balls, the crease of your ass, the leather beneath. You cried out, nails scoring down his back through his open shirt as your whole pelvis fluttered and seized.
He followed on the next brutal thrust, burying himself balls-deep and coming with a guttural groan of your name. Hot, thick spurts painted your insides, until you felt overfull, the excess seeping out around his base in creamy rivulets that trickled down your skin. His cock twitched inside you with every aftershock, smearing his release deeper.
For a long moment the only sounds were your wrecked breathing, the wet squelch when he shifted slightly, and the distant wail of a saxophone from the club. Heeseung collapsed over you, still buried to the hilt, softening slowly inside your pulsing heat. His lips brushed your temple, tasting salt.
“Next time,” he whispered, voice gravel and ruin, “I’m not letting you leave this car until you say yes to being seen with me in the light.”
You smiled against his damp hair, fingers threading through the strands he’d spent hours slicking back for the party. “We’ll see, darling.”
But you both knew, he’d keep spoiling you with diamonds and more until the day you finally let the whole glittering world watch him ruin you in public the way he ruined you right now.
ms.heesngirl, you have done it again! i had to come and pour out all of my thoughts on this masterpiece, especially after realizing that i've been giving recs of your works to everyone and their mother, but not on my reading blog! ><
gosh, where do i start?
lee heeseung, you yearner!
this is the type of fiction that doesn't even need smut. i could genuinely read multiple chapters of this hee x reader and i would never tire! the intensity of their affection and desire for each other is so tangible, even through this little screen! you outdid yourself before we even got to the steaminess!
reader and i are on the same wavelength, because his recklessness would terrify me! i can't even begin to explain to you how much i love a heesngirl fic where he's brutally fucking his confession into reader, my word! i screamed! (perhaps without the 's' too :p) his mild frustration that he's not getting through to her is so evident, i loved it!
and now i need more! more of whatever you have planned for this fic / series, it doesn't matter if the plot outweighs the smut! i am ready!
100/10 read! i highly recommend! my heart and my coochie clenched, thanks! :)
alpha!beomgyu & his mate, (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 ➛ final!)
warnings: SMUT! p in v, unprotected sex (don't!), ALL things a/b/o, dom & sub dynamics, heat sex, oral (f & m rec), gyu's a munch, masturbation (m)(kind of), fingering, teasing (lots of it), begging (reader says please A LOT), edging, praise, slick slurping, cum eating, strength kink, spanking, ruined orgasm, big dick beomgyu agenda, multiple positions: missionary, prone bone (kind of, it'll make sense), doggystyle, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, knotting, marking, claiming, basically porn with fluff sprinkled on top, gyu being a heartthrob, gyu duality king
whew, that was a mouthful :‐|
wc: 7.6k
scz note: this is how i imagined gyu for this final part! this will be the last part of this series! may or may not contain some errors. i hope you all enjoy it! x
"so... who was the alpha you spent your first heat with?"
you're barely able to form a thought as you lay on your back in your bed, panties long gone and thighs being spread by beomgyu's persistent hands, mouth hot on your neck
he had been all over you since the minute the two of you woke up. you had pushed him off and forced him to go with you into the bathroom and freshen up first – to which he hastily obliged, immediately pushing you back onto your mattress
it was the last of your pre-heat today, your heat would be arriving tomorrow. your scent was becoming stronger, putting beomgyu in a frenzy
frenzy was a light way to put it, especially with the way he kissed down your body, now mouthing and biting at the soft flesh of your inner thighs, growing hungrier the closer he gets to your core
you whimper as his fingers start toying with your clit, temporarily distracting you from his question – which you've been avoiding since last night
"i– shit, beomgyu– wait–" you protest, already grabbing a handfuls of the sheets, back arching
his eyes darken the longer he stares between your thighs, the object of his fixation dripping with slick, just begging to be devoured
his lips hover right above your core, "fuck, i've been dying to taste you properly baby", he rasps before he licks a fat stripe up your slit, removing his fingers to swirl his tongue around your clit, sucking the little bundle of nerves into his mouth
you moan breathlessly, head falling back onto your pillow as beomgyu hungrily starts making out with your pussy, guttural moans vibrating against you as he loses himself in your decadent sweetness
he pulls off, only to profess, "best pussy i've ever tasted," before he dives back in
you would have giggled at his words – if his assault wasn't rendering you totally brainless
wanton moans escape you as your mouth hangs agape, already feeling fucked out the more his tongue relentlessly works you, determined to figure out what you like
he fucks his tongue into you, slurping some of your essence that's leaking down to your ass – you gasp at the intrusion to your entrance
'kay, she likes when i do that, he notes, dragging his ravenous muscle back up to your clit, his jaw flexing as he flattens his tongue and rolls it against you again and again
"oh my god, beomgyu!–"
knew she'd like that too, he preens, smug as you cry out, a hand settling in his hair
fuck, he's already working you towards an orgasm
he pulls away again, making you whine and he snickers wickedly as you try to push his head back onto you, but to no avail
"still haven't answered my question, baby"
you huff, already missing having his mouth on you, frustratedly bucking your hips toward him before he holds them down, an arm flexing over your abdomen
"beomgyu...please...", you try, looking down at him to plead with your eyes, to which he only shakes his head
"c'mooon, is it someone i know? i told you who popped my cherry last night" he bargains, a finger teasing your slit again, before he places a fat kiss on your clit, making you jolt
you fuss, recalling the conversation you had whilst beomgyu was cuddling you after your...activities last night –
— him, having lost his virginity to an omega long ago and having fallen deeply in love with her, only for her to have left him the second she met her mate, soobin
the information had shocked you, because you knew soobin. heck, you guys have been at the same institutions since middle school – with kai and your best friend – you even remember her having a crush on him too
he didn't hate soobin, he knew he had no right to
but beomgyu had been crushed, knowing that no amount of whatever they had could outweigh the gravity of a mate bond – it still hurt that she didn't care whether or not he was watching whilst she doted on soobin, as if beomgyu never meant anything to her – which was exactly the reason he set out to become an "omega slayer" as kai liked to call him
he wanted to forget her, badly — and had tried filling the void with other omegas. he had succeeded in his pursuit of making his feelings diminish, but the damage had been done and a reputation had already been attached to his name by the time he decided to stop
your poor beomie, you had thought, if only you had met him earlier
you guess it was only fair to tell him who you had your first experience with – that is, if he wasn't so goddamn good with his mouth —
a light smack against your thigh had pulled you out of your thoughts, his tongue back to devouring you now, unable to wait as your slick trickled delectably from your hole, your alpha unable to resist the pull of your scent
your hand tightens in his hair, gasping when he slides a digit into you
"you're really not gonna tell me?" he speeds up, massaging your gummy walls deliciously as he makes out with your little bundle of nerves again
your hips attempt to buck, but remain immovable under his firm hold
god, he was turning your brain into mush
and he was enjoying it probably a lot more than he should have, slowing his pace and then speeding it up again. you scramble to form words as he plays with you, moans and whimpers escaping you every time you go to speak
your orgasm was creeping up on you again – and fast
"my baby can't even think right now, huh?" he teases, circling the tip of his tongue around your nub before sucking it into his warm mouth again, chuckling deeply against it – your eyes roll to the back of your skull
"c'mon, tell alpha who it was" he commands
the vibrations from his voice shoot straight up your spine, making you scream – "god– fuck beomgyu! it was taehyun!" you finally manage to get out, unable to disobey him
his mouth pulls off again temporarily, "taehyun?" he asks incredulously, adding a second digit, "the guy next door?"
that magician fucker? he thinks to himself, his brows furrow as he doubles his efforts, making you cry out and writhe against his hold
he liked taehyun a little less now
"yes, beomgyu! can we please talk about him later? i'm so close, please!"
"fine" he huffs, going back to eating you out, fingers curling upward, hooking right into that yummy spot that has you losing all sense again
streams upon streams of slick are pouring out of you and you'd be mortified at the feeling and sound of beomgyu vulgarly slurping it all up – even turning his head side to side – if you weren't on the edge of what you were sure was going to be the best orgasm of your life right now
"alpha– yes! oh my god, please don't stop!"
he peers up at you to see that you've gone cross eyed, the sight making him moan in satisfaction, sending more shockwaves and vibrations through your pussy
you could feel it coming now, tethering on the line between heaven and earth, nails digging into his scalp, moaning shamelessly
beomgyu swirls his tongue just right when—
"YOOHOO!" your roommate's voice and kai's little giggle sounds through the house, the front door shutting behind them
you gasp, shoving beomgyu's head from between your legs, snapping them shut
he genuinely looked like he was about to dive back in, you think, crossing them just to be safe – whimpering as your orgasm fades once again
his eyes are dark as he stares into yours, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand before licking it all up, groaning in frustration
"y/n? you awake?" you hear your roommate call as you push beomgyu off the bed and scramble to find your panties on the floor
"i– yeah! i'll be out in a minute!" you're still catching your breath, pulling on a pair of pants and gesturing for beomgyu to follow you out into the kitchen
the burn in your core had only intensified now
your cheeks burn as you sit on the couch next to beomgyu, your friends picking fun at you
"you should've seen them this morning, yeonjun! trying to tiptoe around the apartment. hah! it was the funniest thing ever!" your best friend cackles, clutching onto her stomach
"i would've paid good money to see that!" yeonjun laughs, wiping stray tears from his eyes
"fuck off, jun!" beomgyu laughs too now, shoving at the alpha
"finally man. i seriously thought you were gonna off yourself soon if you didn't get any!" he slows down now, earning himself a smack from hueningkai too
"okay, guys! enough! let's talk about tonight", kai chimes in, gathering his breath
"wait, what's happening tonight?" you ask, shifting closer to beomgyu. his hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers and your heart skips a beat
"you guys don't know? there's another tribe party tonight. new pack is being welcomed and everything", kai sits up
"already? hybe-house is really expanding now. what's the name of the new pack anyways?" you ask, momentarily shocked
"you would know if you and beomgyu weren't too busy banging— oof" a pillow hits yeonjun square in the face as he laughs, kai already threatening to hit him with another one
"they're gonna be called enha-pack or something," your best friend informs, scratching her head, "their last alpha presented a week ago, so they're celebrating. everybody's invited"
"makes sense for a pack to be formed already, considering hueningkai was the last alpha to present in ours," beomgyu states thoughtfully, "i heard some of their alphas presented super early too"
"interesting," you think out loud. "do they have an assigned pack leader?"
"yeah, a guy named jungwon. i met him at leadership training a few months ago! he's a really cool guy" kai beams
"then tonight should be great!" yeonjun cheers, his eyes scanning you and beomgyu, "you two coming?"
"absolutely not" beomgyu spoke with finality, "my omega's in pre-heat – and as much as i'd love to show my baby off..." he says, eyes locking onto yours, "i'm not letting her around other alphas like this, especially ones that presented just the other day"
his thumb traces circles over the back of your hand, making your heart do several flips
"good point" your best friend says, grinning at you knowingly
yeonjun makes a gagging noise, "okay, whatever. i'll just ask taehyun to join me"
"that magician fucker?" kai asks, laughing as his mate shoves him
"hyuka! take that back" your best friend gasps, chastising him
beomgyu cackles next to you, "hey, i call him that too! – and since when are you guys friends?" his attention directs back to yeonjun
"i actually know him from life guarding with me at the bay every summer, remember?" yeonjun informs. "plus, he seriously needs to get out more. y'know he really used to get down and dirty back in the day! that magic shit used to get omegas crazy–"
"taehyun?! there's no way!" your best friend gasps, eyes comically large
"yeah, you didn't know?" kai stretches, "where'd you guys think your cute little alpha got all his experience from?" he puts "cute" in air commas, looking right at you
"am i missing something here?" yeonjun questions, head whipping around to look at all of you – especially tilting his head at you
"nope! nothing at all! i think we should head out, right beomie?" you say, standing abruptly, tugging beomgyu with you
beomgyu chuckles, "yeah, we probably should. you guys have fun at that party. let us know how it goes" he sings as he allows you to pull him to kai's front door
"hold on! where will you guys be? i mean– you aren't going back to our place with y/n's heat and all..." your best friend trails off, smiling mischievously
"oh you don't have to worry about that," he smirks, "i'll be taking care of her at mine", is the last thing beomgyu says before he leads you out to his car, your friends hollering behind the two of you – you, blushing profusely
his scent is everywhere
— you note as you step into beomgyu's home, that woody amber engulfing you and wrapping around you like a cozy blanket
your core was blazing now and it was your turn to be all over him
but your alpha had other plans, placing you on his plush sofa and telling you to stay put while he gathered food and other things around his place for what will be a very long week ahead
well, at least one of you were level headed right now
you watch as he stores the last water bottle in the fridge before returning to where you're seated, his lips capturing yours
finally, you think, your arms snaking around his shoulders before he pulls away – a gentle hand on your chin, chuckling at the confusion on your face
"i just wanna spend a little more time with you before we go crazy" he clarifies and you sigh dreamily, nodding with understanding
after all, today would be the last day the two of you would get to spend together – sane, before you'd be fucking like, well, animals tomorrow
"wanted to show you something" he says, excitedly getting up and running to his room, where he returns from with his guitar case in hand
"what's all this?" you ask, eyes following him as he plugs in and sets up his fancy equipment for his electric guitar
"just a little something i put together" his teeth worry his bottom lip as he pulls out a sheet of music, some words scribbled in-between
you're already entranced when he picks at the first string, coaxing the guitar to sing, watching your reactions with quiet intent
the tune is slow, deliberate and your heart does somersaults when beomgyu opens his mouth to sing – sweet nothings describing your eyes, your lips, the way your laugh makes him come undone for the first time in years and ultimately — how he fell in love with you at first sight
god, were you supposed to feel for your mate what you were starting to feel for beomgyu already?
his husky voice melts into you, drawing you into a dazed-like state, his words settling deep inside of you – undoing every doubt of how serious he is about you
you were falling for him – and you were falling for him fast
you allow yourself to look at him, really look at him and how enchantingly beautiful he is and you realize — your heart dropping to your toes — that you could do this for the rest of your life
the song nears it's end now as he lets the melody land softly, trailing off as his eyes lift to yours, taking in your reaction
your eyes flit between his, releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding as you whisper, "beomgyu, that was..." he sets his guitar aside, making room for you to crawl into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around you. "that was beautiful. when did you have the time to create this?"
your hands cup his face as he speaks, "i started writing it since the first day we actually talked," he grins, "when you gave me that strict set of rules"
you laugh now, recalling your first few conversations with the alpha, how incredibly weary you were – and how you had already noticed how unfairly gorgeous he was, even in your state of denial
"did you like it?" he asks, his gaze travelling all over your face in sweet adoration
"i loved it" you say, leaning in to give him a gentle unhurried kiss, which he happily returns
you remain like that for the rest of the day, hours flying by as you and beomgyu talk about anything and everything, your tummy hurting at times with how hard he made you laugh – him, playing more tunes for you on his guitar, singing for you until late into the night
his voice lulls you to a state of sleepiness, beomgyu scooping you into his arms and carrying you to his bedroom, where he kisses you goodnight sweetly
your body was begging for him by now and you had become a little fussy until he promised you – low and certain – that he'd be taking care of you in the way you needed him to, tomorrow
your omega was excited for the day that lied ahead
agony — burning — whimpering
you wake up in a puddle of your own slick, your hand immediately reaching for the alpha next to you, meeting the bare skin of his chest
"b-beomgyu–" your voice cracks on another whimper
"i'm here, baby" he answers, his raspy morning voice causing more arousal to pool in your panties as he rolls on top of you, wasting no time in slotting his lips to yours
you automatically spread your thighs wider to accommodate him, hips bucking up to meet the delicious friction of his already hard cock on your clothed folds
your omega was feral inside of you – and this time you did not want to argue with her at all
"alpha–" you moan between kisses, causing him to growl deep in his chest, "alpha, i need you, please"
his hips roll harder against you, your nails clutching onto his shoulders, wailing for him as a hot flash wracks your body
there's no way beomgyu was trying to take things slow right now, you fuss to yourself, shoving him off of you before climbing on top of him, shamelessly dragging your swollen bundle of nerves along the outline of his hardness
god, he looks so pretty underneath you, you think — hair a little tousled, eyebrows furrowed, lip tucked between his teeth and hands gripping onto your hips
a sudden thought crosses your mind – a thought that you're unable to shake
"b-beomie– wanna suck you off, please? can i please?" you beg, driving harder onto him, making him choke on air as his eyes widen, staring up at you
don't give in, beomgyu, he tells himself, you should be taking care of her, not the other way around–
"please alpha, i really want to" you whimper, core igniting at the thought of having him in your mouth – nearly salivating
"fuck" he curses under his breath, "okay baby, get on your knees" he instructs and your omega is quick to push you to obey – which you happily do, sinking to his bedroom floor as he comes to a stand in front of you
fuck, he looks even taller from this angle, you think, hands making quick work of the strings on his sweats, before his own hands swat yours away
he lowers the waistband and you catch a glimpse of the smooth planes of skin on his adonis belt, his hand reaching to take his rock hard cock out, slowly
you gasp as you finally see it for the first time, thick, long and veiny – the tip a pretty pink oozing with pre-cum, just daring you to lean forward and have a taste – which you're about to do until beomgyu's hand catches your jaw, cupping the nape of your neck
"easy, baby. ' want you to take it nice and slow for me" he purrs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip as his other hand lazily jerks his cock, small groans sounding from deep in his chest – the sight makes you squeeze your thighs together, whining for him to give it to you
"open up" he commands, tapping his heavy tip on your tongue that has now lolled out of your mouth, quick to lower your jaw to accommodate him
"good girl" he rasps as he feeds his length into your mouth, the praise making you keen as you're determined to take him in fully, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes
you whimper as he pushes to the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex
he snickers wickedly, "what, taehyun never taught you how to use your mouth? relax your jaw for me baby", he teases
you whine around him, the possessiveness in his tone making slick pool under you, unlocking your jaw as he instructed
"there we go" he exhales as he draws back, only to push in slowly again, a hand tangling in your hair
his head is thrown back, adams apple on full display as he groans and moans deeply while steadily thrusting his hips back and forth, but you have other plans
both of your hands come up to wrap around him, thumbs and middle fingers barely touching as you start working them around his base, bobbing your head up and down on his length – his precum coating your tongue
"fuck" he grunts, sucking in air between his teeth – shuddering as you speed up and twirl your tongue around the tip when you pull off, only one thing on your heat-clouded mind
you want his cum
"baby, i told you to– holy shit" he chokes on his own spit for the second time today, nearly losing himself at the feel of you hollowing your cheeks around him, humming needily
your pussy's on fire watching beomgyu lose his mind, throbbing and pulsing every time he moans – those sexy moans you could not get enough of
god, you're so turned on right now, you realize as you reach a hand down between your thighs, desperately trying to relieve some of the ache
you take a deep breath before pushing him to the back of your throat again, nose kissing his abdomen
that forces another guttural moan out of him, looking down to see you touching yourself and the sight is nearly enough to make him come undone
"fuck yes, does sucking your alpha's cock make you that needy, hm? couldn't control yourself anymore?" he rasps, dick throbbing and heavy on your tongue
you pull off, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his tip, "want you to cum, want your cum alpha, please" you finally confess, your lips sealing around his tip again and he grunts – nearly indulging himself in the feel of your mouth again before he gains his senses and pulls you off, cupping your face and pulling you up to stand
fuck, you're a little minx, he thinks to himself
"i'm not gonna be coming today before you do" he asserts, the tone of his voice leaving no room for you to argue as you whine
you cling to him as he guides you back onto the bed, softly setting you on your back – making sure your head is supported with his pillow
his lips claim yours again, the fire between your thighs igniting excitedly as he kisses his way down your neck, pausing to remove your shirt
he curses under his breath at the sight of you – bare and ready – and kisses between your mounds before engulfing one of your nipples into his mouth – a breathy moan escaping you as he moves to the other, expertly twirling his tongue around the peak
god, you love his mouth
his kisses and nibbles travel down your torso, eating up the expanse of your belly as he reaches the waistband of your pants, his eyes peeking up at yours
"may i?" comes his husky voice, to which you nod quickly, followed by a breathy yes
another featherlight kiss is placed right above your waistband before he pulls your pants and panties off in one go, hastily tossing them to the floor
he's ravenous as he mouths at the skin of your inner thighs now, hands settling on the soft flesh to coax them further apart
two fingers caress your glistening folds, swirling the delectable arousal around before dragging them up to your clit, where he draws teasing little circles – your breath hitching as he continues to toy with you
your scent is much stronger now, honey curling around beomgyu as he simply breathes you in, his alpha prodding at him to taste, to claim, to relieve your pain
he slides the two digits down to your entrance again, a loaded kiss landing on your swollen bundle of nerves
you whimper, bucking your hips in an attempt to get him to give you what you want, his chuckle sounding low against your core
"i actually like you like this, so desperate for me" – another lingering kiss on your bundle of nerves, his fingers prodding your entrance
you're so goddamn worked up, if beomgyu would just stop being a tease–
a skilled digit eases into you and you sigh contentedly as he starts to curl it inside of you, deep and slow. your contentment doesn't last long however, your core soon demanding more
"a–alpha, i need more, please" you nearly sob when he adds a second digit, expertly curling it to find that spot – the one that has your walls quivering around him as he picks up his pace, slick causing an obscene squelch to sound through the room
"feels good?" he snickers, lips still hovering over and teasing your little bundle of nerves, making you whimper as it pulses painfully for him
"still need more, please" you rake a hand into his hair, in hopes of egging him on, but to no avail
"so pretty when you beg for me, baby. c'mon, beg for me some more"
god, he's driving you insane
"tell alpha what you want him to do" he demands, another curl of his fingers making your mouth fall agape
"beomie please, i want your mouth– please make me come with your mouth...it hurts" your voice trembles, ovaries burning when you lock eyes with him
"good girl" a light spank lands on the side of your thigh, making you jolt
his gaze is ravenous as he finally lowers his mouth, easily sucking your bundle of nerves into the wet warmth – a deep possessive growl rippling through your core as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your skull, head falling back onto his pillow
beomgyu loves seeing you like this — completely at his mercy as he absolutely ravishes you with his skilled mouth, swirling his tongue around your clit again and again
you cry out as his fingers double their efforts, driving into you as he releases your little bundle of nerves, only to flatten his tongue and lick a fat stripe up from where his digits are scissoring you open
"fucking love the way you taste, baby – love that it's all mine"
he slowly pulls his two fingers out, quickly replacing them with his tongue, driving the muscle in and out of your entrance before burying his face between your thighs, vulgarly slurping at the honey-like slick dripping from you — his moans deep and guttural at what your body has to offer
you're borderline delirious now
wanton moans and wails of his name fall from your lips as your hips buck into his eager mouth, his fingers filling you once more, hooking them into that yummy spot in a come-hither motion again and again
his other hand squeezes onto the flesh on the underside of your thigh, beckoning you to grind harder onto his tongue as he flattens the muscle for you to ride on
your orgasm's creeping up on you now – fast – and it doesn't seem like beomgyu has any plans of slowing down, grunting as he feels you start to pulse around his fingers
"alpha! alpha! i'm gonna come!" you cry, thighs trembling around his head before white-hot pleasure consumes you, his mouth not stopping it's assault on your cunt – humming as the taste of honey coats his tongue
you're too far gone to tell him to stop as he eases a third finger in, the stretch making you gasp as he works them into you with more purpose
"a-alpha– s'too much..." your breath hitches when his mouth pulls off, trailing up your body until he's hovering over you, hand cupping your face as his thumb traces your bottom lip, pulling down
"i need to prep you, baby. just give me one more, just like this" he says, placing a sweet kiss to your lips – in total contrast with his thumb finding purchase on your sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing tight little circles and rendering you dumb once more
your second high approaches you fast, the stretch instantly becoming delicious to your heat-clouded mind – pliant and inclined to take anything your alpha gives you
he's merciless and deep with his ministrations, your hips quickly rolling up to chase the pleasure and sweet relief that you can almost taste on your tongue – your blazing core eager for him to give you more, more, more
it doesn't take you long to reach your second orgasm, crying out as your alpha works you with hungry intent, momentarily reducing you to mindlessness. your jaw goes slack as your body writhes, trembling before going still
"baby? you still with me?" you hear his voice next to your ear, chuckling as you come back to your senses, pussy still pulsing around his digits
"yeah" is all you're able to utter – in total bliss, working on catching your breath instead
you're pulled out of your daze when you feel his fingers giving another experimental tease against that sensitive spot inside of you, gasping as you grab onto his wrist, "b-beomie–"
he chuckles wickedly against your temple, "just playing with you, baby" he finally slides them out and like standard procedure – slips them into his mouth
his hand returns between your thighs, cupping your mound, "you ready for me?" he trails sweet kisses down the skin of your neck again, pausing to suck a mark into the flesh
beomgyu's going to be the death of you, you think
your body surprises you as it ignites once again – the thought of having him inside of you getting you excited now, pushing out rivulets of slick – knowing there was only one thing that could put out the fire in your core: his knot
he lifts his head to assess you again only to find you already looking fucked out, unable to resist the urge to kiss you, the taste of honey from his mouth making you hum into his
his hips slot themselves between your thighs again, his fat, mushroom tip gliding over your sensitive nub, riling you up once more
you whine, breaking away from his sweet kiss, "need you inside, beomie. please don't tease"
he cups your face, "yeah? you think you can take it?"
"i can take it!" your omega was desperate now, your abdomen purring with anticipation as his hips grind against you harder, dragging his heavy cock over your folds
your breath hitches as the tip prods at your entrance, almost pushing past the tight ring of muscle before your alpha pauses, "tell me if it hurts, okay?" he commands softly, taking ahold of the base
you nod quickly, gasping when he slowly inches is tip into you, the stretch already hurting so good, you attempt to lift your hips to meet his
he groans, brows furrowed and hand gripping onto your inner thigh hard as he forces you back down onto the mattress
you whine again, "beomie– alpha, need more, please"
he sinks a few more inches into you, making you keen as you try to buck your hips again, but to no avail, your attempts no match for his authoritative strength
he's biting down on his lip, eyebrows furrowed as he buries himself to the hilt, momentarily stealing your breath
you feel...so full right now
he's still inside of you, causing you to huff frustratedly, "beomie move, please" you beg
his tone is gravelly when he opens his mouth to speak, "just give me a minute baby, i'm trying really hard not to blow my goddamn load right now"
your walls throb around him at that and beomgyu swears he might lose it
he's never had to gather himself when he's been inside another omega before – your sopping, trembling cunt nearly making him lose all sense of himself – this was a first for him
you feel him pull back not too long after gaining some control, willing his orgasm and his knot away as he starts to push into you again, setting a slow steady rhythm
his mouth lowers to your neck, nibbling at the skin as he rolls his hips into yours, your hands clutching onto his arms as moans fall shamelessly from your lips now
your body demands more, core feeling like a furnace, the pace beomgyu going at not helping to soothe the ache, instead amplifying it
you need him to use you, ruin you
"faster beomgyu, please" you beg, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the backs of his thighs in an attempt to egg him on
another slow drag of his cock, right against that mouthwatering spot inside of you makes your eyes roll to the back of your skull, beomgyu snickering as he lifts head to watch you
"but baby, why? doesn't this feel so good?" he does it again, making your nails bite into his his biceps, pulling a groan from his chest
you will your eyes open, wound up as you fuss, "it could feel better if you would just fuck me"
"aw, stop being so crude baby, it's our first time. i'm trying to make love to you", he grins menacingly as he continues his slow, shallow thrusts
god, he just had to tease you right now
"you can make love to me some other time, beomgyu! right now i need you to fuck me" you huff, not very far from sobbing too
he sighs dramatically, "very well" before he pulls out and you're ready to protest until you're flipped onto your stomach
the alpha manhandles you so that one of your knees are hiked up, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt as he wastes no time in sheathing himself inside again with a growl, pulling out until his tip is still nestled in your warmth before pushing back in
"beomgyu, holy fuck!" you wail, hands fisting the sheets as he sets a brutal pace immediately, a heavy hand landing on the flesh of your ass
"this what you wanted, huh baby?" he rasps into your ear before lifting himself, placing his other hand on the back of your neck for more leverage as he gives you a particularly hard thrust
"yes! god, yes!" you cry out, unable to form another thought
you plant your hand that's closest to your knee on the mattress, lifting slightly and turning your torso to get a look at him and oh god—
the sight of him — dark hair covering his eyes – tongue poking smugly at the corner of his mouth – the lean muscles of his pecs and abdomen flexing with every drive into your pussy – the veins along the skin of his adonis belt, even more prominent on his arms and hands that he uses to bend you as he pleases
you don't recall beomgyu ever telling you that he was working out, his inexplicable strength making so much more sense to you now
if you knew beomgyu had the ability to fold you into a goddamn pretzel, you would've let him fuck you a long time ago, you tell yourself in your delirium
your pussy pulses painfully around him the longer you look, making him lift his gaze, catching you ogling and drooling over him
"like what you see baby?" he asks, even more smug, thrusting deeper against that spot inside of you
"uh-huh–" is all you can get out as your jaw goes slack, more wanton cries falling from your lips
"feels good?" he smiles triumphantly when he feels you clench around him
"yes alpha! please don't stop, please" you plead, watching him release a possessive growl, fucking into you so hard, the headboard starts banging against the wall
beomgyu could stay like this forever – watching your hand fist in the sheets, your ass jiggle with every smack of his hips against you, your back arching as he feels you start to squeeze around his cock
you're getting close already
another heavy smack against your backside makes you yelp, loving how your alpha was absolutely taking you, using you as he pleases
your eyes flutter closed as the pleasure starts to consume you, another smack making them snap open
"eyes on me, baby. ' want you to look at me when you come, look at who's making you feel this good" he demands in that deep, territorial tone
his words coupled with the unforgiving drag of his length against your sweet spot is what pushes you over the edge, trembling around him as you fight to keep your eyes locked on his, crying "alpha! alpha!" before he slows and pulls out
you're still catching your breath when he removes his hand from the back of your neck, massaging where he had gripped, placing it next to your head instead – his other hand coming to rest on the flesh of your hip, caressing it affectionately. he leans down, pressing a proud, tender kiss against your temple before he asks, "more?"
"yes, please" you hum, your body still buzzing for him, "want your knot" you confess, gaze pleading with his
he curses under his breath before lifting himself off of you, that deep octave returning when he instructs, "all fours. present for me, baby"
your omega rejoices at the command and you do exactly as he asks, palms flat on the mattress as you raise yourself up on your knees, back arching instinctively as you put your ass and sopping pussy on display for him once more
beomgyu's unable to keep his hands off of you, admiring you in what was the known natural position for submission
this is it, this is you handing full vulnerability to your alpha
you feel him place a kiss between your shoulder blades, whispering reverently, "you look so perfect like this," before you feel his still rock hard cock nudging your entrance – you push your hips back against him eagerly
he wastes no time sliding into you, your slick from your previous orgasm making it easy, both of you moaning out at the feeling
beomgyu's hands find purchase on your hips as he starts driving into you, head thrown back as he starts to lose himself in your wet warmth
he swivels his hips just right to find that perfect spot inside of you again – the spot that he loves so much, because it makes you do this—
"beomgyu, don't stop!" you pant, fucking yourself back on his thick cock, back arching deeper
oh he does not plan on stopping at all, he thinks, biting down on his bottom lip as he increases his tempo, your pussy clamping down on him, ass slapping against his pelvis
another heavy smack lands against your backside, it jiggling and immediately becoming red with the impact as he groans
how you loved the feel of his hands on you – it was just like in the dream: grip firm and strong, guiding you back and forth onto his merciless thrusts, claiming you, taking control of you, handling you as he pleased
and then his voice, smug and husky when he taunts, "you're close for me already, aren't you?" – a deep chuckle following when you tighten around him immediately
"yes! yes alpha, please–" you choke on a gasp as he works himself into your cunt at an inhumane speed, tip nearly kissing your cervix with how ruthless he becomes. the cord in your stomach was wrung tight, ready to snap at any moment
this orgasm was going to take you straight to heaven
you sob as his tip glides against that delicious spot inside of you once more, triggering your release as you nearly scream, hands twisting in the sheets as slick gushes out from you
you're rendered brainless as you cry, "alpha! alpha! breed me! claim me, please! mark me! make me yours– fuck–!"
your thighs are still trembling when beomgyu manhandles you onto your back, wasting no time in burying his length into you once more, keeping the same unforgiving pace, a hand settling on your throat and the other on your little bundle of nerves. you wail, delirious now as he lowers himself and bores his eyes into yours, gaze making goosebumps erupt all over your skin – the look in his eyes nothing less than primal
"you really want this?" he asks, voice soft – tentative and strained compared to his cock's unending abuse of your pussy
"to be marked and claimed by me – making you mine for life, for eternity?"
god, you've never wanted anything more in your entire life
you nod frantically, hands cupping his face as you wrap your legs around his waist, whimpering as you feel his knot start to form
"words, baby" he urges, a particularly hard thrust punching the air out of your lungs
"yes!" you whisper – voice breaking, "yes, i want you, beomgyu. i want us, i want this..." – your eyes plead with his – "for eternity"
your hand grips onto the hair at the back of his head and you watch as pride and instinct consumes him, your words washing over him and making him shiver before he whispers back, devotedly and wholeheartedly, "then i'm yours, baby" before placing a kiss on your neck
"and you are mine"
that's the last thing beomgyu says before his teeth sink into the flesh of your neck, the pleasure and sharp pain pulling another earth shattering orgasm from you, his knot swelling to its full size as his cum shoots deep into you, copious amounts pumping into your womb – making you gasp as tears gather and in your eyes and roll down your temples into your hairline – your back arching, nails raking down his back and hand clutching tighter onto his hair
your omega is finally satiated as she sighs inside of you, beomgyu's alpha doing the same – your wolves finally fully in sync and bonded
his hips slow to a stop before he removes his teeth from your flesh, tenderly kissing the wound and soothing it with his tongue
his knot continues to slowly pump cum into you, lifting his head as his hand around your throat cups your nape now, whispering informatively, "your turn to mark me, baby"
and you do so without hesitation – only after surveying the skin of his neck and the veins that run along it, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows, preparing himself to now be claimed, to be owned by you too
your teeth sinks into the smooth flesh, beomgyu moaning deep in his throat as you hum, feeling his arm slide around your waist, hugging you to him
you imitate his earlier actions when you're done marking him, kissing and soothing the wound with your tongue before pulling back, head plopping back onto his pillow. beomgyu pants as he captures your lips with his, his kiss conveying everything he couldn't put into words, arms circling around you tighter
never in a million years could he have imagined this – that he'd feel so fulfilled, so complete and it's amplified when you disconnect your lips from his, only to whisper:
"i think i love you" – and he chuckles endearingly, his heart doing somersaults
"i think i love you too", his forehead comes to rest on yours
by now the woody amber scent in his room had been sweetly tainted with honey – bleeding into the rest of his home – a blend that your alpha eagerly welcomed as he deeply inhaled the air around him
his knot was still slotted at the entrance of your warmth, beomgyu husking softly, "can't even move yet, baby. looks like i'm stuck inside you", that stupid little grin of his taking over his face
"it's okay. i like having you inside of me" you purr right into his ear, wrapping your arms around his neck deliberately as your thighs settle tighter against his waist, nestling him snugly in your center
he sucks air between his teeth, groaning as you purposely clench down on him – your heat induced body already starting to burn again
he chuckles wickedly, the softness replaced by mischief as he rasps, taunting, "is that so?"
he claims your lips with his before he starts moving again, only to be interrupted as his phone rings on his nightstand
he's determined to ignore it as his tongue slips into your mouth, you humming into him – but the ringtone persists incessant, beomgyu snarling as he breaks the heated kiss
the bond was already making him so territorial
you didn't mind that at all
yeonjun's name blinks back at you on the caller id, beomgyu answering the phone and you're quick to click on the speaker button
"what?" your alpha asks, tone gravelly
"guess what! guess what happened at the party last night, dude! "
"what?" beomgyu repeats, huffing
"taehyun found his mate!" you hear the older alpha exclaim excitedly on the other side of the phone
"what's that got to do with me?" beomgyu asks, raising a questioning eyebrow, making you swallow a laugh
"because, beomgyu he's not the only one that found his mate..."
you and beomgyu's eyes both widen, mouths falling agape
"i found my mate too...
and she's perfect"
scz notes: that brings us to the end of this rollercoaster ride! (yeonjun seriously needs to stop calling people when they just got done canoodling)
➛ guitarist heartthrob gyu, how are we feeling?
➛ soob & gyu tension uncovered from soft dom alpha!soobin hcs!
buckle up, peeps :) (may or may not still have some errors)
warnings: SMUT! p in v, unprotected sex (don't!), ALL things a/b/o, dom & sub themes, scenting, kissing, marking (hickeys!), doggystyle, squirting, fingering, overstimulation, more squirting, cum eating, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby), possessiveness, big dick beomgyu, incorrect use of medical physiological terms (sorry), more inner conflict, apologetic gyu, insecurity (a lil self indulgent), comfort, epiphanies, gyu's a little (a lot) obsessed
wc: 4.9k!
"holy fuck, taehyun! please don't stop!"
you cried out, throat raw as you fucked yourself back on his cock
"wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart" he reassures, groaning gutturally, his hands on your hips pulling you back and forth onto him, your ass slapping against his thighs
"yes, yes! just like that– oh—"
something wasn't right
"t-taehyun..?" you still moan breathlessly, brows furrowing when the pretty groans behind you turn into deep, gravelly ones
the cock inside of you swells, stretching your cunt a little farther than what you were now used to, making you wail at the unfamiliar feeling of prominent veins stroking your walls
the hands on your waist are heavier, stronger now, driving you back onto pistoning, merciless thrusts. fuck, had taehyun turned into a beast or something? you thought nervously before craning your neck back to get a better look at the alpha behind you
"yeah, that's right baby. look at the alpha that's making you feel this good. he couldn't fuck you like this, could he?"
the sight of him – smug and simultaneously pissed off, brows furrowed, lip tucked between his teeth, coupled with his words has your mouth agape. your moans and whimpers become louder as his hips grow rougher
b-but how? what happened to taehyu—
a particularly hard thrust cuts off your train of thought and besides yourself, you nearly scream at the feeling of him tearing up your insides
"don't even fucking think about him," he snarls, a heavy hand lifting and landing hard on your ass, forcing another yelp out of you, cock repeatedly hitting that yummy spot inside of you. "you're mine."
beomgyu was relentless. your head was spinning now, fucked dumb and orgasm catching up to you at record speed – your hands grabbing fistfuls of the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself. how did he even–
"yeah, you gonna come baby? come on your alpha's cock? let me feel you"
god, he had barely finished his sentence and you were gushing, obscene squirts of slick shooting from your pussy as your legs trembled underneath you, back arching. wanton cries of his name spill out of you, knees raw from the friction against the sheets
"good girl," a snicker follows, "bet he couldn't make you do that, right baby?"—
you jolt awake abruptly, disoriented as you pick up the sound of your best friend knocking at your bedroom door in the distance until it eventually comes closer the more you gain consciousness
she opens your door to peek, "knock knock! hey, you up? i made brekkie." she calls sweetly, "it's still warm! i'm heading out, okay? kai and i will be back later. see ya!" and she's out the door again
god, you could feel a headache coming on
you make a move to get up and that's when you feel it – a pool of your own slick beneath you
fuck, did you seriously have a wet dream? about beomgyu?!
and you came? fucking squirted? in your sleep!? you were truly pathetic now
you get up quickly, heading to the bathroom to wash up and shower off the recollection of that – vigorous – dream
the cold water did little to help. you sat at the table in your kitchen now, munching away at the breakfast your best friend had prepared, body still buzzing from the aftershocks of having...orgasmed so...powerfully
this is getting out of hand, you had to go and see your specialist, today
you finish your food quickly, not forgetting to throw the sheets in the wash – grabbing everything you need before heading out of the house too
the office is cool and air conditioned when you walk in, gifting you with a little relief for your burning skin
some of the decor has changed over the past year, you note. portraits and smaller picture frames with an unfamiliar male figure adorning the walls and even the desk
after years, your specialist has finally met her match, a handsome alpha her age with a smile that took up his entire face. you could tell that the two made each other very happy
your specialist, that used to be ms.han – now mrs.lee walks in with a bounce in her step, "hello, hello ms.y/l/n! you haven't come to say hi in so long!" she chirps as she closes her office door and wraps you in a sweet embrace as you greet her back
oh, her scent has changed. something citrusy now complimenting the sweet cinnamon profile she had before
"what brings you to my office today, dear?" she asks, eyeing you as she takes a seat behind her desk, her hands folded neatly under her chin. you take a seat aswell as she listens tentatively to your recollection of the past few weeks, nodding and scribbling things down as you go into detail about the suppressants starting to wear off
she asks you a set of questions, questions that you knew, very well, all of the answers to
"so you've noticed increased sensitivity and heightened physical responses outside of your heat window?" yes
"any disruptions to sleep, concentration," she lists, "temperature regulation?" yes
"okay... are you experiencing any stronger reactivity to scent, even after you've taken your suppressants?" yes. "interesting..."
"any recent exposure to strong alpha pheromones...particularly from the same individual...more than once?" she eyes you now as you shift in your seat. yes
"okay," she sighs, pulling out your chart, "i don't understand. this severity isn't really normal. the suppressants i've prescribed to you are some of the strongest doses and match your hormonal fluctuations well. it always regulates any heavier cycle perfectly fine..." she trails off, playing with the pen in her hand – something you found she does when she's thinking very deeply about something
"if they're failing, there has to be a root cause, dear."
that makes your heart sink
she stands up, pinning your chart to the board and beginning her scribbling again, "you have three possible causes." she says as she writes them down on the board, numbering them 1 to 3
1. body may have developed resistance - very rare, but not impossible with long term use
it definitely wasn't that. the suppressants have never let you down before, not once. a year couldn't even be considered long term
2. stress or environmental triggers may be disrupting endocrine cycle
definitely not that either. you hadn't been very stressed lately. the only stress you had was because of your failing medication, so that was a no
3. possibility! she underlines, system has recognized a compatible partner – your mouth goes dry and your breathing becomes labored as she continues writing – suppressants don't override a developing bond, they can only dampen the symptoms. if this is the case, intensity of suppressant rejection aligns with what is typically seen in a forming mate imprint
god, it felt like she just kept going. you read the words on the board over and over again, unable to digest the truth that was spelled out before you
this can't be happening, you think
she turns back to you, a knowing look in her eyes, "ms.y/l/n, if i may ask..." she starts as she leans against her desk, "have you, by any chance, met your mate?"
there it is – the question you've been dreading to hear
you close your eyes, sighing defeatedly, "i have, i mean– yes, i've met him."
at the mention and even the thought of the alpha, another heatwave wracks your body, making you clutch your handbag in your lap
mrs.lee's face instantly lights up, "that's wonderful, dear! well— now that you've encountered your match, your body will continue to escalate it's demand for close proximity!" she says it like she's having an epiphany, like it's all making sense to her now
"your suppressants can quiet your regular cycles, but they are no match for a confirmed bond target. now that it's activated, your system will direct all its regulation toward that individual! nothing else will be able to stabilize you..."
nothing but him
you wanted to bite your fist, bang your head on the desk, throw yourself out the window, something
at taking note of your very flustered state, her nerdy rant and excitement dies down. she takes her seat once again, speaking softly this time, "i can only suggest two solutions, dear."
"o–okay." you were mentally preparing yourself to hear it. you knew exactly what she was about to say
her hands fold under her chin again, "you either spend this cycle and future cycles in a good proximity with your mate, this being your safest option. your system will welcome him easily and the severity of your heat will drop, or–"
inhale, exhale
"you choose independence, but please be informed, dear, your heat will become harder and harder to manage alone. of course, you won't be harmed, but the strain can take a... significant toll on you and your reproductive health." she finishes, giving you a look that she hopes conveys understanding
she clarifies a few more things as you wrap up your consultation, offering you a warm hug once again before you make your departure
as you're making your way out of her office and out of the building, her last words repeat themselves in your head:
"you are not obligated to act on this, dear, but instinctively, your body and your system has made a decision. i encourage you to do what will keep you safe and stable moving forward, ms.y/l/n."
you really needed your friends right now
so that's exactly where you currently were, just the three of you, like old times, gathered in your living room, yapping and munching away while the world around you fades away
being around them is easy, you all having become like family over the years of childhood and adolescence. even now, as the two sit doting on each other in front of you, sitting on either side of you on your sofa, telling you about their latest endeavors
"and what about you, y/n? you've been so on edge lately" your best friend asks, reaching out a hand to place it over yours, "we're a little worried about you"
you explain to them your situation regarding your heat – and how your trusty suppressants were not so trusty anymore
you sigh after repeating your specialist's words to them, the both of them giving you knowing looks
"what?" you ask, raising a brow
"y/n, girl...i know this goes against every boundary you have set for yourself, but... don't you just want to consider spending this heat with beomgyu? see how it goes?" your best friend tries, nervously chewing on her lip
you decide now is a good time to open up – here, in this safe space with the people you trusted the most – where no one could harm you
"it's just," you start, exhaling and pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, "i've set this boundary after presenting, in order to protect myself, because i didn't want to end up hurt like other omegas and now–"
you inhale again before continuing, "and now my mate is someone with so much more experience than me. i don't know if i can measure up to those omegas. god, what if he..." you close your eyes slowly, only to open them again
"what if he ends up feeling like he's stuck with an omega like me for the rest of his life?" there it is – the entire bag of ugly, rotten potatoes or the beans spilled or whatever people call a venting rant
you visibly see kai flinch at your last statement, he's slow and gentle when he asks, "y/n, is that seriously what you think?"
you open your eyes to see your friends hurting for you
"y–yes, i– i don't know. i've tried pushing him away, tried seeing if he'd walk away and go find another omega to fuck or chase or whatever he used to do, but he's just so goddamn stubborn – he hasn't even budged and i'm... i'm just so confused." you deflate
"let me ask you this", your best friend scoots closer, "do you want him, y/n?"
your pulse spiked just at the mention of his name, knees weakened at the sound of his voice and core ignited whenever he was close to you
of course you wanted him
you wanted him so bad it was blinding, all-consuming, painful
"i do." you whimper, your omega preening inside of you at your self-realization
"then all of these insecurities are simply lies," kai speaks up. "listen, when you spent your first heat with taehyun, wasn't he also an experienced alpha?" he asks and you're nodding until your eyes widen and you whip your head over to your best friend
"did you–"
"yes! i'm sorry! it slipped out while hyuka was– was well uhm..." she flushes red, "he was feeling a bit uneasy concerning taehyun and uhm–"
you burst out laughing, her cute stuttering and scrambling to explain herself instantly helping to lift your mood – kai also sporting a sheepish smile and having a good chuckle, the room now feeling much lighter
"look, i had to explain myself, okay! nothing was going to make him stop!" she also laughs now, hands wiping her eyes and fondly looking over at you again
"still feel iffy about that guy" he murmurs, eyes narrowing
"okay okay, hyuka, continue. we're sorry!" she says quickly
"AS I WAS SAYING!" he goes again, causing the two of you to break out in another fit of laughter, quickly collecting yourselves to listen to his upcoming 'words of wisdom'
"taehyun also had plenty experience when you spent your first heat with him and he didn't judge you or make you feel weird about it being your first time," he states thoughtfully. "who says beomgyu wouldn't be the same?"
that is true, taehyun had been an experienced alpha already when you...persuaded him to take care of you during your heat. not once did he make a comment or a kink out of your lack of previous situationships
"besides," hueningkai continues, "i can add some food for thought as an alpha who has already found and claimed his mate–"
"yeah, yeah" you playfully roll your eyes
well, you could always trust hueningkai to be completely honest with you
"everything changes for you," he seems to go into deep thought, the air in the room seems to shift again
"suddenly, a person you may or may not have noticed becomes the center of your universe. they become your anchor, the fixed point around which your instincts orbit. it's not just an attraction," he looks over at his mate, eyes softening "it's alignment"
"every fiber of your being becomes attuned to their safety, their mood, their presence. you track them without thinking, you read their expressions and scent before they even speak. hell, their existence becomes the primary fixation your entire system operates on" he finishes, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair
"well, that's poetic." you nod to yourself, eyes zoned out, staring into space now
"it's not just poetic, y/n." kai interjects, his eyes finding yours. "he'd damn near kill himself if he even thought of rejecting you," he's serious now, all giddiness dissipated from his face
"the agony would be even worse for him than it would be for you. he may not show it in front of us, but your little dismissals of his advances has thoroughly been fucking him up." he shudders as if imagining the pain on himself
"he may have been a player and an asshole, y/n, but he's never done anything without an omega's consent – and trust me when i say this..."
hueningkai smirks now, giving your best friend that predatory, possessive look that had her breath hitching and her mark tingling
"he's dying to get his hands on you, to claim you for himself. his desire for you will always far outweigh your desire for him and he'll never fucking want to touch another omega ever again"
the apartment was empty and dark now, save for the lights that you've dimmed
— your friends having hurried back to kai's place to go and extinguish their raging hormones – especially after that loaded little speech of kai's
his words were resonating deep inside of you, having you pondering and reconsidering everything you thought to be true about beomgyu
you're alone in the living room now, laying flat on the couch as you watch a movie when another hot flash comes over you, much more severe than the previous ones – this one making you clench your teeth
a knock sounds at the front door
you're heady as you get up and make your way to said door, opening the barrier to find the subject of your earlier conversation on the other side
beomgyu stands before you, a smile taking over his face as he greets you, "hi," he says and that stupid, husky voice has you in its hold again, "i–uh, i hope i'm not intruding. just wanted to drop off your coat that you left at yeonjun's place the other night"
images of your dream flashes before you, causing your eyes to widen and a blush to creep up your neck, "o-okay, uh– thanks beomgyu"
"it just looked really expensive so i thought i'd get it back to you as soon as possible.." oh dear, he was rambling now, his cheeks tinting pink as he extends his hands and quickly places the coat into yours
you felt awful for the imagery playing in your head right now, the beomgyu towering over you looking nothing like the beomgyu you saw in the dream
big, puppy eyes stare back at you as he opens his mouth to speak once again, "i also wanted to..." he swallows, adams apple bobbing with the effort, "apologize. for the other day. i shouldn't have touched you and i shouldn't have called you names. i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable"
he looks like a sulking pup, you think to yourself, your omega nudging you to accept his apology
you could also tell he was really trying not to inhale too deeply, your scent significantly stronger now that your pre-heat was almost coming to an end, making way for your heat to take its full course
beomgyu was actively fighting with himself to keep this interaction pure, your scent making his alpha rage inside of him, our mate needs us!
no, he silenced him. he could be better, he could respect your boundaries and the fact that you didn't want him as bad as he wanted–
"it's okay, gyu," you start, your voice small
kai's words reverberate through your head again. you could see it now, how hard of a toll the distance you've created has taken on him
"i was just being moody and a little overdramatic. really, it's okay"
gyu – you called him gyu. the alpha could just combust from all the joy and hope swelling in his chest
he releases a breath he didn't know he was holding, relief washing over him
"so we're good now?" he asks, beaming up at you, a smile adorning his face so contagious it had you smiling too
you chuckle, leaning against the doorframe, "yeah."
"good." he nods, fixing his hoodie as he turns around to leave, "i'll catch you later then, y/n." he steps away from your door
this was good, he thought. no funny business, no funny comments, i kept my control–
"beomgyu, wait." you call, clutching onto the crook of his elbow
your body – and admittedly your heart – couldn't bear to see him go
his breath hitches as he turns around with wide eyes, putting on a (panicked) smile for you, "yeah, what's up?"
you remember what mrs.lee had said, that it would be best to be in close proximity to him, your body already becoming more at ease and yet – more aroused with his presence
she never clarified that you'd want him as close as possible
"do you– do you wanna come inside? i mean, do you wanna hang out – watch a movie with me?"
this is a bad idea, beomgyu, he thought to himself, huffing. you, her, alone. her irresistible scent curling around you like smoke. she's in fucking pre-heat too. you have to leave. now.
"i should go, y/n." this was the first time he was calling you by your name so sternly, your omega sulking at the lack of a term of endearment from him
he makes another move to step away from your door, to call it a night and see you sometime again in the week– during the day, with other people around
this is good, he thinks. don't give in don't give in don't—
"please?" comes your breathy little voice, the tug on his sleeve incessant as you successfully pull him into your apartment – where your scent surrounds him now, only amplified by his presence
you knew exactly what bringing beomgyu inside of your apartment meant – and you didn't care anymore
you were done fighting it
in the meantime however, alarms go off in beomgyu's head, his alpha huffing and puffing, eating up the delectable scent of honey pouring from you
god, fuck, beomgyu! you have to get out of here now, he chastises himself, his eyes boring into yours – pupils dilating as he fights to keep his composure
"i can't stay, y/n, this isn't a good idea. you smell so fucking good right now, i don't know if i can control myself much more than this. i don't want to cross any lines, so please–"
"but i want you to stay, gyu." you try to reassure him, hugging his arm now while simultaneously pulling him deeper into the apartment, not forgetting to shut the door behind him
his eyes shut and he groans lowly, "shit baby, don't do this to me"
you're royally fucked, choi beomgyu, he tells himself. how are you gonna keep your control now? what if she's not thinking straight? what if it's just her pre-heat?
upon realizing his small mistake, apologies spill from his lips at the nickname he had let slip – but your omega keens at hearing him say it again, pushing embarrassing amounts of slick out of your core. you whimper out loud now, clutching onto his shoulders, his hands coming to rest on your waist to stabilize you as your head starts spinning again
you didn't want him to fight with himself anymore
it seemed every decision he was making right now just put him in a more dangerous situation, acutely aware of the heat from your body now that his hands were on you
these hands – you recall, the hands that replaced taehyun's in the dream – the hands that felt better on your skin, more powerful, claiming you as he slammed you relentlessly back and forth on his thick cock
heat or no heat, you wanted him – and you wanted him now
"b-beomgyu–" you whimpered, bringing his apologetic rant to an end
your arms wrap around his shoulders, standing on your tippy toes to nuzzle your nose into his neck, where his scent gland was feeding you an abundance of the woody, amber scent that nearly compelled you to kneel, to yield, to obey
the whimper of his name made something inside of him snap, primal instinct urging him to take, to fuck, to claim
fine, he'll stay, he thinks, but he can't promise himself that he'd be able to keep his control much longer – not with how you were clinging to him and whimpering desperately for him
god, this was never about watching a fucking movie, was it?
his voice dips into an octave you'd never heard from him before as he lowers his mouth right next to your ear, hands fully taking hold of your body now
"if you don't let me fucking do something or at least make you feel good right now, i might go back out there and murder someone, i swear baby" it's a promise he makes as he bites down on your lobe, pulling your body flush against him
you gasp as you feel his hardness pressing against you. it's not just big like it was in the dream, it's fucking huge
fuck, your pussy was throbbing painfully by now, slick making a mess between your legs as you grab one of his hands and guide it low, lower, past your belly button and stopping at the waistband of your sweats
she's gonna be the death of me, he groans to himself
"okay", you permit, breathless. "beomgyu, please. please touch me. please make me feel good. it hurts, please", you beg, hearing him growl low in his chest, his finger hooking into the waistband and snapping it against your skin, making you yelp
"fuck, are you sure baby?" he asks, one last time. lifting his head to get a good look at you, only to find your pleading eyes staring back at him
he had to be sure you wanted this just as much as he did — and he was delighted when you begged for him once more without hesitation, pride thundering inside of him – because his mate wanted him, his omega was begging for him after all this time – he couldn't believe it
you clutch onto him tighter, scenting him, doing damn near everything to make him cave
"yes, please beomgyu. i need it, i need you" you nearly cried, tugging him to the living room where you push him onto the sofa and hurriedly climb into his lap. you situate yourself right on his cock, a velvety moan vibrating against your neck as he goes to attach his mouth there first
he wastes no time, slipping his hand into your sweats and under your panties, which he's pleased to find is drenched in your arousal
"knew you'd be fucking soaking for me", he rasps as he pulls his head back to gauge your reactions
his runs a finger over your slit, collecting some of your essence, the feeling making you gasp and jolt in his hold as he draws his hand back out only to shove that same finger in his mouth
"fuck yes," he groans as he vulgarly licks his finger clean, a shit-eating grin on his face as he watches you sitting on top of him – breath hitching, mouth agape and scandalized with how lewd the action was – "knew you'd fucking taste good too"
he pops his finger out of his mouth, "can i kiss you, baby? please?"
his hand slips back into your pants, fingers collecting your arousal again and dragging it up to your clit, where he draws teasing little circles that make your head spin, "yes, gyu! please kiss me, please"
you're breathless before he connects his lips to yours, a small peck at first, pulling back to speed up his teasing on your little bundle of nerves, watching your eyebrows scrunch and your lips part in a wanton moan
"my omega's so pretty when i touch her like this", peck, "dripping all over my hand", peck, "making a mess of herself", peck
he was teasing you now, clearly finding enjoyment in your lips chasing his after every little touch to yours
you whine loudly, "beomie!" he snickers. "kiss me properly! please"
beomie? he thinks he must've saved an entire pack in his past life
he chuckles darkly – smug, "alright baby, come here." his other hand slips under your hoodie, palming your breast
you finally attach your lips to his and god, his lips are soft
– and demanding and borderline hungry as he kisses you like he's been starving for you
his tongue traces your bottom lip and you eagerly open up for him, allowing him to devour you and you moan as he circles your entrance again
beomgyu finally eases a skilled finger in, your slick making the stretch a lot more bearable and pleasurable
his mouth detaches from yours only to whisper, "fuck baby, you're tight. have you ever been touched before?" he asks, opening his eyes to study your face
"i– beomgyu, i–" you squeeze your eyes shut, circling your hips now, anything to get the digit inside of you to slide deeper
he relents, "baby, i have to know. i don't wanna hurt you"
you open your eyes to find his pleading ones staring right into yours, experimentally curling his finger to find that spot – which he finds easily – drawing an airy moan from you
"y–yes, i have.." your hand slides into the hair at the back of his neck now, gripping a handful as you writhe in his lap
"when was the last time?" he tries again, expertly curling that same finger into that yummy spot over and over again, a slow torture as his thumb settles on your clit to ease you up some more – your eyes squeezing shut once again
"beomgyu– i don't–" his removes his other hand out from under your hoodie and cups your face
"open your eyes, look at me baby." he coaxes, low and commanding
your omega presses on you to obey, so you do – opening your eyes to find that your alpha is sincere – he was not trying to mock you, or pry – he just wanted to take good care of you
he brings his ministrations to a stop and you whine, finally deciding to just tell him what he wants to know
"i haven't been touched– haven't slept with anyone since my first heat.." you confess, searching his eyes for any hesitation, any second guesses only to find none – nothing but tenderness and care – only that they widen slowly now, realization dawning on him
it only makes you burn hotter, the ache in your core causing you to throb around his still hand, which he now starts moving again – still painfully slow
"holy shit," he whispers under his breath, "you've been on suppressants all this time?" his hand speeds up a little more now, your hips chasing his movements again
you nod, breathless, "i- yes! beomie, more...please" you beg, your voice breaking
his alpha preens at the sound and with a groan low in his chest, he adds another finger and drives his hand into you faster – fucking you open on his hand now
the slick, squelching noises of your pussy make both of you moan, slick oozing out of you, certainly soaking the front of his pants
"you waited for me?" he asks, in disbelief that the moon goddess would entrust him with an omega like you. "fuck baby, i don't deserve you", his mouth claims yours again
you're too good for him, he concludes – and he'll make sure, for the rest of his life, that you'll never feel lesser than
he's thoroughly fucking his fingers into you, deliciously stimulating your bundle of nerves again, making you moan desperately into his mouth
his words wash over you like cool water – he's not disappointed with you, nor does he feel stuck
your alpha was completely and utterly obsessed with you, mesmerized by you, even cursing himself for not having done the same for you
you feel the burn in your core intensify, your climax catching up to you quick as his hand works faster, determined to make you cum now
fuck, your pussy's gripping him like a vice
he breaks the kiss, letting his lips hover just above yours
"you gonna come for me, yeah? make a mess for your alpha?" he prompts, that low rasp licking up your spine and pulling the cord in your abdomen tighter
"yes! yes, beomgyu! please don't stop!" you beg, hips rocking frantically onto his hand, right on his hardness
you're close – so, so close
his head dips and his mouth attaches to your neck, sucking a bruising mark on the spot where your mark will be – soon
– he doesn't stop, in fact, he becomes merciless and the chord snaps, coaxing you into your orgasm as you cry out – "alpha! alpha! yes, oh fuck–" and tremble in his lap, your hand in his hair gripping hard as the pleasure consumes you, head thrown back
beomgyu groans gravelly in his throat
that word, that title – alpha – he'd heard it tumbling from so many omegas' lips so many times before
– but coming from you, his mate — it's like the world around the two of you stills, like you're the only thing keeping him alive, like the word was made solely for him
alpha
god, beomgyu never wanted to hear it coming from someone else's mouth ever again
he's staring up at you, gaze reverent as you writhe in his lap, whimpering over and over again. his omega, allowing him to touch her like this – to unravel her completely
beomgyu nearly cums in his pants at the sight of you
he can't bring himself to stop his assault on your core, determined to make you cum again. your eyes snap open as you lower your head and your breath hitches as you assess the look in his eyes
worshipful, entranced, insatiable - lip caught between his teeth too
"b-beomie, i already came– ah!" you jolt as he pinches your clit, other hand settling on your hip to help you rock harder on his insistent hand
"think you can give me another one?" he asks, pressing deeper, abusing that yummy, sensitive spot inside of you
he couldn't get enough of you – your moans, your hand gripping his hair for dear life, your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, pussy sucking his fingers back in every time he pulls them out, only to sink them in again
you, on the other hand, were damn near in heaven
you nod frantically, "yes beomie! oh fuck– just like that! please don't stop!" you're screaming now, core on fire
beomgyu grins triumphantly, attaching his lips to your throat again where he places filthy, open mouthed kisses, sucking bruises onto the tender skin
shit, it feels like you're going to pee, you think, hand gripping beomgyu's wrist, unable to decide whether you want to pull his hand away or keep him there, ripping cries from your lungs
"come for me again baby, show me how much you love my fingers"
with one last mouthwatering flick of your clit and caress of your sweet spot, your body instantly obeys — an earth shattering orgasm is overtaking you, slick gushing out of your hole onto his hand and palm, thoroughly soaking yours and his pants – the lewd squelch of your pussy filling the room
"that's it baby, give me everything" his voice drawls against your collarbone, teeth sinking down on the skin
your legs shake uncontrollably as you cry out his name – the pleasure wracking through you going on for what feels like forever
his hand expertly slows its pace as you come down from your high, fingers easing in and out of you and you whimper at the sensitivity, twitching in his hold. he finally stops, the hand that was on your hip now cupping your face and raking tenderly through your hair
his tongue soothes the mild sting of his bite on your collarbone as he withdraws his hand from your pants
you watch as he brings his glossy fingers to his mouth again, moaning deeply at the taste as he licks between them, keeping his eyes on yours – not leaving a drop of your cum behind
god, he's so fucking filthy
you're still catching your breath as both of his hands settle on your hips, rubbing soothing circles into your covered skin
"you good?" he asks and you nod
the burn in your core has subsided now, only leaving behind a dull ache
"yeah," you smile, dazed. "that was– that was amazing" you huff, making a move to scoot back and get off of his lap and your eyes widen as you look down between you
this had to be the best day of beomgyu's entire life
you had squirted
holy shit, you think, you've made a huge mess. you snap your head back to him, only to find him chuckling with satisfaction, tonguing at the corner of his mouth
"beomgyu, i'm so sorry," you start, mortified. "kai probably has some pants that he's left in my roommate's room that i can get for you–"
"baby, it's fine. we can worry about the pants later, besides..." he paused, putting his hands behind his head, looking all smug, "that was the sexiest thing i've ever seen"
you blush immediately, smacking his shoulder with little impact, "stoppp" you whine
as you move to get off of his lap again, you feel it – his dick, rock hard and throbbing beneath you
he grunts, almost painfully
you gasp, "do you want me to take care of that for you? i can return the favor–" you go to undo the strings of his sweatpants
his hands immediately grab onto yours, bringing them to a stop
the confusion is evident on your face and he just grins – not without a little strain
"next time, baby" he kisses you
"tonight was just about you"
(well, damn) (how'd we feel ab kai's speech?)
also tonguing at the corner of his mouth was inspired by that clip of gyu saying soob talks a lot, doesn't he (on my knees for this man)
warnings: very suggestive! ALL things a/b/o, talks about mates, talks about claiming, heats, suppressants, mystery cherry-popper!alpha (i HAD to), seduction, mentions of slick, fucking & orgasms, scenting, kissing, heavy petting (barely), denial, lots of inner conflict, attempted comedy
wc: 3.5k!
it took a while for you to come around
– with slowly accepting your fate and allowing beomgyu into your life, you mean. of course, not without a few strict lines and boundaries set that he was not to cross at any point
you found that hanging out with him was not as hard as you had initially thought. beomgyu's actually fun to be around and under all of that – what you liked to call evil – he actually had a personality and hobbies!
you catch yourself laughing at his jokes more often than you intend to, making the alpha beam at you in what he believed was succession. he was also talented – and peaceful – when he wasn't trying to be a flirt, easily picking up a guitar and playing tunes as per your request, leaving you awestruck at the way his fingers glided over the strings so effortlessly, pulling you into a trance
he still had his moments however, never making his desire and pursuit of you a secret. he was simply too quick with his mouth – and his hands
spending time with him took quite some convincing from your two best friends, them urging you to give the alpha a chance – of course under your strict condition that they never leave you alone with him
it was easy for them to speak. you watched the two of them grow up madly and blindly in love with each other, lucked out when they presented and found out they were mates and hueningkai having wasted no time in claiming your friend all for himself. the two only ever had eyes for each other
beomgyu however, had been around
it was difficult for you to overcome the insecurity of not having all the experience your supposed mate had, considering omegas were still throwing themselves at him, even if he, not too long ago, started proclaiming his new status with every encounter: off-limits, as you once heard him tell another omega when you happened to pass by
you knew he was trying hard to win you over, but you were not going to give in without a fight
you'd only ever been with one alpha, taehyun having helped you when you were a new omega, figuring out for the first time how to go about your heat
now – before you got to this point – you knew taehyun very well, having gone to the same high school as him and often interacting with him because of the intertwining school activities and functions he had with your best friend – these of which hueningkai were not very fond of – and even being surprised and delighted to find out that he'd become your neighbor after highschool, occupying the unit next to the one you and your best friend were residing in – another factor hueningkai wasn't fond of – anyways...
you still remember it clearly, your best friend evacuating to kai's place, thinking she was doing a good thing by giving you some "space" and "privacy". leaving you, a freshly presented, wailing and burning omega behind to fend for yourself. you thought the agony was going to eat you alive
alpha!taehyun, who's still your neighbor to this day, had busted into your apartment, thinking you were in grave danger at the blood curdling screams that were coming from your livingspace not too long after your best friend left. you remember the alpha coming to an abrupt halt when he reached the end of the hall – frozen at your bedroom door, he stood with comically large eyes staring back at you in your pathetic, squirming state
how had he not noticed the air reeking of omegan heat the second he broke down your front foor? – he had thought, he had to get out of there – fast
mortified, he had slapped his hands over his eyes, stuttering out an apology, "y/n! i'm so so sorry! i thought you were- nevermind. i'm gonna go! i'm sorry, i-"
you remember your omega beaming at the sight of him – an alpha, a savior, exactly what you needed to get through this heat. the sight of him, wet hair like he had just gotten out of the shower, compression shirt that defined his shoulders, pecs and the abdominal muscles that had you throbbing with need and pain the lower you dragged your eyes – strong and definitely capable of taking good care of you. your eyes had snapped back up to his neck to double check, only to find no mark creeping out from under the collar of his shirt
he's unclaimed, perfect! your omega had rejoiced
you had yet to learn how to control her back then, she had made you shoot up from your bed and practically pounce on taehyun at the announcement of his departure, barely able to control the words tumbling out of you
"no! no taehyun, please stay! alpha, please stay!" you had whimpered
you were clinging onto his biceps, his shirt, anything really to keep him from leaving you like that – his scent having caused you to gush obnoxious amounts of slick, it being the first time your senses became so heightened to the intoxicating scent of an alpha – especially one that was in such close proximity
"i shouldn't, y/n," he had huffed, carefully trying to pry your wandering hands off of him, "let me go find you some help. i should really–"
"no, alpha! please, it hurts! please!" you begged, your remember your hands cradling his jaw and him opening his eyes to look at you, visibly seeing him struggle to suppress his instincts, to stop himself from doing what any alpha in his place would do – his breathing having become labored and chest rising and falling under the palm of your hand as you went to feel his rapid heartbeat
god, it was so unlike you to feel anyone up, but you couldn't care less when you felt another gut-wrenching pain wrack your core, having caused you to whimper as you used the alpha to hold yourself up at that point
"please–" you breathed against his lips before planting a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth, and then another one, "please, i need you...alpha"
you remember hearing him curse under his breath
that was all it took for him to connect your mouths and wrap his arms around you with something of a primal growl rumbling through his chest – lifting you like you weighed nothing and slamming the door shut behind him before carrying you over to your bed – your bed where he spent day after day satiating, what seemed to be the unending fire in your core
you will the memory away now, still glad that it was taehyun who'd gotten you through what could've been a disastrous first heat with no, ahem, guidance – and possible rogue alphas roaming around, specifically on the lookout for vulnerable omegas like yourself to start their own pack, sicko's
after your first heat, you decided you would take the arduous route of suppressants, not wanting, as an unmated and unclaimed omega, to put yourself or taehyun – or any other alpha for that matter – in that type of situation again, swearing to a life of abstinence and undergoing your heat cycles by yourself
it helps that taehyun has always been trustworthy, not boastful and certainly not a blabber mouth, knowing how to keep certain things to himself. he was still extremely mature about it to this day. not even kai knew, but when your best friend returned from his place a week later to find the apartment reeking of what closely resembled your next door neighbor alpha, she instantly put two and two together
you mean, no one had to know that taehyun put you into multiple positions and fucked orgasm after orgasm out of you – easily training you to take the orders of an alpha – fulfilling your every need
that was the only time you'd told someone else about it, thanking the heavens that you now had your medication and you didn't have to go through any of that anymore. taehyun was more than perfect, but you didn't want to spend more heats with an alpha that wasn't yours, possibly developing attachments that you certainly didn't need. the suppressants would just have to do for now
well, that was if your suppressants decided they finally wanted to fucking work today
you've never had this problem before, they've been working well for you for over a year after presenting now. it was your saving grace every month, preventing what could be episodes of torture for depraving yourself of the touch of an alpha
as you currently sit in kai's living room, surrounded by what was now your extended friendgroup – you, kai, your best friend (his mate), yeonjun and well...beomgyu, you suddenly feel a hot flash coming over you, fanning yourself with your hands. it's doing damn near nothing to help
excusing yourself, you get up and go into the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water, downing it within seconds before you hear – and feel – an imposing presence behind you
"you alright?" you hear him ask, failing to conceal the concern in his voice
"fine," you say quickly, "just feeling a little flushed. must be the spicy ramen from earlier." you reply with a sheepish little smile
your eyes meet and it's like something clicks for him, his demeanor changing instantly. he steps closer, "here" he says as he grabs the glass and fills it once more with water to the brim, "you're gonna need a lot more with that temperature"
your heart drops
...how did he know?
– and as if hearing what you're thinking, a smug grin breaks out on his face, "i can feel you all the way from here, baby. you're burning up"
you gasp, scandalized. he was coming closer now
and baby? no, he had to stop talking. right now. before you do something stupid
"hey! what did i tell you about nick names?" you point a finger at him, quickly stepping away from him as you realize that his scent was starting to curl around you. "and stop that!"
"stop what?" he smirks, closing the distance between you once again
you squeak, "you're trying to scent me, you ass! quit it!" you take a step back again, horrified to find that your back was touching the counter behind you now
he chuckles lowly, like this is some kind of game to him whilst you're struggling keep your composure. his hands come to rest on either side of you, trapping you against the counter
god, why are you liking this?
your friends are just in the other room and any one of them could walk in on the scene taking place in the kitchen right now: you and him, your breath coming out in short huffs, his face inching closer and closer to yours, your head starting to spin at the proximity, not able to look away from his lips – those plush-looking, kissable lips – and the mean little grin they still sport, his thigh nearly settling between your legs, just coming into contact with your overly eager little bundle of nerves, lips parting in a barely audible gasp that he doesn't fail to miss, a throat clearing—
wait, a throat clearing? oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck
you push beomgyu back with a force you didn't know you possessed and the alpha groans, whipping his head around to glare daggers at the intruding presence, you swear you see him snarl too
yeonjun stands in the doorway, lifting his hands in mock surrender, "woah there, you two. i was just trying to get more beer from the fridge." he proclaims as he saunters over to said object, opening its door and retrieving the goods. amused, he adds, "don't let me interrupt your uh– moment."
he's at the doorway now, a scandalous little smirk on his face as he calls – basically loud enough for the entire house to hear – "you guys can continue your little smooching sesh now!"
your face is beet-red at this point, knowing that the other two most definitely heard yeonjun's declaration
your heart's beating out of your chest, beads of sweat gathering on your temples as you try to catch your breath
this was quite mortifying, especially after having bragged to them about having beomgyu stay in his lane, only for them to find out that you were, in fact, going back on the promises you've made to yourself and caving to beomgyu's – very alluring – advances–
what the fuck is going on with me today? you chastise yourself
or maybe it's him. yeah, definitely him. you point an accusatory finger at him, "you!"
"baby... wait–"
"no, beomgyu." you interrupt him, whisper shouting and flailing your hands as if to emphasize your points, "i told you no touching – and i also told you no nicknames! if you want to keep seeing me, keep your hands off me and keep your tongue in control! no more of this "baby" nonsense! got it?"
that's the last thing you say before you're out of the kitchen, beelining to the bathroom where you lock yourself in – back against the door
you exhale hard, rubbing your hands over your eyes then folding your arms over yourself
"baby"
you scoff to yourself, he's ridiculous. you could still hear it in your head, that low register of his voice still not failing to turn your legs into jelly. he knew just how to push your buttons, tiptoeing the lines you've drawn for him without effort every single time
what happened to not giving in without a fight, huh?
you recall that and the heat of his body as he pressed you against the counter, inching himself closer to you, his lips plush and inviting – daring you to close the distance, to finally feel what they'd feel like against yours
god, you wanted his mouth all over you —and those hands – clever and so persistent – on your skin, the same hands that, if you just gave him permission, would touch and take care of you where you know you were needing him most–
your eyes shoot open as you force your train of thought to come to an end, what the hell is wrong with you?, you question yourself
you have to be going crazy, you think as you now pace around the small space of hueningkai's bathroom
and then you freeze as you feel it – hot and wet, trickling down your thighs. there's simply no way. if you could laugh out loud, you'd be laughing hysterically right now
you had taken your suppressants that very morning, this was not supposed to happen
you were pressing your thighs together now, hands on the basin, recalling the conversation in the kitchen and you remember one particular thing that he said and suddenly things were falling into place
"i can feel you all the way from here, baby. you're burning up"
you knew mates were sensitive to each other's bodily conditions during those times, you'd seen it with your best friends. you also knew that time of the month was approaching
how had he figured it out so fast?
it just couldn't be true, your medication is fool-proof, able to make the natural urges of your body a breeze, not having experienced this dull ache in your core since – well, since your first heat
you squeeze your eyes shut as you finally realize: you're going into pre-heat
warnings: gyu has a reputation, faint mate rejection, falling in love at first sight
wc: 786!
scz note: inspired by a little idea i had for alpha!beomgyu and a request i received earlier!
(you may or may not have to read my a/b/o!txt hcs & alpha!kai + breeding kink for some character context first) (apologies) (anyways, enjoy!)
you've heard about alphas like him
him specifically, might you add
his reputation among your friends and peers on campus preceded him, not in the best way – him and his bosom friend alike
you knew to avoid his kind like the plague, having successfully kept yourself abstinent after your first heat presenting as an omega. it were alphas like him that drove you to this level of self-restraint and the mission to at least keep some of your dignity, as far as your instincts and urges would let you in this life
you've never actually encountered the alpha, not until now – when stupid, silly hueningkai felt the need to invite those two mansluts over to your table
you wanted to bash him in the head. he's so lucky his girlfriend is here, you think
the two were rather quick in making their way over to where your little trio was seated. apparently they were all "friends". it was the first time you heard about this ridiculousness. how could kai even be friends with these alphas, let alone stand to be in their presence?
he was a one-omega-and-one-omega-only type of alpha, evidently clear as you watch him – your childhood best friend, peppering chaste little kisses all over the face of your, well, other childhood best friend – their giggles and giddiness coming to an abrupt end at the sharp gasp escaping your lips
there was no way, absolutely no fucking way
you felt it before you saw him: the tingle down your spine, your chest growing unbearably hot, goosebumps erupting over your skin. oh no. you knew these symptoms all too well. you'd seen it happen with the two sitting in front of you, yet you still hoped and prayed it wasn't the case for you right now
your pulse was spiking, your nose picking up and greedily inhaling wafts upon wafts of the scent that was now wrapping around you, engulfing you, urging you to surrender
and that voice – a delectable, sultry, deep timber that nearly made your toes curl and had you weak in the knees even though you were sitting down – a greeting and then a halt when he reaches your table, "what's up, guys? thanks kai for inviting us to your–"
his eyes land on yours and the world comes to a standstil
"...table."
beomgyu. choi beomgyu was standing, no – towering over you, looking like someone had dumped a bucket of ice cold water over him, his long black hair doing very little to hide his eyes that were as big as saucers right now, adams apple bobbing as he tries to get a hold of himself
your omega reacts before you can, rejoicing and clamoring inside of you at the sight of him, chanting the one thing you wish she wasn't chanting right now
"mate,
holy fuck, that's my mate"
– is all beomgyu hears ringing in his head as his alpha goes rampant inside of him, sweat gathering on his temples, breath completely stolen from his lungs, eager to finally unite with his chosen omega
everything shifts for beomgyu
suddenly, he's not just standing in front of another omega that he can persuade with pretty, glazed words and advantageous gestures wrapped in silk. this wasn't an omega that he could just drag back to his bed and have his way with until the morning hours, only to forget her name when they woke up next to each other at noon, no. beomgyu was looking right at the reason for his existence, the core of his being, his constant, his omega
he would've never guessed that he'd find you so soon. hell, he didn't even think you existed, not until now
your two best friends and the alpha accompanying him immediately pick up on what's taking place between the two of you, mouths agape looking onto the scene in front of them
"well, shit." you all hear alpha!yeonjun say under his breath and you watch as beomgyu blinks out of his daze and reaches a tentative hand towards you
you panic, turning your body away from him, your omega wailing at the rejection of the first touch of her alpha, every nerve in your body fighting with you to just take his hand and fall into his arms and– and–
no. you have to get out of here
you stand up abruptly, "i– i have to go. i'm sorry." you excuse yourself shakily as you scurry to and out of the entrance of the cafeteria
yeonjun claps the alpha that now stands frozen in place, heart stinging like never before on the back, "you're so fucking screwed, dude", he laughs as they watch you hurry away
scz note: our poor beomie
(evil laugh bcs can this be considered a cliffhanger?) (i'm so excited for this)
alpha!taehyun x fem omega!reader (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 ➛ (final I), part 6 ➛ (final II)
warnings: SMUT! ALL things a/b/o, unprotected sex (don't!), rough sex, (positions: missionary, doggy, cowgirl), psychological rewiring through pleasure, safeword (suggested), breeding kink, strength kink, manhandling, exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, orgasm control (once), degradation, choking, knotting, cum eating, refractory period at the speed of light, they break the bed, a little bit of shower action, dirty talk, (lots of: cum, knotting, squirting, crying, kissing), reader gets emotional, lots of lore & reassurance
tws: this is a work of fiction and in no way reflects the personalities of any idols in real life! reader has a pain kink caused by trauma in intimacy with jw, no descriptions of said trauma! only implicit mentions! reader doesn’t use the safeword, tyun explains safeword usage to reader, jungwon is still a super ultra triple platinum villian and somehow messed with reader's phone
wc: 10.8k!
scznote: the last of the series! ah, i shed a little tear! buckle up, my lovelies! may still contain errors! x
was that a grunt or was that a growl?
– a very, very deep sound that makes your ears perk and you squeak as the hold around you tightens, solid muscle pressing you impossibly more flush against him
"mine"
you think you may have misheard, but a gasp interrupts your train of thought as his hips drive forward experimentally – charged and slow, purposeful
"mine"
it makes your breath hitch this time, your thighs tightening around his waist as you involuntarily clench around his demanding length. sensitive – he's sensitive, but he pays it little mind. he hisses through his teeth, long and drawn out – throbbing painfully inside of you once more
"t-taehyun—" your voice is hoarse, but that's not the thing that pauses you in your tracks
it's when he lifts his head from your nape, raising his torso onto his palms that he now plants on either side of your head, that you see it – broad frame caging you in
his eyes, predatory and fully dilated, lock onto yours
"all mine"
his lips claim yours. it's not gentle. it's not slow. teeth clashing, tongues dancing, moans and grunts passing between you, hips picking up speed again
a particularly hard and angled thrust makes you whimper and tremble in the aftershocks of what was your previous, powerful orgasm
his skin is scorching to the touch, eyes almost completely blacked out and dark and his voice? it's dropped to an octave you never thought he could produce
his rut — it has arrived
shit
pulling off, he grunts, "give me a safeword, sweetheart", slowing just enough to allow you to think, hip rolls deep and delicious
"a– a safeword?" your voice trembles and a shiver licks up your spine, desperately wracking your brain for an option
he hums in confirmation, "anything you can think of"
hell, you're barely able to think. "i– uhm– vanilla?", your eyes flutter shut, a whimper tumbling from your lips as he effortlessly works and strokes his length right against that spot that makes you brainless
it throbs thicker and heavier inside of you, every ridge and vein growing more prominent against your walls, stretching you the more it swells
taehyun breathes out a laugh, sharp canines and fangs on full display, an amused smile taking over his face. the sight of them makes your mark throb
you're just so sweet, it's ironic, really – because there's nothing vanilla about the way taehyun is about to fuck you
you exhale shaky moans as his mouth grazes and nips at your neck. "vanilla it is"
he pulls out until just the tip of his engorged cock is buried inside and you brace yourself, clinging onto him before he slams the entire length back in, setting a brutal pace
every push of his hips forward is a charged, powerful force, punching more air out of your lungs. a nervousness and excitement ripple through you, setting your insides on fire and driving your omega feral. she's been waiting for this, you've been waiting for this – and you let him take you the way he's been dying to since he met you
gruff grunts and moans tumble from his lips, no longer trying to contain his pleasure or his pride. you gasp softly when you hear him speak again, the sound vibrating through you
"little omega was so desperate for me to mark her, to claim her all for myself, hm?"
oh fuck—
"saw the way you looked at me all week", he scoffs, eyes boring into yours and your breath catches in your throat
he chuckles, "watched you pretend like you weren't daydreaming about me fucking you open on this cock, making you cum all over it again and again, yeah?"
all you can do is cry and whimper in response
"your scent had me crazy", he groans, recalling the way tempting little curls of your arousal would linger around him. "always ready in case i changed my mind, little omega cunt was just begging for me to fuck you good"
you can't even bite back and tell him that he's wrong
"didn't even try touching yourself, did you, sweetheart? can't satisfy yourself the alpha does", he coos, the sound of skin slapping against skin resonating through the room
how'd he know? you thought you had been discreet, that you had done a good job at keeping your desire at bay
"and still so fucking impatient, squeezing me 'cause you can't wait for me to fucking ruin you. isn't that right, sweetheart?" – your stomach flips at his next words. "what should i do with you, hm?"
your hands grip tighter onto his arms, wrapping around his triceps pathetically
"think i should teach you patience", he leans down, breath hot against your ear. "i have an idea", he says, breaking into a dangerous grin
his head tilts as he pretends to think, length tearing through your cunt. you flutter pathetically around him, trying to prepare yourself for whatever consequence he is about to declare
"don't cum until i tell you to", he slows and your eyes widen. "if you don't, i'll go easy on you, but if you do," his eyes like pools of obsidian darken. "i get to make you cum as many times as i want. until you can't anymore"
you sob, but he cuts you off with a nip to your collarbone. "sounds good?"
you give in, barely able to utter a yes before his pace increases again – fast
this shouldn't be too hard. you can be good for him. you can—
just when you think you can hold off, taehyun sits back, draping your legs over his thighs, angling himself to deliver perfect hip rolls right into your sweet spot – at an alarming speed too, tongueing at the corner of his mouth
you gasp, followed by a shrill wail, eyes rolling to the back of your head
no no no, not there. he'll have you cumming in record time if he keeps his unforgiving onslaught up
his eyes on you are wicked as he taunts, "that's it, that's the spot right there, hm?"
the obscene, slick cadence between your thighs become even louder as he fucks your releases back into you. it takes everything in you to not succumb to the raw pleasure, your pussy stuttering around him, breasts bouncing with every rock
you try to think about something, anything but the way he slams into you without mercy. "t-taehyun, i can't—"
"feels so good, doesn't it, sweetheart?" the earlier sweetness in his voice gone, replaced by a wicked taunt. "sweet little pussy can't resist when alpha fucks you like this. 'can feel you gripping my cock"
you shake your head no rapidly, his words almost making you slip
"still haven't given you permission to cum" he mocks. "but you're still going to do it, aren't you?"
your cunt's quivering obscenely with the effort of holding back and taehyun clicks his tongue, displeased – nostrils flaring slightly. he thrusts even harder, cock ramming against that yummy spot, caressing aggressively against your slippery walls
"no! please– oh please, taehyun—"
you're reduced to a puddle of whimpery gasps, going cross eyed when his thumb caresses over your clit, drawing slick, expert circles over it that make your mind short-circuit. your knees draw together in an attempt to push him back, but he only pries them apart and you're so focused on not clamping down on his cock, you barely provide any resistance. a hand shoots to his wrist, desperately trying to pry him off, but to no avail. you're no match for his strength – your actions only making him press harder
you pant and flail, mewling when you feel him rub you just right
"fuck fuck fuck—!" you burst with an inaudible cry
taehyun works your gummy insides until you gush, hot slick splattering from where he's ramming into you until every wave is ridden out – until your thighs are trembling and you're shaking helplessly as you try to come down. he purposely drags it out, until you whine and whimper for him to slow down. he makes sure you feel every pulse of your release and how you grip him, that you know he felt you shatter around his length – that you had enjoyed every second of it, even when you were trying to hold back
he lowers himself – your trembling hands bracing against his chest and you hide your face in his shoulder, still whimpering in the unending aftershocks
taehyun tsks, "such a dirty girl. can't even obey one command and cum when i tell her to"
"a-alpha–"
his tone drops to a whisper that makes you gulp, "now i'm gonna make you cum as many times as i want"
god – and he does, he fulfills that promise
there are no thoughts in your head besides taehyun, his cock, his cum, his hands, lips and teeth on your skin and his beautiful, deep moans and grunts. it's all him
he's not much different than you, the only thing on his mind is you – your nails leaving marks all over his skin, your screams and cries, your pussy squeezing him tighter and tighter and your still quaking thighs. it all just made him want to fuck you harder. see just how far he can push you, turn you into his little cum-hungry, cock-addicted omega
his alpha rages at him to knock you up, to pump you so full of his cum you'll surely be pregnant by the end of this week. all that talk of yours earlier when you were on your knees – about having his pups only fuels him now
fuck and you just take it. you take all of him so well
you're so pliant, so obedient, so fucking unresisting and easy for him, he almost can't believe it. it doesn't help that you cry and beg for more more more – starved omega cunt just begging for his release again, milking him so good he thinks this must be what heaven feels like. you're just so slick, sticky, slippery and tight and he can already tell you're going to pull so many loads out of him
whatever refractory period you had with jungwon is non-existent with taehyun — he makes sure of that, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you like it's an art he's mastered and excels in and fuck, you wouldn't blame him if he were to walk around with a massively inflated ego by the end of this week
you've lost count of the amount of times you've moaned and screamed, "don't stop" , "keep going" , "right there"
there's an old saying that an alpha can walk and talk however he likes if his omega's happy. god, you're a little more than just "happy" right now. you're out of your mind, ascending out of your body, addicted to the high he's got you on
he's fueled with coiled, simmering pride
you let him consume you, destroy you, ruin you, take you apart
you're unbelievably still turned on, ovaries rejoicing at the thought of harvesting more cum from him. you crave what you know only he can give you – and that is to fuck you full until you're sore
a dull ring cuts through you and taehyun's rough rousing – an urgent vibration shaking the nightstand on his side of the bed which you had claimed. you'd left your cellphone here for tonight's date, not having wanted any distractions, but it seems the person on the other side of the line is persistent
taehyun huffs in frustration, hips slowing only the slightest bit as he reaches for the device, turning the screen for you to see
your blood runs cold upon reading the caller-id
yang jungwon
along with a few more missed calls
"motherfucker", you hear taehyun curse under his breath, voice steely and laced with venom. "what the fuck does he want?"
"i- i don't know– taehyun!" a harsh thrust cuts off the whine. you don't understand. you had blocked him. he had no access to you. this didn't make any—
"answer it", taehyun suggests, tone light like he had simply asked you to peel an apple
"no, we shouldn't—" "pick up the call, sweetheart", he gives you a particularly hard thrust, eyes boring into yours compelling you to obey. with a shaky hand, you reach out and answer the call
"h-hello?" you blush at the way you desperately try – and fail – to keep your voice even
"pretty" – his voice sounds from the speaker and you shudder. "took you long enough to pick up"
taehyun bites back a growl, rutting his length harder into you instead. you bite down on your bottom lip in an attempt to keep your depraved noises and breaths at bay
"we're having another pack meeting soon. father expects you to be there and so do i— what the fuck are you doing? — y/n?"
you catch taehyun's snarl. he hates the manner in which jungwon speaks to you, wanting nothing but to wring his neck at the tone and language the insolent alpha used
"think you should ask yourself that question. what the fuck do you think you're doing?" taehyun spits and you cling tighter onto him. "what are you doing calling my omega?"
you can almost see it, how jungwon has gone still on the other side of the line, stunned – but like the menacing devil he is, he decides to mask it by taunting taehyun further
"your omega? what makes you so sure of that?" it's your turn to snarl, a loud mewl cutting through jungwon's speech. "sooner or later, she'll come crawling back to me. it's all she knows, all she's good for"
jungwon's arrogance and confidence in his manipulative tactics and old tricks amuses taehyun, tickles him as he drags the phone to where jungwon has a clear, unmistakable sound, of the wet smack of your bodies colliding with one another
his hand settles against your throat, not applying any pressure, fingers simply resting there. the cool metal of his silver bracelet grazes your collarbone, drawing a soft gasp from you, enough to grab your attention. taehyun smiles triumphantly, an idea forming quick in his mind. if your thick-headed ex wouldn't believe him, he'll just make you tell him yourself
"tell him i claimed you, sweetheart", he commands, tone leaving no room for protest or disobedience
"he— t-taehyun claimed me", you choke out around wanton gasps and whimpers
"tell him you belong to me"
"i– i belong to him– i belong to taehyun– fuck! alpha–!" you scream when his cockhead kisses your cervix, a delicious pressure thumping so fucking deep inside – deeper than jungwon could ever get
"tell him you're never going back to him"
"i'm never going back to you– i'm— i— t-taehyun—"
"that's right, sweetheart. that's my good girl", he praises, placing the softest of kisses to your lips – a stark contrast to the brutality of his thrusts
he clicks off the speaker, lifting your phone to his mouth. "you heard her loud and clear this time, jungwon. she's not in your pack anymore and she's not coming to your pack meeting", he growls, "she's mine."
shivers travel down your spine, your moans and cries becoming shameless
"call this number again and see what happens. i won't repeat myself next time", he ends the call before the alpha on the other end can respond, tossing the device somewhere on the bed and his rough fucking only increases. the hand on your throat squeezes now and your eyes roll back and flutter shut once more
the sound of the bed now banging against the wall barely registers to you
you just know that jungwon, wherever he finds himself, is fuming. he'd never been able to coax this level of submission out of you, never had you instantly obey every command of his like this
"he has the fucking audacity to call my omega"
your head spins at taehyun's uncovered possessiveness – oh, how you've been waiting for this day
"you wanted my pups, sweetheart?"
you're so, so far gone when your core ignites at the thought, words tumbling out before you can stop them. "y-yes alpha, please"
he only laughs, high on the power trip your willing submission gives him. "maybe i should give you my pups. show that fucker who owns you"
you clench hard around him at that and it only makes him scoff louder, a shiver racing down his spine at the possibility of getting you knocked up
"look at you. you like this, don't you? wanted alpha to fuck you like this since you first saw me, huh sweetheart?"
oh god oh god oh god
"y-yes, alpha! p-please, i'm gonna—"
you barely finish the sentence, nails digging into his triceps as another orgasm crashes into you, screams turned feral. he pistons harder, faster as you beg for him not to stop, to keep going. every push into your sopping warmth pushes you higher and higher up his bed, thrusts hard enough to shatter your pelvic bones and leave you crippled. you can only cry and wail as taehyun makes you cum again and then again, slick flowing and splattering, making an absolute mess of yourselves and the sheets
he sits up and a hard smack lands square on the side of your thigh. it snaps you out of your drunken haze for a mere second to catch onto what he says – commands in that low tone that leaves no space for disobedience
"not done with you yet", he slows to a stop. you want to whine and protest, awaiting his instruction eagerly. "turn around for me, ass up"
your pulse spikes – he's asking you to present
there's a moment of gentleness from him as he detangles himself from you, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of your knee
jungwon never did this. his rut was always an excuse for him to be rougher, to treat you harsher without consequence. taehyun's unexpected gentleness is new to you. compelled by the tugging in your heart and the affection that makes a home in your chest, you move quickly, settling yourself on all fours before lowering your torso to the mattress, arching your back to give him a clear view of your swollen pussy, glistening in yours' and his cum
one sweep of his gaze over you has the alpha reeling, cock aching with the need to knot you again
the first thing you feel are his lips on your backside – a lingering kiss and then another. his hands, reverent and careful accompany them, brushing along your skin in appreciation
"my perfect girl", he whispers and you almost tear up again
his lips make their way up your spine, hands circling warm around your waist before you feel his tip prod at your entrance
"safeword?", he asks, smearing your juices around your folds and sliding the length over your clit – creating a delicious squelch
you moan softly, "no, keep going"
another peck of his lips and then – "good girl", before he slides in all the way. you moan out, pushing your hips back onto him
taehyun's gaze drops between your bodies, drinking in the perfect, sinful arch of your back – pretty for him, the plush curve of your ass offered up to him and your cunt, glistening and greedy, swallowing his cock with a hunger that's nothing short of depraved, like you haven't had enough
the rolls of his hips are languid, slower now while he feels out your warmth, hands gripping harder at your waist, hips and ass. drawn out sighs and rough groans sound out from behind you and find yourself wishing you could see him like this, watch the way every muscle in his torso flexes with every delicious thrust, every precise hip roll
"alpha, more", you moan out again. you're sure you're drooling onto the sheets, arching deeper just for him
"more?", he asks, wavering
you can tell he's fighting with his alpha again, fighting the instinct to absolutely brute through your swollen, leaking cunt in this position. "fuck, y/n, i'm trying to give you a break—"
"make me take it"
he huffs – your words enough to flip that switch in him again. a dumb, blissful smile begins to form on your face as he takes you harder, meaner again. he can hear it in your voice: you're challenging him
you hear him snarl, hand wrapping around the back of your neck, pressing you further into the mattress
you're still so fucking mouthy, provoking him like this, just like you had in the restaurant
"still need to fuck the luna out of you, it seems", he tsks, breathing rugged, still fighting to hold back
"fuck yes taehyun don't stop", your eyes roll to the back of your skull when he angles his thrusts just right. taehyun growls, eyeing the bedframe that bangs hard against the wall, screws coming loose. "you're gonna make me cum—!" you warn through heavy intakes of air, your hands clawing at the sheets only fueling his pursuit of bringing you to your high
"yeah? make a mess again?" he taunts and god, you can hear the smirk in his voice – like the way he's fucking you doesn't exert him, not even one bit
it doesn't help that the evidence of your pleasure drips down his balls which smack heavy and powerful against your swollen clit, every punch and drag of his cock rattling you into oblivion
"harder, alpha please!" you cry and he curses under his breath
"fuck, any harder than this and we're gonna break this bed, sweetheart"
the thought makes makes you pulse and squeeze tight around him, whimpering when his hands pull you back and forth firmer. fucking hell, you're just begging to be ruined
you open your eyes enough to glance at the headboard, your vision blurred by a mixture of tears, ruined mascara and the hair that's covered your face. you don't care about the bed or the headboard, you need him deeper, harder – need him to make sure you're unable to walk when he's done with you. an idea sparks in your mind, rebellious and defiant and you know taehyun in his rut won't be able to resist
you open your mouth to spew a threat, threat which backfires, because you learn a lesson very quickly: never challenge taehyun
"taehyun, if you don't fuck me through this mattress— oh my god!"
the pounding collision of skin on skin cracks through the air. his hips batter hard against your ass, harder than he's ever taken you before and it's not long before you feel his tip slamming into your cervix
the crack in the headboard deepens with every collision of the bed with the wall
taehyun leans down, firm chest pressed to your back and his voice is sinister as he drawls, "this what you wanted, sweetheart? 'to finally shut you up?" his breath hot on your ear
all you manage are screams and mewls of his name, pathetic gasps and cries harmonizing with his guttural grunts
"fucking begging me to split you apart on this cock. what, now you can't take it?" his hips snap harder against yours, balls smacking more obscene against your sensitive clit
the thud of the bedframe becomes background noise to you, the only thing you're able to hear is him – his melodic moans that begin to blend with sexy, unfiltered grunts
a sharp spank makes you yelp, taking the sheets between your teeth – you feel and hear the silver on his wrist jingle with the impact
"c'mon, fuck yourself back on it", he growls
wet obscene squelches sound from between your thighs, taehyun's length glistening every time he pulls out all the way to the tip, slamming back in to the hilt. you squirm to obey him, please him, working your hips back onto his. your desperate little motions are weak, sad attempts at grinding backward into his lap, considering every thrust of taehyun's sends you stumbling forward. if not for his hands having a grip of steel on your hips and around your neck, you would certainly collide with the cracking headboard
your throat begins to feel raw, but you don't care. not when he's pounding away at your pussy, moulding your insides to his length – your throbbing cunt a dead giveaway of the thrill you find in his rough treatment, the friction against your walls both delicious and overwhelming
another spank!
"look at you. dripping with my cum and still asking for more. still so fucking tight too. haven't fucked you hard enough, have i?"
the filth only spurs your orgasm on. you feel his knot forming, every vein on the swelling length pulsing against your walls
"alpha—! c-close—"
"yeah? go ahead. cum all over my cock 'cause thats the only thing you know how to do" he mocks and you revel in it
loud, ferocious moans and sobs are punched out of you with every thrust, his cock abusing that spongy spot, turning your brain into absolute mush. with another deliberate thrust against it, you let go, allowing your orgasm to take over and the pleasure to wrack you – every bone, fiber and muscle. you squeeze impossibly tight around him, almost preventing his thrusts, but he fucks you through it – strength and stamina never faltering, chasing his own release
you're shaking, knees wobbling where they're spread on the mattress, vision blurring with more tears. you hiss and clamp down tighter on him when both of his hands wrap around your throat
he delivers one, two then three brutal thrusts before the bed finally gives in, succumbing to the impact of his powerful slams, collapsing flat on the bedroom floor. a guttural grunt sounds from the depths of his chest as he spills into you, knot swelling to its full size
you squirm and whine at the stretch, "alpha! b–big– too big–!" – desperately trying to crawl away
taehyun stalks close after you, not allowing you to inch away, hands around your throat and the back of your neck firming. "take it", he growls against your ear
he leans forward – hard chest sweaty against your back, pressing as deep as he can possibly get. his cum – so much of it – pumps warm and copious into your womb as he lifts you, pulling you to sit up against him, tilting your head into a soul-stealing, smothering kiss. he continues to grind with force with you seated in his lap, groaning into your mouth. his strength alone lulls you into submission, humming and sighing sweetly against him, omega overjoyed at the feel of his cum spilling out around him
the two of you still, simply savoring the closeness between you, until your lungs burn with the need to breathe
his thumb brushes over your cheek when you part. you huff out a quiet laugh when you feel him, still impossibly hard inside you
"shit, sweetheart", he exhales, disbelieving of the fact that his body continually stays ignited for you
it had usually taken him a good couple of minutes to recuperate after popping a knot, even in rut
but with you – you keep him on fire and charged in a way that is new to him
he glances at the headboard and so do you, your eyes widening as you blink away the messy mixture of makeup and pleasure
multiple cracks and fractures line the frame – caved dark wood shattered against wall and a few stray screws scattered on the mattress and the floor, bolts hanging uselessly from the sad, flimsy excuse of a structure. the sight makes you gulp and it's taehyun's turn to breathe out a chuckle against your hair
"told you we were going to break the bed"
"oh my god", you chuckle with him, your turn to be in disbelief
you were situated significantly lower than you were moments ago, the foundation of the bed having caved too when the structure came tumbling down
and tonight is only the first night of his rut
he sighs, strained when his length twitches inside of the warmth of your walls. the rhythmic pulse of your cunt does little to distract taehyun from the urge to delve deep into you once more, even more so when you wiggle your ass in his lap
"want more", you hum, hand coming up to cup the back of his head, pulling him down for another kiss
taehyun wants to stop, wants to give you a break, but when you're still this desperate and needy for him, he can't resist. the kiss is filthy, sloppy as you both are fucked out, yet still humming like live-wires with overwhelming heat
his knot finally eases and your body shivers as taehyun carefully pulls out, smirking when his and yours releases spill warm from your entrance, ruining and coating his cock and the sheets. you feel strong arms encircle your waist and taehyun manhandles you to where he's lying down, pulling you on top of him, right into his lap
your mind reels with anticipation as you plant your palms flat on his solid chest. you've thought about this far too many times this week
— what it would be like to be on top, what it would be like to take charge, to make him lose his mind, make him lose control. you start to rock steady, sliding your folds along his cock and his hands come to settle on your hips
the room smells of sex, sweat and cum, akin to a hot beach day, this time tainted with vanilla and both of you are equally obsessed with it
his fingers trace over the softness of your thighs, trailing down to where you still need him. you feel a delicate touch to your folds, caressing you with gentle inspection
it's a stark contrast to his hips lifting in hard strokes against your wetness. you keen into his touch
"taehyun", you sigh out dreamily, "want you"
"i know, sweetheart" he purrs, gathering a mixture of your juices on the backs of his fingers. you protest when he brings them up to his mouth, tongue lapping out lazily against the digits
fuck, how does he manage to make everything look so sensual and tempting?
you watch his eyes roll to back of his skull, head lulling back with a groan. "we taste so good together" he moans and before you can stop him again, his hand is back between your thighs, scooping and lifting another dollop of the opalescent mixture to your mouth
"open up" he coaxes and your lips wrap around his fingers
you hum when the perfect blend of vanilla and mandarin, bittersweet and syrupy melts over your tongue, entrancing you immediately
your omega swoons as you feed off of his hand, even holding onto his wrist, tongue swirling around his fingers, suckling around the digits
"fuck", he curses under his breath with a proud smile. he's turning you into himself, making you every bit as obsessed as him
when you've cleaned his fingers well enough to your satifcation, you pop his hand out of your mouth, placing it around your throat instead. "alpha" you moan, "please", rocking against his length, meeting his strokes
he motions for you to lift as he takes ahold of his length, lining himself up with you and you sink down slowly – or so you think
your body meets his length with faint resistance and your face scrunches into that cute frown that makes taehyun coo, struggling to hold yourself up
he comes to your aid quickly, arms cupping under your thighs, holding you up with ease
"taehyun, you're s-so big" you huff out, cunt leaking over his cock
"easy sweetheart, take it slow" he instructs, slipping just the fat cockhead past your entrance. you gasp when your body opens up, when your pussy flutters around the thickness. that's the trick – when he talks you through it, your body attuned to the sound of his voice
"keep talking" you blush and a knowing, triumphant grin breaks out on his face
he gathers you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your nape once you're close. his voice, like silk drawls right against your ear. "yeah? stay right there – just the tip. work just the tip for me. just like that"
holy fuck, you nearly moan
you love when he talk to you like this. it's the sexiest thing ever – and it doesn't help that his tip and your folds make these squelching sounds, similar to wet suctioning kisses every time you slide it in and out. you're panting at this point, drunk on him and bewitched by his patient guidance
"that's it. hear that, sweetheart? sound so perfect f'me" he nips at your flesh
you clutch onto his shoulders when he continues, "now work in another inch for me. yeah– good girl"
the praise sends a flood between your thighs, making the slip easier. you have no idea how taehyun is holding back, considering he looks and sounds just as worked up as you
he can see it in your eyes, your body language. you're eager for him, all of him. you just need to take it slow, for now. he works another few inches inside, arms and hands guiding you along his cock. the length accidentally slips out with a lewd slap, sliding against your clit and you gasp, small and soft
taehyun's self restraint's now hanging on by a thin thread. your omega calls for his alpha, begging him to just brute through your walls and fill your womb with his seed. the lewd noises get louder, increasing in rhythm as you rock faster with his help, guiding him to your entrance once more and you sink down fully, taking the entirety of his length in
you whimper pathetically. you don't think you'll ever get used to the stretch and pressure of him – and he hits much deeper in this position
his hands now settle around your waist, ready to start his own pace when you sit back up and begin working him. sweat gathers on his forehead, bearing his teeth as his lower abdomen burns. his hands brush his hair back, biceps bulging with the action and you pulse around him at the flex, especially when he sighs breathily, placing his hands behind his head, giving you that slow once over
you begin to rock onto him, lifting your hips enough to bounce. a loud and wanton moan sounds from you at the feel, the press of him only deeper. you do it again and then again, fueled by the visual of taehyun laid out so irresistibly beneath you, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, dimple protuding
he watches you like a hawk, brows drawing in an unimpressed line. his voice is gruff when he speaks this time. "so are you going to let me take over or are you just gonna keep bouncing until you can't anymore?"
all you do is moan out, stubborn and drunk on his cock. you don't want his help. you want to prove a point, make him feel good too, show him you can be in charge
you lift once more and the drag of him, every ridge and vein brushes deliciously against your walls, plopping down again, sinking him balls deep. the soft slap of skin against skin nearly makes you drool. you can feel him in your stomach, tip reaching deeper and deeper with every bounce, increasing your pace
but fuck, you can't deny the way your thighs do start to burn, the way you struggle to bounce consistently at the speed that you want, the speed that you need
when taehyun decides he's had enough of watching you labour, his hands grip hard onto your hips
"let me take over" he grunts, thrusting upward to prove his point. your brows furrow, mouth dropping open. god, it's so much more powerful than your pitiful attempts at riding him
you slide him in and out, hips seeking more friction, but your legs are numb – weak and tired from your previous orgasms
you're still stubborn – you just want to please him. he's pleased you so much, taken charge every time. you've always had to prove yourself to jungwon. it's no surprise you feel like you have to do the same for taehyun
he can see you struggling, hears you babbling about making him feel good, taking charge, wanting to return the favor, please him like an omega should
that ticks him off
he knows what this is about – and he wants to strip you of your need and guilt to give back to him and return the favor for taking care of you. that selfish fucker probably trained you into doing all the work, into "proving" yourself to him. the thought just makes taehyun red-hot and angry all over again
his nostrils flare and he plants his feet flat on the bed, hips bucking up hard and knocking you forward. you release a sharp gasp. "taehyun–!" you want to scold him, but your voice projects itself as a mere whine
he does it again and again, slow and deep, every thrust increasing in speed. his hand wraps around your throat again, bringing you close to speak directly in your ear. "i'm not letting you be in charge" he growls, hips beginning to piston up. you mewl, gripping onto his forearm, feeling the hard muscles flex beneath your fingers
oh how taehyun loves your flimsy grip, like you don't know if you want him to push you harder or pull away and relent
every hard thrust tempts you into submission. you feel the control slipping from your fingers. "i want to please you alpha—! i need to—"
the sound of a sharp spank! resonates through the room and you jolt, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. he's jackhammering up, pushing perfect hip rolls into your sweet spot
"how many times do i have to tell you, you don't have to do any work with me?"
"i just want be good for you, alpha" you cry, tears forming along your waterline as your eyes plead with his. taehyun softens. he knows where this is coming from, knows jungwon has manipulated you in the past, that he undoubtedly made you feel like you weren't good enough in bed
over taehyun's dead fucking body
"i know, sweetheart" he soothes, still knocking into you mercilessly. "you don't have to prove anything to me"
this time, you do let it out, heart clenching behind your ribcage. warm tears trail down your face and he's quick to wipe them away
"you're being so good for me already. just want you to sit pretty and let alpha make you feel good, okay?" he instructs. "can you do that for me?"
you sob and nod, not trusting your voice
"there we go"
his pace only picks up from this point and you're rendered brainless, cunt crying and dripping around his cock as he takes you like this, as he brings you to another orgasm. he draws an endless stream of whimpers and cries from your throat as he watches you closely, seeing you lose yourself to the pleasure
that familiar smug grin returns in an instant
"he had you working hard, huh?" taehyun scoffs and you squeak when his arm tightens around your waist, the other around your throat, steering you more fervently on his cock. "this is how i like you. with me you just have to take it, sweetheart"
your mind reels at the filth he begins to spew at you, pussy fluttering with more slick
"just have to let alpha fuck you good"
"there she is, opening up for me nicely"
"pussy can't get enough of me, huh? cock-obsessed girl. can't stop cumming on it, can you, sweetheart?"
"pretty little thing can only think of getting fucked hard and split apart on this cock"
your moans have become obscene, slutty, drawn-out. your lip is tucked cruelly between your teeth and you bite down so hard you taste something metallic
he's driving you insane
you can barely keep up, recovering from one orgasm and then tumbling into the next. you can only register his voice, his cock fucking you relentlessly, without falter, his hands gripping and guiding your hips, rock hard abs flexing beneath your fingers every time you lose balance, placing them anywhere you can reach on his torso
"tell me how much you love my cock"
"love your cock so much alpha, want it all the time" you sob, thighs shaking
"tell me you don't want me to stop"
"don't want you to stop— fuck! taehyun, i'm gonna come–"
"that's right, sweetheart. come for me. come all over this cock"
you release around him at the command, moans increasing in volume when he doesn't stop, only driving up higher. you're close again within seconds, every gaspy inhale a telltale sign. taehyun's brows are furrowed in concentration, abs flexing with every thrust upward into your quivering, sopping cunt
his lip's caught between his teeth, keeping a close eye on your face. he hisses when he feels you clamping down again, fucking more precise into that spot that has you seeing stars, that has you crying out louder and has your nails digging into his skin
this orgasm is going to ruin you – catching up to you fast
you're a flustered mess on top of him, unable to formulate a proper thought – pussy swelling and throbbing around him obscenely
he's hitting all the right spots repeatedly, mercilessly and the pressure in your lower belly becomes too much to contain
"c'mon sweetheart, don't hold back. come for alpha. yeah, just like that, fuuuck—"
you let go again, this time with an earth shattering cry, slick squirting abundantly from between your thighs. your eyes squeeze shut, completely losing your balance as your orgasm slams into you. taehyun's arms wrap around your shaking body in an instant, sitting up and cradling you to his chest
you sob as your pussy continues to spasm wildly around his cock, unable to stop gushing and quivering. taehyun moans deep, hissing through his teeth at the feel. your arms loop around his shoulders as he eases in and out, much slower
"that's it, easy girl. take deep breaths for me" he soothes, a hand stroking through your hair
he holds you until the shaking stops, until the very last shiver wracks your body and you're able to put together a sentence
your face is burried in his shoulder while you still gasp for air, completely and utterly ruined. he places a kiss against your hair. "good girl, cry it out" and then — "you still with me?"
you huff out a laugh, nodding. "j-just give me a minute" you manage while trying to catch your breath. "holy shit, taehyun. you almost snatched my soul"
you feel the rumble in his chest against yours when he chuckles deeply, "that's the plan, sweetheart"
god. he's a sorcerer, you're convinced of it – using his magic to ensnare every fiber of your being. he cups your face, bringing your lips to his in a proud kiss. "you came so good for me. fuck, the bed's a mess"
you both chuckle through uneven breaths as you look around you and indeed, the sheets are crumpled, soaked and stained in cum and pleasure. when your eyes return to his, you don't fail to notice the fire still behind them. your gaze drops to his mouth when he draws you in again and again and you huff as he simply gives you loud, exaggerated pecks instead of deepening the kiss
"taehyun" you whine and he laughs at how fussy you've become. you're just so easy to tease
"safeword?" he asks once you've gathered your breath and you hope the way your walls squeeze around his still hard length is enough of an answer, his teasing enough to get you needy again
just how many rounds can taehyun go?
you slot your lips with his, whispering against them, "no. keep going" and he flips you back over, this time pressing his mouth against yours with more fervor, tongue meeting yours with urgency
you're sensitive, so sensitive when he pulls out, carefully pushing back in. you find yourself grateful you and taehyun had gotten your contraception taken care of earlier this week. your omega still craves his knot, knowing he has plenty of cum loads to give, not wanting a single drop to go to waste
a hand curls into his hair, allowing him to press you into the mattress as he begins to move again, slow
you wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him closer as he finally deepens his kiss, humming into your mouth. your ankles press into the backs of his thighs, urging him to give you more – and he does, building a faster rhythm. your moans and whimpers spur him on and it's not long before he's fucking the thick, heavy length into you, building you up to another release, chasing his own
he hits deeper with every thrust, tip kissing your cervix and he grunts into your mouth. your walls clench around him, longing for another orgasm, longing for his knot and for his thick cum to fill you
everything was going good, every second had felt good, but suddenly, it was all too overwhelming, too much, too deep
you whimper shakier against his mouth, nails raking along his shoulders
you can hold out. you can be good for him, you tell yourself. you still want him, don't want him to stop. it's just too fast and too deep all at once
"h-hurts" you choke out, immediately regretting the word the second it slips out of your mouth
your eyes squeeze shut as taehyun lifts himself onto his palms, brows furrowing as he hovers over you. ever-attentive, he immediately slows down. "it's not supposed to hurt, sweetheart. give me the safeword and i'll stop, right now"
you wrap your thighs tighter around him. "no– please don't stop. i-i meant, it hurts so good—"
your words don't convince him this time. "y/n, it shouldn't be hurting at all"
you bite down on your bottom lip, tears welling behind your closed eyelids. taehyun won't have that. "open your eyes, look at me sweetheart" he coaxes you open with a hand cupping your face. you do as he asks with mild difficulty
one look into your eyes has the realization dawning on him
"did he hurt you like this?"
the question pained him to ask, like he knew what the answer would be – and that it would wreck him. his concerned gaze searches yours. you can't find your voice so all you manage is a nod and a sob
for the first time in a long time, taehyun feels his heart break
that absolute motherfucker. who could ever want to hurt you? your alpha momentarily sees red. he should tear jungwon to shreds. if taehyun wasn't stuck in rut, he'd be at that pack house by tomorrow morning, murdering enha-pack's head alpha – and he'd make sure there'd be nothing of him left
anger, hurt and sorrow burns in his chest for you. you never deserved this. how could he hurt you like this? how could anyone hurt you like this? – and worse, how could he convince you that this was okay?
taehyun wordlessly shakes his head, slowing down even more
you protest, voice meek, "taehyun, i want you to feel good—"
"no"
it's soft, but final and loaded with emotion and it quiets you immediately
"please y/n. just do as i say" he almost begs. "feel me, right here, sweetheart" he presses down on the outline of him in your lower belly, working against your sweet spot. it's slow and deep, but this time, not deep enough to hurt – just enough to feel good and turn your brain into mush
your eyes flutter shut. "t-tae—hyunnn—" you moan his name, feeling a different kind of overwhelm
"tell me how it feels" he coaxes, voice low and gentle. he watches you closely, eyes following the way you bite down on your lip and the way tears begin to cascade down your temples
"it f-feels good, so good alpha" you breathe out between gasps and whimpers
"doesn't hurt at all? you don't need me to slow down more?"
"no, this is perfect"
"there we go, sweetheart. this is how you should feel, every single time. this is what the safeword is for" he informs, working against that mouthwatering spot again and again, so slow and steady and you feel your orgasm building and approaching once more
your warmth's spilling slick, so much of it and you're moaning uncontrollably through your sobs and tears, wet squelches of your pleasure reaching yours and taehyun's ears
"it's not about me– fuck, it's never just about me. it's about us, feeling good together, you hear me?"
you give him a small nod, but it's not enough for him. "open your eyes, look at me sweetheart, please"
he needs you to understand this, to grasp and relearn it until you've internalized it
it doesn't matter if he's in rut or not. what he wants doesn't matter if it's not what you want. he needs you to know and understand that he'll only ever feel good when you feel good
you do as he asks, finding his eyes. obsidian, deep and warm is fixed on you, thumbs wiping away your tears
"understand?" he tries again and you nod, "yes, alpha. i understand"
"that's my good girl" he affirms, placing the most featherlight kiss against your lips that completely melts your resolve and etches away your unease and pain
"i love you" he whispers against your lips as you breathe him in, brows furrowed in seriousness
the confession makes your breath hitch, eyes flickering between his
"i don't ever want to hurt you. you let me know when i do. i don't care if i have to hold myself back. is that understood?" he asks, a hand sliding down to your little bundle of nerves. your body sings, arching into him, into his slow, long strokes
you focus hard on not letting your eyes roll to the back of your skull. "y-yes, alpha— oh my god—" you choke out, mind numbing on the pleasure he brings to you
"good girl. now cum for me again. show alpha how good you feel"
taehyun doesn't even have to finish the command. you're already spasming around him, milking him for all he's worth – the sound of his name on your tongue a prayerful whisper. your hands clutch onto his arms as he talks you through it, talks you through the shakes, the aftershocks and the high. "there we go, let it all out for me, sweetheart"
he groans, slotting his lips to yours and your heart soars
you don't fight more tears from falling. so this is it. this is what it feels like to be made love to – to be loved selflessly
taehyun had placed you far above himself. even in rut, he still considers you more important, his first priority. he never wants to be the cause of your discomfort and pain, never wants you to go through any of what you've gone through in your previous relationship
you cum for what feels like forever, taehyun knowing just how to prolong every ounce of your pleasure, making sure to set a new standard
not too long after, you feel him spill into you, knot locking him into place. he presses soft kisses to you, arms wrapping themselves snug around your waist, holding you close. he cradles your trembling body warm in his embrace. only when you come down, does he lift his head, finding a blissed little smile on your face
glassy eyes stare up at his adoring ones and he bares his teeth in a smile of his own
"i love you" he repeats it once more
it comes out bearing weight, like a promise and your entire being keens and dips into warmth
he'd compliment you right now, tell you how beautiful you look like this, how perfect you are for him, but a compliment simply wouldn't suffice, wouldn't come close to describing the feeling in his chest – when you trusted him enough like this to lay yourself and your soul bare before him
he had to let you know
you've ruined him, utterly and completely – and he'd celebrate and cherish your vulnerability every single time
until you understood, until you just knew, until you allowed the knowledge of his love to become a part of you – to envelope you until there is no more fear and uncertainty left, only the sense of home
you swallow the lump in your throat, arms hugging around the wings of his back. "i love you too" you confess
he shivers, your voice washing over him and he steals your breath as his head dips and your lips meet once more
you thought you had gotten close to taehyun in the days that had passed, but you feel closer to him now more than ever – right here, in the warmth and safety of his arms, attuned to every word of affirmation that spills from his mouth – a neverending song of his devotion. the one genre he never seems to run out of, notes and keys that rewire your brain and your heart
you've finally become one with him, in every sense of the phrase
when his knot goes down, he carefully withdraws from your warmth
your lips are still caught together, limbs still tangled and more i love you's are whispered between dreamy sighs and giggles. he's content just seeing you like this
his skin is still feverish, heat radiating off of him in waves as you stay wrapped around each other. he laughs when you tease him with a mischievous question
"you think you broke your record?" you ask and he answers you with a smitten little hm?
"…how many times you could make me cum" you add, chuckling again when he laughs. you'd coo at him, tell him how cute he looks smiling from ear to ear and his dimple protudes – but you know where that will lead you
it seems you don't have to, however. taehyun already beats you to it. his voice lowers to where he's right by your ear, a low rumble which sends tingles down your spine
"oh sweetheart, i'm far from done with you"
oh god
your breath hitches as he continues, "i just think we need to take a little break." a piece of your hair is tucked behind your ear and he doesn't hesitate to capture your lips with his again, tongue sweeping into your mouth. you let him kiss you silly, moaning softly as your hands roam over his skin
he's beautiful – honey-like skin glimmering with perspiration, coated in your scent. equally yours as you are his. he's large and broad in your hands, firm too and you find that you'll never tire of the feel of him beneath your fingertips
his hands wander too, cupping and kneading the flesh of your breasts and thighs where he can reach, groaning in appreciation into your mouth
it doesn't last long before taehyun feels a stirring, burying his head into the nape of your neck. you're about to ask him what's wrong, when you feel it – he rests heavy and hard against your lower belly, precum leaking warm onto your skin
he's panting, heatwaves wracking his body and his teeth clench. your brows knit together when his forehead rests on your collarbone. "alpha—?"
"it's okay, sweetheart. i can take care of this one myself" he strains, throbbing painfully against you. another pained groan escapes him and you cup his face, making him look at you
"let me help, please" you offer. "you won't hurt me" you give him a small peck
his pupils dilate, alpha raging to take over at the sound of your voice so soft and sweet – but still, taehyun refuses to give in. "it's fine, i can just– fuck y/n"
your hand slides down between your bodies, wrapping around his aching, leaking length
"come on, taehyun" you purr, stroking him up and down, body beginning to pulse with a newfound need for him already – mate-bond claim making you adjust instinctively to his needs. "i can take it"
your voice is bathed in seduction and taehyun curses himself, curses his nature and his rut for getting turned on so easily
he's a goner when you guide his tip to your entrance, sliding him up and down your slit, right between your soaked, puffy folds. the alpha curses under his breath when you hum sweetly, bucking your hips to work him against your little bundle of nerves
his hand on the mattress fists in the sheets, caving at last. "need to clean you up first. shower?"
your heart warms, he's always wanting to take care of you. you clench around nothing, "yes, please – and afterward, we take this to the spare"
he snickers in response, "trying to break the bed there too?"
"doesn't sound like a bad idea to me. besides" you purr, "we'll still have the couch", you kiss below his ear, "the kitchen counter", below his jaw, "the walls", against his throat, "the floors. a little housewarming for me…all week long"
you feel his jaw clench, hands on your body tightening. you just love riling him up, he thinks. "now that's an idea i'll gladly take"
"yeah? show me" you hum, breathless when he slots his lips together with yours, taking his bottom lip between your teeth, eliciting a sexy groan straight from his chest
oh you love how easy it is to switch him on when he's in rut
he disconnects your lips only to whisper against them, "we're seriously taking a break after the shower, though"
"fine" you respond and his tongue slips into your mouth again, devouring every sound you make. his arms curl around you, ready to lift you when a ringtone sounds from the bedside table, stopping him in his tracks. he pulls off and you whine at the loss. "i fucking swear, if it's that fucker again—"
"yeonjun?" you both voice in confusion upon reading the caller-id
taehyun sighs heavy, and this is why being next in line for head alpha is not the best position to be in. he wonders briefly how soobin does it, answering the call
"tyun! i uh– i need your help–"
"you have about thirty seconds 'till i hang up. make it quick"
the deep octave of his voice sends another shiver down your spine and you gasp as his tip slides over your clit, biting back a moan as he teases over the little bundle of nerves. you motion for taehyun to flip the two of you over and he does, watching you kiss a hot little trail down his body
"thirty seconds?! okay, uhh–! so i've told you i met my mate at the party and we've been talking for a bit. we've hung out since then, but i don't want to– i don't know, rush anything or—"
he pays the alpha on the other line little mind, sliding a hand into your hair, a dangerous grin forming on his face as he gives you that loaded once over. he follows you, sitting up and your hand scrambles to grab his phone. you squeak into his shoulder as he lifts you, making his way to the bathroom
"get to the point, yeonjun. i'm losing my patience here"
he takes the phone out of your hand, placing it on the basin counter and turning on the shower. you're pressed against the shower wall in record time, tempted to wrap your legs around him and let him slide into you, to have him take you again, slow and deep. instead, you shimmy yourself out of his arms, wordlessly sinking to your knees just like you did earlier tonight. you almost forget about your friend on the line when you take him into your hands, the length throbbing as you stroke him, pace agonizing to his rut-clouded mind
"how do i plan a date?" yeonjun's voice echoes through the space
that's enough to stop both of you in your tracks. your eyes meet, wide with half desire and impatience, half excitement for your friend
– but you're impatient, squeezing your hands around him as you lather his cock in the precum that's leaked from his tip. the last of taehyun's resolve crumbles, thrusting shallowly into your tight hold. it's not long before you sheath him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks with every inch you take
"fuck, i'll get back to you in an hour, yeah? do me a favor and hang up. my hands are occupied"
"tyun, man– don't do this to me! i really need your help—"
you see him snarl. he can't resist you much longer. your mouth is just so eager and warm, lips stretched around him, still so eager to please him despite having taken him for hours. he's usually a patient alpha, but that wears thin when his rut is coursing through his veins – the primal need to stuff you full of his cum, until it spurts out of your nose, returns in no time
he draws all the way back, pushing back in, fat cockhead hitting the back of your throat. you're unable to suppress the loud gags and moans that spill from you as he sets a brutal pace, eyes rolling to the back of his skull
the realization dawns on yeonjun. "holy shit?! y/n? fuck dude, i'm sorry—"
"yeonjun, hang the fuck up" taehyun growls and you can't help but whimper at his possessive tone. you're too far gone, drowning out their voices as you continue to suck and slurp around the heavy length
you peer up, humming around him when you see his head tipped back, water droplets cascading in hurried streams down his muscular torso, an arm braced against the shower wall over your head for stability – steam curling around him and the bathroom light creating a halo around his silhouette
"right! shit— i'll call you back!" the line finally goes dead and your alpha groans
"he seriously needs to work on his call timing" taehyun huffs, curling his fingers more firmly into your hair and you squeak. you giggle dumbly when he pulls back for a few seconds, allowing you to breathe. "ag—greed–" you splutter around the glossy mixture that drips from your lips before taking him into your mouth again, bobbing your head faster, meeting his ruts
he grunts and moans deeply, chanting your name as the band in his abdomen ignites like a wildfire. he can barely focus with you swallowing and licking around his length so fervently, massaging his balls in your hands on the upstroke, intent on making him cum
a gentle tap against your cheek makes your eyes refocus and your breath hitches upon surveying the look in his eyes. the obsidian irises are almost boba-like – warm and filled with adoration, a look only reserved for you and your own gloss over
"i love you" the declaration spills from him, overwhelming and clouding his mind just like it had earlier
these are the words that rewire you, until all you know is this: how to be loved and cherished. he'll remind you, every single time, no matter how long it takes for him to rewrite the phrase to you
despite the water overhead steaming, goosebumps erupt over your skin. your heart warms, dazed smile on your face widening, tears gathering in your waterline
"i love you too, taehyun" you whisper in return when you ease back to take in another deep breath, heart pounding in your chest as his thumb strokes lovingly over your cheek
he chuckles endearingly at how dazed you are, pressing down on your bottom lip
"that's my good girl. best girl i could've ever asked for" he praises before cupping his hands around your face and pulling you up, slotting his lips together with yours and you melt when his arms wrap around you. this time, you do ask him to take you, you do ask him to make love to you again and you preen when he scoops you into his arms once more, wrapping your legs around his waist
in his arms and hands are where you writhe, soar, let go – and it'll be in his arms and hands forever where he'll continue to unravel you, undoing every threaded pain of the past and replacing it with something gentle
and in this moment you knew – you simply knew that this is where you could rest your soul – here. with him, with the one whom the moon goddess has destined you to be with
your alpha, your mate
your taehyun
for the rest of your days
scznote: that brings us to the end of the alpha!taehyun series! i would love to know all of your thoughts and your fav lines & details! don't be shy to comment or reblog! with that said, stay tuned! x
alpha!taehyun x fem omega!reader (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 ➛ (final I)
warnings: SMUT! ALL things a/b/o, fluff, teasing, tension, possessiveness, making out (lots), begging (lots), oral (f & m.rec), fingering, "pillow princess" used inaccurately, unprotected sex (don't!), (positions: missionary, mating press), body worship, he puts her toes in his mouth, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, squirting, knotting, marking (claiming), strength kink, tyun has a consumption kink, hickeys, overuse of the pet name "sweetheart", recollections of abandonment & dysfunctional family dynamics, things get emotional a lot :3
wc: 18.0k!
scznote: it's finally here! my heart and soul went into writing this part! it took a while, but here she is, finally! do show this part some love! may contain errors! i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! x
it had been three days
three days since taehyun last touched you– well, touched you like that
the alpha had been quite horrified upon discovering your research and finding out that you needed two days worth of rest after your, well, rough rousing – but at most, taehyun believed in doing things right
and in doing things right, he meant restraint. you had been abstinent for the past three days – at least, he had clarified, until your next date
you’ve been itching for a taste of him again. the slow drag of his hands on your skin, the way he’d have you crying his name to the heavens in record time, over and over, like you couldn’t stop even if you tried, how he makes you unravel with just one command
you're ecstatic that it's finally happening tonight – and this time, you're not going to hold back
you recall the last few days with heat sparking low in your belly
it felt like you were losing your mind – especially now that you've been living in close proximity with your alpha. the both of you made the decision that you would move in with him, instead of you getting your own place. his apartment space was made for two, after all
taehyun had made sure that the process of moving your things from your father's house to his apartment was a smooth and speedy one for you and when you suggested that you split the rent, you'd been given a quick kiss to shut you up, along with a firm "absolutely not", having left no room for arguments
taehyun makes it very clear that he does not want you lifting a finger – ever
when you had said your goodbyes to your father for the last time and he had held you and told you he hopes taehyun takes good care of you, you had simply known
you had known that you would always be well taken care of, much more than you could ever fathom or imagine
now, all of this meant constantly being in his orbit, constantly being surrounded by him. not that you're complaining, no. you've never been happier in your entire life – that is, if your alpha wasn't such a goddamn tease all the time
there are a few things you've come to notice about taehyun
he loves cooking for you – and you're convinced his cooking is better than any fancy restaurant he plans to take you to in the future. he cleans too, giving you a look when you go to unload the dishwasher or wipe down the counters. you do it anyway. he shows you more of his magic tricks – this is how you've come to find that your favourite thing about taehyun is when he really concentrates on something
it's the way he looks — eyebrows furrowed, eyes focused, jaw set, hands busy
god, those hands. the way they work anything with nothing short of ease and careful practice
you can never decide between praising him, fanning yourself or blushing like a school girl with a very, very impressive crush
you don't even want to get started on the fact that he's been working out at home ever since you moved in, using anything and everything as equipment – even you
he tosses you around like you weigh nothing, enjoying far too much the gasps and squeals his rowdiness elicits from you
you had watched him pick up the chair in the livingroom without strain, repping it with one arm. if he had picked up on the way you pressed your thighs together and took deep breaths to calm yourself, he didn't comment on it, silently smug as he continued to rep away, the rippling muscles of his arms and shoulders having glistened in sweat
you don't tell him, but once when he'd stepped out of sight, you had tried picking up the very same chair he used. you had failed, miserably. only managing to lift it off the floor a few inches, mere seconds before you had let it drop down again
it had struck you, just how terrifyingly strong your alpha is
the teasing, however, never stops, even when he sings – another thing which he is infuriatingly good at
wet the bed had echoed through the hallway two days ago, you had gasped to yourself upon recognizing the tune. jupiter love had spilled from his mouth while he had you under the shower spray yesterday and ai to highball had played low in the kitchen as he chopped carrots, gaze heavy when he gave you that loaded once over. fuck, you'd almost thrown yourself right at him – but you wanted to be good. you wanted to wait, just like he had asked
lastly, he absolutely, positively hates when you call him cute – the word itself like profanity to him. it usually gets you pinned against the nearest surface, a steel-like grip holding you down, voice dripping with warning
well, it certainly gets you dripping with want, heat pulling low in your stomach when you whine for him to release you
— and even though you've packed the entirety of your wardrobe, you still find yourself reaching for his shirts, his sweaters and his hoodies. they're bathed in his scent, wrapping around you – oceanic, citrusy and familiar. he loves seeing you in them too. there's this sort of amused, but unmistakably possessive spark in his eyes when you slip into something you've pulled from his closet after a shower or a bath together
you never bathe separately anymore either
the two of you would be seated on the couch afterward, a show or movie faintly continuing in the background while his lips ghost over the column of your neck, nose tickling along your scent gland
he'd breathe you in, barely able to conceal the hunger in his voice when he whispers things like, "you look so good, smell so good, taste so good. fuck, sweetheart, i could eat you right up"
you blush every single time, slick threatening to trickle out and ruin your clean pair of panties
"c'mere", he'd coax, swiftly pulling you into his lap where he slots his lips against yours in a kiss that is nothing short of smothering, cupping handfuls of your ass. his self-restraint slips just enough to let you know that you'll never go undesired by him, even in this self-proclaimed, small period of abstinence
taehyun is, by far, the most self-controlled alpha you've ever seen so close to rut – despite his slip of composure days ago
strong arms would then wrap solid around your waist, making sure that you're warm and cozy against him. this is typically how he coaxes a venting session out of you
he'd map chaste little kisses over the skin of your neck. it's against the delicate flesh there that he would ask his prompting question – something mindful enough to ease you out of all the surging hormones from mere seconds ago, bringing you back down to earth
it's right there, in his arms, where you're shielded away from the world – from everything and everyone that once hurt you, that you open up for him
you recall to him your childhood growing up, the parts you had not told him the first night you met. memories of your upbringing with your parents come easily – memories of your mother – and the more you recall, the more you see the similarities between what was your relationship with jungwon and the cursed mate bond of your parents
it was a vicious cycle
taehyun listens carefully through all of it, reassuring touches tracing steadily, deliberate over your skin
you open up about this – how you never had anything like this with jungwon. he was cold and distant, never sparing you a touch unless he wanted it to lead to more, never paying any mind to your concerns if it didn't revolve around the pack. that was why he always called you a "handful"
the thought of leaving him back then had never made you feel like dying. it was the detachment that scared you most. at the time, you were unable to discern between those two emotions, because jungwon was family and enha-pack was all you knew
you've heard the stories – in this world, mate rejection meant immediate suicide and yet, with him you had never felt any of it: excruciating pain like pins and needles twisting into your flesh, your heart turning to ice and your soul clawing itself out from your body, crawling and tearing right through your skin
none of it
you had experienced none of it – and unfortunately, it was only then that you knew
jungwon was, in fact, not your mate
he was never meant to be yours and you were never meant to be his
you had been fine – aside from the ache of regret of years spent chasing after his love and care and the tears you shed for weeks, betrayal stung from his infidelity – all of which you had expected to experience had missed you
and as you picked up the pieces the following months, you became grateful that the moon goddess hadn't chosen you to be jungwon's mate
you were deceived, manipulated
not only by him, but by those around you – the guardians and elders who should have protected you
hell, you had thought it was normal, the way things were supposed to be between mates. you never had a true mate-bond displayed to you anyway – not between your father and mother, at least
he never wanted her, never cared for her as a mate
you had grown up watching her stare at him from across rooms, longing and grief swimming in her eyes. you had watched her shrink as the years went by, becoming a shell of the omega you were used to as a pup
you grew up witnessing the arguments, the neglect, the screaming — there was so much screaming. and cursing. he always cursed, at her
it wasn't long until she was gone
you hadn't tried to stop her when she walked out – when she left the house, the pack and even you. you didn't blame her either, not the way your father did
because you got a taste of how it felt – how it felt when you finally left that pack house, when you finally let go of the alpha whom you believed was yours. not when your eyes had opened at last and you had gotten a taste of freedom
no, you didn't blame your mother at all
at the ripe age of sixteen, your mother was gone. you were left only to watch as your father moved on. it had confused you, almost bewildered you that your father hadn't withered away. you'd heard the legends, the way the elders talked, you'd seen it – how the rejection of your mate could kill you. it had the power to end your life
perhaps that's why he hadn't dropped dead the second your mother left him – because he had never truly loved her
because they were never mates
your father, still possessive and territorial had sent out search parties for her and they had found her, thriving and alive – in a city far, far away
she hadn't died from their broken mate-bond either and the knowledge had you torn. as you presented and matured and your father gained full reigns of your life, you had started to see it for what it truly was
selfish – that's what he called her. and perhaps she was selfish for leaving everything behind, but god, the more you aged, the more you understood
in many ways, you think your father and jungwon were the exact same. they always put the pack first, others first and would always set their family last. they didn't care what it would cost them – or at least, they pretended not to
you're glad you decided to follow in her footsteps, that you had stepped out without looking back – that even if stepping out possibly meant immediate suicide, you knew you had to get out
without your mother, you grew up used to love being something rough, something that wounded – a meaningless word thrown around to control, to manipulate and to flatter
but with him — with taehyun , it's real
it's deep and raw and something that cannot be contained. it has slowly started to take over the entirety of your being, threading through you and reprogramming you with every passing moment you spend with him
it makes tears gather in your eyes at times – the gentleness of him. how he heals something he did not break, without complaint, without effort, like it's second nature to him – a task he happily accepts and completes simply with his existence
a large part of you wishes that your mother, wherever she's found herself, is getting to experience this too – that she's cherished and cared for like this
you couldn't have dreamed this up, dreamed him up – not in a million years
with him you don't have to be the leader – the luna. you can simply…exist, in his orbit, basking in the love he pours into you, because he has more than enough to give
that is why when taehyun rolls on top of you and slots his lips together with yours, you don't ask him to take you. you don't ask him to have his way with you and fuck you until you can no longer think – to offer you a release instead of comforting words – no matter how badly you ache to have him inside of you
you allow him to simply kiss you — gentle, slow and sweet. you let him take the lead, not protesting or demanding more in moments like these, when he wants to show you simple intimacy without lust
you simply submit, because he makes submission easy
after a venting session like this and of course after taehyun had kissed you silly, he'd pull back, tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and soothe you with words of reassurance – rewiring your mind until all you know is gentleness, redefining phrases that were once used to control you
— which is why, as you stand in front of the mirror right now, securing the clasp of your necklace, your heart buzzes with anticipation and your body with excitement – doubt yet another thing of the past
because, tonight is the night you will finally become his – in every sense of the word
he's waiting for you, outside the apartment. he had gotten ready in the spare bedroom, insisting that when you first see each other tonight, it should be a surprise
your eyes scan your frame in the mirror one last time, smoothing over the fabric of your favorite red dress – well, the one you had saved just for tonight. you decided to go with something a little more bold, not afraid to show skin (seeing taehyun's appreciation for it on your last date) and you styled your hair and makeup to absolute perfection
you look good, better than you've ever looked and you think it has little to do with your appearance and more with how you feel
deep breaths, y/n, you smile at yourself in the mirror, grabbing everything you need and heading for the front door
and there he stands, leaning against the hallway wall opposite the door
you swallow a gasp, he looks absolutely dashing
his hair – dark and silky, falls softly around his face, parted in the middle and slightly tousled like he ran a hand through it one too many times while waiting
the black suit he wears hugs his shoulders perfectly, the sharp lines of the jacket and trousers making him look taller and broader than he already is. a black dress shirt, buttoned neatly to the collar, stretches only slightly over his chest. he doesn't wear a tie. you don't know how he pulls it off, but he does
a glint of silver on his wrist catches your eye, the metal shiny against his honey skin
you're going to have an awfully hard time keeping your hands to yourself tonight
your heart skips several beats as you clear your throat
his head lifts upon hearing the sound, eyes sparkling and lips parting, drinking you in – just like the first time he laid eyes on you
he straightens, blinking out of it, snapping his mouth shut as he swallows, adam's apple bobbing with the effort
you shut and lock the front door, making your way over to him. his hands – warm and eager, are on you immediately, unable to stop himself from drawing you closer
god, he smells good too, you note, drawing in slow deep breaths
you nearly drop to your knees, your head spinning as your omega stirs awake, nudging you to pull him back through that front door and end the night early
pull yourself together, y/n
"hi", you whisper, softly cupping his jaw
"hi", he whispers back, failing to suppress the smile that begins to take over his face and then he pauses, putting up a hand
"i have something for you"
you smile in anticipation
his eyes don't leave yours, not for a second. one moment his palm is empty, fingers closing around nothing. the next, he's opening them again. a flower – a single red peony, rests between his fingers, as if having been plucked from thin air
it matches perfectly with your dress
your silly heart stumbles over itself and you chuckle, amused as he extends his hand, holding it out for you to take – and you do, beaming down at the flower as you bring it closer to your nose, a faint sweetness tickling your senses
"thank you, taehyun", you breathe, your heels allowing you to place a kiss right at the edge of his jaw, his hand tightening on your lower back
"shall we?" he asks, extending his elbow for you to take, leading you to the elevator and then finally to his car on the ground floor
the vehicle is sleek and polished and the headlights flicker when he unlocks it. he opens the passenger door for you and you're about to step in when you see it, a gasp escaping your chest
there, on the passenger seat lay a large bouquet of red peonies, wrapped in black paper, identical to the one in your hand. you reach for it, bringing the bouquet to your chest, turning around to find him studying you with a quiet smile
your own smile widens as you look down at them, the bouquet bigger than your face. every peony the perfect shade of red, complementing your dress
"taehyun," your breathing stutters, "these are gorgeous"
"just like you", he hums
your heart leaps in your chest as he lowers his head. you tilt your chin up and your eyes flutter closed, offering your lips for a kiss, breath held in anticipation
instead, you're met with the featherlight touch of his lips to your neck and your breath hitches
"you look breathtaking, y/n", he murmurs against the skin, voice smooth, gliding over you like silk – the compliment dusting your cheeks pink
"and you look handsome", you reply, your unoccupied arm sliding around his shoulder when your knees threaten to buckle. an arm curls around you and his nose tickles your skin as he breathes you in
fuck, you smell good
it takes all of the alpha's strength not to drag you to his backseat and have his way with you right in this damned parking lot
absolutely not, taehyun, he chastises himself and his alpha – who's apparently trying to make his pants too tight before this date even starts – tonight is not the night for that
not having you for three agonizingly long days was taking its toll on him
he places one last kiss on the skin there, before begrudgingly pulling back – or so he thinks. your arm tightens around him and taehyun chuckles upon surveying your expression
"why won't you kiss me?", you pout, following him a fraction and closing the gap again
he merely smiles down at you, dimples protuding and fangs on full display, voice low and dangerous, "sweetheart, i'm afraid that if i kiss you now, i won't be able to stop"
you inhale so quickly, nearly choking on air, knees weakening at the promise swimming in his eyes
they rake over you, heavy with desire and that look alone makes you feel exposed, undressed – as though he knows the embarassing frenzy he had just set off in your gut, the pure need you're trying to conceal
"besides, i don't want to ruin your lipstick"
you whine, a warmth igniting in your core as his lips meet just below your ear, grazing the spot there when he continues, "think you can hold out for me?", his arm tightening around you
god, he just has to be an absolute tease – and you're reminded of just how worked up you were for him on that first date night when he had asked you the same thing
you're just as worked up for him right now and he's barely done anything
your voice is breathy as you surrender, "yes, alpha. i can– i can hold out, for you"
he chuckles, amused and knowing, "that's my good girl" – and you bite back another pitiful sound as he places a chaste kiss to that exact spot before pulling away
"c'mon, get in the car. we'll be late to our reservation"
taehyun's self-control hangs on by a thin thread. it certainly doesn't help that he knows you wouldn't put up a fight if he were to cross that line – he has to hold back, for the both of you
you sigh shakily, clutching onto the bouquet, withdrawing your hand from him and lowering yourself into the passenger seat. he shuts the door behind you, still wearing that smug little grin as he makes his way around the car, getting in on the driver's side and starting the engine
red, velvet and sleek
the restaurant glows in shades that match and coordinate flawlessly with yours and taehyun's attire. the space is intimate, round tables draped in rich cloth, chandeliers dimmed low to create the perfect ambience, reflecting back on the silverware
soft music drifts through the air, a jazzy tune of some sort fading into a neo bolero piece. it curls lazily throughout the room and wraps you in an atmosphere that whispers romance
your alpha's hand rests at the small of your back, guiding you toward the front counter, firm and steady as a few pairs of eyes settle on the two of you
the counter is pristine, ivory marble lined with charcoal, the perfect contrast against the crimson hues strobing from every corner. taehyun allows a moment for you to admire the interior – you, unable to tear your eyes away from how every element ties it all together, delighted and impressed that he had found and chosen such a thoughtfully curated place for your date tonight
behind the counter stands a tall male, what looks to be an alpha dressed in classic host attire – crisp white button-up, black tie, fitted waistcoat, his smile polished and practiced, well—
a flirtatious smile, taehyun notes, particularly aimed at you
his hand slides to your waist, the hold firm against your frame
"good evening, sir…m'lady," the host – what you now recognize by his scent as an alpha, says smoothly – his voice warm and a little too charming for taehyun's liking
his gaze lingers on you just a fraction longer than necessary. "do you have a reservation or shall i prepare a table for you?"
taehyun feels his eye twitch – chest growing hot
"reservation for kang", he says, voice edged a tad bit sharper than he had intended
the host – hyunjin, you read on his pristinely printed nametag, finally turns his head taehyun's way, tearing his gaze from you. you swear you can see the way his blood turns to ice. they recognize each other, of course they do. main alphas across packs tend to know each other's names and identities very, very well. he runs a nervous hand through his hair, but tries to conceal it with a smile
his eyes, however, still hold a challenge as he turns to the little screen in front of him, tapping away and nodding to himself before stepping out from behind the counter
"follow me", he beckons over his shoulder with his index and middle fingers
for a second, taehyun doesn't move. he's rigid, skin scalding hot to the touch as he eyes hyunjin moving past him, waiting expectantly for the two of you to follow
perhaps he should throttle him, smash his pretty-boy face into that counter—
"alpha"
a gentle hand on his chest and your voice – low and soft, cuts off his murderous train of thought
pride swells in taehyun's chest as the waiter looks between the pair of you
that's right, he thinks, he's the only one you call by that title
and you had said it loud and clear enough for hyunjin to hear
"c'mon", you coax softly once more, arms wrapping around his bicep, nudging him to move and follow the waiter to your designated table
it's set against a wall, covered with red, velvety wallpaper, slightly tucked away from the rest of the restaurant – your own quiet corner. from here, you have a full view of the room and the bustling movement about. it almost feels private, intimate, the perfect spot for you and taehyun to people-watch and flirt, without too many listening ears around
you take the seat that taehyun pulls out for you, a spotless chair right across from his and he keeps a close eye on the alpha setting down your menus as he settles into his own
he almost, almost grabs said alpha by the collar when he sends a wink your way as he steps away to give you some time to decide on your order – but your touch grounds him once more. you chuckle, caressing his forearm, "forget about him. don't pay him any mind"
he scoots his chair so that the back faces the wall completely. your chuckle lingers, "what are you doing—?"
the question is cut off by a gasp when he reaches down, fingers curling under the seat of your chair, not breaking eye contact as he drags you closer, your weight and all – the sound of scraping against the floor drowned out by the music, until your knee brushes his
"taehyun", you scold, though it comes out more as an exasperated whine, lacking in bite and authority
"that's better", he rasps low, pecking at the skin of your nape
fuck, that was hot
your thighs attempt to squeeze together when his hand settles itself right on the skin there, warm and possessive as he kneads the inner flesh
"let's see what's on the menu, shall we?" he simply continues – smug, as if that single act of possessiveness did not just unravel you at the seams
it's proves to be increasingly difficult to settle on a choice as taehyun's hand continues to caress up and down your thigh under the table, thumb drawing slow circles, silently driving you crazy – a secret just between the two of you
god, the night has barely started and taehyun already has you aching for him
when hyunjin returns, your alpha orders for the both of you. then and only then, does he grant you mercy, withdrawing his hand from your heated skin, intertwining his hand with yours instead
you don't miss the icy glare he sends hyunjin's way or the the way his jaw ticks – you also don't miss the way sapphire and mandarin curl around you, burning with arousal and dominance
oh, he's scenting you
you don't mind one bit. taehyun's jealousy and protectiveness is quite entertaining – and one hell of a turn on
it doesn't take long for your food and wine to arrive, taehyun filling your glasses and clinking his to yours. he feeds you bites from his plate and you feed him bites from yours, humming in satisfaction at how good it tastes
you ask about the pack and he fills you in – dynamics, the structure as well as expectations from you, nothing out of the ordinary, just standard pack morality
you gasp at one point, when he lets a tiny – huge – detail slip
"next in line for head alpha? taehyun, that's…impressive. honestly, i just thought it was yeonjun all this time since he's the eldest. that's how things worked in enha-pack"
he smiles fondly at you, "that's only if anything ever happens to soobin. which, i will make sure there won't"
you sigh dramatically, "gosh, can't escape being a luna, can i?"
you watch as his fork stills and he straightens, "i would never make that your responsibility, y/n—"
"taehyun, i'm pulling your leg", you chuckle, hand settling on him forearm as he releases the breath he was holding. "you should know, if it ever does come down to it, there's no one else i'd be a luna for. you're the only one i'd lead a pack with"
his eyes simply flicker between yours, searching for any ounce of doubt – finding none
"and for what it's worth," you continue, "i think you'd make the perfect head alpha", your fingers card through the dark strands of his hair. "stern and strict, sure", you joke and he groans, clicking his tongue, though his eyes never lose their tenderness. "but an exceptional leader, nonetheless"
"besides," a seductive little smile takes over your face before you shift closer to him, purring right against his ear, "you make it easy to follow your command"
you're really trying to set him off, taehyun thinks, his hand tightening around his fork, shamelessly spurring him on
"is that so?" he drawls, head tilting slowly as his gaze darkens
"hm-mh", you hum, hand tracing over his arm, his shoulder, his chest. "so strong and capable. you know exactly how to put someone in their place– makes me want you to put me in my place"
his hand rests on your thigh once again, giving it another firm squeeze. you bite back a whimper, knowing he can feel the heat radiating from your center – hell, it's calling for him
"keep talking like this and i'll have to put you in your place right here, since you're being so impatient"
the danger in his voice makes you still, sending delicious shivers down your spine, your breaths shaky – and you watch as he returns to eating his food, as if he hadn't just succeeded in turning your brain into absolute mush for the second time tonight
you follow suit, finishing the rest of your dish
when hyunjin returns to clear your plates and ask if you'd like dessert, your first instinct is to politely decline. it's clear that you want to make it home as soon as possible. your entire body is pulsing with need at this point. it's amplified when your alpha's hand – warm and firm – traces dangerously high along the flesh of your thigh and you choke on the sweet little no, thank you you were about to throw hyunjin's way
"are you alright, m'lady? may i offer you some water?"
you bite back a gasp as taehyun's hand traces higher and you press your thighs together just in time before his fingers reach your center – which, without a doubt, has begun to dampen your underwear
"sweetheart, use your manners. our host has asked you a question", he taunts, thumb drawing lazy circles onto your skin. your mind short-circuits, taehyun only feigning indifference
he watches you, a challenging glint in his eye. he's smug as he regards the waiter this time
you swallow a whimper, "yes, i'll uh– i'll have a water, thank you – and then we'll have the molten chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis, as well as the bill, please"
"alright," hyunjin smiles, that flirtatious twinkle returning to his eyes, "will that be all, m'lady?"
"that'll be all, thank you hyunjin", taehyun speaks and his tone sends another shiver down your spine
the host straightens, a nervousness overtaking his smile as he regards your alpha – icy and impenetrable. he makes quick work of clearing your plates, disappearing back into the kitchen within seconds
deep breaths, y/n
"you seem to like raspberry things", taehyun states thoughtfully, his voice much softer now
you pause, tilting your head in question, "raspberry things? what do you mean?"
a smile takes over his face – half teasing, half sharp, fangs on full display as his hand comes to rest on the back of your chair – you're able to collect yourself again
"the night we met", he says, almost to himself. "you don't remember?"
you shake your head no, narrowing your eyes playfully
"you got tipsy, fast"
a cackle escapes you before you can stop it and his smile broadens. your eyes settle back on him, a faint blush painting the apples of your cheeks
"hm, i don't recall that", you hum, playing innocent and this time his eyes narrow. "but please, continue"
he snorts, "you told me you had, what, four shots of raspberry vodka?"
you chuckle with him now, tapping your fingers on the table. "hey, do you blame me? i was trying to forget about the literal spawn of satan"
that seems to pull a good chuckle out of taehyun, his eyes on you, thoughtful. "understandable", he agrees, before a solemn expression takes over his face
the air stills and you feel the change in atmosphere, the way his scent spikes protective and you turn to face him fully
his gaze lingers on you, more deliberate now. "i think i knew that the first time we spoke at that party", his fingers tap against the back of your chair before stilling. "you didn't say much about it, you didn't have to" — a pause — "i could tell you were trying to outrun something – someone"
your eyes flick between his, pulse stammering and like he takes note of it, his voice lowers into something more steady, gentle. "i knew then that i wasn't going to let you do that alone", his elbow rests on the chair, hand reaching out to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. you lean into his touch. "that whatever you were trying to drown out, wouldn't get close to hurting you again, not if i could help it"
there he goes again – disarming you after getting you worked up, gentle with the vulnerability that begins to bloom in your chest
"there was another point later that night, where i came to that decision"
you hum, expectant for him to continue
"i remember by then we had been talking for hours. you threw your head back every time i made you laugh", he studies you, eyes warm and almost unblinking – your heart does a silly thing inside your chest
"i think after a while all of the movement made you a little dizzy and then – next thing i know, you were resting your head on my shoulder." he traces around the rim of his glass now. "you curled into me so easily. you trusted me, an alpha who you had just met – and all you knew about me was that i was your mate"
the memory comes back to you now
everything around you had become foggy and blurry. his voice was low, soothing. you remember seeing your hand in his lap, interlocked with his as his fingers mindlessly toyed with yours – gentle and idly – simply getting you used to his touch
"it was then that i decided—" you feel a tingle in your arm, looking down at your intertwined hands to see him mimicking his actions from that night – simple affection that still makes your heart stutter. "—that i would take care of you for the rest of my life. that i would protect you no matter what. that you would always, just like you did that night, be able to put your head on my shoulder and just let go"
he brings your hand to his lips, placing a reverent kiss on the back of it, the gesture filling your chest with warmth
"i don't want you fretting or worrying, not when you're with me, sweetheart. whatever responsibility you have, whatever burden, we'll handle it together. what's yours will always, inevitably become mine."
you're speechless for a good few seconds, before your hands move. you wrap them around his arm, resting your chin on his shoulder – mere inches between you
your voice is soft, mellow – everything taehyun wants you to be when you're with him – as you begin to speak
"thank you, taehyun"
his eyes never leave yours, the hand on the table abandoning his glass, knuckles brushing lightly along your cheek and your lashes flutter at the touch
"thank you, for everything. i know you keep saying i don't have to thank you for any of this, but… you've made this entire process so easy for me. easier than i thought it would be", you exhale softly, almost a laugh
"there are things that happened in my life that i never thought i'd share with anyone, not even with jun or gyu. i thought i was doing a good job at hiding it all that first night, but of course you noticed. everyone else always just assumed that i could handle it"
he leans closer. not interrupting, just making it clear that he’s present and listening
"it's a little ironic", you start, a faint smile pulling at your lips. "that the moon goddess gave me an alpha that's everything my old pack expected me to be. i guess now i have to relearn how to adjust and receive that instead"
he cups your face, thumb tracing over your cheek. "i don't care how long it takes for you to relearn, y/n. i'll be here, through every part of this. everything they had you carry before, that weight is mine now. and i'll keep doing it until you understand that i'll be the one to take care of it all"
once again, you're rendered speechless
a familiar sense of safety washes over you, flooding every part of your being with warmth. he's done it again: breaking down every wall you built over the years and especially over the past six months. his undending pursuit of your softness and above all, your willing submission never fails to leave you bare, unguarded – and as always, in moments like this, his name is the only thing you can manage to utter, escaping you with an exhale
your gaze dips to his lips for a second, before returning to his eyes
your heart beats wildly in your chest when his hand curls underneath your chin, drawing you closer as he leans in – bottom lip tingling when he comes close. you feel his breath tickling your lips and your eyes flutter shut—
a throat clears, ripping you and taehyun out of your daze
this time, it's your turn to throw a steely glare hyunjin's way – taehyun having to bite back a smile at the sight
"molten chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis", he announces before gracefully placing the dessert before the two of you. the bill follows – tucked neatly into a black leather booklet
your sourness lifts upon the sight
"thank you, hyunjin", you say, after gathering yourself, throwing another polite smile his way which he returns with a wink
"enjoy the rest of your evening, sir, m'lady", his eyes sparkle with mischief again. uh oh
"if there is anything else you need…i'm right behind the counter", he purrs before slithering away to said corner
you look over to see taehyun's jaw clenched harder than you've ever seen before, his eyes darkening as he watches your host wipe and polish glasses – that same smug grin plastered on his face
taehyun almost flips the goddamn table
you know his alpha is absolutely raging inside of him, daring him to do all sorts of murderous things to the alpha that easily whispers and flirts with the other omegas around him, all of which are his coworkers
his demeanor begins to remind you of your own friend – yeonjun – and you're sure if he had worked here and he hadn't known the pair of you, he'd present the same cheeky challenge to taehyun
you slip your hand into his, drawing his attention back to you. his skin is hot to the touch, but the second he tears his gaze away, it softens – still charged when he settles on you
fuck – you cross one leg over the other
you shouldn't, you really shouldn't, but something about taehyun when he gets like this – possessive and protective – does inexplicable things to you
reaching for one of the dessert spoons and cutting into the fondant, you watch as the molten center spills out slowly, glossy and indulgent. a small smile tugs at your lips as you scoop a bite, lifting it toward him
you don't miss the way he eyes your crossed legs, raising a brow as he scoffs. you're just so painfully easy to read. he leans in anyway
your breath hitches slightly when his gaze doesn't leave yours, even as he takes the bite, slow, deliberate
fuck fuck fuck, focus y/n, you chastise yourself
how can you? you know that look – it's the same way he looks at you when he's got you under him, falling apart, devouring you with his mouth
you're sure your panties are soaked, even more so when he groans, pulling back, the spoon squeaky clean. he swipes the excess chocolate off of his bottom lip with his tongue as he chews
"delicious", he purrs, voice dropped to that octave that usually has your legs spreading within seconds. you cross them even tighter – just to be safe
taehyun knows exactly what he's doing
he reaches for his own spoon, cutting into the fondant, making sure to scoop a generous amount of the raspberry coulis. with his hand cupped under the spoon, he brings it closer to your lips. you're unable to take your eyes off his – they sit low, sharp, heavy with desire
"open up", he commands. it lands smooth and authoritative and it almost makes you forget he's talking about your mouth and not your legs (that have become restless) under the table
you part your lips, enough for him to slip the spoon past, humming when the sweetness hits your tongue
"good girl", he praises, that triumphant grin returning when your eyes widen, your hand involuntarily squeezing his. your alpha chuckles as you clear your throat while you chew, trying desperately to steady your breathing and your pulse
he finally lets up, sitting back in a manspread and you fight every explicit thought your omega tries putting into your head – specifically the ones where you're throwing yourself right into his lap
the night goes on like that – heat and tension thrumming between you and taehyun, almost unbearable, refusing to be ignored any longer
true to his word, you do hold hands and talk and flirt around the table while sharing your dessert. he does pay for dinner and shoots you a stern look when you chuckle. he does make you laugh with all of his sarcastic jokes and remarks. you catch him watching you too, obsidian irises filled with tender affection, lips pulled into a satisfied smile, simply because your laugh is one of his favourite sounds
– and when your wine glasses are empty and your dessert plate is clean, you allow yourself a second to take him in
you find that he does the same – and the world around the two of you stills
everything – taehyun had given you everything you had once begged the moon goddess for. everything you thought you would never experience, that you thought you didn't deserve. everything you had longed for, for months – years
it dawns on you again, just like it had three days ago. just like it had every other time this week, when he had comforted you, cooked for you, cleaned for you, bathed you, held you. you're in love with him – out of your mind in love and now…
you wanted to give him everything
taehyun, being the ever attentive alpha that he is, notices your eyes glossing over and sits up immediately, hands warm and familiar on you
"sweetheart? what's the matter?", his brows furrow in concern, eyes flitting between yours
you lean into his touch when he cups your face, the words on your tongue weighing too heavy to swallow, heart beating wild inside of your chest
"take me home, taehyun"
he stills, not because he's caught off guard, but because your voice has dropped into a mere whisper, desperate and pleading – because his alpha immediately recognizes your need. he falters for a moment, something akin to a red-hot fever coursing over his body when he realizes what you're asking for – and as if fanning the flame more, you manage a broken "please"
you watch the last of his restraint give way, the last sliver of self-control snapping – quiet and irreversible
he rises from his seat, slowly. your eyes follow him as he towers over you. when he holds his hand out for you to take, you do without hesitation, rising from your seat too, never taking your eyes off of his
he leads you toward the exit of the restaurant and you're met with the sight of his broad back and the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours as he strides forward. when you pass the counter, you watch hyunjin's lips part to make another flirty remark, the words if you ever need anything, you know where to find me dying on his tongue, snapping his mouth shut upon the hard glare taehyun shoots his way
your omega squeals and thrills at the sight, flooding your panties when taehyun pulls you closer behind him once you're outside, urging you to wrap your hands around his arm instead as he takes you to his car
he makes sure you're buckled in safe and secure, before closing the door behind you. you can't help but press your thighs together, eyes following him as he makes his way to the drivers side of the car
he's in the drivers seat within seconds, seatbelt fastened and starting the ignition, the car coming to life with a rumbling purr
you nor him say a word as he takes off, fighting to keep your hands off of each other at every stop. true to his promise, he does steal kisses at every red light – loaded, passionate pecks that resonate loud through the car, making you crave more. him – groaning when the light turns green before he can deepen them, you – whimpering at the loss
the car fills with a tension that doesn’t ease, it only builds and intensifies – pressing in with every passing second
your omega rejoices when you catch sight of your apartment building
almost there
the front door slams shut, sealing away the world outside
before you know it, taehyun pins you against the door, pressing you up against it. his lips on yours are hungry and passionate, almost overwhelming
you simply melt against him, arms wrapping around his neck and hands curling into the raven strands of his hair, pressing your lips onto his with the same fervor, allowing him to hoist you up and press you further up the door – grunting ravenously into your mouth when your legs wrap around his waist
your dress hikes up, exposing the soft skin of your thighs to the chilly evening air – the same air that has thickened far too much with barely contained tension
taehyun's incessant mouth migrates to your neck, his teeth dragging against the column before sucking hard on the skin. the sound of your soft, scandalized gasp makes him pull back. you're panting, both of you – the gaze you share is heavy, eyes taking turns to dip to the other's kiss-swollen lips
"i've been dying to kiss you like this all night", he rasps, forehead coming to rest on yours
his nose nudges yours affectionately and a blissful smile takes over your face, breathing him in
"you were trying to drive me crazy, weren't you? wearing this dress…"
his lips are back on yours, sweeping you back into his hot kiss, tongue dipping greedily into your mouth. the lewd, sloppy sounds of your kissing resonates through the small entryway – loud and borderline obscene. slick pools in your panties with every wet smack that echoes in your ears
he can't help but let his hands begin to wander. neither can you. your omega purrs at the the feel of his suit's fabric beneath your palms, the tease of hard, solid muscle flexing and pressing under every fiber
taehyun presses harder into you, practically holding you up with just his hips, letting his hands sneak up your waist, cupping handfuls of your breasts over your dress. his thumbs toy with the already hardened peaks over the delicate fabric, making you moan out when his mouth detaches from yours
his incessant kiss maps lower, nipping and sucking bruises into your skin, eating up the expanse of your exposed torso – mouth engulfing warm over your breasts
his teeth gnaw at the plush and you cry out, only egging on his rough affection
you find yourself desperately clutching onto his arms, acutely aware of the hard, thick length brushing against the thin barrier of your drenched panties
"taehyun. bedroom. please", you barely mumble, head clouded with dizzying desire
he sets you down, still holding you flush against him as he allows for you to turn the two of you around, stumbling back in the direction of his bedroom. his lips are back on yours and you squeak into his mouth when you bump into the half moon table placed against the wall. you curse the piece of furniture in your head – and the fact that you still need to learn how to navigate taehyun's apartment in the dark – only the dimmed light from the kitchen providing you with minimal guidance
taehyun groans in frustration, scooping you up once more, opting to carry you to his bedroom instead. still impressed by his strength and his ability to take charge, you sigh dreamily into his mouth, only the sound of his purposeful strides and your lips smacking against one another's echoing in the otherwise quiet space
he sets you down when he steps over the threshold, walking you back towards his bed. your hands momentarily leave him to unzip your dress, his shrugging off his suit jacket, tossing it somewhere on the floor
your hands are back on him, unbuttoning his shirt with impatient fingers, his – peeling your dress off
your alpha pauses, taking in the sight of you before him
red lace adorns your skin, a colour identical to that of your dress. the flower-petal details hug and trace perfectly around your hips and breasts, clinging prettily to every delectable bit of softness
the sight of you like this makes taehyun's mouth water, his alpha even worse - foaming at the mouth
"fuck, sweetheart. you're really trying to drive me crazy, aren't you?" he pants, hands fisting in the flimsy fabric at your hips
your own push his undone shirt off of his shoulders, smoothing over the hard and broad surface with appreciation as he pulls you impossibly close, chest flush against his, the obvious strain of him brushing against your stomach
his voice drops to that dangerous octave, the one that has your ovaries burning as he whispers hotly against your lips
"i'm going to fucking ruin you"
he almost pushes you onto the bed, omega whimpering at his insistent hunger, but you don't give in, you don't budge – palms planted flat against his bare chest
"wait!", you call and he halts
taehyun pulls back, eyes searching yours, fingers digging into the soft curves of your hips
"there's— there's something i want to do first…if you'll let me", you breathe out, hands gliding appreciative over the hard muscle beneath your palms
"what are you—"
you sink to your knees carefully, keeping your eyes on his
your heartrate picks up. you see the confusion and arousal swimming in his eyes – almost conflicted. his hand immediately cups your face
"sweetheart, you don't have to—"
"let me do this", you plead, hands skimming up his thighs, brushing over his crotch. he bites back a grunt as you palm over his erection. "please"
he curses under his breath watching you undo his belt, the clink! that reverberates through the room making you clench around nothing, undoubtedly soaking the center of your panties in more slick
your hands make quick work of undoing his pants' button, even more hasty when you unzip him, eager but an understatement to describe you as you finally hook your fingers into the waist band of his pants and boxers and tug. you pull at the fabrics bunched between your fingers, just enough to free his length from the confines, tugging until his balls are exposed too, carved v-lines finally revealed
your cunt pulses obscenely at the first look at him – the entirety of him rock hard and throbbing, lined with prominent veins that trace up to his cockhead – bulbous and flushed a deep pink, oozing precum that makes you salivate. his beachy scent hits you full force from this close proximity
dizzied and entranced, you wrap a hand around the base, careful with your motions
fuck, he's massive
you had seen him take himself in hand before and how he took ahold of the length, how he had worked himself and god, looking at him now, you realize just how large he is in your hand in comparison to his own
your hand is warm and slightly clammy. you're nervous, he notes – and the thought alone makes him throb in your palm
your thumb and index finger barely touch as you stroke upward, swirling your palm around the leaking slit of his tip before descending down to his base again, coating him in the copious amounts of precum he had already released
a breathy sigh catches your ears and your eyes flicker up to him as you begin pumping him steady, squeezing out more of the citrusy, sapphire fluid
his jaw is clenched, eyes sharp, yet large with adoration as he watches you figure out how to work him best. you lean forward without taking your eyes off of his and place a sweet kiss against the opening at his tip, tasting him for yourself. he watches you slip into a trance, the need to taste more consuming you, glossed lips wrapping around the fat cockhead without pondering twice, humming satisfied as you suckle on it – and it fills almost half of your mouth
the sensation tears a groan from his chest, his hand brushing your hair away from your face
when you pull back, delicate strings of his precum and the saliva that has gathered in your mouth connect him to your lips. the visual is enough to make him curse under his breath
you crave to hear more
you place reverent kisses down his length, little suctioning motions laced with devotion until you reach the base. your eyes gloss over when his thumb draws delicate little circles over your cheek – like you're made of glass. you take one of his balls into your mouth, lathering it in your saliva, before sliding your tongue in between them, eliciting another breathy sigh from taehyun before mimicking the action with the other
enamored, you realize that he's bigger than your face and your body screams with need, but you choose to ignore it: the blatant pulse between your thighs watching his abs contract and the veins on his arms and adonis belt bulge
you lick a stripe up from balls to tip, tracing the prominent vein on the underside of his cock before taking him in your mouth again, this time pushing deeper. you hear him curse under his breath from above you – almost inaudible whispers of rapidly repeated fuck fuck fuck reverberating faintly in your ears, laced with the effort of keeping his composure
this won't do
you want taehyun to feel good, to let go of all restraint and feel what he made you feel
you waste no time, wrapping your other hand around the base too, before engulfing him in your mouth fully, pushing him to the back of your throat – the effort of suppressing your gag reflex proved useless at the sheer size of his cock
"sweetheart, fuck–!", he curses, voice rough and uncontrolled – finally, hand gripping onto the hair on the back of your head
you moan as you pull back, hands working slicker around his length now that you've coated the entirety of him in the mixture of your saliva and his precum, building a steady rhythm when you start bobbing your head up and down
taehyun tries desperately to gather himself, his grip tightening then loosening, fingers massaging your scalp, biting down on his bottom lip with every persistent suction and lather of your working mouth
it's no use, you've already made him slip
you can't help how your heart swells at the way he still tries to be gentle with you, even when you're making him feel good – you lift your eyes once more
his lips are parted, chest rising and falling as he draws in lungfuls of air, hand cupping under your chin. his head that had tipped back at the feel of your throat around him lowers, eyes flicking between yours in admiration and intoxicating awe, especially when your own glaze over and blur with unshed tears
that same lump forms in your throat that had prodded at you in the restaurant – the warmth in your chest that's only grown hotter, irrepressible – aching with how heavy it weighed on your soul
the same feeling you've never once felt when you were with jungwon
it bubbles to the surface now, clawing its way up and out from your lungs as you kneel before him like this, placing yourself before him in an act of surrender
he becomes concerned again as he watches you, both hands cupping your face, ready to pull you up and you shake your head no
pulling him out of your mouth, your breathing stutters and you're unable to mask the way your voice breaks when you finally voice what's been weighing on your chest
"you're so good to me"
it's a mere, trembling whisper – one that's meant only for him to hear. the sound of your voice – hushed with vulnerability, makes something in him break, his heart beating in time with yours as time itself seems to pause – it dawns on him then
those quiet words land square in his chest, punching the air out of his lungs. they spread warm and searing down his body, right to where his loins thrum with pride
you blink and the tears spill, cascading down your face as you place a tender kiss against his tip again
"you've been so good to me, alpha", you sob, taking him into your mouth once more and his eyes roll to the back of his skull, a beautiful moan falling from his lips
"sweetheart, shit—", he moans deep, mind short-circuiting as his alpha preens with gratification and possessiveness inside him
you whimper around the length, every push and pull of your mouth laced with ruinous devotion, hollowing your cheeks around him. tears continue to cascade in warm trails down your face as you increase your pace, taking more of him with every bob of your head
your heart continues to swell and pound wildly behind your ribcage, every cell in your body thrumming every time he moans or grunts, hips thrusting forward only the slightest bit
– because taehyun deserves this
taehyun deserves every second of the worship you're giving to him. hell, he's earned it
the alpha so impossibly kind, who had put your core and soul back together with his bare hands and his careful words. who had been gentle with your heart every time. who had shown you what it's like to be put first, to be elevated – not with a false title or empty promises, but by proving himself. the alpha who put you first every single time you had moments like this, making sure you felt good and satiated before he even dared to allow himself to get his own fill. who took care of you without you needing to ask. who did it because he wanted to, because he enjoyed it
your mind's made up, taehyun's the only one worthy of having you on your knees like this. this is all for him. tonight, the dress, the lingerie, your heart bared before him, giving him back what he gives to you without complaint, never asking for anything in return – and still, this feels nowhere near enough to thank him properly
you want to show him just how spoiled he's made his omega feel, to affirm him as he's affirmed you
when you pull back, stickier strings of saliva glisten between your lips and his tip, jerking the sensitive head in your fist
"you take such good care of me"
you work him faster, hands stroking up and down the entirety of his large length, squeezing tighter in a manner that has his hips rutting shallowly into your fists
"you always know what i need, always listen to me"
every word sends electricity down his spine, grunting and groaning as his fingers tangle into your hair once more, breathing turning ragged
"you're patient with me"
your cunt quivers at the guttural moan that escapes him when your mouth encases his bulbous cockhead once more, sucking eagerly around him with broken moans and indulgent sighs
you mouth down to his balls once more. they hang heavier now, filled with cum and your omega swoons at the mouthwatering scent radiating from his sex, begging to be fucked and bred until you cry. you cup and massage them, earning yourself another curse under his breath and a hiss through his teeth, twisting and jerking your hand around his tip
"want your pups– can't wait to have your pups, alpha", you practically sob out, drunk on the scent of him getting stronger, beachy and citrusy – filthier and more intoxicating at the source, making your ovaries burn
his hand grips onto your hair, putting it in a low, makeshift ponytail as he pants. "sweetheart, we said we'd wait— fuck!"
gags and coughs fill the space along with your obscene slurping and the lewd sound of your tongue tracing around his length – not letting him finish his objection as your lips stretch around him, nuzzling against his lower stomach
you moan loud and wanton around the length, working your hands in tandem with your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and pushing him to the back of your relaxed throat over and over again
he growls, actually growls before he starts fucking into your mouth and you see him grit his teeth, baring his canines the way he does when it gets harder for him to hold back, when he's tormented with the primal desire of sinking them into you
your wet slurps and swallows only get louder, you – working him faster, overjoyed that he's losing himself to the feel of your nursing mouth
his groans and grunts border on animalistic in a manner you've never heard from him before – so you decide to spur him on, confessing more of the carnal thoughts that have been consuming you, orchestrated by the love and care he's poured into you
"want your cum. want you to breed me, taehyun"
his eyes roll to the back of his skull, cock twitching at your breathy voice and the way your hands squeeze tighter, tug harder, milking him with nothing short of fervor and zeal
oh, how you enjoy watching him lose his mind
"our pups– want them to have your eyes, your smile"
holy fuck, taehyun almost slips, almost cums down your throat when you take him in again. he hadn't expected his care to provoke and stir these primal omegan desires in you. you're wrecking his composure, his alpha roaring to life inside of him with every earnest admission
"need you to fuck me full, 'think about it all the time"
a low growl reaches your ears and sends shivers down your spine and you whimper in turn, omega compelling you to yield and submit, to please
you take him into your eager mouth once more, shifting on your knees and feeling a dull ache start to creep in. you pay it little care when you feel the sheer amount of arousal that has leaked through your panties onto the bedroom floor beneath you. the way taehyun looks only amplifies your need to please – hair sticking to his forehead, damp with sweat, hand brushing the thick strands back and bicep bulging with the action. breaths quickening and abs tightening and releasing, the dimmed lamp-light catching onto every hard contour and muscle that flexes in his torso
"fuck my mouth", you beg, words muffled and slurred around the heaviness of him
the plea goes straight to his pre-rut clouded head
your hands unwrap themselves from around the base of his cock, settling on his suitpant-covered thighs instead, feeling the tensing of them beneath your palms
your grip on the material tightens when his thrusts grow brutal, fucking into your mouth with more intent – more of those sexy, dizzying moans, grunts and labored breaths resonating through the room
you gag and cough, determined to take all of him, determined to let him use you – to show him how deeply you appreciate him, that you're his in every way
"fucking driving me crazy", he grits out. "look so pretty with your mouth stuffed full of me"
all you can do is moan and whimper, fresh tears spilling from your eyes. your lashes are glossy as you peer up at him. there's a tenderness in his gaze, even as he uses your mouth as he pleases, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly whilst the other hand in your hair smooths over the top of it, guiding you up and down his cock – his big, long, veiny cock that oozes more of the delicious precum that you can't get enough of
he's a mess. you're a mess. precum, spit and saliva dripping, spilling, dolloping down your chin, coating his balls, ruining and soaking his pants
"most beautiful thing i've ever seen"
you feel it, smell it. he's close, so close to letting go, so close to giving you his cum and you breathe heavy through your nose when he presses deeper, thrusting in until he reaches the back of your throat – nose kissing his abdomen. your eyes squeeze shut, throat making an obscene sound as you swallow around his tip. he grunts and hisses through his teeth, keeping you there
just when he's about to finish—
"fuck, i can't take it anymore", he chokes out. when your nails claw into his thighs, lightheaded – it's only then that he relents, pulling you off and you cough, gasping for air, spluttering out a glossy mess onto the floor
taehyun cups your face and pulls you up, slotting his lips together with yours, tangling your mouths together in a hot, filthy kiss. it's intense and urgent and sloppy – and he licks into your mouth like he's trying to get a deeper taste. sitting down at the edge of the bed, he guides you into his lap
"fucking perfect", he rasps against your lips and you whimper into his mouth, looping your arms around his shoulders
his hands slip under the fabric of your lacy panties, gripping greedily at the flesh of your hips. "my sweet girl"
you can't take it anymore. your pussy aches with need for him, craves to feel him inside now that you've had a taste of him. you're desperate, the feel of him against you agonizing the longer he holds back
"please", you break
it's a breathy little plea, the kind that makes taehyun's mind blank. "please alpha– need you, inside"
your hips move, working your aching cunt over his rock hard length, making an even bigger mess of his pants. he grunts at the feel of your sopping folds dragging over him, squeezing out even more arousal at the sound
taehyun's lips work their way down your throat, sucking a mark onto the skin there. his ministrations do little to distract you from the hand cupping your sex. you keen, grinding your core into his palm
"d-don't tease. i need you, taehyun– please"
the words go straight to his leaking cock, throbbing painfully at the sheer need in your voice and the orgasm he had denied himself. his heart isn't far behind, stuttering at your next plea
"make love to me"
he audibly groans in his chest, teething at the delicate skin of your nape
"make love to me, just like you promised. please", you sob – hips working wilder against his hand and his length
he curses under his breath. "i will, sweetheart. i need to prep you first. will you let me do that?"
"but alpha—"
he flips the two of you over, shutting you up with another smothering kiss, easing you down on the mattress softly, hovering large and broad over you
his eyes on yours are sharp – leaving no room for arguments, thumb tugging at the plush of your bottom lip when you're finally dazed enough not to protest. "just need to taste you, sweetheart. i'll be quick". a teasing smile breaks through his stern expression and you huff playfully
you both know that that is a lie. taehyun likes to take his time with you, nothing with him has ever been "quick". he hums, seeking your approval and you give him a soft nod
that earns you a sweet peck – a peck that becomes open-mouthed kisses, hungry nips and suctions making their way down your neck, your collarbones, your chest. he lingers there again, licking and biting at your hardened, sensitive peaks and supple flesh through the fabric of the lace. he doesn't take the bralette off as you expect, instead he takes the delicate cups' material between his teeth, dragging them to the undersides of your breasts before taking a nipple into his mouth, groaning loud and almost fucked out as he circles his tongue around the bud
you moan out, hands tangling into his hair before he releases your nipple from his mouth, hungrily taking the other into his mouth
your thighs press together at the sensation, chest rising and falling against his depraved ministrations. when he's had his fill and the plush of your breasts are covered in blooming marks and love bites, he works his way lower, creating a scorching little path down your stomach, your belly button to the waistband of your red, lacy panties
he pries your thighs open, settling between them, tongueing and nibbling at the flushed, supple skin, releasing a sound that borders on a growl once more – running his nose over the lace clinging to your center, the tip of it grazing your clit
"fuck, you smell so good", he grits out, canines aching to sink into you
his tongue sweeps out to taste you through the drenched fabric, pulling on it with his teeth, before letting it snap back – creating a lewd, drenched squelch, a sinful sound that has your face warming
taehyun groans low and you gulp
you can't take much more of his teasing
"drove me crazy in that restaurant", he starts, hands tracing charged over your thighs. "just wanted to throw you on that table and take you right there, especially for that fucker to see"
the confession makes your breath hitch. "taehyun—"
he hooks a finger into the center of your panties, pulling the red, darkened material to the side. a groans rumbles through his chest at the sight
"always get so fucking wet for me. you're a fucking dream"
taehyun wastes no time, licking a stripe up your slit
your breathing stutters, "only for you, alpha"
he hums, pleased, as he places a tender kiss on your clit. a hand of yours fists in the sheets, the other settling in his hair. his grip on you tightens, tongue dragging languidly through your folds. "yeah? all mine?", he asks and his tone sends electricity up your spine. he hovers above your pulsing little bundle of nerves, breath tickling you cruelly, making you tingle with anticipation
you whimper needily, giving him a mindless nod
"all yours— oh god, taehyun—"
his tongue flattens, swirling around the swollen bundle of nerves. "still want me to make it quick?"
the teasing lilt in his voice does not go unnoticed to you. you surrender, finally giving him full reign
"anything you want, alpha– do whatever you want with me"
he flashes you a triumphant grin, eyes darkening as he breathes out a chuckle. you truly charm him with your honesty. "thought so. that's my good girl", he whispers, placing a kiss on the tender skin of your loin before he gets to work, draping your legs over his broad shoulders – not minding the dig of your high heels into his shoulder blades one bit
your friends were right
you had spoken with them earlier this week again. according to them, taehyun had made a complete pillow princess out of you
it seemed that where you wanted to give, taehyun would take it a step further and give even more – always putting you above himself. it's almost blasphemous to tell him not to please you, to taste you, to have you feeling good because of him, exactly as you are now
taehyun doesn't think he's ever enjoyed going down on an omega as much as he does you
he tells himself it's the way your head drops back against his pillow. the way you begin to whisper and moan his name over and over again. the way your hand rakes through his hair and the way your body writhes, hips lifting slow against his mouth, matching his rhythm, folds soft, warm and sopping against his tongue – dripping and spilling sweet slick obscenely, already making a mess of the lower half of taehyun's face and the sheets
he grunts and little vibrations ripple through your core. "that's it, sweetheart. feed it to me", he demands, arms curling more solid around your thighs. he works the wet muscle of his tongue against you – slow, languid and deep, applying just the right amount of pressure, savoring the sweet vanilla that pours in rivulets from between your thighs
god, you've missed his mouth. the way he’d suckle and make out with your cunt like he couldn't get enough, like he'd been starved of your taste – and fuck, taehyun feels like he had
you've missed the way he’d get you pulsing and dripping within seconds, tongue dragging heavy and ravenous between your folds and over your clit
the way he relentlessly gave the little bundle of nerves attention, all of the attention you've been craving for, aching for – grunting in satisfaction when your body rewards him with more of your sweet essence
the fucking sound of his lips and tongue working warm and hungry over you, lewd and obscene, only amplifying the pull in your lower belly
the way your blissful little sighs and moans spur him on, wanton and sweet, tumbling uncontrollably from your lips as your hips rock harder. his hands grip firmer on the flesh of your thighs and ass, helping you rock perfectly against his relentless mouth
your eyes roll to the back of your skull, moans turning into whimpers and sobs. "a-alpha, th-that feels so good–", you hiccup, words slurred and jumbled, barely able to form a sentence, choking on a gasp when you open your eyes and lock them with his
they're dark and knowing, because he knows exactly what he's doing to you – just how terrifyingly quick he's making you lose your mind, unable to think about anything but him, his hungry, working mouth and the ample amounts of pleasure he brings you with it
"gonna be a good girl and come all over my tongue?"
you nod rapidly and he smirks against you. "you taste perfect, my sweet little treat", he murmurs before engulfing you again – and the sound of his name on your tongue pitches higher, stuttering around the shaky intakes of air you swallow, desperate to catch the breath he steals from you, to make up for and fill your lungs after every cry his gluttonous mouth draws from you
he only spurs you on, knowing he's going to drag this out and bring you to the edge slowly. taehyun has an appetite you are more than willing to adjust to
you hadn't even tried touching yourself this week. you couldn't do to yourself what taehyun does to you, couldn't pleasure yourself the way he does. you wouldn't be able to mimic the way his mouth engulfs you, wicked and coaxing. the way his groans and grunts send little vibrations through your pussy, pulling tight at your inner thighs, tingling at your spine. how his arms, strong and solid, hold you down, making you take whatever he gives you. the way he keeps you warm, burning, writhing, crying – effortlessly – and how he makes you jolt in surprise when he nips at the softness of your loin or inner thigh, when he dips down to push his tongue past your entrance and his nose bumps into your little bundle of nerves
you gasp – another pretty sound to his ears, squeezing needily around the unforgiving muscle that pushes in and out and in and out, sipping and slurping mouthfuls of your essence
he pulls it back out in favor of taking your sensitive clit into his mouth once more, unable to keep himself away from the bud, suckling and working it expertly with his tongue, opting to slide one, then two digits into you instead
fuck, you had almost forgotten how long they are, how easily they reach all of the sensitive, mouthwatering spots you never could
he works them inside of you with purpose, finding and hooking into that spongy spot with precise come-hither motions that make your hips jump, producing more slick – glossy strings of arousal connecting his knuckles to your entrance every time he pulls those talented fingers out, only to push them back in, stretching you perfectly
your hands grip harder at his hair, harder at the sheets, eliciting prideful hums from your alpha
every hook into your sweet spot is like a hook into your soul, extracting the life force out of you with every pull – always set on taking ownership of you through your pleasure
fucking hell and you give it to him so willingly. taehyun is nothing short of obsessed and smug
"taehyun– fuck– don't stop, please", you beg, chest rising and falling rapidly, head lulling back against his pillow
he doesn't plan on stopping – not until your thighs are trembling around his head and you're pushing him away, not until you're utterly helpless from your high. in fact, he fastens his ministrations, pulling a squeak from your chest
more sweet cries of his name fall from your lips as you cup your breast, pinching the peak between your fingers. the hand gripping and holding your thighs open is quick to reach up, covering the hand that cups your breast, guiding it down to his hair
your back arches deeper and you cry louder, both of your hands now tugging and gripping on the raven strands
the sight is enough to fuel taehyun, the alpha growing hungry to make you cum. he doubles down with his onslaught of pleasure, watching you intently through his lashes. your unsolicited, urgent sobs become music to his ears, pretty cries of the title that you call him and him alone – alpha alpha alpha – making his cock throb painfully
his touch becomes deep, calculated – increasing the pressure of his ministrations just the slightest bit, pressing his tongue and fingers harder against you, eventually slipping in a third and you gasp at the new stretch – the silver of his bracelet jingling with his faster motions
he's absolutely ravenous – sucking your nub into his mouth, rolling his tongue deliberate and deep over it – his jaw flexing and working with the motion, grunting as he wholly makes out with your clit. the lewd sound of your wetness blends with his hungry groans
you pulse uncontrollably and taehyun wants nothing but to sink his throbbing hardness into the flesh of your soaking cunt and feel you cum around him instead
— but he can't do that just yet. he needs you a little warmer, a little wetter, swollen and ready to take all of him
he knows exactly what makes you tick, what turns your brain into mush – what gets you thinking about nothing but reaching that peak
you love when he strokes a little rougher, more persistent against that spot inside, when his tongue picks up speed as you approach your high, when the suckling at your bud grows harder, hungrier
your omega keens with bliss at his unwavering attention to where you've been yearning for him, starving for this
a delicious pull begins to thread tight in your lower belly. you're so wound up, desperate to cum after three days of constant teasing and lingering touches that left you starved. hell, desperate is an understatement
the pleasure begins to drag you under. you writhe wilder, more erratic against his mouth, cries and gasps climbing even higher in pitch
you can barely warn him about your building orgasm, can barely scramble the words together to tell him that you're close – but oh, taehyun knows
he can taste it, feel it – your walls clinging to and sucking his fingers deeper, clamping down for dear life. your toes curl, high heels pushing against his back and nails digging into his scalp
when he doubles down, pressing even harder and deeper, you're a goner
your head feels like it's dipped under water, ears ringing as the band in your lower belly finally snaps
his name is the only thing on your tongue as you let go, feeding taehyun copious amounts the your sweet release he's been thirsting for. there's so much of it, gushing out around his fingers, creating a loud squelch as he continues to pump, prolonging your high
hot bursts of heat coat and wet his mouth and chin and taehyun savors it all – drinking you up and groaning as he licks into your mound
nothing can compare to the feeling of pride and triumph that swells in the alpha's chest after succeeding to have drawn your sweet release from you like this, of having you fall apart like this without yet having given all of himself
he never takes his eyes off of you either – nearly cumming watching you cum, fresh precum leaking plenty from the head of his cock, trapped between his abdomen and the cool bedsheets
taehyun only lets up when your thighs tremble and shake, closing around his head, hands weakly trying to push him away – just the way he had predicted
god, it pains him to detach himself
reluctantly, he draws back – panting heavy, lips parted. strings of your slicky cum connects his lips to your cunt
you sit up on your elbows, watching a droplet form on his bottom lip, no time to drip before he quickly swipes at it with his tongue – eyes blown out and dark on yours
taehyun would spend an eternity making you come with just his tongue and fingers if you'd let him. fuck, he knows if he persuades you enough, he can make you take another round – but right now his omega is needy and pulsing with desire for the rest of him, for all of which he has to offer
he only retracts his working fingers when you tug at his wrist – caressing gentle and soothing over your cunt before lifting them to his mouth, cleaning them off with a groan – the same way he had cleaned off the dessert spoon in the restaurant and you pulse at the sight
soothing hands caress and massage your still quaking flesh. you come down from your high, lightheaded, chest rising and falling with the effort of trying to catch your breath
he peppers chaste kisses along the inside of your thighs
your inner thighs are a mess, core glistening with the evidence of his obsession – swollen and soaked, pushing out more slick with every rhythmic clench. taehyun nearly growls at the sight, tempted to dive back in
he stops himself, mouth worshiping it's way back up your body. you cup his jaw when he hovers over you, wiping away the remaining slick coating his bottom lip and chin with your thumb. his eyes stay locked on yours, lids hooded and sharp, looking almost as fucked out as you. you press the digit into his mouth and he cleans it off with another groan, slotting his hips between yours
"isn't that much better, sweetheart?" he asks, voice like silk bewitching you once more. a loaded and lingering kiss lands against your nape
"y-yes…" you nod, voice still shaky as you huff out air
"wanna make you do that over" kiss "and over" kiss "and over again"
you whimper, thighs trying to squeeze together, but instead, tightening around his waist. his cock slides hot, hard and heavy between your folds and your hips lift at feeling it again – at finally having it inside you, soon
"taehyun, don't tease", you choke out, hands clutching onto him desperately. you shimmy his suit pants down his hips before he kicks it off the rest of the way, kicking off his socks too
he hums, satisfied. sitting up, he drapes your legs over his thighs, taking your hands in his. pressing reverent kisses to each of your palms, he places them flat against his collarbones, fingers curling around your wrists
your eyes follow his lead as he begins to drag them down his chest, over the firm and solid pecs – agonizingly slow. every ridge and dip of hard muscle makes you clench around nothing, cunt quivering against the meaty length which he continues to slide between your folds. he traces your hands down his abs, flexing as your nails graze lightly over them. you moan wantonly at the feel, unable to help yourself as he makes you trace over the defined muscle. your head spins with desire, thighs parting wider for him
"all yours, sweetheart", he hums, letting go of your wrists when he's finally guided you past his adonis belt and his v-lines down to his throbbing cock
it's a searing reminder: that he'll never betray you with another omega like the alpha from your past, that he'll never give himself away to another omega like your ex did. every inch and fibre of his being belongs to you
you've never been this turned on in your life
you wrap both hands around him, working him up and down just like you did earlier
he groans as he watches you, unable to stop his hips from rolling forward, hissing through his teeth as his head lulls back
your breathing stutters at the sight – you need him now
the ache is becoming unbearable. if taehyun doesn't do something this instant, you honestly think you might explode. you're beyond the point of function, doing the only thing you're able to think of: you plead with him, the way you know gets him to cave every time
"taehyun, please", you sob, your hands clutching around his waist and ass, pushing him forward, pulling him closer again and again – anything to hopefully make him slide into you. his cockhead bumps and drags over your clit, making you mewl pathetically. he chuckles, leaning down, voice low and teasing right by your ear. "patience, sweetheart. we said we're taking it slow tonight, remember?"
"please, i just need you inside", you feel tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, glassy as you stare up at him
jungwon never had you begging like this. no, he got straight to the point – but taehyun, he makes you long for it, makes you yearn for it. he builds you up, takes you there slowly, keeps you there and makes sure you feel every second of it. only to bring you to that high again. and then again. it's greedy, an insatiable hunger and thirst for your pleasure. the relentless pursuit of your intoxication and euphoria, until every orgasm belongs to him – wrecking you, ruining you. not just your body, but your mind, your soul. taehyun lives for this – your sweet surrender
but even taehyun has his breaking point
despite his words promoting patience, his hands make quick work of undoing and taking your heels off, pressing careful kisses to each of your ankles
your lacy set of lingerie comes off pretty quickly too, searing touches tracing along your skin as he peels every piece away
he can no longer resist, lowering himself over you, arms like pillars caging you in. his lips seal over yours and you reciprocate without hesitation, humming as you feel his tip prodding your entrance. he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, finally beginning to push into you. your mouth drops open, hands migrating to his shoulders and arms, nails already digging into the skin
"easy, take deep breaths for me, sweetheart", he instructs and you do. "that's it. good girl. just let me in"
your body is no longer your own, yielding to his command in an instant
he works himself in to the hilt. "is this alright?" he asks, eyes searching yours for any sort of discomfort
"more than alright", you reassure him, hands tightening their hold on his arms. "move, please"
his lips sweep yours up once more, beginning to rock into you steady
it's overwhelming at first, but in the best way – and you clench uncontrollably around him, readjusting to his size, your slick walls longing for more, rejoicing and pouring out slick every time he hits home, every time he breaks you in
a sob wracks your chest, suddenly overcome with emotion, fragile and unprotected. "i missed you", you manage. taehyun chuckles, feigning confusion. "missed me? sweetheart, we've been together all week"
taehyun knows well enough what you mean. he just wants to hear you say it, spell it out for him. he loves how easily you admit your need for him, how you never hide it from him. your walls suck him in, body begging him to come closer, deeper
"no, i– i missed having you like this, having you this close. needed you so badly"
his heart clenches at the vulnerable confession. "i know, sweetheart. needed you just as badly", he pushes in harder, breathing out another chuckle. "thought i was going to lose my mind". his hips move with more purpose, feeling your body relax around him, allowing more of him in
his forehead comes to rest on yours. "i've got you now, sweetheart. just let me take care of you, alright?" he cups your face and you nod against his palm. pleased, his lips return to yours and you whimper into his mouth
stuttering breaths, passionate kisses and wanton to deep moans and grunts fill the room as taehyun builds a steadier, more powerful rhythm. soon, the sound of skin slapping against skin blend in too. you moan out as he hits that spot, cunt fluttering around him. he's smug as he takes you in, eyes dazed matching yours. "right there?"
you offer him a breathless nod and a blissed smile, "right there" – you huff out a laugh and you moan louder when he thrusts harder against it, arms curling around the wings of his broad back, pulling him flush against you – ankles crossing behind his back
god, taehyun is large – already pressing you into the mattress with the weight and force of his hips, knocking the air from your lungs with every demanding push forward, cock splitting you apart at the seams. he's an undeniable force of strength and power, pure muscle wrapped in honeyed skin and you surrender yourself to it willingly – the dominance and intensity of him
your head falls back against the pillow, unable to contain the sounds he already begins to draw from you
"sound so pretty for me, you're so fucking beautiful", taehyun grunts and whispers your name like a curse under his breath. he mouths hungrily at any and every part of skin you expose to him, aching to become one with you – as if being inside of you like this simply isn't enough. his hands on the sheets grip harder as he strokes deep, then deeper
"taehyun, holy fuck—", you cry out and it only spurs him to move a little faster
"can't get enough of you", he growls against your lips, almost to himself. he's starting to lose grip on his last sliver of control, breathing you in like a drug. "you have no idea what you do to me", he thrusts harder and you gasp. "wanna crawl into your skin, fucking live inside of you"
your cunt pulses obscenely at his words, mind hitting a blank with every angled rut
"you feel fucking perfect", his brows furrow, that sexy, concentrated frown forming on his lips, like he's barely holding back, like he can't quite control just how deep he wants to get
your cries pitch higher with every thrust, the repeated wet friction already making you lose your mind. god, you needed this – needed him so bad – getting lost in his words and his touch so easily
every tuck of your hair behind your ear, every gentle caress of his thumb on your cheek, every reverent kiss, every push and rock of his heavy length as he bottoms out again and again only makes you fall harder, effortlessly bringing you to the edge of another earth shattering orgasm tonight. he whispers praises and sweet nothings to you as you cry out his name, lamenting it to the heavens, without care who hears
your hand curls around the back of his head, meeting him halfway in a kiss as you let go, as you surrender all of yourself to him and you flutter around his cock
he allows you to hold him close, to linger against his lips and breathe him in, just until you whine for more
sitting up, he takes one of your legs and settles it over his shoulder, hooking your ankle on the broad expanse. he kisses and tongues messily up your inner thigh, mouthing at your calf. bewitched and almost drunk with lust, his tongue lulls out and he licks a stripe up the sole of your foot before taking your toes into his mouth
you gasp, eyes snapping open and he groans as you watch the lewd act – lapping and sucking between them, licking and biting at the inside of your ankle and every bit of skin his mouth can reach
holy fuck, your omega wails, you've never seen him this hungry before
"fuck, i'd eat you up if i could", he pants, voice gruff – mouth not stopping its worship as he drives into you harder
– and you believe him, the display of hunger making your head spin once more, on the brink of losing your mind. the tickling sensation sends tingles that shoot straight to your clit. his cock doesn't relent against that spot inside either – and because taehyun knows exactly what you need, he places a skilled thumb on the slick-coated little bundle of nerves, drawing perfect, mouthwatering circles over it
your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your head tips back, wanton cries of his name falling from your lips like a mantra
another sloppy kiss is placed to your ankle then your calf before he leans down, pressing your knee against your chest in a mating press – folding you in half. the angle only makes him press deeper, eliciting more wails of his name out of you
gone, brainless, pliant – those are the only words fit to describe you when taehyun takes you like this, when he allows his alpha to take full course
your mouth forms the perfect little o-shape and taehyun watches you intently, thrusting against that spot so good, tears gather and spill from the corners of your eyes
"you gonna cum for me again, sweetheart?" he provokes
"yes! fuck, yes, taehyun!" you sob, body writhing beneath his. "please, don't stop"
he groans deep and your eyes open – the look in his eyes are enough to do it – knowing, hypnotic and disarming, piercing through you as you let go for him, a whimper of his name tumbling sweetly from your lips
his head dips down, stealing your last bit of breath as he kisses you, intense and passionate and your hand tangles into his hair. his pace doesn't falter, in fact he pushes deeper, grunting into your mouth as he picks up his pace – length punching against that gummy spot unbearably good, almost cruel
your pulsating cunt only gushes wetter, warmer around the unforgiving length, protesting every time he pulls out, crying in relief with slick when he pushes back in
his hand abandons your sensitive nub, fisting in the pillow next to your head. "oh, taehyun—"
"feels so good when you cum around me, sweetheart. wanna make you cum like this all night"
oh god
you know taehyun isn't one to bluff
the alpha loves watching you finish, loves watching your soul leave your body, like you're handing it right over to him. your eyes, glassy and vulnerable staring into his or fixed at the back of your skull. your hands clawing at any part of his body, his arms, his chest, even his ass just to keep him right where you need him, always deep. he loves feeling the way your body trembles, fluttering around him, making you ascend as you desperately grasp onto the last bits of your high – a high of which taehyun is happy to bring you to, over and over again
he finds what he loves the most might be the aftermath – when your eyes regain focus and they begin pleading and he knows exactly what you need in that moment – him, closer. hands clawing and grabbing at him to draw him in, to feel his skin against yours, his lips against yours, every possibile inch of him lodged deep inside. he's obsessed with the satisfied sighs and sobs you let out, clinging to him the second he does comes closer
it's him that you need when you're coming down, it's him that you need to hold you in this fragile little time frame. he's made a mental note that you especially love and melt when he completely engulfs you, surrounds you, consumes you – until you're nothing but another extension of him, until you don't know where you start and he ends
you feel that pressure building up inside of your core once again, but this time, it feels different
he takes your ankle from where it's hooked over his shoulder, settling your thigh around his waist again. his hot chest presses flush against yours and you bury your face into his shoulder, latching onto the skin glistening with sweat
the room is laced with the scent of sweet vanilla that curls into citrusy mandarin, coated in sapphire – deep, oceanic and blue
your nails on his skin don't rake, they simply graze. your hand in his hair doesn't grip, you simply hold onto him. he cups the back of your head, coaxing you away from his shoulder to look into his eyes instead. you watch him survey you, something weighing heavy on his heart, on his tongue – you can tell, especially when his eyes become doe and shiny
"taehyun—"
a whisper of reverence, soft like silk, barely audible slips from his lips
"i love you"
your heart stops – because he had said it like a promise, a confirmation not only for you, but for himself, too. because it's the first time someone that you hold dear had said it and meant it – even more so like he couldn't hold it back, like it had been consuming him
the world around you stills. it's just you and him, in this room, in this pocket of time, finally becoming one, finally fulfilling every last thing you had asked for in prayer, long before he had stepped into your life and you had crossed paths
you don't stop the tears that have gathered from falling. they cascade warm and reverent down your temples
"i love you"
it comes easy, breathless and yet with so much weight, taking the rest of the air in your lungs with it
his breathing falters. "will you let me have you, sweetheart?" he asks, tentatively, as though you're fragile, like you might break if he speaks above a whisper
the look in his eyes – that of pure desperation – wrecks you, tugs hard at your heartstrings. as if he would die if you said no, if you refused him, if you said anything other than—
"yes", you whisper back, cupping his face – the easiest yes of your life. "a million times yes. all of me— have all of me, taehyun"
a deep drive into your walls punches the remaining air out of your lungs, stroking you into oblivion
"and you'll be all mine – as i'll be all yours?"
"yes! yes, taehyun!" you cry as best as your voice allows you to, your thighs beginning to tremble again, the fire between them becoming too much to bare – matching the fire in your heart and the heat that courses over his skin. "i want this. i want you. more than anything i've ever wanted in my entire life, please"
his breathing stutters again, almost in awed disbelief. "then go ahead, sweetheart. claim me. make me yours"
– and then he's baring the column of his neck to you and every bell in your soul begins to ring as you nuzzle into the skin, right below his scent gland. you kiss him there first, once then twice, drawing a shaky exhale from him and his adams apple bobs
when you finally sink your teeth into him, he releases a sound similar to a whimper and a groan – and he pushes as deep as he possibly could into your yearning warmth, harder, deeper with every stroke
you moan into him, nails creating indents on his skin. when your omega settles and you finally retract, you soothe him with sweet touches of your lips, touches that are interrupted by your cries with every push of his length through your walls
he drives harder, sheer heat coursing over his skin, making its way down to his loins, a painful throb pounding inside of you
his alpha surges forward now more than ever, pushing to come forward and take control
every ounce of devotion that he's felt for you from the moment he first met you finally simmers to the surface and breaks open within his chest – like keeping it inside any longer than this is agonizing, unbearable – pushing up like pins and needles against his throat. his brows knit together at the feeling, lips finding yours as he whispers against them, over and over again, "i love you" kiss "i love you" kiss "i love you" – like a mantra, a vow or a song he wants you to remember
your entire being ignites, heart and soul soaring when his mouth finally lowers to your neck, hand cupping the back of your head, threading through your hair
you bare your neck to him, offering him all of the access he needs
"sweetheart?" he asks permission one last time, canines and fangs aching, shiny with saliva
"please"
that's the last plea that escapes you before he does it – that which you've been yearning for your entire life. the one thing only he could fulfill with you, the thing you didn't want any other alpha doing to you
nothing would ever compare to the feeling of taehyun's teeth finally sinking into your skin
it's accompanied by a groan so passionate you almost mistake it for pain
goosebumps arise over yours and his skin, heat surging from where his teeth are nestled in the nape of your neck, right down to where you're connected – to where his knot has already started to form at the base of his cock
pain quickly eases into pleasure
your bodies soar and the feverish tension, the furnace between your thighs becomes unbearable, bursting open as you release around him and he releases into you – as you become one
a hand grips hard at your flesh, lifting your hips to take more of him – a meek attempt at preventing his teeth from biting down harder, growling into the flesh
his alpha huffs and puffs with pride, satiated at last after having held back for so long. his mouth begrudgingly detaches itself from your skin, opting to soothe you with his tongue and the tenderness of his lips instead. you are but a shivering body in his hold, a thing of flesh glistening with sweat and enchantment
you feel like you're still floating, entranced – and you hold onto taehyun just a little tighter
a series of reverent "i love you"s are confessed to the skin of your nape as he slows to a stop, arms wrapping around you and holding you close to him – the pounding of your hearts in both your chests now in sync
your hands rake through his hair, humming and stuttering as he continues to tongue and kiss at the new mark – the new brand, the one that announced you as his
his omega. his mate. the keeper of his heart
you bask in this – your scent and his immediately becoming tainted and fused with the other's. the two of you shimmer under the lamp- and moonlight as yo.u both gather your breath, wrapped around each other
taehyun's nose drags along your scent gland, sniffling thick amounts of sweet vanilla that is now permanently carries traces of him and something in the atmosphere shifts
he has gone still, almost too still
he's still tongueing and kissing at the mark, like he can't get enough and god, it's still sensitive, but it just feels too good to tell him to stop. your walls still pulse with the aftermath, choking and milking him good
it's taehyun, you tell yourself, he's just making sure the wound will heal well
you're ready to detangle yourself from him, hands ghosting over his skin
that's when you feel it: the throb of his cock as it stirs back to life, lodged so very deep inside of you
your heart jumps in your throat when you hear it—
was that a grunt or was that a growl?
...to be continued ➛ part 6
scznotes: ooo things are getting hot in here! >< i'd love to know all of your thoughts and all your favourite lines! don't be shy to comment or reblog! (begging after putting months into this 0‐0)
𝑁𝑂𝑇𝐸 ! all prompts (thus far) are nsfw-coded and are intended to imply or inspire smut. if you're a writer and you want to make use of my prompts to create fics/drabbles feel free to do so – make sure to tag me in your works! i would love to see different takes on my ideas! if you're a reader you may tag writers in the comments to cover the prompts! do not spam them! other than that, enjoy my sweeties! ♥︎
prompt 1 – wearing thin
prompt 2 – just the tip
prompt 3 – bittersweet
prompt 4 – tensions brew
prompt 5 – foursome
prompt 6 – bouncer
➳ 𝑓𝑖𝑐: bouncer – @swiftjay23 (10.8k words)
bouncer!heeseung x reader, toxic!bf!hoon x reader || angst / comfort / smut (MDNI)
prompt 7 – unload, reload
prompt 8 – case: why are my clothes still on?
➶ group works:
𝑁𝑂𝑇𝐸 ! all works of mine (thus far) are suggestive or contain smut! ¡MDNI! all works are my own — do not copy or translate!
– txt –
yeonjun ✴︎
txt as songs on ariana's positions album
a/b/o txt (headcannons)
soobin ✴︎
txt as songs on ariana's positions album
a/b/o txt (headcannons)
soft dom alpha!soobin (headcannons)
beomgyu ✴︎
txt as songs on ariana's positions album
a/b/o txt (headcannons)
series | 16.8k — completed! ➳ alpha!beomgyu & his mate ⤵︎
(pt.1), (pt.2), (pt.3), (pt.4 - final)
alpha!beomgyu (visual I) (visual II)
secret-bf colleague!beomgyu (headcanons)
taehyun ✴︎
txt as songs on ariana's positions album
a/b/o txt (headcannons)
series | 31.8k — ongoing! ➳ alpha!taehyun x fem omega!reader ⤵︎
(pt.1), (pt.2), (pt.3), (pt.4)
hueningkai ✴︎
txt as songs on ariana's positions album
a/b/o txt (headcannons)
alpha!kai (visual)
hidden hard dom alpha!kai (drabble)
alpha!kai with a breeding kink (drabble)
– enha –
ni-ki ✴︎
criminal!riki x fem!lieutenant reader (headcannons)
no! yes! fսck it! i am in love with sim jaeyun and he is in love with me! and don't you fսcking give me that look, sunghoon, because i didn't fսck your boyfriend! you two were broken up for three weeks and three days before we even had sеx, so i didn't betray you! plus, you guys are terrible for each other and you know i'm right and you guys can all judge me if you want, but i do not care! i have never, ever been happier!
secret.bf!beomgyu x colleague.gf!reader .ᐟ headcanons
warnings: SMUT! p in v, dom!beomgyu x sub!reader, office sex (duh!), takes place interchangeably between their offices, rough sex (i think), unprotected sex (don't!), he has a slight pain kink, creampie, mentions of fingering & squirting, teasing, sexting, mentions of getting married, dirty talk, jealousy, possessiveness, sexism in the workplace, beomgyu is down bad, attempted fluff at the end
scznote: these were supposed to purely be headcanons then it became a bit of a drabble >< woops (1.2k words) may contain errors!
based on this ask i received from an anon a while ago! majority of this became filth, ah! hope you like it anonie! x
secretbf!beomgyu who is the secretary of your company’s ceo. he's sharp, quick on his feet and carries an effortless authority that makes entire departments bend to his command, under the instruction of his superior, of course. most people in office are just as intimidated by him as they are your boss – considering he ranks far above you within the company's hierarchy
secretbf!beomgyu who first fell head over heels in love with you after watching you fight relentlessly for the women in your marketing department. he had watched you advocate for the recognition and promotions you all deserved. he had watched you demand accountability in a workplace where the men constantly resold your ideas as their own and god, beomgyu had admired the way you had refused to shrink yourself to keep the peace
secretbf!beomgyu who had quietly raised your department’s concerns to the appropriate executives, having made sure the issue would no longer be ignored
secretbf!beomgyu who believed in you when your male colleagues dismissed you and your own female coworkers chose to be passive
secretbf!beomgyu who, when promotion season arrived, had made sure that your name was finally attached to the work you had been carrying all along – putting in a good word for you with the chief executive at the official board meeting – his heart having soared when the other executives and shareholders had agreed at the mention of your name, securing your promotion
secretbf!beomgyu who had kept in touch with you even after you'd earned your promotion. lunch together had turned into dinner and dinner had eventually turned into late nights and hushed confessions at his place – and the rest is history
secretbf!beomgyu who does a brilliant job at keeping your relationship under wraps – or so he thinks
— aside from the countless bouquets of your favourite flowers sent right to your office under the guise of an anonymous secret admirer, along with your usual order of coffee every single morning, secretbf!beomgyu is terrible at hiding that he's hopelessly in love with you, his gaze alone giving him away
— and if your boss notices, he doesn't say anything, simply shooting you and beomgyu amused looks
secretbf!beomgyu who fails to control the way his eyes soften and his grin widens whenever you enter the room or the way the executives exchange knowing glances every time he personally volunteers to “review” marketing reports that only happen to come from your division
secretbf!beomgyu sends you risky texts during meetings with your marketing department, just to see your cheeks flush a deep pink while he looks ahead, putting on an innocent act as he adjusts his glasses – the casual "you look extra good today. sit on my face?" making you short-circuit
secretbf!beomgyu who can't keep his hands off of you, lord
secretbf!beomgyu who sneaks you into his office for a steamy makeout session, like routine, every single day at lunch or especially after said meetings, even more so when you're working together on overtime. he just can't help himself
secretbf!beomgyu who, against your better judgement, almost always turns your makeout sessions into quickies – locking his office door the second you step over that threshold
— and who are you to say no when your handsome, tall, charmer of a boyfriend backs you against the nearest wall or desk, or seats himself in his leather chair, pulling you right into his lap
"have i ever told you how sexy you look when you're pitching all your ideas to the board? sitting through those meetings gets a lot harder when you’re the one presenting"
— you give in every time, weak when his hands grip at your stockings, when he ruts his hard-on against the already soaking fabric of your panties, lips and teeth licking, sucking, biting at the skin of your neck
secretbf!beomgyu who only tuts when you whine, "beomgyu, not here—" , shutting you up with a hungry kiss. your moans are all swallowed greedily by his mouth, bringing every protest to a halt. "shh, sit back for me" , he commands in that tone that sends shivers down your spine and you obey him within seconds
secretbf!beomgyu who loves that you're barely able to keep quiet as he takes you rough, the desk – or whatever surface he's got you against – shaking and squeaking vigorously beneath you
secretbf!beomgyu who mocks you for every slip of your mouth, for every needy whine and sobby whimper that accidentally tumbles from your lips
secretbf!beomgyu who stuffs his tie in your mouth, biting back grunts and moans when your hands pull and tug at his hair – hard
secretbf!beomgyu who can actually keep it down, save for the breathy, gruff sighs that manage to escape him and the occasional hisses through his teeth when your cunt squeezes around him
secretbf!beomgyu who has to fight the urge to land a loud smack against your ass when he has you bent over, gripping at the flesh like an absolute beast
secretbf!beomgyu who rams even harder into you when one of your male colleagues, specifically hueningkai from the IT & tech department calls and knocks at the door of your office – reveling in the way your eyes widen and you clamp a hand over your mouth
oh, how secretbf!beomgyu despises the sweet smiles and texts hueningkai leaves for you on your desktop whenever he's fixed a bug on your workstation. he's greatly annoyed that the blonde even thinks he has a chance
secretbf!beomgyu who grits things out like, "should put a ring on your finger so everyone knows you're mine" , "look at you, all fucked out on my cock. he could never fuck you like this" , "pretty head full of marketing plans runs empty when you're full of me, yeah?" and "what would the board say if they saw you now, hm?"
secretbf!beomgyu knows all your sweet spots, relentlessly working his thick, heavy length against them, rendering you brainless, his name right on the tip of your tongue when he gets you to cum, spasming wildly around him
secretbf!beomgyu cums inside of you, claiming you – tempted to fuck his release back into you with every rhythmic pulse of your cunt
secretbf!beomgyu who loves watching his cum dribble out of you when he pulls out, keeping wipes in your cabinets to clean it all up
secretbf!beomgyu who's always holding back from sliding two long fingers up your slit and into your pussy, solely to push his cum back into you – tempted to work you until you finish and squirt it all out, ruining his pristine suit. no, he always reminds himself, he'll just have to save that for when the two of you are at home
secretbf!beomgyu who only chuckles when you gawk at the mess that is your desk, grinning smugly as you scramble about to tidy up, the slightest limp in your step
secretbf!beomgyu who unknowingly confirms every dating rumor when he steps out of your office without his–
"glasses! i forgot my glasses in your office!"
devil. he just came back for seconds after spotting hueningkai in the hallway, his sly smirk betraying his true intentions – and you pray, just like every other day, that the two of you are able to finish before the time ticks for lunch to be over – even if you know beomgyu's going to continue what he started the second the two of you get home
how can you resist? you just hope no one in office catches on – after all, you don't think they know
.ᐟ.ᐟ extra .ᐟ.ᐟ
bf!beomgyu who fucks you as hard, loud and long as he's been craving to at home. he holds nothing back when it's just the two of you – all the pent up, suppressed desire searing to the surface
bf!beomgyu who, when you're all cleaned up and your eyes become droopy, kisses you goodnight sweetly – whispering affirmations of adoration and devotion to you, the deep timbre of his voice lulling you to sleep
bf!beomgyu who falls asleep with a smile on his face, subconsciously matching the one on yours – dreaming about finally putting the ring he's kept hidden, on your finger
scz note: i had to make it fluffy at the end! ah! hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! don't be shy to comment or reblog! <3
to the sweet anon who shared their idea with me, i hope i did your ask justice! x
꒰❄️꒱ A blizzard strands your train in the middle of nowhere, and the only inn with a room left has one bed. You don’t hesitate to book it with the charming stranger who’s been keeping you company.
⤷ ゛ This story is part of the One Bed Series .ᐟ.ᐟ
⊹ wc .ᐟ 22.4k
pairing: Choi Beomgyu x afab!reader
tags: strangers to friends to ?, mutual pining and micro-flirting, sexual tension, they get stranded on a train, in the middle of a snowstorm, yearner!beomgyu, mention of injury, slowburn in a train setting because i fucking can [probably missed some]
[MDNI] smut warning: explicit sexual content, fingering, oral (f.), nipple play, he grinds against reader's knee, he humps the mattress while eating reader out, cums in his pants, he also begs, dom!beomgyu (but pathetic and madly in love), one instance of him being a little possessive, some fluffy moments, multiple orgasms, protected sex (huzzah!), sliight pain kink if you squint, mating press, implication of multiple rounds at the end [definitely missed some]
yun's ☕: *cricket noises* i bring offerings after my suspicious disappearance. anyway that’s enough about me.
You stared at your phone with a sigh that turned faintly visible in the chilly air.
It was colder at the station than you thought it would be when you left your apartment. There wasn’t enough insulation anywhere to stop the biting chill from finding its way through the walls and floors of the underground station. A draft swept underneath the sliding glass doors at the front entrance and teased your ankles repeatedly as you paced. Commuters bustled around you in small groups beneath the mounted television near the waiting bench; the murmurs of their conversations punctuated by small clouds of breath as the newscaster droned over images of snow-whitened roads.
“…the blizzard is expected to intensify by late afternoon. All travelers are advised to reconsider non‑essential trips…”
You exhaled slowly and watched the condensation fog your phone screen momentarily before it dissipated. Regret pooled heavily in your stomach. You should have known better than to pick this particular weekend to go home — the rare long break that had lined up perfectly with your schedule and, with spectacular inconvenience, also happened to coincide with the worst winter storm of the year. Too late to reconsider now. The ticket was bought and the bag was packed and you were already here, which was more than halfway committed by any reasonable measure.
When the train whistle sounded and the engine glided into the station on a billow of frost, you shrugged off what remained of your better judgment and fell in with the sluggish crowd moving toward it. Passengers bundled up in heavy coats brushed shoulders with you and you were swallowed by a ripple of low-toned conversation.
The luggage wheels chose that exact moment to give out.
They jammed in the narrow gap between the platform’s edge and the train’s step. It lurched to an abrupt halt that jolted your arm forward. You tugged once but it wouldn’t budge. Tugged again, harder, putting your body into it — the handle creaked but the wheels held fast.
Restlessness rippled through the people behind you in line. Heat flushed your neck as you crouched down trying to yank the damn suitcase free, not wanting to hold up the line for much longer.
Not today. You started to panic. Please, not today.
“Need some help there?”
The voice came from just behind you.
You didn’t turn all the way to face him — just bobbed your head in thanks. “Yeah, please. Thank you.”
His hand slid past yours and the cuff of his coat sleeve brushed yours as he knelt down next to the suitcase. One hand gripped the handle while the other nudged underneath just enough to shift the wheels out of the corner. Lifted it slightly and twisted, and it popped free.
He straightened without comment and took the handle, stepping onto the train and glancing back only briefly to make sure you were following. You nodded hastily and climbed up the narrow stairs. Face still burning, you walked along the aisle behind him and led him towards your seat.
“It's just this row,” you said, pointing.
At your seat, he hoisted the suitcase up in one clean motion — higher than his head, without any visible hitch — and you watched his arms complete the arc of it that gave you a funny feeling in your belly. Before you quite realized it, your eyes had followed the line of his arms all the way to his hands. You finally got a good look at his face when he turned to you.
Strong lines along his jaw and eyes that warmed when they met yours. A few strands of dark hair had fallen loose from the rest of his neatly combed-back style, resting across his forehead. It was somewhat unfair for a stranger on a train to look like that.
“Thank you,” you said, your hand going up automatically to check the suitcase was properly secured. “You really saved me from the embarrassment back there.”
He glanced at it once more and gave it a small push to seat it further in, then stepped back to give you room to pass.
“Don’t mention it. Happens to the best of us.” He rested his hand briefly on the back of your seat to steady himself as someone edged down the aisle behind him. “Those gaps catch wheels more often than people think.”
You laughed despite yourself as you sank into the window seat and pulled your jacket closer around your shoulders. “Guess I'm just the unlucky one who got chosen tonight.”
His lips moved into something that wasn't quite a smile yet but was heading there. He rapped his knuckles against the suitcase gently, like to make sure it wouldn’t fall off on you. Then he gestured towards the row in front of you, indicating his seat.
“Mine's a couple up.”
“Thank you again,” you said as he turned to go.
He glanced back over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, and this time the smile completed itself. “Happy holidays,” he replied before continuing down the aisle.
“Happy holidays,” you whispered quietly to yourself.
You weren't entirely sure how happy it was shaping up to be.
The inside of the train was dim and catatonic. Departure had already been pushed back thirty minutes in the hopes that any remaining passengers would hurry and get on board before conditions made the journey inadvisable. Even so, large pockets of empty seats remained scattered throughout, and the untouched headrests gave the entire compartment a strangely hollow appearance.
The seat directly across from yours was unclaimed. So were most of the others within eyeline.
A small stroke of fortune, perhaps. You could hardly blame them. Considering the warnings that were on every news channel, it seemed likely that most people with flexible plans had chosen to remain safely indoors instead of venturing across the country through a rising blizzard. The ones who had shown up tonight were the ones who couldn't afford the postponement, who had reasons that outweighed the inconvenience of a winter storm bearing down on the railway line.
You fell squarely into that category. It had been too long since you had last made the trip home and when the long weekend appeared on your calendar, the trip had felt too convenient to postpone. Canceling would have been the sensible thing. You had considered it, and then the thought of putting it off again had guilt building up. So you had packed a bag and come anyway, blizzard warnings and all, which was either devotion or stubbornness and at this point you weren't certain there was a meaningful difference between the two.
Under ordinary conditions the journey was supposed to take just over two hours. Judging by the sound of the wind working itself against the windows before the train had even cleared the city, the estimate felt increasingly optimistic.
For the first half hour of the journey, you did little more than watch the passage of the evening through the window. The sky held the last of the day's color — pale rose bleeding into silver at the edges as the sun dropped behind a low line of hills, and the first snow began to fall into the fading light. Started as a scattering of delicate flakes drifting lazily through the air which was barely noticeable against the dimming horizon. It was a rather pretty sight.
Within minutes the flakes multiplied and thickened, merging into a pale curtain that swept across the open countryside in waves. The train’s headlights cut out a small area of movement through the white until there was very little left to look at except the storm itself. Watching it for too long produced a faint, swimming sensation behind your eyes.
A chime sounded through the carriage, followed by the soft crackle of the train’s announcement system. The conductor’s voice came through the speakers, informing that due to deteriorating weather conditions along the route, the train would be reducing speed and making several unscheduled stops to ensure the safety of everyone on board.
Your earlier suspicion had aged into confirmation. This wasn't going to be the usual two-hour ride to Daegu. If the weather kept building at its current rate, the journey could easily stretch to twice the original estimate, possibly more.
There was only so long anyone could watch an unbroken wall of snow before the mind began casting around for something else to do with itself. Some coffee would be a lot more appealing than staring at bleakness, you thought, and it nudged you out of your seat. You made your way down to the snack car. It was marginally brighter than the passenger compartments. A slim counter ran along one side with an attendant moving briskly between shelves and heating units.
The display offered little in the way of temptation.
Plastic-wrapped pastries lay under heat lamps that had long since deprived them of whatever freshness they might have once found. A shelf of microwaveable items occupied the adjacent space. Nothing about it looked particularly appealing, and you could almost feel the sodden heaviness that would come an hour later if you dared to take more than a mouthful. Hardly ideal considering the uncertain length of the journey ahead.
Despite that, the shelves were emptying at a surprising pace. Passengers seemed less concerned with quality than availability, gathering whatever remained before the options disappeared altogether. The sight prompted you to make your decision quickly.
You purchased a couple of the lemon cream buns stacked near the register along with a cup of coffee. The buns looked harmless and would likely sit far better in your stomach than the alternatives. You deemed it a sensible choice.
With your small collection of supplies in hand, you glanced around for somewhere to sit. A small table near the wall was the only vacant one remaining. You slid into the seat and set the buns down in front of you, curling both palms around the cup. The train rocked more noticeably here than in the passenger car — a slow, side-to-side sway that rattled through the fixtures and occasionally produced a low creak from the metal frame of the carriage when a particularly aggressive gust found the side of the train.
You set your coffee down and reached for your phone. Your mother had sent four messages since the departure delay, each one a variation on the same concern, and you owed her a call before the evening went any further. The dial tone attempted to connect, held for a few seconds, and then dissolved into silence without going through.
You pulled the phone from your ear and looked at the screen — the network icon in the corner was flickering back to life then fading again. You angled the phone toward the window on the off chance that the extra distance might persuade the signal to cooperate.
Unfortunately, the same result followed. You clicked your tongue, irritation simmering just beneath the surface.
“Can I sit here?”
Your heart gave a startled jump before your brain had fully registered the voice, and you looked up to find the handsome stranger from the platform standing at the edge of your table. He balanced himself by bracing one hand against the tabletop as the movement of the carriage rocked him slightly where he stood. In his other hand he carried a small packet of food.
“Sure—please, go ahead,” you said quickly, sitting up straighter and nudging your paper bag a little farther to the side to clear the space.
He dipped his head in gratitude and lowered himself onto the seat beside you. The train chose that exact moment to lurch forward with a particularly pronounced sway that made him huff a quiet laugh. He settled, set his food down, and met your eyes with a look that carried the trace of whatever that almost-laugh had been.
“I hope you don't mind. Every other table seems to have been claimed.” He glanced briefly around the car before returning to you. “I figured since we'd already spoken, it’d be less awkward than asking a complete stranger.”
“I don't mind at all,” you said, shaking your head with emphasis. “Besides, I doubt anyone on this train is turning down company tonight.”
His lips curved in a gentle smile. “Then I’ll do my best to make sure the company isn’t disappointing. I’d hate to abuse such generous hospitality on our second meeting of the evening.” His gaze held something like assurance, almost as if he were hoping you’d enjoy his presence as much as he would enjoy yours.
“Well,” you murmured, settling back and holding your coffee close, “in that case you’re very much welcome to the table.”
He unwrapped his meal and you noticed he hadn't thought to get a drink. You looked at your own coffee, still warm between your palms, and then back at him.
“You know,” you added, motioning towards your own cup, “I’ll grab you something to drink—might make the night ahead a little warmer.”
He looked up immediately and raised a hand in protest. “You don't have to do that—really, you've already given me the seat.”
“It’s really not a problem,” you insisted, rising halfway before he could object again. “You helped me earlier, remember? Consider it repayment.” You paused, letting him gather his thoughts before continuing. “Coffee or tea? Whichever you prefer.”
He hesitated for a moment before conceding with a small nod. “In that case,” he said, glancing briefly toward the counter, “coffee would be great.”
You returned shortly after with a cup of coffee. He sat up straighter once you approached.
“Here you go,” you said, holding it toward him.
He took it with both hands and bowed his head in thanks. After taking a small sip he set the cup down and extended his hand.
“I should have done this properly earlier,” he said. “Choi Beomgyu.”
You repeated his name in your head over again after he said it, savouring the sound. Lingering on the taste of each syllable with a strange attention you couldn’t quite place. As you gave your own introduction, you took his hand and shook it, and noted that it was warm — still carrying the heat from the cup. Just like his name.
You felt your phone buzz suddenly.
“One second—sorry, my mum's been waiting to hear from me,” you said, quickly placing the phone to your ear while flashing him a look of apology.
Turning slightly in your seat, you focused on the call while explaining the situation to your mother. The connection crackled occasionally beneath your words, forcing you to repeat yourself once or twice as you reassured your mother that you were still on the train and that the delay had only stretched the journey, not halted it entirely.
Every so often, when you glanced up mid-sentence, you caught him looking at you over the rim of his cup. The simple exchange sent a curious flutter through your chest; it was pleasant in a way that made you unexpectedly aware of the moment.
“Are you visiting family in Daegu?” he asked once you’re done talking.
You nodded, pulling your scarf down from around your neck and draping it across your lap. The snack car had warmed you up enough that keeping it wrapped felt excessive. “I haven't been home in a while.” You rested your hands atop one another on your lap, tapping your fingers together absentmindedly in a restless habit you had never quite managed to outgrow. “You?”
“Daegu as well.” The corners of his mouth lifted. You had the same destination as him, which meant he could spend time in your company longer. “My brother is getting married. The ceremony is the day after tomorrow, actually. I didn't have much choice about traveling tonight, storm or not.”
“Wait, really? That's wonderful!” You leaned forward with a delighted sound, your hands lifting slightly in excitement before you caught yourself and laughed. “Congratulations to him—to your whole family, I mean.”
Beomgyu laughed as well, the sound bright enough to draw a brief glance from someone seated a few tables away. “He's been sending me photos for weeks,” he said, already reaching into his coat pocket for his phone. “Here, let me show you a few—”
He scrolled through the gallery while angling the phone between you on the table so both of you could see. You instinctively found yourself leaning in for a better view.
The photos moved past in an affectionate chronicle — a smiling couple holding up their hands to show the rings, a table full of family at what looked like a celebratory dinner. The particular beautiful pandemonium of wedding preparations filling someone's living room with fabric samples and flower arrangements and people who all seemed to be talking at once. In nearly every image, Beomgyu's brother and the woman beside him were either laughing at the camera or turned toward each other with the telltale glow of two people eagerly awaiting the day ahead.
You caught yourself smiling purely for them, not for any reason beyond simple happiness.
“They look so happy,” you said, pausing on one photo in particular — the bride-to-be with a streak of flour across her cheek, laughing beside his brother in the middle of what appeared to be a thoroughly failed baking project.
Beomgyu leaned in slightly to see which one you had stopped on, and his shoulder brushed yours as he did. Neither of you moved apart. “That was their attempt at baking their own engagement cake,” he said, the laugh already back in his voice. “My brother maintained for weeks that it was the best thing he'd ever eaten. Nobody else who tried it agreed with him.”
“He was protecting her feelings,” you said immediately.
“Almost certainly.” He scrolled to the next photo, which showed the same couple holding up a lopsided, fondant-covered disaster with matching expressions of pride. “Although he did finish the whole thing, so either he meant it or he has genuinely terrible taste.”
You laughed, and Beomgyu looked at you when you did. He should have torn himself away after a second. Instead, he stayed there watching you through the sound of it, gaze softening which he failed to hide in time.
God, he could get used to hearing that.
The next few were different from the others — older photographs, more personal. A family of four around a dinner table crowded with dishes. A blurry snapshot taken outdoors where two boys stood shoulder to shoulder beneath a vibrant blue sky, squinting into the sun. Another picture showed the same boys years later, taller now, though their expressions suggested they had been persuaded into the photo rather than volunteering for it.
Beomgyu walked you through his memory lane and told you little stories behind every photo. You listened and watched his face more than the screen.
You focused on a photo of his father caught in a candid moment with a glass raised toward the camera. You stared at it and then back at Beomgyu, and it required very little imagination to picture how those features might settle with age — how his face may look five, ten years from now etched with laugh lines and softer features. Older, but still the same.
It gave you this tight feeling in your chest that felt oddly misplaced. You had known this man for barely an hour, but the simple act of looking at the people who raised him and listening to him talk about his life — it had begun to create the faintest sense of connection that you hadn't been looking for and weren't sure what to do with.
“I really hope I make it there on time,” Beomgyu said, more to himself than to you, his eyes moving toward the window. “I promised I'd be there early—there were a few things I said I'd help with before the ceremony. That promise is starting to feel a little ambitious.”
You followed his gaze toward the window where the glass had begun to cloud faintly. Snow tore past it in dense white streaks, illuminated only when the train passed the occasional line of track lights.
“Optimistic,” you offered. “And I think it’s perfectly fine to be optimistic in times like these. If anything, it gives others peace of mind.”
At this point optimism was the only resource anyone aboard the train seemed to possess. Every passenger you had seen since boarding the train bore the same tell tale demeanor. Hoping and praying that the weather would let up and that they would make it to their destination.
Beomgyu liked that you had taken his pessimism and returned it to him reframed, and it made him curious whether the calm in your voice was something you actually felt or something you had decided to project for the benefit of the people around you. He suspected it was genuinely both and made him wonder if that calm would hold if he pushed the thought a little further.
“Maybe,” he conceded, glancing once more at the window. “If it doesn’t work out, I suppose I'll just end up stranded somewhere along the line with everyone else who gambled on the weather tonight.” He gave a small shrug, though the thought clearly amused him. “Could be worse outcomes.”
“Significantly worse,” you agreed, lifting your coffee cup. “We're inside, at least. Stranded on a train is categorically not the worst version of stranded. But, like, I still wouldn't want to spend the night here in that situation.”
He let that settle for a beat, glancing around the carriage with a brief, contemplative sweep before his eyes returned to yours. The smile that followed came out slowly, like he had given himself a moment to decide whether to say the next thing and had concluded in favor of it.
“I suppose that's only true depending on who you're stranded with.”
It was a miraculous testament to your abilities that you kept yourself from blushing at his words. What you did end up doing was burn your lips on your coffee in an attempt to conceal your smile.
You flinched with a small hiss, pulling your bottom lip inward between your teeth and dragging your tongue across it in a futile attempt to address the sting. Beomgyu straightened so abruptly his knee knocked the underside of the table.
“Hey—careful,” he said, offering a folded tissue. “Are you alright?”
There was visible concern in his voice, but still the question ended with a faint breath of laughter he clearly attempted to suppress. You took the tissue and pressed it to your lip, narrowing your eyes in playful reproach. His smile turned apologetic that softened his entire face. The sight had an unfortunate effect on you. Your attempt at indignation dissolved before it could fully form, and the reprimand you had intended never reached your lips.
“It's fine,” you said, lowering the tissue and testing your lip with a light press of your finger. The sting had already softened to a mild throb, manageable enough that your attention had moved on to the more pressing issue of what had come out of your mouth in the seconds after it. “Besides, that was probably the most action my lips were going to get tonight anyway.”
You got a sickening sense of ick arriving after you finished speaking, crawling up from your stomach to the back of your throat in a slow, nauseating wave. It wasn’t that you wanted to make it sound pitiful. You had not meant it as flirtation either, goddammit — that was the honest truth. And the honest truth was somehow worse, because it meant you had simply said something pathetic with complete sincerity and no strategic intent whatsoever. You sounded splendidly sad and misleading.
Slowly, you lowered your hand away from your mouth. You steeled yourself for embarrassment at the very least or polite sympathy at worst — but you found neither on Beomgyu's face. There was no trace of pity in his expression, no awkward hesitation that might suggest he had begun reassessing the stranger in front of him after he was confronted with a confession he had not asked for.
“Tell me about it,” he said with a barely concealed knowing smile.
“Seriously?” You raised your brows, scoffing softly. “I wouldn't have guessed that about you.”
You meant that sincerely.
He was attractive — there was no point pretending otherwise. He had also been kind and considerate; a gentleman. Whether it meant anything beyond good manners was a separate question entirely.
Still against your better judgement a small, selfish thought surfaced.
That’s convenient.
You crossed your legs beneath the table and shifted in your seat, applying what willpower you had left to the project of not following that thought any further down the path it was heading. It was a limited supply of willpower. Beomgyu was not helping.
If his deft handling of your earlier remark had not already charmed you, the way he reacted now had already gotten to you. He looked away, if only for a second, gaze dropping to the table as a shy smile graced his lips. It was not avoidance so much as a brief retreat, as though he needed the space of a heartbeat before returning to you. When he did return to you, there was a faint flush dusting his cheeks that he appeared entirely unaware of.
Oh.
You were getting smitten by this man far too quickly. You needed to slow down. You were very aware that you needed to slow down.
“It's kind of you to say that.” He exhaled a short laugh, turning his coffee cup in a slow half-rotation against the table. “No, I mean—it really hasn't been that long. But no.”
You nodded, more to fill the space than anything else. Fortunately, your conscience was still alive and you used the moment to remind yourself of a few things. Charm could be fabricated just as easily as it could be genuine. People could present themselves well and say the right things in ways that made you forget to question what was underneath. None of what Beomgyu had shown you tonight proved anything on its own.
The reminder was sound. It lasted approximately four seconds.
“I was actually supposed to bring someone to the wedding,” he added, like an afterthought. “Didn’t quite work out that way.”
You perked up at the new information. “Why’s that?”
He tongued the corner of his lips, hemming and hawing how much he wanted to share. “Explaining the full absence of a plus one,” he said, with a self-deprecating tilt of his head, “might genuinely take longer than the rest of this journey.” He paused. “I could go into it, if you don't mind sitting through the sad highlights.”
“We’ve got time,” you said, gesturing at the window. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere anytime soon.”
The apples of his cheeks puffed up as if he had been waiting for permission to continue.
But you never got to hear what happened, because somewhere behind you, the sound of a child’s crying echoed through the carriage. Instinctively, your head turned.
A young woman stood a few steps away, shifting a restless toddler against her shoulder while scanning around for an available seat. The train’s swaying had an evident effect on her posture and she adjusted her hold with visible strain.
“We should give her the table.” You glanced once at Beomgyu before nodding toward the woman.
He followed your line of sight and got the cue immediately. He was on his feet in the blink of an eye, and when the woman approached he gestured toward the seats with a smile. “Please—it's all yours.”
Instant gratitude spread across her features. She thanked you both as she settled in with the toddler, and you wiped the faint ring your cup had left on the table while Beomgyu moved the spare chair aside to give her more room. It was not a long exchange, but it carried an undercurrent of understanding that needed no elaboration. Then, just as quickly, you left the snack car together.
Within the dim confines of the vestibule, you slowed your pace and stole a glance back at him.
“Um—” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking ahead rather than at him as you spoke. “If you don't hate the idea of company, there's an empty seat across from mine. You could sit there, if you want—I don't think anyone's coming around to check tickets tonight.” A small pause followed, then you quickly added with an almost self-conscious, “Only if you're comfortable with it, though.”
The amber light caught your face as you turned back toward him, illuminating your features in such a dreamy way that caught him entirely off guard. It pooled along the curve of your cheek and the line of your mouth, and when you looked up at him — he momentarily lost the capacity to breathe correctly.
He had been mesmerized by your eyes from the moment at the platform. He’d known then that you'd be difficult to forget. Now, at this proximity, with your attention fixed on him, they seemed to undo whatever composure he had managed to gather over the last few minutes.
He would be an idiot to say no. A spectacular, irredeemable idiot.
“I don't mind at all,” he said, falling into step beside you. Only God knew how he didn’t trip over his own words. “That's genuinely a better offer than where I've been sitting. The man next to my seat has decided that I was a reasonable substitute for a headrest.”
Your startled laughter was music to his ears. The stupid grin on his lips refused to tame down — because he was the one who made you laugh. Call it stupid, which it honestly was, maybe even a little embarrassing, but he was already helplessly besotted with you.
You led him back through the carriage to your row and slid into the window seat, and he settled into the one across from you. The closeness here was different than before, but welcomed by you both.
He leaned back against the seat and ran a hand through his hair, and you watched him do it with your chin resting on your hand.
"Where was I?" he asked.
"Your mystery plus one," you said. "You were about to explain."
"Right." He exhaled, dropping his hand back to his lap. "Right."
A blind date arranged by a close friend, one he trusted enough not to question the introduction. He recounted every detail that led him to start that year-long relationship with a rueful self-aware smile, because he already knew how ironic it sounded.
He had believed in her completely. That was the part he kept returning to — by strengthening that belief, the memories forged during their time together felt as though they were permanently branded onto his soul. A year passed before the foundation of it showed its first fractures, and by then they had accumulated enough that he couldn't point to a single moment where things had gone wrong.
It hadn't been betrayal in the way people typically meant when they used the word. Messages that went unanswered until well into the night, accounted for with an explanation that was just plausible enough to accept. A promise that became a lie so gradually that the transition was invisible until it was already complete. Moments where he'd raised a concern and watched it get brushed aside so lightly that he'd found himself questioning whether he had read the situation correctly. None of it had seemed large enough to name at the time, yet each instance had gathered somewhere in him and piled up little by little.
He told you how she’d invented minor crises just to see if he would react, and how he had mistaken that scrutiny for care. It sounded foolish now that he could hear himself saying it, he acknowledged. She had tested the bounds of his patience and taken advantage of the trust he gave her freely. He then explained how he had called her out on it more than once and she had come back with some half-assed excuse, some bullshit story that had a cute twist at the end and had him questioning his own intuition.
Melancholy had draped itself over his face, painting his lips when he reached the parts that still cost him something to say. She existed as this fantasy, presented herself as a version of a person that matched him so well he had attributed it to compatibility rather than a lie. It wasn't until she slipped, until he caught the tail end of a phone call he hadn't been meant to hear, that the full shape of it became visible to him all at once.
She hadn’t loved him; she had loved being loved by him.
It had taken him far longer than he was comfortable admitting to understanding the difference between those two things, and longer still to work out what it meant for everything he thought he had known about the year they had shared. Because when she left his life she took her reasons with her and left him only answers to cobble together from the fractures of her decisions.
You found it difficult to hold yourself at a distance from what he had shared. He was objectively someone you barely knew — someone whose life intersected yours for the briefest of moments. You were supposed to suspend your trust in these circumstances, that a narrative spun in a place and time like this could become whatever version the narrator needed it to be. You had reminded yourself of this already tonight, more than once, and it had helped less each time.
Because there was something about him as he talked that tethered his words to the haunted yearning he struggled to hide.
Raw honesty had a particular quality that was very difficult to sustain without it being exactly what it appeared to be, and what you were watching was not someone shaping a narrative for your benefit. It left you wondering, with a growing sense of disbelief, how someone who spoke with such care and openness could have been met with so little of it in return.
“Did your friend know?” you asked. “The one who set up the blind date—did he know what she was like?”
Beomgyu pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head slowly. The rueful smile returned, directed more at the memory than at you. “Taehyun had no idea,” he said. “If he had, he wouldn't have pushed me into it. He felt terrible when everything came out—kept apologizing for weeks, wouldn't let it go no matter how many times I told him it wasn't his fault.”
“Taehyun?” You blurted out, eyes going wide like saucers. Your sudden rise in volume in turn startled him. “Kang Taehyun?”
“Yeah,” he answered, hesitating for a brief second before adding, “Do you… know him? I mean—it's not a rare name, there are probably—”
“No, hold on,” you muttered, already scrolling through your gallery with growing urgency until you found what you were looking for. You turned your screen toward him, leaning across the space between your seats. “This Taehyun. Is this him?”
Simultaneously leaning forward, creased eyebrows crinkling up and mouth falling agape in recognition, he pointed a finger at your screen.
“That’s Taehyunnie,” he chortled. “Yes—yes! That's my friend. That's him.”
“You’re kidding.” You pulled back with a laugh of your own that came out slightly unhinged, pressing your palm briefly to your forehead. “He's my friend too.”
He fumbled for his own phone, unlocking it with hurried movements and swiping into his gallery. He held his screen beside yours, flipping through a series of photos — some from school days and others more recent, Taehyun in various configurations with a younger-looking Beomgyu across several years.
“Look—this is us. This one was last year,” he said, tapping a photo of the two of them against the backdrop of the Han River at night.
“What are the actual odds,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “How does that even happen.”
“The world is ridiculously small.” He huffed out a breath. “Which university?”
“Same as him. Same department too,” you said, sitting up straighter now, the earlier heaviness of the conversation completely overturned. “We were year mates.”
“I've known him since school. We ended up at different universities but we never lost touch.” He let out another incredulous laugh. "I can't believe I've never seen you around.”
“He never mixes his people.” With deft fingers, you quickly texted Taehyun asking about Beomgyu. You hoped the network was cooperating. “I don't think I've ever seen him introduce anyone from different parts of his life to each other.”
“That explains a lot. He’s always been like that,” Beomgyu said, nodding. "I've met maybe two people from his university years, and both times it was accidental."
This unbashful feeling of giddiness was so, so stupid, but you didn’t feel the need to hold yourself back anymore. How narrow could the world be? How could it be, that you had wandered unknowingly alongside him for so long? Something that had felt like a wall between you — the stranger-ness of him — had just been pulled away. Your heart leapt with joy.
Conversation lulled into momentary silence but it was thrumming with the last of your laughter and the surprise that had not yet worn off. Staring into each other’s eyes you both felt this growing sense of belonging that you were not feeling around each other when you met.
“I feel so happy,” he confessed with a warm smile. The flat of his palm caressed his chest where his heart laid. "I don't know why exactly. I just—I really do."
"Me too," you said simply. And you meant it all the way down.
He had this tendency to say more with his eyes than his mouth could describe, something you observed he’s been doing all evening. You loved deciphering him this way.
"I kept thinking we'd get off the train and that would be it," he said, his gaze dropping briefly to your hands before returning to your face. "That you'd be a good memory I wouldn't have any way of returning to. I kept thinking I should prepare myself for that. It’s… comforting knowing that we can actually keep in touch.”
You tilted your head sideways, narrowing your eyes playfully. "So without Taehyun, we wouldn't have managed that?" you asked with a light, probing edge.
The surge of satisfaction that grasped you was palpable when you saw him undone by you. Colour rose along his cheeks — heat that crept upwards even as his charming smile held, because Beomgyu was choosing to ride the wave you clearly already had.
“I can be friendly,” he murmured with a croon as he leaned forward, elbows coming to rest on his knees and closing the distance between you by a fraction that registered in every nerve you had. His gaze that stayed on yours asked for nothing and yet held your attention completely.
You hummed, nodding for him to finish what he started. “Go on.”
"I would have found a reason to stay right here regardless." His fingers brushed once against the fabric near your knee as the train swayed. An involuntary shiver ran up you just from that miniscule of a contact. "But I'd rather earn it," he said. "Starting with being your friend."
You were looking at each other so intently that anything beyond the two of you went unnoticed. The rest of the compartment might as well have fallen away. You had eyes for each other and nothing else.
"I'd like that," you said, and let your voice drop a little so that he had to lean slightly closer to catch it. "I'd like to be your friend too."
"Good." The curve of his mouth was slow and warm. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Your heart raced with nerves and exhilaration. Just then your phone vibrated against your palm, abrupt enough to pull you back.
Tyun
wait why are you asking about beomgyu
are you actually on the same train as him rn. please say yes
Tyun
ok if you are- he's one of the best people i know. genuinely. you're in good hands.
also this is the funniest thing that's happened to me all week and i'm at my friend's wedding rehearsal dinner so that's saying something
You stared at the screen for a moment, the corner of your mouth pulling up despite yourself. Of all the moments for Taehyun to come through with a functional response, it had to be now. While you had gone silent, Beomgyu began to feel a tad bit of concern over his choice of words. Had he pushed you too far?
"Everything okay?" he asked.
You looked up from the screen and met his eyes, and this time you didn't look away first.
"Yeah," you said. "More than okay."
The pellucid certainty with which you had said it did more than reassure him. He had meant what he said about earning it, about taking things at the pace they were supposed to take, and that intention hadn't moved. But intentions and the pull he felt sitting across from you occupied two entirely separate parts of him, and the latter was becoming considerably less manageable by the minute.
"I should probably stop making this all about me," he said, gathering himself back into some semblance of composure. "That feels a bit unfair at this point."
“Unfair?” you echoed, a hint of disbelief slipping through.
The word sat oddly with you. You had not felt shortchanged for a single moment. If anything, you had been the one taking more than you gave, learning him piece by piece while keeping most of yourself tucked carefully away, and the imbalance had been entirely your doing. The fact that he had read the conversation as one-sided in your favor was almost endearing enough to be a problem.
"I've done most of the talking," he went on, reading nothing of where your thoughts had just gone. "You've been sitting here listening this whole time. That can't be a particularly good deal."
You almost smiled at that. He really did think this had been one-sided. He had no idea what his presence had been doing to you the entire time.
"I don't know." You shrugged, a soft breath escaping you. "I actually like hearing you talk."
His brows rose, caught off guard. There was nothing particularly remarkable about his voice, or so he had always thought. The urge to just cross over this friendly boundary still maintained slyly by the two of you was becoming more and more overwhelming for him.
You pressed your lips together for a second, and then shook your head. The words you had chosen felt insufficient for what you had actually meant.
“No—that’s not quite right,” you corrected, more honestly this time. "I love your voice. I could listen to it for a long time. Is that a strange thing to say?"
There were too many things Beomgyu could say, and none of them felt safe enough to let out without altering the course of where this was going.
"No." He breathed, and it came out faster than anything he had said before. He stopped right after it, lips parting as if to add more. “I just—”
You watched him try again. It only made your curiosity deepen.
“I’d like to hear about you too,” he confided a little softly. “If you’re willing.”
You bit down on your lip to keep your expression from giving too much away. He knew exactly what he was doing and he was not being clever about any of this. Your heart argued with your senses but pragmatism had long lost its hold on you. He was just too irresistible. It was as if he inspired a recklessness in you, a desire to go all-in. Lose yourself in him completely.
You reached into your paper bag and held out one of the lemon buns toward him.
"I don't mind," you said. “Being asked, I mean.”
There is a version of this that could be explained very simply.
Two people passing the hours with conversation, letting the journey carry them forward while they trade stories to make it feel shorter. Friends, if someone were curious enough to ask.
He listened with care, asking questions without overstepping that kept you speaking. You set the pace for how much you revealed, and he respected that boundary perfectly. Just like a good friend would do, he remembered the details you shared (which truthfully surprised you) as if it mattered beyond the moment itself. It would be easy to accept that at face value, to believe that this was all it was.
Friends, as you both agreed to be.
Perhaps that was why it felt the way it did.
Because ntihng had crossed any line, and nothing had been said that could not be taken back if needed. Every word could still belong to a version of this night that ended without consequence, where you part at your destination with a smile and carry nothing forward except a pleasant recollection. At some later point, you might meet again through the same shared acquaintance. You would greet each other with the comfort you had reserved for being familiar strangers turned to friends.
But then there were smaller moments that defied such easy explanations.
The glances that did not move unless you gave him a reason to. There were gestures such as reaching over in the middle of something you were laughing about and wiping the trace of lemon cream from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, followed by the absent motion of bringing that same thumb to his mouth without breaking eye contact.
That is where the simplicity begins to fray. If this were only friendship, it wouldn't feel like this.
"This is a little strange, isn't it?" you said.
“In what way?”
“We’ve been talking for—what, over an hour?” You smiled a little; there was a daze that washed over your face from settling into the moment. "And I don't feel like I'm talking to someone I just met."
That downward smile was going to be the death of you. “I stopped thinking of it that way a while ago.”
Just as you'd expected, he voiced the very thing you'd been longing to hear without any hint of insincerity. You had felt it coming in the way you feel the temperature drop before rain — how easily he kept meeting you where you stood.
"Honestly, I kind of assumed we'd eventually hit an awkward patch," he admitted. “Or that we’d run out of things to say.”
He had expected for the specific variety of silence that descends when two strangers have exhausted their common ground and are waiting for a graceful way to stop pretending otherwise. Strange, how quickly that concern had disappeared without him noticing when exactly it had stopped mattering.
“I’m almost disappointed about that.” You laughed, shaking your head. "I had a whole exit strategy prepared."
“Really?” he asked, a hint of disbelief slipping through. “You don’t strike me as someone who needs an escape plan.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen me in a truly terrible conversation.” You quirked one side of your lips. “Trust me, I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be.”
“Were you close to using it?”
His voice carried a lightness that didn't entirely mask the fact that the answer actually mattered to him. The idea of you having considered leaving even hypothetically — it bothered him.
“No.” The single syllable rolled off your tongue slowly. “I didn’t need to.”
There was that damn downturned smile again. You were convinced that until this point he did that on purpose. But now you don't even know anymore.
“I’m glad I made it past that, then.”
It had slipped from notice that the blizzard outside had picked up and how far the train had traveled cutting through sheets of snow. The space you carved out with him held its own pocket of time that the world beyond the glass had stopped feeling entirely real.
“I’m going to step away for a minute,” you said, rising to gather yourself. You needed to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back.”
He gave you a small nod, letting his eyes linger on you for a moment — just a second.
“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll be right here.”
Once you left the carriage, Beomgyu’s nerves finally lit up and ran through him all at once. He sank back into his seat, composure slipping now that there was no reason to hold onto it. It didn’t make sense how present you still felt.
Had he said too much? Not enough? He tried to retrace the conversation, searching for when he may have gone too far, but every answer blurred into the next. He hoped he hadn't bored you. God no — he hoped you weren’t just humoring him out of politeness, offering him your attention so he would not feel out of place.
Politeness could mimic interest so convincingly that it frightened him. He had spent a year learning that lesson and several months afterward trying to unknow it. He had to close his eyes just to escape those thoughts. But you were there against his eyelids still, as if his mind had been waiting for the moment it could drift back to you without resistance.
Beomgyu dragged both hands over his face and bent forward until his elbows met his knees. He let out a low groan that was muffled into his hands. He couldn't believe how far gone he already was, and so quickly.
This was a completely unprecedented situation for him. Barely even knew you for a few hours and he’d already undone all the resolution he’d worked months on rebuilding after his last relationship fell apart. He had told himself, after everything with her, that whatever came next would be approached with care. He would take his time and not give himself away so completely to someone he hadn't yet earned the right to trust with that.
You, a stranger on a train — even though that word had begun to lose its meaning — reached into his heart and stirred life where he had grown accustomed to stillness. How on earth did you manage that so easily?
Every time you had looked at him his breath had caught before he could do anything about it. Every time he looked at you, he wanted to leave you just as breathless. He wanted to take his air back from your lips.
Still hunched forward in that position, he dropped one hand and reached into his pocket for his phone. The signal had been unreliable all evening, yet he placed the call anyway and lifted the device to his ear, waiting through the faint interference.
Lucky for him, it did go through.
"Taehyun."
Taehyun's voice came through slightly distorted, carrying the ambient noise of wherever the rehearsal dinner had deposited him. "Hey—what's up? I heard you met my fri—"
“How come you never mentioned her?” Beomgyu asked gravelly, his palm still pressed against his face.
There was a definite pause from the other side. Then a sound that was unmistakably Taehyun trying not to laugh.
“What? You're not making any sense." Taehyun hummed, then clicked his tongue. "Actually, you are making sense. You're making a very specific kind of sense. So I'm guessing that means you two are getting along."
Beomgyu pressed his fingertips to his temple and said nothing for a moment. The answer was obvious to him and yet impossible to articulate without sounding ridiculous. How could he possibly condense the way you'd become his every waking thought into something as simple as getting along?
He could only place the blame on Taehyun.
If he had been introduced to you at any point before this — he liked to believe things might have unfolded differently for him. Perhaps then he would have avoided the long detour of heartbreak that had left him so guarded in the first place.
With a sigh, he slouched back again in his seat. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Taehyun made a sound of vague acknowledgment, oblivious to what Beomgyu was implying. "Well, yeah. She's good people. I figured you'd work that out on your own."
Taehyun didn’t have to describe how wonderful you were for Beomgyu to understand that you were someone worth taking a risk on. Beomgyu was enchanted, irrevocably shackled to you. Right now he couldn’t conceptualize beyond you, was already wondering how much longer until you returned, was already longing to have more time before he had even figured out what to do with the time he had already been given.
That was right, what he wanted was more time with you that was unburdened by the end of this journey. He longed for conversations with you that were not bound by the ticking of stations, moments that didn't feel so transient. He wanted to see you again in a setting that did not threaten to take you away at any second.
His grip on the phone tightened slightly. “I’ll call you later.”
“Yeah, sur—”
He ended the call and set the phone face-down on his thigh.
You would be back any minute. He needed to put himself back together before you came through that door. He straightened up. Ran a hand through his hair. Exhaled slowly through his nose.
He was absolutely, completely fine.
The narrow corridor felt even more confined as you walked out, permeated by a warmth that clung a little too closely to your skin. It was difficult to tell whether it came from the heating circulating through the carriage or from within you. Honestly, after a moment, you stopped trying to work that out. The distinction began to feel irrelevant to hold your attention for long.
You stood at the small sink and looked at your own reflection in the mirror above it, and the face that looked back at you was not particularly useful at concealing things. You liked whatever was happening between you and him. You couldn't recall the last time you'd felt that rush in your chest. You were not the type to be swept up without noticing but you had no interest in pulling yourself back either. He made you want to remain exactly where you were and see what came next.
Still, the complicating factor was how this choice was fundamentally undermining all your personal aspirations. You were a believer in time. You always made sure to thoroughly get to know the person before letting anything more substantial take root. That was a rule you lived by. You never had before, nor had you ever found a reason to doubt it.
Within the span of a single evening, Choi Beomgyu was dismantling that whole belief system.
You reached for the door, pausing only for a second before pulling it open. Once this journey ends and you both decide to keep things friendly, you couldn't foresee the path your friendship might take.
You had your eyes downcast but you looked up when you stepped back into the carriage. Heart leapt so hard that it hurt when you saw him. He was exactly where you had left him, and he was already looking toward you. The small lift of his hand in greeting carried more impact than it should have given how little time had passed.
There was no way of deciding the outcome here, standing in the train — but you could decide what to do with the present.
With a returned smile, you steadied a hand on the overhead bin when you felt the carriage sway. Had the wind outside gotten worse so suddenly? The motion underfoot no longer matched the memory of it from a few minutes ago.
An unanticipated lurch snapped through your footing and destabilized you. Your grip slipped and you caught yourself against the nearest seat with a jolt that travelled up your arm. Beomgyu across from you was already half out of his seat, both hands reaching towards you with intentions to catch you before you hit the ground. Pure panic written so openly across his face that it stopped you for a second. You had not seen that expression on him before. You shook your head before pushing yourself upright again. Waving him down, you sent a quick signal that all was well.
You managed only two more steps.
In a sudden motion, the train slowed and threw everyone forward. The deceleration ripped the ground beneath you and you were falling backwards before your mind processed what even was happening. The impact with the floor was cushioned underneath your head only because you felt hands wrapped around you turning the fall into something controlled yet no less forceful as both of you went down together.
Metal screamed along the rails, a prolonged and violent scrape that resonated through the carriage and pounded into your skull. It went on and on while the brakes worked through their full range before the train finally seized to a jarring halt. The force of it traveled upward through the floor, through your spine, through every bone in your body at once. Overhead compartments sprung open under the strain, and luggages came down in heavy bursts striking seats, the aisle, anything in its path.
“Fuck—watch out—!!”
You couldn’t even tell whose voice belonged to who.
Even if the fall had injured you, your panic-driven mind latched onto two things — the bags coming down and the fact that he was above you. Your hands moved before thought had any place in it. With your palms cupping the back of his head and fingers pushed through his hair, you pulled him down against you, shielding his head as best as you could. There was no room left to consider anything beyond that. Where anything might land, what might strike you instead — none of it mattered.
The lights went out. Somewhere in the darkness people fell or shouted in confusion. The cacophony of overlapping cries completely obliterated any sense of direction. The deafening ringing in your ears made you lightheaded. Your breathing came in uneven pulls, your hands still locked where they had been placed, holding him there, refusing to let go. A heavy thud landed somewhere close. Another followed.
Then a bag came down and struck Beomgyu’s back with such force that you felt it through him, hurtling down into your arms as he let out a rough, bitten-off breath against you. You blinked against the darkness, forcing your vision to adjust and your mind to catch up. A strained groan from above you left Beomgyu and your heart jumped to your throat.
"Beomgyu—" His name came out fast and ragged, barely put together.
His body had taken the hit for both of you, completely encapsulating you. He shifted slightly, warm breath ghosting unevenly against your cheek.
“I’m here,” he managed. The words were rough, so close that you felt them more than heard them. “I'm here.”
There was a flicker and then the lights came out one by one until the carriage revealed itself again in fragments. Complete disarray. Fallen bags and open compartments. People pulling themselves upright and voices rising in questions that had no answers yet.
Beomgyu pushed himself up slowly, one hand bracing beside your shoulder, the other still securely cradling the back of your head. His hair had fallen forward across his forehead and his face was in partial shadow, but it didn't obscure the strain in his expression or the tight line of his mouth as he exhaled through it.
“I’m okay,” he repeated, sounding duller from the aftermath of the impact. “I’m okay—are you—”
Instead of his hair, your hands cupped his face, a firm hold that stopped him from speaking further. “Don’t say that if you’re not sure,” you cut in, too fast to soften it. “Where does it hurt? Your shoulder? Your head—”
“Hey, hey, look at me,” he insisted softly, his hand coming up to close around your wrist for a second. That was all it took to bring you back to earth a bit. “You’re the one I’m worried about.”
He helped you sit up, but your hands were trembling. You pressed them against his shoulders, then along his arms, checking what you already feared without needing words for it. “But you—fuck,” you said under your breath, “that bag came straight down on you, I felt it, you have to—you’re bleeding? Wait—no—are you—”
"See? Nothing's bleeding. I'm okay." He spoke again, this time lower so his words fell directly into your ear while his hands intercepted both of yours before you could spiral further. He turned his head one way and then the other, letting you see until you were convinced.
“Why didn’t you move?” you were baffled.
“It didn’t matter.” He said it simply, as if the answer had been obvious from the start. His hand came up to your cheek, thumb brushed lightly along your skin as his eyes moved over your face with the same fervour you had just turned on him. "Now let me—your head, did it hit anything when you went down?"
“I don’t think so,” you said, though you weren’t entirely sure. Everything had happened too fast for you to keep track of where your body had gone, what had hit what. There were aches assembling themselves in various places that you were not currently interested in acknowledging. “I think I’m alright. I—”
You trailed off as your eyes began to wander despite what you were saying. A wave of dread washed over you as you grasped the terrifying reality of the situation — how truly alarming this was, and the chilling possibility of it being far more dire. Fuck, the train mustve been stranded.
“Do you think something happened to the tracks?” you mumbled.
“Has to be.” He glanced toward the aisle, quick, taking in what he could before looking back at you. “Something ahead must have given way.”
It wasn’t a real answer that explained anything, but you found yourself holding onto it anyway. Anything was better than letting your thoughts run too far ahead of you.
Beomgyu looked down at you. He took you in, carefully looking over you for any sign of injury and he didn’t like what he saw. The sight of how shaken you were stirred a fierce need in him to keep anything from touching you again.
“I’ve got you,” he said, and this time it stayed between the two of you.
Pushing himself up carefully on unsteady legs he pulled you with him, grabbing your hand before you could steady yourself on anything else. He didn’t let go once you were upright, keeping you close against his side.
The overhead speaker crackled to life with a burst of static that cut through the noise. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain where you are. A conductor will come through each carriage shortly to check for injuries and assess the situation.”
Nobody particularly listened. People were already reaching for what had fallen and trying to check on each other. Beomgyu didn’t wait either. He guided you back to your seat through the narrow space, keeping you within reach the entire time. Once you were seated you watched him position himself between you and the pandemonium unfolding behind him.
You had somewhat calmed down by then. Your pounding heart settled into a more manageable pace, though every now and then you flinched when something remotely loud happened around you. From where you sat, you looked up at Beomgyu’s standing figure. You were certain he was pretending far too well. You literally felt the bag hit him. You curled your fingers around his sleeve and gave a weak tug to garner his attention.
“Beomgyu?” you called out softly. “Why don’t you sit down?”
He glanced at your hand on his arm, then at your face. A soft smile appeared. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his palm settling gently at the back of your head.
“I promise I'm okay.”
You frowned at his response. You did not accept his words easily no matter how much you wanted to believe them. Tiny beads of sweat remained at his brow, partially hidden by hair that no longer sat in place from the earlier commotion. He was holding his right side in a controlled way without appearing to hold it.
“Come here.” You tried again, moving yourself over to the next seat and patting the space you had just vacated.
Beomgyu let out a breath that might have been a laugh under different circumstances, but he didn’t argue this time. Just when he was about to sit, the carriage door at the far end swung open and a conductor came through. He looked rattled as the rest.
“What’s going on?” Beomgyu didn’t wait to ask once he reached your row.
The conductor glanced between the two of you before answering. “We had to stop the train,” he explained, glancing briefly down the aisle where other passengers had begun to gather. “There's a section of track ahead where the ground has dipped significantly under the snowfall. We couldn’t risk pushing through.”
Hearing this, a worried — “What?” — left you, causing the conductor to subtly panic.
“There's no immediate danger,” he added, pivoting to you quickly. “The train is stable where it is. We're positioned near a town, and we've already been in contact with the main control unit. Arrangements are being made.”
“Arrangements?” Beomgyu pressed. He wasn’t satisfied with vague answers at a time like this. “What does that mean exactly?”
“Emergency vehicles should be here by morning.” He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then continued, “It will take a few hours.”
“How long are we talking about?” Someone from the small crowd asked.
“I can’t give you an exact time,” he admitted with a faltered look. “The weather’s working against us. It could take the entire night. I wouldn’t want to promise otherwise.”
A murmur moved through the people within earshot. You pressed toward the window.
The tracks outside had vanished entirely beneath the snow, swallowed into a continuous white expanse that stretched beyond the rails and erased the boundary between the ground and everything else. Further out, across the distance, a scatter of low buildings broke the line of white — dim lights burning in their windows, the shapes of signs and structures suggested inns, maybe homes, maybe a combination of both.
The town sat there within reach and still felt removed.
Beomgyu in the meantime finished talking to the conductor. Seeing you looking out the window unmoving, he took the seat beside you without a word. He could tell there was something weighing on your mind, evident in those pretty depths of your eyes.
“Do you have enough warm clothes on you for the night?” he asked, his hand coming to rest against your arm. “They're reducing power to conserve energy. The heating won't hold through the night.”
Ignoring his question, you instead asked something else. “Is this really safe?”
You didn’t look away from the window even after asking it. Matter of fact, he had been circling the same thought himself. The train was stable, technically, but it certainly wasn’t going to be a wise decision to stay the night in a train that was already losing warmth by the minute. His focus flicked to the window, to the blinking lights of the town against the white sheet. Each of them was an opportunity beckoning him to act.
There was something he could do but that wasn’t a decision he was willing to make alone.
“Would you feel safer spending the night in one of those inns?” the gentleness of his voice coaxed you to meet his eyes.
“But…” you trailed off, glancing out again before turning back to him. Your voice lowered slightly. “How do we know there's even a room available? Everyone’s stuck here. We won't be the first ones to think of it.”
He nodded with a hum, considering it properly. There was a possibility that what you said might be true. There were no guarantees waiting out there. If he took you out there and came back with nothing, it would turn into a pointless trip through the cold. Worse, it would mean dragging you through it for no reason at all and you might end up sick. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for that.
“I can go and check first,” he said after a moment. “Just to know what we’re dealing with.”
You blinked at him. You weren’t dumb to understand what he meant, not at all — but it was still absurd hearing him say it so plainly.
“What do you mean, you?” you asked, eyes narrowing.
“I'll ask around, see what the situation is,” he explained. “You can stay here until I—”
He started to get up, and your hand tightened instantly around his sleeve.
“Beomgyu, you’re not going alone.”
He was taken aback by the severity of the way you spoke — leaving no room for him to protest. Your voice never raised but it still pinned him to place.
“I’ll be fine,” he tried, the tail end of it with a chuckle. His hand coming up as if to ease your grip. “It’s just a quick check. I can’t have you out there in this—you’ll be drenched before we even reach the town.”
“And you won’t?” you returned, your brows pulling together.
He exhaled through his nose, the argument falling apart before it could fully form. “It’s better than both of us going out there for nothing.”
You shook your head. You could see what he was trying to do, see the way he was placing you first again, but it only made you stand your ground firmer.
"You're already hurt. I felt that bag come down on you. I watched you hold your side for the last twenty minutes thinking I wouldn't notice," you said, more adamantly this time. “And you want to walk out into a blizzard alone? That's your plan?” As if that made any sense.
He opened his mouth.
"No," you said, before he could use it. You stood, keeping your grip on his sleeve, and moved to face him properly. "Whatever happens from here—we figure it out together. That's not a negotiable point. You don't get to make that call by yourself and leave me sitting here wondering."
You felt a little ashamed of the tremor in your voice; with the way your words had spilled out with such naked fervor — but you had meant every last one of them, and you knew it even as the heat climbed into your cheeks. Beomgyu was no longer a stranger to you. You couldn't have explained it to anyone with any satisfying logic or couldn't have justified the fierceness of it. But the care was there. You cared the way you'd care for someone who had been woven into your life for years, not someone you'd only met hours ago on a train that smelled of old upholstery.
You were not going to stand by and watch him walk out alone into a blizzard with a hurt shoulder because he had decided your comfort was worth more than his own.
“I’m coming with you,” you pleaded softly, your gaze dropping as you lost the nerve to hold his eyes any longer. Your grip loosened, sliding down his sleeve until your fingers found his wrist and curled around it. His pulse was there, warm beneath your fingertips. “So don’t go alone… please.”
Beomgyu had gone completely still. His eyes were wide, you'd seen that much in your periphery before you'd looked away. His mouth had opened just slightly, the beginning of a word that never arrived.
He wasn't sure what he would have said anyway. He wasn't sure he was capable of forming language at all right now, because something in his chest had just detonated so quietly and so completely that he almost expected to look down and find himself changed.
Cared for — this was… this was something he never imagined he would feel anytime soon. He hadn’t expected this from you. From anyone, maybe, but especially not you. Why would he? He had only known you today. One single day, and yet you had felt more real to him than most things he could name in his life.
He wanted to pull you into him. He spent a very willful second not acting on it, gaze cutting sideways to avoid the sight of your downturned face — because if he kept looking at you, he wasn't sure what he'd do and he was even less sure he'd regret it.
He said your name under his breath. The single syllable found you anyway.
You looked up.
He wished you hadn't, and he was also very glad you had. Beomgyu felt the sensation of his heart being pulled clean out of his chest. If this is what dying feels like, he thought, I wouldn't mind it happening again. He wouldn't mind it happening every day for the rest of however long he had.
He slipped his hand free from your loose hold and turned his palm, lacing his fingers through yours. A bloom of heat spread from that one point of connection until it reached somewhere behind your sternum and sat there.
“You’re right, I'm sorry.” He smiled softly, squeezing your hand. "Let's go together."
You let out a shaky sigh of relief. Your smile came back at him unsteady at the corners but genuine all the way through.
Beomgyu backtracked to find the conductor while you waited near the door of the compartment, your joined hands finally separating only because they had to. He found the man near the vestibule.
"We'd like to stay the night in town, if that's permitted," Beomgyu said in a stable tone he'd had to rebuild from scratch in the last five minutes. "Is there any flexibility on that?"
The conductor considered him for a moment, then nodded. "You won't be the first to ask, and it's no trouble on our end—but for the safety of all passengers, anyone arranging their stay nearby will need to leave their contact information and boarding details with me before they go. It’s for record-keeping and to ensure everyone is accounted for when we resume.”
"Of course." Beomgyu turned to glance back at you, and you were already moving forward, having caught enough of the exchange to understand.
You gave your name, your boarding details, the number they could reach you at. Beomgyu followed after you and gave his own. Once the conductor had everything noted down, he gave you both a brief nod of acknowledgment and moved on. Beomgyu adjusted his bag onto his left shoulder — the uninjured one. You made a mental note to find a moment to properly check on it later.
To your surprise, he reached for your luggage. Foolish man, did he think you were going to let him take on the burden? You stopped him, fixing him with a look that you hoped communicated the full extent of what you thought of that idea.
Beomgyu withdrew his hand. He was very clearly suppressing a smile about it. You chose not to acknowledge this.
One of the crew members patrolling outside the vestibule came around to assist with the snow covered steps. You passed your bag down first, then stood at the top of the steps as Beomgyu reached the bottom and turned back toward you with both arms open. You took hold of him and stepped down, the snow compressing softly beneath your weight. The two of you were standing so close that you could see a snowflake catch in his lashes before the wind took it.
He found your hand and pulled you forward into the dark.
The town was supposedly a ten-minute walk. But the wind had teeth. It came at you sideways, driving the snow in sharp little gusts into every gap between your scarf and your collar. Not to mention, it kept finding your eyes regardless of which direction you angled your face. You dropped your head and followed the forward pull of his hand, trusting his sense of direction entirely when your own vision had reduced to a narrow strip of ground directly ahead of your feet.
He turned to look at you with his hair whipping across his forehead. "You okay back there?" he asked loudly over the wind.
"I'm okay," you called back. "Keep walking."
He turned forward again, and his grip on your hand tightened.
The local inn was the first lit building you reached, its windows glowing a deep amber against all that darkness. The woman on the other side who had clearly been watching the path and had seen you coming opened the door before you reached it. You were ushered into the warmth of the entrance, and the sudden change in temperature hit you so completely that you went still for a moment just to absorb it. Towels were pressed into your hands almost immediately, and someone disappeared to retrieve a space heater, guiding you both toward the lounge.
You were the one who approached the front desk once you'd gotten your bearings back, pulling your scarf down from your face and explaining the situation to the receptionist. She listened with her eyes on her screen, typing as you spoke, and her expression did a small and very telling thing when she reached whatever entry she had been looking for.
"I'm very sorry," she said, and she did sound it. "With the weather and the number of people who've come in tonight, we only have one room left."
"I'll take it." Beomgyu, who had been standing by your side, said to the receptionist as he produced his card from his wallet. "For her."
You turned to look at him slowly.
He was staring at the receptionist.
"Only for me?" you asked.
That made him look at you. "You'll have somewhere to sleep and you won't have to worry abo—"
"Where will you stay?"
Beomgyu did not find the courage to tell you that he was planning to go back to the train. In that pause you turned back to the receptionist before he could reconstruct whatever answer he'd been assembling.
"We'll both take it," you told her. "Both names on the booking, please."
She processed this without a visible reaction and set the key on the counter. You picked it up before Beomgyu could.
"Didn't I say," you began, "that from here on out, we'd stick together?"
He was losing his mind. This was a verifiable fact, and he was now conducting a very private reckoning with himself somewhere three steps behind you as you ascended to whatever floor the room was on. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd share a room with you. One bed, presumably, since there was one room and he was not going to suggest you sleep on a chair. He would gladly take the floor himself if it came to that.
But you — you looked completely unaffected. He could not tell whether you genuinely weren't affected or whether you were simply so much better at concealing it than he was. Either possibility was going to keep him awake tonight, and the irony of that was not lost on him at all.
Beomgyu had known, in the abstract, that you were going to be the end of him. He just hadn't expected it to happen this fast.
However, that ‘unaffected’ demeanor of yours slipped soon enough.
At the door, he watched you work the key into the lock. It caught on something inside the mechanism, and you had to pull it back halfway and try again. You were holding yourself together. It was a valiant performance. He was almost convinced.
Almost being the operative word, because your hands were still shaking.
"Sorry, I—these keys are—" The sentence dissolved. You were not sure what you had intended to finish it with.
It wasn't only the cold making your hands uncooperative. You were acutely aware of the warmth radiating off him from where he stood behind you. So far you were putting a brave front that you were extremely okay with sharing a room with him. But in the privacy of your own skull the facade you had been constructing since the front desk began developing very audible fractures.
You finally got the lock. The door swung inward.
You stared at the predicament in front of you, and you could almost hear the splinters of your self-control breaking echoing in your ears.
It was not a bad room. There was a single window set into the far wall with the curtains already drawn against the snow, a desk against one wall, a wardrobe; the usual geometry of a hotel suite and perfectly adequate in every respect except for the one that mattered.
The queen-sized bed sitting squarely in the middle of the room.
You were distantly conscious, without turning around, of Beomgyu coming to stand just inside the doorway. The jitters that had been lurking at the base of your stomach all evening were now making their presence extremely known.
Goosebumps moved along your arms when he spoke.
“I’ll go ask for an extra mattress.”
He sounded a little weary. You turned to see him over your shoulder and found him already looking at you. One hand resting on the door frame — hovering at the threshold in a way that told you he had not yet decided whether he was fully in this room or still in the process of giving you an out.
He meant it. He would go back down those stairs right now, charm the exhausted receptionist into producing a mattress from wherever spare mattresses went on a night like this, and drag it back up here himself on a hurt shoulder without a single word of complaint. All so that the arrangement you had walked into with such apparent calm would feel less like what it was.
You held his gaze for a beat and felt the fractures in your composure spread another inch.
You turned back to the bed and told him to go ahead. Maybe the time alone would help you sort through your thoughts before he came back. What you didn’t know was that by letting him leave for a while, you had given him the same chance to collect himself.
Beomgyu peeled himself from the door frame and left, pulling the door shut behind him with a soft click. You sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the curtains for a while.
As soon as he was out, Beomgyu pressed his back against the wall beside the door and dragged both hands up over his face, muffling a whine. He stood there for a moment in that position and then, he tipped his head back and let it knock against the wall once. The impact sent a dull throb radiating from his shoulder blade, where the bruise from the bag had been quietly intensifying for the last hour. He winced a little as he slowly rolled his shoulder back.
Everything was going to be just fine if he found an extra mattress, right? He was a rational person and this was a rational solution and there was absolutely no reason for his brain to go anywhere near the alternative, which was—
He was not going to finish that thought.
He was, unfortunately, already finishing that thought.
It wouldn't be the worst thing, said some deeply unhelpful corner of his mind, sharing a bed. You've had a long day. You've both had a long day. It would be fine—
Beomgyu slapped himself on the cheek. A sting that bloomed across this skin that he thoroughly deserved, and which he hoped would serve as an adequate eviction notice for whatever was currently colonizing his better judgment.
There was a man at the end of the corridor.
A staff member, identifiable by his vest, holding a stack of folded towels and staring at Beomgyu with a wide neutral expression. He was definitely going to be thinking about it for the rest of his shift and possibly several shifts thereafter. The two of them made prolonged awkward eye contact. Beomgyu slowly lowered his hand.
"Evening," Beomgyu said.
The man blinked. "Evening, sir."
Whatever remained of his dignity was simply going to have to be enough to work with. He cleared his throat and walked toward the man, adorning a smile pretending as if nothing happened.
"I suppose you'd know if there are any spare mattresses available for the night?" he asked, with what he felt was perfect charm. "Or even a cot—anything along those lines would do."
The staff member's expression morphed into something genuinely apologetic as he shifted the towels in his arms. "I'm sorry, sir, we've had a full house tonight with the weather—we've no spare beds or pillows left at all, I'm afraid." He paused, as if taking stock of Beomgyu's face and finding something there that warranted the addendum. "We do have extra blankets, though, if that would help. Plenty of those."
Beomgyu looked at him for a moment.
"Blankets," he repeated.
"As many as you'd like, sir."
So the mattress plan was dead and his self-respect had taken significant casualties. He more or less expected this outcome so he accepted this information with a nod that he hoped projected serenity, and thanked the man.
You had managed to do very little in the time he was gone except sit on the edge of the mattress and stare at the middle distance. So when the door opened you startled badly enough that your hand flew to your sternum.
Beomgyu, to his credit, took one look at you and chose not to say a single word about it. He stepped inside and set the folded stack of blankets he was carrying onto the armchair in the corner.
“They didn't have any mattresses to spare.” He paused. “They were, however, extremely enthusiastic about giving me blankets. Enough blankets to—I don't know—build a fort, maybe.”
Despite everything, the laugh that came out of you was genuine. Beomgyu's mouth curved into it too, and for a moment the two of you were just sitting with the absurdity of the whole evening.
“A fort,” you repeated.
“Structurally sound, I think, if we're creative about it.”
You shook your head, still smiling, and the fizzle of nerves in your stomach went down several degrees.
“Go freshen up first,” he said, nodding toward the bathroom. “The water should be warm by now.”
“I'm alright,” you said, and it was the truth — or at least, you needed it to be true for a little while longer. “I need to sit down for a bit more. You go ahead.”
He looked at you for a moment, considering, and then decided not to argue. He pulled a change of clothes from his bag and disappeared through the bathroom door without another word.
The room was very quiet without him in it.
You sat in silence for another moment before reaching for your bag and pulling out what you needed for the night. You laid everything out on the bed beside you and tried not to think too hard about anything. But you couldn't stop thinking about what had happened so far. Every time you tried to gather yourself, another memory surfaced before the previous one had even faded properly.
You were still going through your bag when the bathroom door opened.
Beomgyu emerged with a towel slung around the back of his neck, working the ends of it through his damp hair. The coat and heavy winter layers were gone. He was wearing his jeans still and a white t-shirt that had clearly been retrieved from the depths of his bag, and the effect of the lamplight on that particular combination was — you needed to look at something else. You found something extremely interesting to look at in your open bag and devoted your full attention to it.
"Bathroom's all yours," he said, dropping into the armchair and draping the towel over one knee. He picked up his phone and looked at it, and did not appear to notice anything. You were grateful for this, whether it was genuine or not.
You gathered your things and left without further incident. When you came back out, hair damp and changed into something warmer, Beomgyu had moved from the armchair to the floor. He was arranging the extra blankets with his back against the side of the bed, long legs stretched out in front of him. He'd turned the overhead light off at some point, leaving only the bedside lamp, which gave the room a softer ambience.
The sliver of skin peeking out under the neckline of his shirt stopped you. You’d been meaning to say something about the bruise but you weren't sure how to start the conversation. You were still trying to locate that opening when your phone buzzed on the bed where you'd left it. You picked it up and felt your chest swell up with guilt as you read the name on the screen.
You answered, sitting on the edge of the mattress and pulling your knees up. "Hi, mum."
Beomgyu did not look up, but was already preparing to take himself somewhere else in the small room to give you space to talk. He settled quietly against the far wall instead.
Her voice came through at full volume. You held the phone a fraction from your ear and let her go, because she had earned it. She wanted to know where exactly you were, how you had ended up there, whether the inn was properly heated, whether you had eaten, whether the staff had been helpful, and whether she needed to call someone — this last question delivered with the implication that she already had a list prepared and was ready to begin working through it the moment you gave her any opening whatsoever. You answered each one in turn, assuring her that you were warm and safe and completely, genuinely fine, that the conductor had everyone's details, that the train would resume in the morning, that she did not need to call anyone at all.
"And you're not alone?" she asked, and her voice had gone from worried to specifically worried, which were two different registers that you had spent a lifetime learning to distinguish.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Beomgyu glance up.
"No," you said, and then, after a beat — "I'm with a friend."
You held his gaze for a moment, and the smile that came onto your face was small and a little helpless. Beomgyu’s breath caught but he returned it in kind — a slow, soft thing moving into his eyes before it reached his mouth.
Your mother was still talking. You made yourself listen. Soon the call ended and you lowered the phone into your lap.
The silence was beginning to close in on you. You had not moved since the call ended. Beomgyu had resettled himself against the side of the bed. You could hear the softness of his breathing and the occasional tapping of his phone screen.
Your eyes found his shoulder again. You’d been doing that all evening — returning to that spot the way a tongue finds a sore tooth. Since the moment he had put himself between you and the falling bags without a second's pause, and then sat up and asked if you were alright.
The guilt that had arrived with your mother's call had not fully left. It had just rerouted itself, going into a different chamber of your chest, and was now sitting there with everything else you hadn't said tonight.
You opened your mouth. Thought better of it. Looked at the phone in your lap, then back at him.
"Beomgyu."
He looked up.
You had not prepared a beginning for this, which became apparent almost immediately once you started. "I have something in my bag—for bruising, it's a spray, I've been carrying it around forever and I—can I see your shoulder?"
The question came out, and then before he could answer whatever polite deflection he was about to offer, the rest of it came out too, because the dam was broken and there was nothing left to hold it.
"I'm sorry." You closed your eyes for a moment, shaking your head. "I'm sorry, I keep thinking about how uncomfortable I've probably made you with all of this—I shouldn't have forced the room situation, I just didn't want you out there somewhere on a cot in a corridor with a hurt shoulder and I—" The exhale that left you came out uneven. "And I know, I know that's ironic, because now you're on the floor anyway and the whole arrangement is—I can see that it's not what you would have chosen. "
You pressed your lips together. Tried to find the thread back to something coherent.
"You've been helping me since the moment we met," you said, and your voice had gone softer, stripped of the rambling and left with only the part that was true. "Every single moment since we met, actually, and I haven't—I wanted to do something for you too. I keep thinking about your brother's ceremony."
Had he called his family after getting into this predicament? He was so excited about it, too. Your heart hurt thinking about it again.
"I just keep thinking about it and I can't stop, and I need you to know that this isn't pity, Beomgyu, I swear to you it isn't, I just—"
You didn't have the word for what it actually was. You left the sentence where it ended.
Beomgyu had not looked away from you once. He had let you go — all of it, every fragmenting, half-finished piece of it — without interrupting. In his eyes was something that lived in the same neighborhood as the way he had looked at you on the train when you'd told him not to go alone.
He reached over and took your hand.
"I'm grateful to you.” His voice was low and carried nothing except the truth of the statement. "For not giving up on me."
Your throat tightened. You looked at his hand over yours and then back at his face. The room felt warmer than it had a minute ago, and yuo were aware that you were not going to be able to say anything particularly articulate for at least another few seconds.
When you trusted your voice again, you reached for your bag with your free hand.
"Can I see your shoulder?"
This time, he nodded. He got up from the floor and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. With the spray can in hand you told him, with as much composure as you could locate, that he was going to need to take his shirt off.
Beomgyu sat motionless for a beat, then reached behind his neck and pulled the shirt over his head in one clean motion. You looked away out of instinct and heard the fabric settle. You gave yourself three seconds, which was not enough but was all you were going to get, and turned back around.
The thing was, you had not been prepared for that.
You had spent the entirety of today beside him and had built a reasonable understanding of him — tall and broad-shouldered. What you had not accounted for was what the coat and the layers had been quietly keeping to themselves this entire time. You found your breath stolen by his lean, subtle musculature, a lithesome elegance to the long lines of his body.
He was watching your face with an expression you couldn't parse. You gave him nothing back, or at least you tried to, and directed your eyes pointedly to his shoulder.
"Turn around," you said.
He listened, settling with his back to you. You uncapped the spray and focused on what you were doing. The bruise was starting to pronounce itself by the colour of it — a wide, muted violet bloom. You winced softly at the sight of it.
You pressed the nozzle and the cold spray hissed out against his skin. You heard him pull a short breath in through his teeth. The sound shouldn't have sent a shiver through you, but it did.
"Sorry," you said immediately.
"Don't be.” He exhaled, the tail end of it caught in a groan. "Keep going."
You did, working carefully across the area, your fingers hovered near his skin without touching him. The lamp threw long shadows across his back enunciating all the dips and muscles, and you were close enough that you could have rested your chin on his undamaged shoulder if you had lost your mind entirely.
When you were done you capped the spray, and he turned back around to face you.
He didn't move back. Neither did you, which meant the gap between you was considerably less than sensible. You looked at his collarbone. His jaw. Anywhere that wasn't his eyes, because his eyes were the part of him you trusted least to look at right now without consequence.
Beomgyu had spent all this time at the outer edge of what he could manage. Every time the distance had narrowed he had found a reason to widen it again, only for it to narrow once more since the moment you had taken his wrist in your hands and told him not to go alone which had cracked him right down the middle. He had talked himself back from the edge more times tonight than he could count. But you were standing in front of him now with bare inches between you, and he had just exhausted the last several minutes trying not to lose his goddamn mind.
“You keep doing that,” he murmured.
The sudden drop in register of his voice pulled you back to him again. He was ruined by you.
You frowned faintly, trying desperately to hold onto normalcy. “Doing what?”
His gaze moved fractionally away, then returned and held. "Make it difficult to remember why I should keep my distance."
The lamp caught the side of his face and you noticed, not for the first time, how much he gave away in his eyes even when the rest of him stayed composed.
It was a shame how your poor heart again picked up her pace. Your throat had gone dry.
"That's a rather serious thing to say to someone you just met." The evenness of your own voice was a small miracle.
The corner of his mouth moved just barely, not committed to a smile but got most of the way there. His gaze stayed on yours without wavering. "It is," he agreed.
Your knuckles had gone white around the spray can. The push and pull of the entire evening was still moving between you, and you knew exactly where you could meet him right now — knew he was right there waiting. But there was a part of you, stubborn and a little wicked, that wasn't done yet.
"And what made you forget?"
He answered you with his eyes dropping lower on your mouth which made your stomach turn over completely. A ghost of a smile graced your lips when he looked back up at you.
"That you're not nearly as unaffected as you act."
"Careful," you muttered. "You're starting to sound like you know me."
"I don't." There was something in the way he said it — more an observation he found genuinely interesting. "But I think you like it when people almost do."
Your next breath came out thin, and something in you that had been braced all this time slowly stopped bracing. You looked at him and past the hours of both of you circling — and you let him see it too. All of it. The fact that his name had been sitting differently in your mouth for a while now. You were standing here at the end of the world's longest day and you were not unaffected, you had never been unaffected, and you were so tired of pretending otherwise.
You reached out and cupped his jaw. You felt the imperceptible hitch of his breath — and he went very still beneath your palm.
Whispering, you asked. "Is that what you've been thinking about all evening?"
"Among other things," he breathed out.
He looked genuinely wrecked. Eyes wide, jaw slack by a fraction, all the composure he'd been maintaining for the better part of the evening dissolving in real time right there in your hand. The sight of it — of him, undone and unguarded and entirely yours to read pulled a soft laugh out of you.
"I was wondering when you'd stop pretending."
The column of his throat moved when he swallowed. "Were you pretending too?" His voice had gone very, very low.
You tilted your head at him just slightly, and let him see the answer in your face before you said it.
"What do you think?"
Your hand trailed from his jaw so slowly he felt each centimeter of the loss before you gave it back — fingers finding his hair instead, sliding through and curling, and the sensation of it traveled straight down his spine. You gave a soft tug. He had been braced for so many things tonight — but not this. His lashes fluttered, and a shiver wrung out at the edges of the breath that left him. He couldn’t help himself but lean further into your touch, savoring the feel of your palm.
He stayed there for a moment, just a moment, with the warmth of your hand against the side of his face and the soft press of your fingertips still curled in his hair, and it felt indecent how much he needed it. How long he had needed it. Everything inside him begged to reach for you.
When he opened his eyes, whatever had been left of his composure was gone. His jaw had set and his eyes had gone several degrees darker than you had seen them all day.
His hand came up and curved around the back of your neck, and he pulled you down.
It was not a soft kiss, feverish and wanting, his mouth a hungry thing against your own. It felt like a kiss he had thought about, a kiss that he could not help but hurry toward now that there was nothing left standing between him and it.
God, he thought, distantly, finally.
Just as hungry, you fell into it completely — the kiss so hard and so burning that slowing down felt almost physically impossible. The sheer intensity of it clawed out a tattered little sound from the back of your throat. The spray can found its way onto the mattress somewhere beside you as you had to catch yourself against the bare warmth of his shoulder. The uninjured one, some still-functioning part of your brain noted before that corner went quiet too.
He gently bit your bottom lip making you groan softly, his grip at the back of your neck tightening for half a second before easing again when he realized he was holding you too hard. The kiss felt so good and so right, you realized, in the blurred and breathless space between one moment and the next.
He was the one who found the way back to guide you to a gentler motion. His lips closed against yours, pressed once and held.
Your breathing had become the same air. Neither of you had managed to pull away properly, your mouths still brushing every time either of you exhaled. Your eyes wouldn't open fully, thoughts drifting somewhere far behind the haze settling over you while strands of your hair spilled forward around both of your faces.
Beomgyu’s gaze could no longer hold onto one place for very long. They moved over you slowly, greedily, taking in every detail that revealed itself now that you were this close to him; the dazed glaze over your eyes and the part in your lips still damp and red from his mouth. His hand slipped from the back of your neck to your face, fingers brushing through the strands that had fallen across your cheek before carefully tucking them behind your ear.
One more suspended second was all he took before he kissed you again.
This time, your legs went genuinely weak beneath you, a wave of dizziness rolling through your chest and down to your knees. You pitched forward with a soft sound escaping into his mouth as you had to bring your knee up onto the mattress between his parted thighs for balance.
Even through the haze clouding your thoughts, you heard the way Beomgyu moaned at the contact.
You were intoxicated by the reaction you had pulled from him so easily. Curious now, bolder, you pressed your knee up experimentally against him once more. You felt the full-body jerk of him beneath you with a hitched breath, his hand shot to your thigh and gripped it which sent heat rushing through your stomach.
There it is, you thought, and smiled against his mouth.
Groaning into the kiss, a slow roll of his hips came, involuntary at first and then less so, chasing the pressure with a hunger that made his head spin. He was so fucked. The heady taste of your mouth, the feverish press of your hands against his bare skin, the sweet sounds you kept making — sounds that he was responsible for, that he was drawing out of you — every part of you was driving him toward madness at each passing second.
Too much and nowhere near enough.
He needed — he didn't have a precise word for what he needed, only the overwhelming awareness that he needed more of it, more of you, more proximity than was currently physically possible given that you were already as close as you could get.
Beomgyu broke the kiss only to stand up, towering above you and you had half a second to register the loss before he came back down to recapture your lips. Tilting his head to find a deeper angle, he cupped your face with a possessiveness that felt completely natural to him now. Thumbs pressing against your jaw before he let them travel — sliding down the column of your throat and tracing the lines of your collarbone, traveling lower until his fingers found your waist and dug in. He pulled you flush against him which prompted your hands to tangle themselves into the hair at his nape because the alternative was falling.
“Remember earlier,” he said against your mouth, his breath warm across your lips, “when you said being chosen tonight meant you were unlucky?”
You could barely think straight enough to answer. “Mhm?”
“I would’ve spent the rest of my life regretting it if it had been anyone else.” He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, voice roughened beyond repair.
Beomgyu could not stop thinking about how fragile chance truly was.
The possibility of some other version of tonight, some parallel arrangement of events where you had gotten the luggage free on your own or someone else had been the one to offer a hand. Some other reality where he never learned your name at all. It left a bitterness crawling across his tongue he wanted to retroactively prevent.
Every alternate path that did not lead directly here felt not just improbable but wrong, an offense against some order of things he hadn't known he believed in until this moment. Because right now, you were there in front of him with flushed lips and dazed eyes. You were his reality — and he couldn't imagine having been anywhere else.
“That’s a terrible thing to sound so pleased about,” you told him, a smile threading through it despite yourself. You tipped your head to one side with a feathery exhale, wetting your lower lip. You wouldn't have had it any other way either. You knew he could see it, and neither of you needed to say so out loud for the fact to sit plainly between you. But you still wanted him to hear those words. “I think I would’ve hated it too. For the record.”
The smile that crossed his face at that was slow and a little smug and deeply, irredeemably pleased with itself.
"You look very satisfied with yourself," you told him.
"I am," he said, without any apparent remorse about it.
You laughed, and he caught the sound of it in his mouth with the same consuming want that had been there from the very beginning. You felt it everywhere, felt it travel all the way down your spine and settle low in your stomach. You could feel the hard press of him through his jeans, more than substantial and it pulled a genuine gasp which got swallowed by him.
He spun you, guiding you backward until the back of your knees met the edge of the bed and you went down and he came with you. Beomgyu held himself above you on one forearm braced beside your head, his hair falling forward in dark disheveled strands.
“Beomgyu—” His name barely survived the kiss.
It was still more coherent than his reply which didn't make it to language at all but was a low sound against your skin as his mouth found the curve of your throat and began to move downward. The heat of it was dizzying; the solid press of his chest against yours and you had to close your eyes because keeping them open felt like too much. Your back arched off the mattress on its own when he licked and nibbled on your skin with growing hunger, and every breath he dragged from you appeared to drive him further past reason.
You had never been kissed this way before. There was yearning in every part of him now, laid bare beneath your hands without concealment, and the proof of it sent your pulse racing harder when he lifted his head again to look at you.
The pause made you finally regain some semblance of rationality. When he did nothing but stare at you, a small crease formed between your brows.
“What?” you asked.
“Nothing.” He touched the side of your face, fingers tracing the line of your cheekbone. “You’re beautiful.”
The simplicity of his compliment made heat crawl up your cheek. You laughed softly, and you knew you looked a complete mess. But Beomgyu thought the opposite of whatever you were thinking about yourself. You looked even more beautiful. It made him smile too.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, the curve of your cheek, then the tip of your nose. The tenderness of it nearly ruined you more than the heated kisses had. He returned to your mouth briefly before turning his head, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear.
A startled giggle burst out of you immediately, your shoulders curling inward. “Wait—”
“You’re ticklish there?” he asked, already smiling against your skin.
“That’s not funny.”
“I think it’s a little funny.”
You shoved weakly at his chest while laughing again. He joined you, his forehead dropping to the curve of your neck and for a suspended moment you were just two people lying tangled together on a hotel bed, laughing at nothing in particular, and it was so easy and so warm that you felt your chest expand with it. You couldn't remember the last time laughter had found its way into a moment like this. It made the whole thing feel weightless, unlocked from gravity, driven by nothing except warmth and pleasure and the specific delight of being here with this specific person.
He was back to trailing kisses down the torrid skin of your collarbones before biting down on the supple flesh, eliciting a breathy moan from you.
“Beomgyu, please.”
He was breathing rougher now after hearing his name fall from your lips that way. Your head fell back against the mattress and the full line of your throat opened to him, an offering, and he took it without pause. His hand slid down your side before stopping at the hem of your shirt. Fingers curled into the fabric, his eyes lifted to yours first.
“Can I take this off?” he asked softly.
By now here was no patience left in you for a slow answer. You were hot and restless and had been running on the ragged edge of wanting him for long enough. Nodding vigorously, you let him help you. Fabric disappeared in hurried movements and half-broken kisses, your fingers brushing clumsily against his wrists whenever both of you reached for the same place at once. You wanted nothing more than the feeling of his torrid naked skin on yours.
The second the last barrier disappeared between you, you pulled him back down with a renewed hunger. When your tongue swept against his lower lip a shuddering moan tore from him. It vibrated straight into your mouth, sending a fresh pulse of heat coiling low in your core that made your toes curl against the mattress.
Even though the separation felt visceral when he sat up, the thin strand of saliva still connected your mouths for a fleeting second before breaking apart had your mind reeling. He parted your legs and settled between them. You had to resist the urge to reach for him again just to have something to do with your hands, which were suddenly and inconveniently purposeless at your sides.
You didn't know if Beomgyu had read your mind or not. Because the next moment he gathered both your wrists in one hand and held them above your head, pinning to the mattress.
"Keep them here for me, love."
The way he spoke, followed by a sweet kiss to your forehead had you clenching around nothing. You felt your arousal pooling and her skin prickling with heat, heart thundering. A whine forming in your throat that you swallowed back down, your thighs instinctively pressing inward to relieve some of the ache that had been building since the moment his mouth had first found yours. The effort was largely unsuccessful with the way he was holding your knees apart. Nothing but the slow and mounting burn of wanting him and being made to wait.
You watched him through heavy lashes as he took you in, his chest rising and falling with the same labored cadence as yours. His hand came down to the base of your throat — open-palmed, barely any pressure, just the heat of his skin against yours before he drew it downward in one long, slow pass. Over the swell of your chest that had your nipples perk up, following the line of your sternum, across the plane of your stomach, and everywhere his hand traveled the skin came alive behind it.
"You're so beautiful. I keep thinking I've gotten used to it and then I look at you again," he said, and his voice had gone so low it was nearly gone entirely. The candor in his eyes was almost too much to hold.
You bit down on your lower lip, trying to hide the shy smile. "Mhm. You said that already."
His face softened further at that, and his hand came up to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. He tilted your face toward his.
"I know," he said simply. His eyes stayed on yours. "I'm glad it was you. Out of everyone on that train tonight, I'm so glad it was you."
"Do you mean it?" you whispered back.
He took your hand from above your head and brought it down to his chest, pressing your palm flat against the place where his heart was. The gesture was so nakedly honest that it took you a moment to breathe around it.
"I do," he admitted earnestly. "What do you want me to do to make you believe?"
There was no doubt that you believed him, but he was close to begging. This man — who had been so consuming just minutes ago — was now looking at you with flushed cheeks and eyes gone wide and earnest. He was stripped of every layer of dominance he'd been wearing so naturally, and he looked so genuinely, openly gone for you that you had to press your lips together to hold back the moan just from that sight. He just kept getting better. Every single time you thought you had a handle on what he was, he turned into something more interesting.
You bit the inside of her cheek, considering. "Think you can be good for me?"
His breath left him in a rush. "Anything you want, baby." The endearment came out like it had been waiting. "I can be so good."
You tilted your head, fingers trailing idly along his jaw. "Mhmm, yeah? How will you do that?"
Beomgyu flashed you a boyish smile before pressing feathery kisses on your stomach, working his way downward and stopping right over your glistening cunt. He groaned, thumb finding your clit when he registered exactly how much he had done to you. He moved a slow, exploratory circle over that bundle of nerves and he drank up every twitch and gasp your body gave him.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispered against your inner thigh. You let out another soft sound that had his mind reeling, and he felt his cock twitch in his jeans at the thought of how much more of that he could draw out of you if you'd let him. "You can trust me."
You ran your hand through his hair, a lopsided smile on your lips. You did trust him. There was no fear in you when it came to him.
"You can do whatever you want with me," you breathed out. You never said things like that — had never felt the ground beneath you feel solid enough to say it and mean it. You meant it now. With him, in this specific moment, it felt not only natural but true. "I'm all yours."
There was a flash of something primal in those gentle eyes the moment those words left your mouth. The small smirk that followed arrived slowly and it was a different creature entirely from the boyish smile of a few minutes ago. Beomgyu blew a soft breath directly over your center — barely anything, a whisper of air — and your whole body shivered in response, a tremor that started at your core and radiated outward to your fingertips, your thighs drawing in on instinct before his hands spread them back open.
"Beomgyu—" His name dissolved into a gasp before you could finish it, your back arching clean off the mattress when he pressed his lips to your clit. A kiss so devastatingly soft it turned your brain into mush. "Oh fuck, ah—"
He smiled against you. You felt it, and it sent another shudder rolling through you causing you to blindly chase that feeling again.
Beomgyu had always considered himself a patient man. That quality was currently hanging by the thinnest possible thread, because the moment he tasted you it detonated through his senses so completely that the shockwave traveled all the way to his fingertips before plummeting his sanity somewhere down to his dick.
Encouraged by your whimpers, he flattened his tongue against your clit before delving lower to lap at the velvety lips of your pussy, exploring the wet heat with long, languid strokes. He savored the way you were so warm and slick against his tongue and each time your inner walls clenched, he probed deeper. Your juices dripped down his chin, a filthy reminder of how desperately you needed this.
He gripped your thighs, your hips, urging you forward — coaxing you to move against his mouth, to take what you needed from him — and when you did, when your hips rolled down into him with that small, desperate press, he felt his mind going completely blank. Fuck — there was your hand gripping his hair. He was huffing and taking short breaths. There was a ringing at the edges of his hearing as he looked up at you through his lashes, eyes wide and glossy because in this moment, he felt like he was made to kneel between you. You were flushed and breathing heavily but looked extremely beautiful like this.
"You taste fucking divine." His words were muffled between your cunt.
He was drunk, so high on you as he watched you let out a high pitched gasp when he eased in two fingers. Your folds stretched around the thickness of them, clenching down hard before he had fully seated them, and he groaned against you at the sensation. He began to move them in a slow drag, feeling the way your soft walls responded to each angle, each depth, each curl of his fingers, and you were already so far gone and so slick that the slide of it was obscenely easy and obscenely good.
Your head went back against the pillow. The bedsheet crumpled in your fist. His name was falling from your mouth in fragments — just sound, broken and breathless and needier than you had ever heard your own voice. Closing your eyes you let yourself get absolutely lost in the ecstatic pleasure he was giving you.
He had made you a promise and he intended to keep it. He picked up every micro reaction you gave at every thrust of his fingers, every tremble of your body when he sucked on your clit before swirling the tip of his tongue over it until he figured out what was going to take him to guide you over the edge. But looking at you, it didn’t seem like he was going to need to do much work anyway.
He could feel you spasming around his fingers, your moans were coming faster now, falling over each other, your thighs closing around his head. He was suffocating but it felt excruciatingly good that his eyes rolled briefly before he wrenched them back open, because he needed to see you, needed to watch every second of what he was about to do to you, and he was not going to miss it for anything.
Amidst all that, Beomgyu humped the mattress below him, the taste of you and the sound of your voice and the grip of your fingers in his hair combining into something that was rapidly exceeding his capacity to contain. He curled his fingers and stroked upward into the soft, swollen spot that made your whole body seize, and did it again, and on the third stroke he sucked your clit into his mouth and held it there with the flat of his tongue pressed firm against it — bringing you over a mind shattering orgasm.
It was the scratch of your nails on his scalp and the sound of his name breaking apart in your throat that made him cum. His release poured out of him in waves that left him loose and trembling and utterly, completely spent. He pressed his forehead against your inner thigh and breathed, ears ringing faintly, and the bliss that settled over him in the aftermath was so total and so warm that for a long moment he couldn't have told you where he was or how any of this had happened.
"Gyu…" you croaked. You were still trembling from the aftershocks, your whole body loose and oversensitive. You reached for him anyway, fingers finding his jaw. "Come closer."
He complied with your request and you took the chance to grab his face and kiss him hard, tasting yourself all over his wet lips. He moaned into your mouth and pressed against you. It was denim against bare skin that had you mewling, your hips jerking upward on reflex. You broke the kiss with trembling hands as they traveled down his stomach to the waistband of his jeans, working the button with fingers that weren't quite cooperating, and he let you — watched you with his chest heaving and his weight braced on one forearm above you — until the zip gave and he took it off. Your hands found the front of his boxers and stopped.
The fabric was unmistakably, warmly wet, and your brain took a full second to catch up.
"Fuck," you breathed, one finger hooking into the waistband, pulling it down slowly. His cock came free and you stared at it — flushed and thick and coated with his creamy release. “Did you cum?”
"Couldn't help it, love." His voice had the faintest note of sheepishness threading through the warmth of it. "You were so fucking good."
You didn't say anything, because there was nothing to say and also your mouth had stopped functioning properly. You pushed his boxers the rest of the way down and he kicked them off, and then he was kissing you again before he pulled back just far enough to speak against your lips.
"Protection?"
You nodded toward your bag. Beomgyu followed your gaze and reached for it in one fluid motion, rummaging through it. He found what he needed, tore the packet open with his teeth and rolled the thin rubber over his shaft, giving it a few pumps.
He was — there was no clinical way to put this — beautiful, in a manner that made your oversensitive pussy clench with a want so acute it bordered on painful.
The anticipation that coiled within your stomach crawled up to your throat and through your chest, gathering all your oxygens from your lungs on its way. Beomgyu shuddered over you, hands roaming, fingers mapping out your skin like he was committing every inch of you to memory. He lined the tip of his cock against your entrance, and drew it torturously, inexcusably slowly along your folds without pushing in.
"Beomgyu, please," you cried out after he kept stroking you. "Please—"
"Tell me if it gets uncomfortable." He was panting, chest rising and falling against yours, and he reached down to guide your knees upward, folding them gently toward your chest, opening you further. "Tell me if I hurt you, okay?"
Your bodies flushed together, every inch of heated skin sliding against the other as Beomgyu’s tip breached inside with the moan of your name. He kissed you, so deeply, so fiercely, that the gasp you let out at the stretch was entirely devoured by his mouth. The overwhelming pleasure flooded both of you until he couldn’t keep his head up anymore and it lulled forward beside yours.
Beomgyu’s mouth hung open, puffing against the hot skin of your neck as he seated himself inside you inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt and you were so full of him that your vision had gone soft at every edge. He gritted his teeth, jaw clenching as he had to fight the urge to cum from just feeling your tight walls sporadically clenching around him. Strong arms bracketed your head, caging you in and his hips started to roll in deep, languid undulations — not thrusting so much as grinding.
Each thrust carried him to the very limit of your depth before drawing back in a long, dragging pull that had every nerve ending inside you lighting up in sequence. The stretch of him was extraordinary; you felt every ridge and contour of him on each withdrawal with a vividness that had you gasping and moaning.
"Feels sooo good, Gyu—!!" you were now blabbering incohesive words, brain a complete mush under the overwhelming and capsizing pleasure of him.
Beomgyu tried to hold onto the last bit of his sanity when he felt your hand trail up to the hair on his nape, curling and tugging on a fistful. Even with a snowstorm outside, both your bodies were glistening with sweat and heat radiated off of you as you were pressed chest to chest; there was nowhere for either of you to go, every exhale of his landing directly against your face and every inhale of yours pulling in the scent of him, the heat of him, the totality of him.
Tears of pleasure sprung to your eyes. He brought his face up from biting your neck to smash his lips against yours. His tongue glided over you in messy strokes, saliva pooling at the corner of your lips and hot puff of breath exhaling against his mouth.
For the last several minutes, the bruised area was sending a dull throb through him with every movement — but Beomgyu did not give a single fuck about it. How could he even bother with it when you were there underneath him? Face blissfully fucked out with glistening lips and teary eyes, you warmth enveloping him so wholly — his shoulder could wait indefinitely. There was not a version of this moment in which he was going to stop.
The depraved sound of skin against skin along with your mingling groans and gasps resonated off the walls of the room. He could feel you clenching around him, could tell you were reaching your high again soon with how thoroughly fucked out you looked and sounded.
"Beomgyu—’m close,” is all you managed before crying out, the rest of whatever you were going to say dissolved as your back arched off the mattress, every inch of contact maximized.
You gripped him like a vice, your body quivering when you finished, his name spilling from you so sinfully that his vision went white at the edges.
He became the louder one then — groans and grunts as his thrusts became sloppier, helping you ride out your orgasm before he buried himself to the hilt in one deep thrust and spilled into the condom with a long, broken groan pressed into the curve of your neck.
Both of you were breathing hard, the sound of it filling the silence left by everything else. He didn't pull out, stayed exactly where he was, his weight settling into you gradually as the tension released from his muscles all at once. You felt him softening inside you slowly as the two of you drifted back to earth.
"So perfect," he slurred against your skin.
His lips left trails of kisses around your chest, neck, and shoulders, as if making up for every mark he couldn't leave. Tasting the salt of your skin, his tongue traced your areola that dragged a whine out of you even now. He sucked gently, then harder, then dragged his teeth across the swell of flesh before soothing it with his tongue.
You sighed at the sensation, feeling your body reaching absolute bliss. His voice brought you back from slipping into dreamland.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly, a hand running through your hair and you melted at the soothing feeling.
He lowered your legs carefully onto the mattress afterward, though neither of you made any real attempt to move apart. His chest still pressed against yours in places and your knee hooked loosely over his thigh.
“Mhm.” Your eyes slipped shut again for a second, contentment pulling through you slowly. “Is your back alright?”
Beomgyu laughed breathlessly. “We might need another round of that ice spray.”
Your eyes flew open immediately, horrified enough to make him break into genuine laughter this time. He dipped down before you could scold him, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.
“I’m joking,” he murmured against your skin. “Mostly.”
“Beomgyu.”
“There she is.” His grin widened lazily. "I was wondering how long before I got that look."
You sighed despite yourself and cupped his cheek, thumb brushing back and forth absentmindedly over warm skin. His expression changed the second you touched him again; softer instantly, eyes lowering for half a moment before returning to yours.
“You know,” you said slowly, “we’ve thoroughly ruined any chance of being friends."
“Mmhmm, well.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss into your palm. "Wasn't planning on being your friend for very long anyway."
You raised a brow at him. "Really."
Beomgyu smiled into your hand before finally looking at you properly. There was still heat in his eyes, though now it mixed too openly with affection.
"I meant it when I said I wanted to earn your trust," he spoke earnestly, playing with your hair. "I really did mean that. But somewhere around tonight, after everything—" He exhaled another laugh beneath his breath. “I got selfish. I think staying only friends with you would’ve actually killed me.”
Your stomach flipped hard at the honesty in his voice. You didn’t think you could handle any more of this man — he was seriously too much for your heart.
"You're so cute," you cooed, poking his cheek.
He stared at you. "I just confessed my suffering to you."
"You did it adorably, though."
Beomgyu stared at you in disbelief that lasted approximately a few seconds before your sweet laughter dismantled it. His mouth twitched. He pressed it flat. It twitched again. You were still smiling when his eyes dropped to your mouth; the fondness remained and the teasing still there, but desire began to creep back in beneath it piece by piece.
“Can't believe you say things like that right after ruining me for half the night,” he murmured, fingers sliding along your thigh again.
Your mouth curved. "Half the night?"
"Yeah." He chuckled, thumb grazing your bottom lip. “I’m trying to sound respectable.”
You opened your mouth and sucked on his thumb, swirling your tongue around it. The heat began its slow return through your body, and watched his jaw tighten when you released his finger with a pop. "I like you better when you're honest."
He simply looked down at you with a slow smile, tonging the corner of his lips. He then shifted a bit up and you keened with delight when he rolled his hips in one slow, purposeful thrust.
“I don’t think I’m anywhere near done with you yet.”
my yunibug has done it again! (not sure if i just came up with this nickname or if i've read it somewhere before hehe!)
can we just— OH MY GOSH ><
i have been STARVED of yun's glorious writing for two months straight, i was starting to have withdrawals!
first thing's first, the layout is gorgeous as always. i love the dividers down. yun, you never fail to give us work that is so well polished and so beautifully presented! but not only is your work nice to look at – it is even better to read!
my goodness! the tension! the push and pull! the hesitance! the yearning! i'm blown away by how you create such heat and chemistry between characters every single time!
i loved how even as things seemed to go so wrong, they were going right. gosh, beomgyu was so incredibly sexy to me in this fic, you have no idea. something about him being so gentlemanly and just putting reader and her comfortability first got me going! (i was so turned on throughout this read, i'm sorry gshdgshs) i also love the firmness she showed with giving back to him in return! i would've done the exact same thing!
as for the side characters, mr.kang taehyun come to the front! he did gods work with that text! in taehyunnie we trust, aaah! (acting like i don't want to give him multiple kisses for reaffirming what reader already knew). i love how you even gave us details about tyun and his personality! you truly think of every nook and cranny and i am insanely impressed by you (and your big brain)!
and man oh man, can we talk about the steaminess? i felt myself go dumb and dreamy reading this. LORDDD. softdom!beomgyu will be the death of me! and you write him so perfectly every time! i loved all the little details and the laughs and the intimacy! ughhh! you're so incredibly good at this! i want to say so much more, but i don't want to spoil anything for anyone who reads reblogs before the fics aargh!
all in all, i love how they just make sense together. you conveyed their personalities so clearly! once again, i am green with envy over your writing! you truly are brilliant! i loved every second of this read! don't you dare doubt your skills in this trope, ms.yun! 🫵🏼 Snowbound Affairs was truly phenomenal! easily one of my new fav works from you! ♥︎
10/10 ! i suggest you all get to reading right neow!
He was a boy trapped like a bird in a gilded cage, of ruined brushes and swallowed screams, living in a house that smelled of money and rot, where even love had to tiptoe. The only warmth he ever knew was the tired embrace of a woman not by blood, but by heart, and yet even that fragile comfort couldn’t bury the hunger blooming in him for a life beyond the rot disguised as legacy, for a new beginning he never truly believed would come.
You were an uninvited presence in his decaying world, dressed like salvation. But were you truly his salvation, or the temptation that would lead him to ruin? A shadow sent to watch him rise just to see how far he’d fall? And yet if he was to fall, like Icarus chasing the sun he should have feared, then at least he would fall knowing he’d flown.
⊹₊⟡⋆ 37.7k
pairing: Choi Beomgyu x afab!reader
warnings: this is a work of fiction. if any of the warnings trigger you, please step back from this story right away. i am not responsible for the content YOU choose to consume, thank you. — parental abuse (both verbal and physical), limited perspective, beomgyu's pov centric aka we only know what he knows, themes of manipulation, doomed found family trope (?), reader's background is vague, lots of crying and angst, depiction of murder, character death, heavy reference of Icarus throughout the plot hence arson, lots of metaphors used, ambiguous ending, mention of blood, conflicting morals [definitely missed some lol forgive me]
[MDNI] smut warning: explicit sexual content, dry humping, cowgirl position, cum eating, snowballing (ohmygosh), unprotected sex (not huzzah!), pull out method (not good bro)
Author's note: Remember how I said in the teaser it was going to be 10k? Yeah. I don't usually write anything like Metamorphosis, though this story was written back in 2022 so bringing it back and working on it again felt refreshing. I hope you patiently read through the terrifying new wc and let me know your interpretations. I need to warn you tho - Beomgyu has the survival instinct of a fart here lol I'm sorry for this. There will be no sequel of this story!
I want to recommend only one song for you to play on loop as you read this story. It is Someone to Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic.
Reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!
It was getting rather difficult for Beomgyu to keep the heavy look of censure at bay because the more he worked, the more he began to get aggravated with each brushstroke he had once been so sure of. The shadows he had so painstakingly laid appeared ill-conceived under the afternoon light and the inordinate facial features only enunciated his dissatisfaction. Most offensive of all was the goldenrod hue he had selected for the dress. How terribly it clashed with the red of the subject’s hair — he must have been deranged when he decided on it.
He paused his movements, the bristles of the paintbrush trembling inches away from contacting the canvas as he was reluctant to land another error. The evident clash of loud colours only fueled his frustration towards the piece and it almost made him discard the poor canvas.
“It looks lovely to me.”
Beomgyu startled a little at the sudden presence of the woman. She held a lavish bouquet of yellow roses as she ambled across the pale marble floor. The same cursed shade of yellow that had been tormenting his senses. The flowers swayed with each movement, giving the illusion that they, too, were taunting him. Beomgyu barely managed to stifle the groan forming in his throat.
“Thank you, Miss Hyeeun,” he said, putting his paintbrush down as another sigh escaped shortly after. “But it’s a bit of a disaster. This piece deserves no praise.”
Hyeeun, the head caretaker, hummed as she arranged the bouquet in a vase on the sidetable beside him. Her dainty fingers caressed the soft petals. Beomgyu noticed the few wrinkles that were beginning to grace her skin, and how striking it looked holding the fresh blooms. He made a mental note to paint the scene later. The painting will need a good name as well, won’t it? He’ll surely come up with something captivating.
She looked up from the flowers, arching an eyebrow. “You’re not enjoying yourself,” she stated, brushing her hands on her apron. “Isn’t painting meant to be your greatest delight, young lord?”
Beomgyu made a face. “Oh, do not start with that again. Father isn’t here to eavesdrop behind the doors. There’s no need to call me that.” He tugged on her arm, bringing her in front of the canvas. “Come now, be honest with me. Does that yellow not look dreadful beside the red? Surely a paler tone would suit it better, right?”
“If I were to agree with that,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes, “I’d be adding a few more blocks to my tower of lies.”
Beomgyu frowned at the painting, as if by force of will he might somehow find it improved. But the more he looked, the worse it became. The dress overwhelmed the figure, the figure clashed with the background, and the background — he refused even to acknowledge it. The amount of flaws only piled up. So did the subtle, growing discomfort.
“No,” he said with certainty, “red and yellow simply do not complement one another.”
“It surely doesn't make me think of fried sweets, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Hyeeun gave him a side glance, smiling. It managed to get a laugh from Beomgyu. Then she gently tugged on his ear. “And just so you know, dear, it is a fitting combination.”
“Unfitting,” he murmured, almost under his breath.
Hyeeun exhaled, a breath that almost resembled laughter, though there was no real humour behind it. Beomgyu began to put his tools away. Suddenly, she held his arm and rolled the sleeve of his shirt, baring his skin. It startled him and before he could snatch his arm away, Hyeeun had already seen it.
Dark patches littered his pale skin — blues and violets tangled with sallow yellow edges.
"Oh, heavens above," she gasped, eyes widening as she took in the state of him.
Beomgyu tried to smile, though it barely reached the corners of his mouth. "It’s all right, Miss Hyeeun," he said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. His fingers were smudged with oil, and his thumb left a faint mark on the fabric of her blouse. "They don’t hurt so much anymore, see? They’re beginning to heal."
The bruises were hardly more than three days old. Or was it four? He wasn’t sure. Time blurred when his body decided to forget. His mind, clever as it was, had learnt to tuck the worst bits into the furthest corners – something Beomgyu was glad he was capable of doing. After all, he had survived this long.
Hyeeun sucked in a sharp breath. “He’s a monster.” Her voice was trembling, eyes were glossy. Her hand, which had fallen away from his sleeve, now clutched at her apron. The sight tugged on his heart.
Without a word, Beomgyu wrapped his arms around the woman. She was smaller than he remembered, her back hunched with age and burden. He rested his chin on her shoulder.
"How could anyone treat a boy like this? The boy he brought into his home — how could he?"
Beomgyu smiled ruefully. He was glad she hadn’t called him that man’s son. She never did, and he cherished her all the more for it.
“It’s okay. You know I’m used to it by now,” he assured her.
When they drew apart, Hyeeun’s hands found his arms once more. Her fingers were rough from years of washing linen and chopping roots, but they were careful as they skimmed over his skin, avoiding the darkest bruises. Her thumbs moved in small circles near the edges. “You don’t deserve this. No child deserves to live in fear.”
“I don’t live in fear,” Beomgyu retorted. “I have you.”
Hearing him, Hyeeun let out a tearful laugh. It was a simple act yet it managed to ease the thumping discomfort in his chest. How could he not feel safe? She’s the only one in the house who treated him like a human being.
“Do you know why I never left this manor even after knowing how cruel that man is?” she asked. Beomgyu knew but he chose to stay silent, letting her finish. “It’s because of you. The day he brought you home from the orphanage, you looked so small and lost, Beomgyu. I told myself then—if he’s staying, then so am I. Someone had to be there for you." She was staring at the floor now, her expression twisted. "That lowlife bastard. He made your life a living hell."
Beomgyu shook his head. He cupped her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Well, he’s not doing a really good job at that either. Because I know I have someone who loves and cares for me.” — Which wasn’t entirely true but having someone like her by his side made the hell worth living.
Hyeeun’s teary eyes softened, the wrinkles at the corners deepening and it almost made Beomgyu’s eyes moisten. For a brief moment, it almost felt alright. But it all came crashing down when a thunderous voice rang behind the closed doors through the halls and all the colours drained from Beomgyu’s face at once. The panic in his eyes was so vivid, so alarming that he whipped his head towards the door — high on alert — as if that person would be here at any moment.
He wasn’t the only one who was in shock. Hyeeun was bewildered as well. Her voice came faintly. “He’s not meant to be back ‘til next week…”
That was true. Beomgyu’s father had only just departed for his business trip the day before. So why was he here now? And he was looking for Beomgyu. Beomgyu’s senses came back to him. His father was looking for him.
“You’ve got to go,” Beomgyu said urgently, already pushing Hyeeun toward the adjoining door.
All of her protests fell deaf to his ears. Hyeeun can't be seen with him. If his father saw her with him beside the painting — god knows what he’ll do to her and Beomgyu could never let anything happen to the only person who made this hellhole feel like a home to him.
“Beomgyu, wait—” she whispered-yelled, desperate. “He’ll hurt you.”
Her face was breaking as she clutched onto his hand. Beomgyu could tell she knew he was scared yet he put on a big grin for her. It was feeble and flickered out just as fast, but it was the best he could manage.
“I’ll be fine,” he assured, again. He reached for the doorknob, giving her that final push toward the corridor. “But you won’t be if he sees you.”
With that he closed the door, trying to control his heartbeat as he moved away and walked towards the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he heard the footsteps getting louder and in the blink of an eye the main door to the room flew open. Beomgyu didn’t move an inch. He held his breath in.
Standing at the door was a relatively shorter man but with a strong build. An aura of power and superiority hung in the air around him as walked in. The man didn’t bat an eye at Beomgyu and instead let his gaze travel around the room. It stopped on the canvas. Beomgyu felt his throat go dry, already knowing what was about to come.
As if fire had ignited, his father’s eyes lit up like an animal. He turned, nostrils flaring, and strode across the room with long, firm strides toward Beomgyu.
“You impudent little runt!” he barked, and before Beomgyu could so much as take a step back, the man’s hand had already lashed out.
The slap cracked through the air like a whip. Beomgyu’s head snapped to the side, his cheek immediately burning. He didn’t stumble, but his eyes watered and he clenched his jaw, the coppery taste of fear — or blood — thick on his tongue. He was sure the slap left a weal behind already.
A stunned silence followed, only the anger flared breathing of his father reached him because he was now standing right before him.
“How many blasted times do I need to tell you? Painting’s not for men!” the man spat, his large hand now balled around Beomgyu’s collar, dragging him forward.
“I’m sorry,” Beomgyu whispered, looking down.
“Oh, you will be sorry.”
With brute force, his father shoved him backward. The breath left Beomgyu’s chest as he staggered, nearly losing his footing. Beomgyu’s eyes widened as his father picked up a bottle of paint, remorselessly hurling it straight at the canvas.
Red.
It spattered across the canvas in messy rivulets that bled down the stretched linen and pooled onto the pristine white marble below. Disbelief and anger engulfed the boy but he remained silent, balling his fists as his nails dug crescents on the supple flesh. He waited for his father’s next move because Boemgyu knew it wouldn't simply end there.
The man approached him again. His eyes were glowering as his hand went for Boemgyu’s face again. Was he going to hit him again? It'd be a hassle for the wound to heal if he hit him on the same spot. He wasn't met with another slap. Instead, a burning pain shot through his scalp. This time he couldn’t bite back his yelp.
“Never,” his father spat through gritted teeth, yanking his hair, “pick up a paintbrush again.” Another wrench, this time enough to feel like hair being plucked off, and Beomgyu clenched his jaw through the sting of fresh tears. “Do you understand, boy?”
Silent tears rolled down his cheeks, the pain making him cry involuntarily. “I understand, father.”
The man left once he heard him speak. His retreating figure vanished through the doorway, leaving behind a room still humming with the remnants of his fury.
Beomgyu remained still for a moment, the sting in his scalp fading only slightly, replaced by the slow burn of anger and shame. He raised one hand, pressing his palm to his cheek, where the slap still throbbed in a bright, pulsing ache. His fingers were tacky with red paint now, mixing with the dampness from his tears. He took a breath through his nose, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. However, he was glad that was all his father did. A slap, no matter how much it stung, was better than bruised ribs or a fractured wrist. It would fade quickly enough.
The mess on the canvas was beyond salvaging, not that it mattered. He was going to paint over it anyway. The floor would be a problem. He looked around to search for any other places that had paint on and visibly flinched when he found it.
The red paint had touched the yellow roses.
The vibrance of the yellow extinguished as red traversed, streaks of it curved down their edges like veins, soaking into the softness with an almost grotesque contrast. It was enchanting to look at but in a discomforting way. He stared at it for a while before scoffing.
“I knew it. Red and yellow don't complement one another.”
He often escaped through the backdoor of the manor after such cruel ordeals, slipping past the kitchens and silent corridors, past the ornate arches and manicured hedges that had long since lost their meaning, until he reached the place where the stone path gave way to earth. A soft canopy of green filtered the light above him, its rustling leaves offering something close to reprieve. The groundskeeper no longer came out this far as no guests were shown this way, and the flowers here were left to bloom or wither on their own.
The path sloped gently into a shallow dirt road, broken in places and littered with dry leaves. It gave way to a small lake at the very outskirts of the manor's reach, where the water, still and golden in the afternoon light, reflected little of the estate’s imposing image. It was secluded enough to feel like a separate world. Out here, the land stopped obeying, and the estate lost its leash and that was precisely why Beomgyu came here. He found a strange comfort in that. This was where he could breathe without having to constantly look over his shoulder in fears of being watched.
The staff in the manor never participated in the abuse, but they didn't do anything to stop it either. Beomgyu understood the fear deeply rooted in them, and also how they’re bound to his father’s authority because they don't wish to bite the hand that feeds them. It didn’t mean he felt any less alone.
He wandered aimlessly, not looking for anything in particular, stepping over fallen branches and dipping his shoes into the wet earth as he walked toward the lake, where the view opened up wide and the sky was allowed to stretch. His thoughts felt too loud in the stillness. He pressed his palm to the back of his neck, trying to ground himself, letting his eyes close.
It was there, beside a twisted old willow, that he heard it. A soft melody — almost like a lullaby — carried by the wind.
Beomgyu frowned, uncertain if he imagined it. He hesitantly looked around the expanse of nature, feeling a little conscious because no one was supposed to be here. At least, no one has been here for years anyway. As long as he could remember, it was just him.
Still the melody continued, the faint sweet sound drew him in. His steps quietened as he left the trail, brushing past overgrown hedges and vines that caught at his sleeves.
It was just beyond the slope near the lake’s edge that he saw you.
Sitting leaning against a tree, back to him, knees tucked up as you balanced something in your lap. It was a small, wooden instrument, its polished surface catching small dappled specks of sunlight that filtered through the canopy. You played with care, thumbs dancing slowly over the keys.
Beomgyu almost turned back. He didn’t know you — what were you doing here?
But something in the melody held him there. The part you began to play was familiar. It was familiar not in a way he could identify, but it was there, lodged in the hollows of memory, where time pressed its thumbprint and left things dusty but intact. His heart churned, not understanding why he felt that way. He knew this melody. He had heard it before, he was sure of it, but where? It slipped just beyond reach, like a name he should’ve remembered.
Your fingers halted in their movement abruptly, though your shoulders stayed relaxed. Beomgyu had not expected to be noticed but you turned your head and looked directly at him. Your eyes didn’t flicker in surprise, nor did you fidget or make any show of being caught unaware. If anything, you looked like you had expected him. You offered a small smile almost as if you were welcoming a neighbor instead of a stranger.
“Oh,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Didn’t think anyone came out this far.”
He blinked, awkwardly aware of how out of place he felt now. “Neither did I,” he replied, then immediately wished he hadn’t. He sounded so stupid. What else was he supposed to say? He should have asked who you were, what you were doing here, why you were playing that tune — but something about your presence made it hard to summon suspicion.
You didn’t look like someone out of place. In fact, in his mind it felt like you were the remaining puzzle piece needed to finish the entire scenery. You looked like you belonged here more than he ever had.
“I hope I didn’t bother you,” you added, gently placing the kalimba on your lap. “The sound carries, I guess.”
“No, it’s... fine.” He hesitated, then nodded at the instrument. “That song… it’s—it sounds familiar. What’s it called?”
Your gaze sharpened just slightly but the smile didn’t slip. It made Beomgyu’s skin crawl a little, the goosebumps settling down persistently. “Really?” you said after a pause that wasn’t long enough to be awkward. “I’m afraid you’re probably mistaking it for some other melody. My parents used to sing it to me. It’s old and personal.”
He nodded, though he felt mildly foolish for asking so directly. He shouldn’t have said it like that, so brash outright. He was about to apologize but you laughed lightly.
“What else does it sound like other than familiar?”
What an odd question. He was caught off guard again, and his brows pulled together. It wasn’t a question he’d expected but Beomgyu found himself pondering, eyes narrowing faintly in thought. He tried to put the feeling into words. “Feels like a dream I forgot.”
You tilted your head at that, your gaze flicking to the side before returning to him. Your expression was thoughtful in a way that made Beomgyu stand a little straighter. Then you smiled, and this time there was a trace of approval in it. “That’s a nice way to put it. You’re an artist.”
“Pardon?” Beomgyu gaped at you. His posture stiffened, unsure of how you’d drawn that conclusion from so few words, from so short a meeting.
You only smiled again, putting the kalimba inside the small satchel by your side. "Only someone who sees the world in shapes and metaphors says things like that. Besides, look at your hands."
You stood up, brushing your clothes as you pointed a finger at his hands. He had cuffed the sleeves up to his arms. The red paint from earlier still decorated his skin as he didn’t clean it off, but what made him squirm on spot was the bruises that too were on display, and for you to see. Beomgyu thought you were pointing at those so he quickly began to cover them by tugging his sleeves down.
You had approached him by then, startling him by gently taking his hands into yours. Your hands were soft and clean unlike his calloused, paint and bruise tainted ones.
“You have pretty hands.” You looked up at him, squeezing his hands lightly. “Exactly like an artist’s.”
Beomgyu didn’t know what to do with your words. They weren’t coated with mockery. You hadn't looked away from him, not once, and though the bruises were in plain sight, you didn’t recoil or ask about them. It was simply as if they didn’t redefine what you saw when you looked at him.
The things you said, the things you did, and the way you’d arrived here and folded into this moment weren’t necessarily odd but at the same time they were.
“Who are you?” he quietly asked.
Beomgyu expected you to step away from him but you didn’t. Instead, your grin seemed to have regained a newer kind of life to it as you slightly leaned in towards him. “What do you want me to be? A friend, a stranger, or a dream?”
A gust of wind blew overhead, making the trees sing and the leaves dance around you and him. A ripple washed over the lake in subtle motion, its surface shifting just enough to catch the late afternoon light in warped patterns, as if nature herself waited with you in silence to hear his answer.
Beomgyu’s mind went into a static silence. His mouth parted but no words came out. Your hands were warm as you held him and that did little to no help making thoughts articulate easier for him. His silence rang loudly in his ears, or wait, was it his breathing? His heartbeat? The sound of his blood rushing into his ears, perhaps? He felt dizzy.
Before he could spiral even further, your soft laughter reached out and pulled him out of his mind like pulling him out from under a water surface. You hid your laugh behind a hand before using it to wave him off dismissively.
“I'm joking, I'm joking! I'm sorry for messing with you.” You let go of his hands and Beomgyu suddenly felt like he was losing his grip on the world. “I was looking for a quiet spot to play my kalimba and stumbled upon this place. I hope I didn't trespass… I didn’t think this area would have people around.”
Your explanation sounded believable. You looked like you were telling the truth too. You really had nothing else with you, just you and the kalimba, as if you’d simply wandered into the scene from somewhere outside the borders of his world. And technically, you weren’t trespassing. This stretch of land wasn’t private property — at least not under the holdings of his father — so there wasn’t any reason to accuse you of wrongdoing.
Even after conversing with himself in his mind over the rationality of your appearance, he could not speak. And you must have noticed, because you tilted your head just a little, your expression more apologetic than teasing now.
“I’ve probably already confused you enough for one day,” you said, and even though you spoke with a smile your words weren’t comforting to say the least. You were walking away. Your back was now facing him, already a few steps ahead and it didn’t sit right with him.
Beomgyu blinked as if just waking from a daydream. For the first time since you’d approached him, he felt his mind working. — “Will I see you again?” — or maybe no.
It came out more strained than he liked, not because he was desperate or flustered but because the words surprised even him. The moment he said them, he wasn’t sure whether he regretted asking.
The wind had stilled, and your fingers, which had been playing with the edge of your sleeve just a moment ago, fell still at your side. He recoiled internally, because up till now he was assuming you were the odd one between the two of you and now he went and asked such an absurd question. Oh God he must've sounded like a pervert. Hyeeun would be so disappointed.
But you turned slightly, and you did not smile rather had your gaze downwards on the grassy land. It was a different look from what you wore just moments before. It was more solemn, more rueful.
“If you wish for something with all your heart,” you said without trying to imply more than what the words meant, “it will come true, right?”
The hair on his arms and neck rose as goosebumps kissed his skin the moment you faced him as you said ‘right’ with a small tug of your lips. He felt compelled to look away and every atom in his body was screaming at him to run yet he didn’t want to. The intensity in your gaze enchanted him as much as it made his stomach churn uncomfortably.
“Goodbye, Beomgyu.”
He shifted slightly on his feet, a breath catching at the back of his throat as he tried to regain his balance. It wasn’t until you were already out of sight, your form swallowed up by the trees and their shadows, that the realization struck him cold and fast.
He never gave you his name.
It was one of those weary, sleepless nights, where Beomgyu lay in bed with his eyes fixed on the blank expanse overhead. The moonlight that slipped through the edges of the heavy curtains cast faint patches across the walls, and the stillness of the room was far too suffocating to be warm.
His cheek still ached. The maids had noticed; a few hours later, one had returned with an ice pack tucked in a folded cloth napkin, her fingers twitching nervously as she handed it over without meeting his eyes. Albeit some hesitated in fear of getting caught, they couldn’t hide the pity filling their eyes when they saw him. In between his loneliness, he still found reasons to be thankful whenever they did this much for him.
He turned to his side and closed his eyes, hoping that the simple act of shutting out the world might finally lull him into sleep, yet as soon as his eyelids met, that fragile attempt dissolved, leaving him trapped in a restless limbo where thoughts drifted aimlessly. Each night, the same battle raged within Beomgyu, wrestling with the tides of self-reproach, regret, and a gnawing sense of weakness that clung to him and asking why he hadn’t done more. Why did he never fight back?
There were never any answers, only that this was his life now. He had grown used to it. He was forced to grow used to it. His mind wandered through the memories of those countless sleepless nights, the haunting image of the roses tainted with red, the chaos he could neither control nor escape, and the youth he felt slipping away, bartered and sacrificed to forces beyond his command.
Unexpectedly, he thought of you. A sudden jolt of anxiety coursed through his chest as your presence echoed in the corners of his mind, leaving him bewildered and unsettled by the perplexing fact that you had spoken his name without him ever giving it away.
He shifted onto his back, staring up at the ceiling now illuminated only by the muted moonlight filtering through the curtains. His mind now more awake and alert despite the late hour, anxiety tightening its grip as he considered the reach of his father’s reputation. Granted his father was a man widely recognized as a famous assemblyman but he had hardly ever let the spotlight fall on Beomgyu. Beomgyu remained a shadow, scarcely seen and even less spoken of, his name almost lost amid the noise of his father’s power, making the fact that you had known it all the more unsettling and inexplicable.
Just then, a soft knocking pattern interrupted the swirl of his thoughts. Already knowing who stood on the other side, he sat up wiping a hand over his face to dispel the tension etched into his features. When the door creaked open, relief settled over him like a balm as Hyeeun entered briskly, her steps hurried yet careful as she crossed the room and wrapped him in a firm embrace that squeezed the breath from his lungs. It’s as if all the pain washed away from the prior incident of the morning the moment Hyeeun appeared into his room.
Pulling away she let her concerned gaze sweep over the angry swelling blooming across his face. “I heard from the other girls,” she said, the sight made her wince involuntarily. “I wish I had the power to save you from this man,” she added, her voice catching slightly as she battled the frustration and helplessness that so often accompanied the helplessness of watching someone you cared for suffer.
Beomgyu placed a hand on hers, the smile never fading. He was truly lucky, he thought, to have someone who still cared for him. That care was a luxury he often felt he hadn’t earned yet Hyeeun gave it freely.
She had raised him herself from the first moment he arrived at the estate, barely tall enough to reach the table and thin as a reed. She made sure he ate, even when he claimed he wasn’t hungry. She taught him his letters with the same care she used to scrub his muddy knees clean after he'd fallen in the garden. At night, she would tuck him into bed and smooth down his hair, pressing a kiss to his head, soft and instinctive, as if he’d always been hers.
His father — the man who had taken him in for reasons Beomgyu still couldn’t fully comprehend back then — had never even bothered to ask whether he needed help with anything; never once checked if he had enough to wear in the winter or if he was struggling to keep up with his lessons. All of that had fallen to Hyeeun, who bore the burden without ever treating it like one. And when his father’s temper turned violent, when a misplaced word or broken glass resulted in bruises darkening his ribs or his arms, it had been Hyeeun who sat beside him late into the night, treating his wounds and humming under her breath. Her hands, though aged by work, were always careful, never trembling even when he winced. If she hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t had her steady presence at his side through those long, difficult years, Beomgyu was certain he wouldn’t still be here.
She had already done more for him than most mothers did for their own children. Beomgyu suddenly became aware of the lump in his throat. He needed her to know how much he appreciated her.
“On that day…” he began, voice hoarse as he tried to recall it clearly, though time had made some of it hazy. “I wasn't looking at him. In fact, I was looking at you. I felt safe just by your presence, and the way you stared at me — with so much love. I felt I was already loved.”
There was a pause as he exhaled, laughing breathlessly like he was almost embarrassed to admit it. “Quite funny, isn't it? Because I didn't even know you back then. Yet—” he swallowed hard, feeling the familiar tightness at the base of his neck. “Yet something in my mind told me I'd be the happiest if I accepted to be adopted in this family.”
His gaze dropped, fixed on the carpet beneath their feet hoping the pattern might distract him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. If he did, he was sure everything he’d worked to suppress would come spilling out in an instant.
“And I know no one will agree with me if I say it — I truly am the happiest despite the things he put me through. Only because of you.”
His voice cracked so he bit down on his lower lip until the pressure bordered on pain, anything to stop himself from losing control. But it became harder to hold back when he felt her hand on his cheek gently coaxing his face upward. Her eyes met his, steady and full of a kind of ache that mirrored his own.
“You’re the closest to someone I can call a mother.
Tears slipped down his face but he didn’t bother wiping them away. There was shame, yes — in crying so openly, in being reduced to this state but there was also a strange sense of relief. He let himself be pulled into her arms once more, head bowed as rubbed comforting circles on his back. He cried until it felt like there was nothing left inside, until the tension in his shoulders began to ease and his body sagged with exhaustion.
“I’m going to get you out of here. I promise you, dear,” Hyeeun said softly, her voice filled with a quiet resolve that might’ve sounded more reassuring in another time, another place.
Beomgyu wanted to believe her but the words, kind as they were, felt hollow not because he doubted her intent, but because the world they lived in didn’t allow for such easy escapes.
Beomgyu heartily wished to find some way to leave the place with her. “I want you to leave with me,” he whispered. “Wherever I go, I want you to be with me.”
The older woman sighed with a sad smile. She squeezed his hand again — a gesture of reassurance, even if it carried more sadness than comfort. Maybe they both knew that saying such things was the only way to keep themselves afloat. It was in this lull, in this shared exhaustion where no one was trying to pretend strength anymore, that Beomgyu suddenly straightened with the flicker of a thought that hadn’t occurred to him until now.
“Have you perhaps... heard of any girl visiting the lake outside the estate?” — what were the odds? But if anyone knew of strange visitors, it would be Hyeeun. She managed the estate with a precision built from decades of service, and little ever happened around here without her catching wind of it. If she hadn't seen you, then perhaps no one did.
He was hoping, somehow, that she would say yes, that there’d been whispers or at least passing remarks from the groundskeepers or someone who might have seen a figure by the water.
“A girl?” she repeated, the crease between her eyebrows deepening. “No, dear, I haven’t. The lake is open to the public, so I wouldn’t be surprised if there are people out there walking around the place. But I haven’t heard of any particular visitor. Why? Is something the matter?”
She spoke while adjusting the edge of the woolen shawl draped over her shoulder, glancing at him with mild concern. If Hyeeun hadn’t seen you, hadn’t heard anything about you, then maybe you really had just wandered there on a whim, exactly like you said. There was a chance you’d never show up again, that this strange interruption to his life would stay just that: a one-time disruption.
But that didn’t explain how you knew his name. That detail kept catching in his mind like a thorn, refusing to let go and worse, it made him want to see you again. He hoped you came back so he could ask you himself how you knew his name.
He didn’t even know your name.
He didn’t want her to worry so he shook his head with a small shrug. "No, there’s no problem. You should get some rest. It’s getting late. I’ll try to sleep too. I'm tired."
Sleep eluded him entirely that night, and when his eyes did shut, his dreams twisted around the shape of you, around the tune you played and those eyes he couldn’t forget, as if they’d been watching him far longer than he realized.
Who will I be when I wake after enduring?
He hasn't picked up a paintbrush since then. The brushes had gathered dust at the back of the cupboard where Hyeeun hid them after wiping the blood off his bruises. Over time, Beomgyu had learned what could and could not be done under his father’s roof from the consequence of every innocent act that displeased the man who ruled over the estate like a god with no heaven, only wrath.
There were never no words to guide him, only the bruises that followed if he wandered too far into himself.
He could step out into the garden. He could take a walk as far as the border of the lake. He could even sit idly by the gazebo with a book in his lap. But the moment he picked up a brush, the moment his fingers touched paint, it became a rebellion. Painting was possession of the self, and in his father’s world, no one owned themselves but him.
His father believed a person with passion is a person with desire, and desire breeds autonomy. Autonomy, to a man like his father, was the root of disobedience. Passion lit fires, and he hated fires unless he was the one to set them. So he set fire to the wings Beomgyu just started to mold on himself, stripped him off of his passion and put him behind the bars of a gilded cage that was his father's control.
Since he was allowed to leave the manor, he kept going back to the lake in hopes of seeing you. But it’s been days, and you never showed up. Yet every day since, he returned to the tree where you once sat as though retracing the same dream over and over, hoping you’d step out again like a trick of the light.
Some days he stayed until the first star appeared and the wind grew colder, brushing through his clothes and reminding him that he had a house to return to, even if it never felt like home. Other times, he left just after the sun disappeared behind the trees, the sky a bleeding orange that faded too quickly into grey.
There was no logic to his waiting, just the persistent itch that maybe you’d come back. Perhaps when you do, you’ll offer some clue to why you knew his name and comfort his crumbling mind. Maybe you’ll say something that would make him feel less mad for being haunted by a single meeting. He hoped, and hoped, and hoped.
Should he start wishing with all his heart, just like you said, to make you come back?
Beomgyu’s eyes snapped open as heat crawled up his neck. He was lying under the tree, the soft blades of the grass tickling his skin and the dappled shadow of the leaves fell on him. He sat up abruptly, grunting softly and shaking his head as if that could physically shake off his prior thought.
“I think I'm going crazy,” he murmured, eyes casting downward on his lap.
“Why’s that?”
He didn't scream though it felt like his heart had tried to. It jolted violently in his chest, knocking the breath clean out of his lungs as pain bloomed somewhere under his ribs. He doubled over slightly, hand splaying against his sternum as he tried to pull himself together. But his heartbeat picked up again when his eyes found you.
Leaning sideways against the tree you stood there, half-shadowed by the dappled light filtering through the tree canopy. Hands were clasped behind your back and your eyes were on him, watching with a calm that made it impossible to tell whether you had just arrived or had been standing there all along. You were smiling, like always.
“You came back,” he said, barely more than a breath.
You walked toward him, steps muffled by grass, and crouched down beside him. You settled cross-legged in the grass, your skirt fanning out around you, knees brushing against the edge of his shin.
There was a pomegranate in your hand.
It looked heavy in your hands, its thick skin cracked down the middle like it had split open under its own ripeness. With nimble fingers, you worked it apart, thumbs pressing into the rind, and slowly pulled the halves away from each other. Some of the seeds spilled into your waiting palm, glistening red and slick like beads of glass. One by one, you plucked the arils free, cradling them, letting the juice stain your fingertips in blotches.
“You say that like I disappeared,” you replied without looking at him.
“You did,” Beomgyu said, and this time he sat up straighter. The pain had dulled to a throb. It felt distant now, overpowered by the sudden clarity of being near you again. “I waited here. For days.”
That finally earned him your eyes, tilting your head as though seeing him under new light. “Did you? That was sweet of you. But why?”
Why? — the question cut cleanly through the haze he hadn’t realized he’d fallen into. Up until then, he’d been far more interested in watching the way your fingers pressed into the fruit, how the juice soaked your hands until it dripped down to your wrists in thin crimson trails. He found himself too spellbound by the color against your skin more than he was unnerved.
“I never told you who I was,” he said finally. “How did you know my name?”
You glanced back on the fruit. “Didn’t you?”
“No,” Beomgyu’s brows pulled together, a slight twitch of confusion and discomfort darkening his features. “No, I didn’t. I’m sure I didn’t."
"Beomgyu," you said, the name drawn out gently, not as if correcting him but as if reminding. As if it had slipped only from his memory and not yours. You plucked a seed from your palm, turning it in your fingers. "You’re doing it again."
He blinked. "Doing what?"
You glanced up again, the movement languid. There was no challenge in your expression, only a vague softness that made his chest tighten. "Misremembering. You always do this when you’re flustered."
"That’s not—" He paused, recalibrating. "Always? We’ve met once."
You held the seed gently against his lips and he, caught in the spell of you, parted them. The seed slipped onto his tongue, and his lips closed around it with the faintest press. Juices traversed from your fingers to his mouth staining his lower lip a vivid red.
You tilted your head with a hum. "Mm. You think so."
The words landed strange and off-kilter. A trap he hadn't realized he’d stepped into until now and yet, part of him wanted to explain himself — to justify the gap in memory he was sure existed. To prove, somehow, that he hadn’t forgotten.
But instead, his voice came out thinner. "You’re saying I told you my name, and… I just forgot?"
You nodded once, as if he’d finally caught on to something obvious. “Well, I suppose it’s easier to think I’m the one making things up.”
He bristled. "That’s not what I meant."
You popped a seed in your own mouth, making a sound that near suggested you weren’t wounded. "Of course not. I’m teasing. But yes, you told me. You were standing exactly over there, and I remember thinking — Beomgyu. It suits him.” You held out a few seeds gripped in between your fingers toward him. “It really suits such an artistic person like him.”
The memory didn't exist in his head — but the way you said it, with such conviction, such warmth, he began to wonder. Did he say it? Maybe he had said it.
He’d read somewhere that trauma reshaped memory like heat to wax. That the brain could tuck things away in corners too high to reach, especially when it didn’t want to remember. It made sense, in a cruel sort of way. After everything with his father, after all the ways he’d learned to forget for survival’s sake, it was almost laughable to think his own name might’ve been lost in the shuffle but maybe it had.
His lips parted and he tilted his head back, allowing your waiting hand to drop the pomegranate seeds into his mouth. A few drops of red juice tricked down your finger and fell on his lips like blood droplets. He felt it trail down his chin but the thought of wiping it away didn’t surface in his mind when he watched how you watched him.
You watched him come away stained red by you, like watching the seeds take root.
"You even said it twice," you added, eyes back on the fruit. "The second time, you said it like you weren’t sure I’d heard it the first time."
The taste burst over his mouth — tart and sweet. He licked his chapped lips to wet them, licking the remnants of the red. He wiped his chin too. "That… doesn’t sound like me."
"No," you agreed, as if this, too, was a kindness. "But maybe that’s why it stuck with me."
He couldn’t tell if you were comforting him or disarming him. Silence unspooled between you. He studied your face, looking for any trace of a play. But you only looked thoughtful, almost fond. Finally, he exhaled, the fight leaving his shoulders. With a sheepish twitch of his mouth he said, "Then I guess I owe you an apology."
"For what?"
His eyes dropped to your stained hands before answering, then to the split open fruit on your lap. "For forgetting. I really… I really don’t remember saying it."
You nodded, the corners of your mouth lifting, as if pleased that everything had fallen back into place. “There you go.” You didn’t avert your gaze. "That’s alright. It happens to you often, doesn’t it? Ah, well, I’m assuming it does."
To anyone else, your statement might have sounded like an offhand comment, but Beomgyu had already come to understand that your words were rarely just that. Though he still hadn’t figured out if you meant half the things you said or simply enjoyed the act of saying them. But it didn’t bother him. In fact, he found himself waiting for your voice to fill the air again simply because it’s different from what he knew.
He assumed you were just unusually good at stringing together patterns from the vaguest of things. From the small details he had shared, you pieced together pictures of him so complete it was fascinating, really. He had met many sharp minds, but none that made the process of deduction look like a pastime. You seemed to understand people on a level that made him feel like he was under a microscope, only he didn't mind it. Quite the opposite. He found himself drawn in by it.
You popped a few more pomegranate seeds into your mouth. One half of the fruit had already been picked clean, left hollow and glistening with residue, while the other half still brimmed with untouched seeds that caught the light with every small shift of the sky above.
"Hold this for a moment," you said, passing him the heavier half of the fruit before rising. "I’ll be right back. I just need to wash my hands."
With that, you made your way slowly toward the lake, then gained lightness as you reached the slope and jogged the rest of the way down. Beomgyu watched your figure dip near the bank, the shallow wind lifting your hem just slightly as you crouched near the water. He quietly followed until he approached you after a beat, watching the way your fingers moved through the water.
The red bled from your skin in long, graceful tendrils that curled like smoke before dispersing entirely. It reminded him of how his paintbrushes looked after a day spent in color — soaked and stained, then suddenly washed clean in one long motion. He waited in silence, the quiet around you was held there by the sound of water lapping against the rocks and the distant rustle of the wind through nearby reeds.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” he said suddenly. “I remember that much.”
Your hand paused mid-motion. You didn’t look up, eyes stayed trained on the ripples spreading out from your hand.
“I don’t have one,” you said.
If there was hesitation in your voice, it was impossible to name. However, there was certainly a tinge of detachment in the way you said, your tone lacking all your prior wittiness.
Beomgyu let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he looked down at the fruit in his hands. “That’s impossible. Everyone has a name.”
You drew a line across the water with your finger, watching how the ripples distorted the reflection of the sky. “Do they?” you asked, finally turning to glance at him. “Or is that just something people need to believe to make sense of themselves?”
He smiled despite himself. Of course you’d say that. He did feel the urge to reply, to counter with logic, with reason, but your gaze subtly unsettled him — not in a bad way though. It was your eccentric personality that made every conversation feel like you were making a game out of it, or maybe trying to see if he could keep up. Maybe that’s what made this feel refreshing. He wasn’t used to being around people who made the world feel this unpredictable.
“A name is your most prized possession,” he said, holding up the fruit like it could serve as evidence. “You should treat it like treasure.”
You were watching him now, searching for something in his face. “That’s lovely,” you said, a faint curve to your lips. “But I think names are more interesting when they’re earned. Don’t you?”
He stilled because he suddenly wasn’t sure where this was going, and he didn’t want to miss a single turn. The breeze pushed past again, scattering a few leaves near his feet.
“You want me to…?” he began, trailing off.
"I want you to give me one," you said at last, standing slowly. Water slid down your fingers and dripped onto the grass below. The pomegranate seeds in his hand glistened like they were watching too.
Beomgyu studied you for a moment longer than perhaps he meant to, his gaze holding a curious stillness. You closed the distance between you with a small step, the grass bending faintly beneath your shoes, your fingers brushing against his as you plucked the half-pomegranate from his palm. The fruit sat in your hand like a stolen jewel but in his eyes it resembled a bleeding heart.
“If you’re offering treasure,” you began, eyeing up at him playfully, “I want to see what kind. But don’t toss it at me like a bone to a stray. Think carefully. Let it come to you like it was meant to.”
His brow rose a fraction, a spark of competitiveness in his tone. “And what do I get in return?”
You tapped the tip of your finger against the fruit’s rind, pretending to think. “Well, you’re not wrong. I do already have a name,” you said, lips curving in a way that didn’t quite match the offhand nature of your words. “And I am, admittedly, toying with you. But—” your voice stretched, eyes narrowing in a mock appraisal, “if you manage to come up with something I actually like, I’ll tell you my real name.”
He nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” you replied, smiling in a way that caught the dimming light like the sky catching fire before night took it. “I’d hate for you to forget again.”
Beomgyu never registered the last bit of your words properly as his mind got occupied by the faint hum of engines drifting from the direction of the manor. His attention completely shifted, and the line of his shoulders altered with the sound, a persistent veil of fatigue settling into his posture. He turned toward you, a shadow of apology in his movement, saying he had to leave, that his father had returned sooner than expected.
You waved it off with a smile that asked for no explanation. “I don’t mind. It was good spending time with you.”
That softened him, even if only briefly. “Thank you for sharing the pomegranate,” he mentioned, then added with a faint smile, “It was really sweet.”
“I want to see you again,” you said, and for a moment his breath caught on the fact that you actually meant it. It was the first time he thought he saw something genuine cross your face, just the plain want of the words themselves.
He nodded slowly, the smallest thread of surprise in his tone. “Sure. I’ll come back.”
And perhaps, one day, he would come to realise that what you offered him today was never only fruit. It was the planting of doubt where certainty had lived, the slow coaxing of temptation into bloom, and the careful crafting of a tie he would not easily cut, no matter how far from this moment he might try to walk.
One seed at a time.
Beomgyu grew somewhat closer to you, one day at a time.
Meeting by the lake had begun to settle into the shape of a routine. You never carried much, always just one thing, as if you lived by some strange rule that balance could only be kept if your hands were light. Some days you brought your kalimba to play as you sat under the tree, Beomgyu lying a few spaces beside you, listening with eyes closed absorbing the fragile, whimsical melody. Other days you carried fruits, breaking them open to share.
There was a strange comfort in this new presence. Compared to Hyeeun, who gave him maternal warmth, offering guidance and protection, you were the first person who met him at the level of a peer and who validated his thoughts. The difference lodged itself in him before he could even notice, a slow intoxication that seeped into his thoughts until he found himself looking forward to these encounters, craving them almost. Eccentric as your words often were, he welcomed them, so long as they meant he could breathe air not tainted by authority.
But today was not one of those days.
Before Beomgyu sat a plate, its centerpiece a steak seared with artistry, marbled with veins of fat glistening beneath the sheen of butter that pooled at its edges. The rich smell wafted toward him but it did not stir hunger in his stomach; instead, it twisted ans he could not bring himself to lift his fork, for appetite had deserted him the moment he took his seat. The perfection of its arrangement only reminded him of the imperfection of the family gathered around it, or rather, the absence of family at all.
Across from him, his father carved into his own portion, the scrape of steel against porcelain sharp enough to rattle through the silence. The sight of flesh tearing without resistance as he lifted the forkful to his mouth reminded Beomgyu of a predator taking the first kill, claiming the prize while he, the one seated opposite, was expected to watch, to wait. The power imbalance was too hard to ignore — the small hierarchy enforced at every meal.
“There will be a meeting you must attend next month with me,” his father said, finally breaking the silence. He didn’t lift his eyes from the plate, though Beomgyu felt them nonetheless. “There will be men whose approval I require. I trust you understand the importance of leaving no… blemishes in conversation. I cannot afford embarrassment, and I will not tolerate any deviation from propriety or protocol.”
Beomgyu shifted slightly in his chair, the leather creaking faintly under his movement. His lips parted, but no words came, only a shallow breath that he disguised with a swallow. His father did not wait for an answer.
He set down the knife for a moment to reach for his glass of wine, swirling it lazily before taking a sip. A subtle smile curved his lips as he added, almost as an afterthought, “After all, it is fortunate that I took you in, isn’t it? You must remember where you came from.” The fork clinked against porcelain as he lifted another piece to his mouth. “Do not mistake your place in this household, nor in this family. I took you in, raised you as if you were mine, though you and I both know better. Gratitude, Beomgyu, is the only language you should ever speak. If you forget this, if you step beyond where I allow, I can have you sent away. Far from this table. Far from this country. Do not think it beyond me.”
The implication made a chill run up his spine as the knife in Beomgyu’s hand stilled, his fingers tightening imperceptibly around the handle before he set it down altogether. His throat burned with words he could not voice, the lump lodged there making swallowing impossible. At the mention of being sent away, one might think, yes, Beomgyu should take this opportunity to grasp onto the freedom he so desperately wished for. One might think of this as a golden escape, but no, his father meant anything but granting him freedom. His father meant metaphorical death.
It struck him with a clarity that hollowed him further, that it was not merely his father’s words that landed harder on his soul, but the knowledge that his dreams of freedom might never be more than fleeting illusions.
Nothing is harder on the soul than the smell of dreams while they are evaporating.
“Where do you go when your house isn’t home?”
Later that afternoon, Beomgyu drifted back toward the lakeside, drawn less by choice than by desperation. When he stepped from the line of trees, he stopped short, struck by the sight of you still there. You were looking far off in the distance. For an instant he wondered if you had stayed because of him, because he couldn't show up on time today.
When he approached you and made his presence known, it occurred to Beomgyu how genuinely startled you look. It was as though all this time, the skin of another self you had been wearing, had been peeled away by mistake. But beomgyu soon threw that thought out of his mind when the other thoughts became too loud and drowned it.
You tilted your head, eyes narrowing slightly at his distant expression. “What did you say?” The question left your lips faintly, touched with genuine confusion.
He bent, reached for a stone, and sent it skipping across the water. It danced briefly across the surface, once, twice, three times, then surrendered, sinking into the depths. He watched the circles widen and collapse — how his own life mirrored that descent, each near ascent followed by collapse, each hope sinking before it could take root.
“Sorry. Forget what I said,” Beomgyu replied, shaking his head. He let another stone fall from his hand, this one left to roll off his palm and clatter against the wood before tipping into the lake. His shoulders sagged with the breath he released. “Just got a lot on my mind.”
Lowering himself onto the dock beside you, he left a careful space in between. His eyes sought the horizon, where the sinking sun stretched across the water in streaks of molten color that looked almost violent in their beauty.
Shouldn’t witnessing something beautiful allow the mind to rest? Then why did his mind still refuse to rest?
He thought of the orphanage, of nights when he hunched over sketch paper until his fingers cramped, tracing dreams into lines and shapes, clinging to the frail conviction that one day he could leave and live by art alone. Back then, the thought of freedom had seemed as reachable as the moon overhead — distant, yet somehow belonging to him if only he could stretch far enough. But the man who had plucked him from those narrow halls had not offered liberation. Instead, he had chained him more tightly, cloaking it beneath the name of father, when in truth it was ownership. At least the orphanage had left him the small rebellion of imagination. Here, he had none. Here, he was a possession.
The pressure inside him built until it pressed against his ribs, until he almost gasped with the ache of it, and he might have spiraled deeper into it if not for the sudden warmth of your hand closing gently around his. He startled, the touch pulling him back into the present, and when he looked down, he found your face tilted toward his, your eyes softer than he had ever seen them. It shook him, that look, because it was entirely new.
“Beomgyu,” your lips wrapped around the shape of his name. The syllables made an odd shiver race down his spine, leaving him strangely unmoored by the tremor it left behind. “You’re crying.”
He blinked, taken aback, and lifted his hand to his face. His fingertips came away damp and embarrassment shot through him sharp enough to make his movements clumsy. Hastily, he tried to wipe away his tears but your hands caught his midway, rising to hold his face in their frame. His breath stalled, surprised by the intimacy. Your thumbs brushed against his skin, sweeping away the tears with an absent gentleness. The far-off cast in your gaze caught him off guard. It was another new look, one he had not seen on you before.
“Do you want to see where I go?” Your voice slipped softer, the water almost stealing it away. Fingers drifted through the strands of his hair, tucking them behind his ear with a touch that left a trembling chill in its wake setting every nerve in his body alight. You watched him intently, that felt close to holding him in place. “Maybe it would help,” you whispered, the ghost of a question wrapped inside it. “Maybe then you’d stop crying, hm?”
A prosaic afternoon of yet another hot summer day: that’s how Beomgyu had expected his day would roll by, as always per the monochromatic routine. But with his hazy state of mind as he watched the red sky shifting to sea of greens, the image of the manor getting smaller in view and the cacophonies of his thoughts vanishing in thin air replaced by the orchestra of birdsong, Beomgyu apprehended the reality and withdrew his earlier plan. His hand was in yours, and the certainty of your pull drew him onward into the heart of the green.
The forest you entered was oak-brown and primitive. The grasses you stepped on were crackly beneath your feet because of the recent dry spell. Beomgyu tilted his head back, his eyes drinking in the towering trees whose branches twisted into knotted arms, rising higher than his neck could crane. They loomed like old fortresses, their bark etched with the passage of ages, and he marveled that such a place had always existed so near and yet had remained hidden from him.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” he asked, allowing himself a curl of mischief even as his pulse thrummed hard and fast with the thrill of being led into this unknown. He glanced about at the darkening canopy and added, “This place reeks of serial killers and ghosts.”
You snorted softly at that, not breaking stride. “Don’t worry, princess. If anything comes for us, I’ll protect you.”
When you turned just then, looking back at him with a grin that seemed carved out of sunlight, he felt warmth roll through him with the same ease as summer air after rain. Safe — that was the word that surfaced, startling in its simplicity. How odd that you, a stranger whose name had yet to pass his lips, made him feel safe.
You pressed on, tracing narrow paths that cut between moss-dark trunks and across stony ground where thin streams rattled over scattered rocks. The forest seemed endless, a kingdom unto itself, until suddenly the trees broke open and revealed a ruin crouched within the clearing. It was a collection of stones and rocks tossed around like children’s blocks, and a large rusty bell lying beneath what was once its tower.
It was as if two eyes weren’t nearly enough to hold it all, the ruin both desolate and wondrous, steeped in a history he could only guess at. “How did you know this place existed?” There were so many words to exist yet Beomgyu failed to capture the full breadth of what he felt.
You slipped your hand from his and bounded forward, twirling with your arms outstretched. “Welcome to my safe haven!” you announced, gesturing to the place with your hands. “Still reeks of serial killers and ghosts?”
Beomgyu found himself too caught up in the marvel of it all to respond straight away. An ancient house on its knees on a journey to shambles, a secluded part of an evergreen forest not too far away from the safety of human life, and a girl who leaves sunmarks with every step amidst this. The more he thought about it the more it began to seem like this place was made solely for you.
You beckoned him closer and chose a seat upon a broken pillar, brushing away the dust before settling. He followed your actions and made himself comfortable on another piece of large rubble.
“No one really knows about this place, after all it’s an abandoned building. It’s always been just me,” you said. Streaks of soft sunlight that playfully broke through the cage of leaves fell across your features, catching in your eyes when you tilted your head. The brown in your eyes came to life, as if they were pools of honey with specks of gold.
“It’s beautiful,” he murmured at last. His gaze swept over the ruin again before returning to you. “I understand now why you choose to come here.”
You watched him in silence while he lowered his eyes to the ground, his foot tracing absently over the brittle grass at his feet. “Why don’t you paint anymore?”
His head jerked up at that, his lips parting in surprise. A crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “How could you tell?”
Your eyes drifted to his hands, resting idly upon his knees. “They’re clean,” you said simply. “Too clean.”
Beomgyu gave a soft, awkward laugh, scraping the back of his neck with one hand. “I guess I just don’t have much inspiration these days,” he said, making light of it, as if that explanation could cover the ache he carried.
“Does it have anything to do with what you said earlier? About your house not feeling like home?”
His throat worked but no words came. For a moment he only sat there, shoulders curved inward, and you seemed to notice the pause. “Forgive me,” you murmured. “I shouldn’t have asked. I went too far.”
He shook his head at once, almost sharply. “No,” he said, his voice more certain than he felt. “You didn’t. You showed me your sanctuary so it’s only fair you know this much.” He drew a long breath, tried to dress the truth in lightness though it frayed as it left him. “My father… well, he doesn’t like it when I paint. He’s not even my real father. I was adopted when I was young. He only did it because he’s an assemblyman and he needed the sympathy points to win people over.”
You sat in silence for a long while. Then almost with an indecipherable look you recounted, “The bruises… when I first met you.”
Beomgyu’s head lifted at once, his eyes narrowing in surprise. “You remember?”
You hesitated, then further asked, “Were they…?” You left the sentence unfinished, letting the implication hang.
Beomgyu remained still, letting the forest around him absorb his pause. So did you. His gaze flitted to yours repeatedly, trying to decipher the thoughts behind the neutrality in your face, trying to know whether the knowledge of his past had shifted your perception of him in any way, but there was nothing.
“That’s why I go to the lakeside whenever I can,” he admitted, still continuing despite your silence. “It makes me feel less like a prisoner when I’m away from the manor.”
“If he lets you outside the house,” you said, tilting your head as though measuring the thought, “why not run away?”
Beomgyu gave a short, humorless laugh. “It’s not that simple,” he replied, the smile that touched his lips hollow. “When you’ve been caged long enough, even if the door is open you don’t know how to fly. My father—” he stopped, corrected himself with a bitter edge, “the man who calls himself my father clipped my wings a long time ago.”
He turned the conversation back toward you as if trying to shift the heaviness elsewhere. “What about you? Why do you come here? And the lakeside?”
Your eyes went to the sky, tracing the patterns of light caught in the branches above. “My parents are dead,” you said curtly.
“I’m sorry.” Beomgyu’s chest ached at the bluntness of it. He looked at you with softened eyes, though no words of sympathy seemed large enough to comfort the truth you had offered. So the two of you sat without speaking, until you broke it at last.
“You… shouldn’t give up on your dreams because someone is trying their everything to steal it from you,” you started slow, shaping your words carefully as you delivered. “When someone tries this hard to crush them, it only means they know what you’re capable of. He knows that you are capable of breaking through his wall of control, Beomgyu. It means he is afraid of you, of what you might become if you keep going.”
Beomgyu gaped at you, letting your words soak into every crevice of his brain. He was afraid of his father and always has been, and you are saying that his father might be afraid of him?
You shifted, drawing one knee up, your gaze fixed not on him but on the ruin around you. “Don’t let him pin the blame for his own failures onto you. If blame has to be claimed, let him take it. Or—” you paused, almost musing, “learn to take it yourself. There’s a strange luxury in self-reproach. When we decide it’s our fault, no one else has the right to condemn us. It gives us… control, power, even when everything else is stripped away.”
The cadence of your speech, the way your thoughts curved toward shadows, left Beomgyu torn. Part of him felt a tremor run through his chest, stirred by the conviction in your voice, while another part wondered whether you were speaking about him or laying bare fragments of your own story.
In that moment you reminded him of the ocean. There was so much of you he could not see and left to discover, but the little he was given made him feel oddly at home.
The sea… yes, you were just like that. He still had to figure out your name, didn't he?
You rose and crossed the space between you. Standing over him, you let your gaze cast down, yet within the shade they seemed to glow brighter, carrying a light of their own. “If your house doesn’t feel like home,” you said, “come here instead. I’ll be here.”
Beomgyu felt his throat dry, swallowing thickly. If you were the ocean, then you were quite the gentle one, beckoning him to fall into you promising him a safe place.
In the end, will he sink or swim?
It hadn’t gone unnoticed, the way Beomgyu seemed lighter on his feet these days and it began ever since you started bringing him art supplies to the shared sanctuary. There was a certain brightness to him, a spark that had been dulled for so long it startled even Hyeeun when she caught sight of it. She asked what had changed, her brows lifting as she studied him curiously because she had nearly forgotten what joy looked like on his face.
“I look happy?” he had replied, almost in disbelief. When she nodded, telling him that he looked radiant — more alive than he had in months — he had felt a warmth bloom inside him and his thoughts wandered straight to you. It was fuzzy, soft, like the recollection of a dream he didn’t want to wake from.
He wasn’t the only one who had changed. There was something about you that began to take on a new shape as well though he couldn’t quite put words to it. It wasn’t that you had grown gentler, nor that you had lost that edge of distance you carried with you like a shadow, but rather that you seemed more real to him now. After he had spoken about his father, what you offered him wasn’t pity, the kind of hollow sympathy he despised, but respect of some sort. It did not unsettle him, oddly enough; rather, he found it strangely endearing.
One afternoon, when the two of you were inside the stone house or rather, the fractured shell of what once was a house — you broke the soft rustle of silence by remarking, “You’re taking an awfully long time to come up with a name for me.”
The walls cracked in parts, and ivy had claimed half the places, but Beomgyu had suggested cleaning it up. He spoke of giving it a use, of making it livable, even if only for stolen afternoons. Beomgyu could tell you had been reluctant at first, preferring the wilderness outside, leaning against trees or crouching by the lakeside, always just beyond the reach of walls. But he had motivated you in his own insisting way, proving his resolve by rolling up his sleeves and sweeping debris into piles, clearing out corners with surprising skill despite the cobwebs clinging stubbornly to the high corners and the dust rising in clouds that stung the throat.
He had laughed at your surprise as you were clearly not expecting him to know his way around such tasks and explained, with an almost sheepish pride, that he was no stranger to chores. “At the manor, Hyeeun couldn’t always manage everything herself. I learned to take care of myself when I had to.” He remembered how your gaze had lowered at that, something clouding your expression, though you said nothing as you picked up the leaves and helped him finish.
Now, in the dim hush of the stone house, he sat with a small canvas propped on his knees. You sat across from him, absently plucking at your kalimba when you threw the sentence at him. Your words made him smile, lifting his chin in a wordless beckon. You hesitated, pausing mid-note, but then set the instrument aside and crossed the floor to where he was seated.
When you settled near him, he turned the canvas so you could see. The painting was unfinished but clear enough to recognize, revealing strokes of deep blue and pale foam, the suggestion of an endless horizon where sea met sky. “I’ve been thinking,” He kept his eyes on you as he spoke, almost nervously, though he masked it with a half-smile. “Really hard, about what to call you. Everything you’ve done, everything you’ve said since the day we met—it all keeps leading me back to this.”
You stared at the canvas, and for a heartbeat he thought he saw your composure falter. You studied the painting, then looked back at him. “You’re not about to name me ‘sea’ or ‘ocean,’ are you?” you asked him dryly.
It had him laughing heartily, the sound rich and vibrant as it bounced off the walls. You looked at him, confused at what was so funny, and he couldn’t stop the warmth from spilling. But his laugh was so infectious that (to beomgyu’s surprise) it managed to pull a small smile out of you. He tilted his head, still chuckling, and shook it. “No, of course not—why would I settle for something so plain? Sea, ocean… those are far too generic. If I’ve started with ‘ocean’ as my lead, then I’ll definitely come up with something suitable.” though a shadow adorned his face as his laughter died, “but…”
A scuffle outside the ruin caught both of your attention — first a faint rustle, then a hollow thump as if something had toppled. Both of you stilled. Through the cracked frame of the broken window came a chorus of shrill, frantic chirps that made Beomgyu’s pulse jolt. He was already on his feet, canvas slipping from his lap to the ground as he hurried outside.
Just beyond the wall, a small nest had tumbled from the ledge, broken into a tangle of twigs and grass, and amidst the debris a baby sparrow writhed helplessly, tiny chest heaving with fragile breaths. Beomgyu’s heart plunged, crouching low as his hands closed gently around the trembling creature, his thumb brushing its downy head as he checked for breaks or twisted wings. Relief crossed his face as he exhaled, speaking as you caught up behind him. “It’s lucky—this little one isn’t too hurt. Shaken, but it’ll be alright.”
Your gaze darted upward at the parent sparrows circling, their wings beating frantically as they cried down at the scene below. “The nest…”
Beomgyu followed your eyes to the broken mass on the ground, his expression softening into something determined. “I’ll mend it. They can’t be left like this.”
Without another thought, he shifted the bird into your hands, the sudden gesture pulling a startled breath from you. You stiffened, cradling it as though it might shatter at the lightest touch. He caught the hesitation in your posture and offered a small smile that held both reassurance and a hint of mischief.
“Don’t worry. Just stroke its back—like this.” He traced the motion with his own finger in the air. “It’ll calm down. You’ll see.”
Left with no choice, you let the tiny bird rest against your palm, your fingers brushing its soft feathers in hesitant strokes. Meanwhile, Beomgyu knelt down, gathering the scattered pieces of the nest. He worked with surprising care, weaving the twigs back together, layering them with dried grass he pulled from the ground, reshaping the fragile cradle until it resembled a small bowl once more. When he judged it sturdy enough, he tested the edges with his fingers, then climbed carefully over the rubble, finding footholds where stone still held. Balancing himself against the jagged wall, he placed the nest back on the ledge, tucking it into a crevice where it would not fall so easily again.
Looking down at you, he called softly, “Bring it here—gently.”
When you reached him, he leaned low, hands brushing yours as he lifted the sparrow from your palms and set it into the nest. His shoulders loosened with relief as he climbed back down, landing with a grunt, dust clinging to his clothes. Together, the two of you stood back, watching as the parent sparrows swooped down, their cries shifting into softer notes as they settled into the rebuilt nest, wings curving protectively around their child.
“Thank God… this little one will keep living with them, in its home.” The relief in his voice was tempered by a heavy lilt. His gaze clung to the family of sparrows, a softness shadowed by a somber edge, as he had glimpsed what could have been him in their fragile reunion. How pitiful was it to wish yourself in the place of some birds?
“That nest isn’t safe.” You were still staring up. “The forest is full of hawks and crows and they will find them sooner or later. All of this—” you gestured at the ledge, at the desperate little family clinging to one another, “—will end the same way.”
His head turned sharply at your words, confusion flashing across his face, then falling away as he looked back at the sparrows, your point sinking deeper than he wished to admit. So that was it — the cycle. No matter what shelter was built, no matter what fragile peace existed, it could be shattered in an instant by a stronger hand or a sharper claw. His throat tightened as he murmured, almost as if he were trying to convince himself, “Then… at least they’ll be together in the end.”
You exhaled, harsher this time, before your hand gripped his arm that startled him. “No. If you want to be their salvation, then do it properly. Don’t just rebuild what was broken only to leave them exposed again. Move them somewhere safer—where claws and beaks can’t reach. They have a chance at something better, Beomgyu. And you’d deny them that?”
He blinked at you, utterly struck by the sharpness in your tone because he had never seen you like this. His throat worked soundlessly, because he had never once thought about salvation like that, not for himself and certainly not for anyone else. And yet, under the press of your stare, he found himself nodding slowly.
Wordless, he cupped the nest once more and carried it inside, searching until he found a wide crack in the wall where the light streamed in. The gap was narrow but passable, a doorway for wings to slip through, and he eased the nest into place. The sparrows fluttered around him as though testing their new home.
His arms ached faintly from climbing, his palms scraped, but when he stepped back, he felt a strange flicker in his chest. He became their salvation. The birds, at least, had a chance.
You let the silence stretch before breaking it with a question that stopped him cold. “If I gave you a way out of the manor forever, would you take it, Beomgyu?”
His heartbeat stumbled, then raced, and he almost laughed at the absurdity of it. “That’s not possible.” he blurted out, staring at you like you had just spoken madness. Did you think his life was like some birds out in the open?
“Hypothetically,” you pressed, a shadow of defiance in your tone.
His hands curled into fists at his sides before he could stop them because your words sparked something raw in him, causing his composure to crack and his voice to come out louder than he ever meant. “Don’t joke about things like that. I’m not like those sparrows—you don’t understand. My father—” He stopped, shaking his head. “It isn’t that easy. He’s dangerous. I can’t just walk away, no matter how much I want to. I’ll never be free of him.”
The admission echoed too loudly in the hollowed room, and as the last word fell he realized he had all but shouted at you. His face blanched, horror flickering through his features. “I—I didn’t mean to snap. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
But you shook your head before he could finish, eyes falling away from his. “No. I’m sorry too.” A pause stretched, you crossed your arms loosely before eyeing the canvas he dropped on the floor earlier. “You have a good heart, Beomgyu. You’re… kind, even when the world hasn’t given you much reason to be. And you’re braver than you think, though you’re still a little too scared to take the first step. I can feel it. Even when life claws at you, you keep that part of yourself intact. I…” you drew in a breath, voice catching faintly, “I envy that.”
Beomgyu tried so hard to decipher the meaning behind your monologue but he found no roads that lead him to a plausible answer. He didn’t even get the chance to ask you what you were saying because you continued to speak.
“The baby sparrow would’ve died if you hadn’t moved the nest, that its wings were still too frail to hold it aloft, too dependent to fend for itself. But now, because you had chosen differently, because you had carried it to safety, it might live.” Then you turned those same words back on him — asking, no, insisting, “didn’t you too want a chance at life, a chance beyond the shadowed halls of the manor that had held you captive for as long as you can remember?”
Beomgyu began to feel dizzy from all the noises in his head. His thoughts splintered in a dozen directions all at once, scattering like shards of broken glass he couldn’t gather fast enough. He felt fear first, tightening around his ribs at the thought of his father finding out, of his father’s hand coming down not on him this time but on you. Doubt slithered in quickly soon, whispering that this could be another test, that maybe you didn’t mean it, maybe you were just prodding at his wounds to see how he would bleed. Yet beneath those voices was hope. Small and fragile, like the sparrow in his hands only moments ago. He tried to shove it down, but it clung, refusing to be silenced.
How could you help him? Could you really help him? Could you somehow do what he had never managed himself? He thought of nights where he had imagined escape only to remind himself of the price — his father’s reach was long, his cruelty deeper still. What if you underestimated him? What if he caught you both? The idea of you being hurt because of him was unbearable, and the thought left a sour taste in his mouth, made his palms sweat as though he were already clutching at chains.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, drawing in a breath so deep it almost stung. When he opened them again, his gaze landed on the canvas. The sea… you were a gentle tide brushing against the edges of his life with patience. You weren’t trying to drown him. He felt the faintest sense of calm settle in his chest.
“I’ll… think about it,” he said at last, the admission trembling in the air. It was neither promise nor refusal, but the closest he could come to hope without breaking apart.
Ever since that day, Beomgyu’s mind had been a restless field of contradictions.
The meeting was the following week, and it seemed like his father was taking hefty preparations considering he had even gone so far as to select the suit Beomgyu would wear, sending the maids to deliver it to his room as if to remind him that even his appearance was not his own to decide. The garment was crisp, its fabric immaculate, and Beomgyu stared at it for a brief moment before turning away, pushing it aside, not willing to try it on until the event day.
Things took an even anguishing turn for his mind when one night, while Hyeeun stood near the window folding the laundry and he was preparing to go to bed, she spoke words that felt too good to be true.
“An art show will be held soon in the town.”
As if struck by lightning, Beomgyu’s mind came to a static stop. Before he could ask, she added, “They’ll choose an apprentice for the great artist Kim Kwangsun. He will take whoever wins under his wing and train them.”
The name alone made Beomgyu’s pulse roar in his ears. Kwangsun — the great painter whose works he had only ever seen in books, whose brush seemed to capture fragments of eternity itself. To be under his tutelage would not only mean escape, it would mean recognition, a life defined by what Beomgyu’s own hands could create rather than what his father could destroy.
But at that moment, each of her words seemed hard for him to understand, as if he was a child who was beginning to learn new words. When the cloud of bewilderment finally left his mind, he licked his dry lips. “Why… why are you telling me this?” he stammered.
“Beomgyu, I want you to participate. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but this… this might be the door you’ve been waiting for. If things are in our favour, you could have the chance to begin again,” her words sharpened with lividness with each one.
This felt way too coincidental, both terrifying and intoxicating. It felt impossible that the thought you had planted — if he would take a way out if offered — had now found an echo in Hyeeun’s words. The seed of hope was raging to go wild, no longer content to rest in silence. It screamed for him to seize it, to run toward the possibility of freedom and let his life finally belong to him.
This could be his salvation.
But rationality took over quicker. His mind recoiled, conjuring the shadow of his father’s hand before it even fell. “Father will kill me if he finds out,” he stated pressingly, shaking his head. “You know what he’s capable of—I can only imagine the things he’d do. And you—” his eyes darted to her, “he’d turn on you too. You’d pay the price right alongside me.”
Hyeeun was adamant. She stepped closer, setting the folded shirt aside, her voice softening yet carrying more strength for it. “All your life, he has chained you. And now, for the first time, you’ve been given a chance to break free. If you can’t trust yourself yet, then at least trust me. I won’t stand by and watch you waste away under his roof, not when I know you have a gift meant for more than these walls.”
Beomgyu decided to not act rashly on his overwhelming emotions and take time to decide. How long could he think, though? How long before hesitation became surrender? You were right when you said he was afraid to take the first leap. Perhaps if he spoke with you again it will help him come to a decision. Yes. He needed to see you — before the chance slipped through his fingers like paint running from a brush.
You were as always, waiting for him. When did you become such a turning point in his life? You occupied a place so difficult to define because he shared a closeness with you of someone he had known forever, and yet the mystery of someone who still remained foreign, your true name withheld from him like a secret. And still, his body betrayed him in its certainty, in the way it recognized you as safe before his mind could put words to the feeling.
He thought of how easily his pulse slowed then picked up when you were near. Around you, he laughed with less restraint, spoke without rehearsing the words in his head, and forgot about time until the sun dipped lower. The soft pull in his chest whenever you glanced at him, and the sudden gentleness that rose in him when he caught the curve of your mouth or the tone in your voice. The body knows, he thought, and his body told him what his mind still struggled to accept: that you had become precious to him.
He thought perhaps you were sent to him by some mercy he did not believe he deserved. How else could he explain your sudden arrival, speaking of escape and daring to imagine a life different from his current one? You wanted him to believe he could leave, you wanted him to believe he could choose, and it shook him more deeply than his own doubts ever had.
A raw desire surged inside him then — an urge to draw you close, to bury himself in the warmth of your presence. Your voice reached him, but the words scattered like dust in the wind. All he could do was move, stepping into the gravity of his longing, arms wrapping around you before he could stop himself.
You stiffened against him, and for a moment he cursed his boldness, but then he felt the hesitation drain from your body, the softening of your breath, and it emboldened him to press his face against the slope of your neck. You smelled faintly sweet, like jasmine, a comfort so achingly tender that his throat closed on itself. He let his arms draw you tighter, and when he felt your arms come around him in return, relief coursed through him so strongly it nearly buckled his knees.
“Can I… stay like this for a while?” He spoke against your skin.
To his surprise, you let out a small laugh. The simple circles you traced along his back soothed his heart. “Are you alright?” you asked softly.
He shook his head against your shoulder, a faint sound escaping him that told you enough. You coaxed him gently, tilting your head so your words reached his ear. “Still caught up in what you’re supposed to decide?”
He lifted his head then, but kept his arms locked around you. His eyes avoided yours, instead tracing the slope of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the delicate dip where your neck met your collarbone. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he confessed, the words raw. “I’ve never dared to think past the dream of freedom. It always felt like… like some fantasy that would crumble if I reached for it. But when I’m with you—” His voice faltered, yet he forced it out. “When I’m with you, I feel like I could be brave enough to try. I feel as though I could face anything, if you’re beside me.”
Heat surged into his face at the admission; he had practically confessed without meaning to. When at last he gathered the courage to meet your eyes, he found them widened in surprise, though the corners of your lips curved up slyly. Tilting your head, you asked, “And you’re feeling brave now too?”
He felt the corners of his own mouth lift, helpless against the warmth that spread through him. “Yeah,” he breathed. “A lot.”
You did not release him from the snare you had woven; you arched a brow, amusement flickering at the edge of your smile. “What’s that bravery making you want to do?”
He paused, his pulse roaring against his ribs as though urging him forward. At last, with a breath he confessed, “I want to kiss you.”
Beomgyu caught the smallest flicker of hesitation in your gaze, and it was enough to send his stomach sinking. Panic surged through him; he released you at once, stepping back a pace as if distance could undo what he feared he had broken. His hands hovered awkwardly in front of him before he lifted one, palm open in a desperate attempt to show he meant no harm. The words tumbled from him with a breathless urgency, his voice strained with remorse. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed myself on you like that. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t want to make you feel trapped.”
But instead of retreating further, you lowered your gaze, lashes veiling your eyes as you reached for him. Your fingers found his, and then both of his hands were gathered into yours. You studied them with a kind of nervous care before threading your fingers through his. The tug you gave was light, almost questioning, but enough to draw him closer again.
You almost whispered the words yet it carried straight to his chest. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Emboldened by the reassurance in your gesture, Beomgyu felt courage swell anew within him, and he pulled you back toward him, never letting go of your hands, squeezing them once in a silent affirmation. “Are you sure?” he asked, looking for any sign of second thought.
This time, you looked up. A single nod, steady despite the faint tremor in your breath, sealed your answer. “Show me,” you murmured, and though it was barely a whisper, to Beomgyu it rang louder than any command his father had ever thundered.
For a long moment Beomgyu could only stare at you, the pulse in his throat beating far too fast. He was close enough now to see the faint flush spreading along the tips of your ears, to hear the unevenness in your breathing that matched his own, and he thought fleetingly that this was a sight reserved for dreams. His hand slipped back to your waist, and then further, pressing at the small of your back where he let his thumb move in faint circles. Was it to steady you or was it to reassure himself to the reality of your presence — the reason became lost when he came into terms that this was no fleeting dream but something palpably real.
You tilted your face up, your eyes finding his and holding them. He gave you one last chance to pull away, but you only shook your head, and the motion nearly undid him. He bent toward you, heart hammering as his lips brushed yours once, fleeting, just enough to send a jolt coursing through his body. Then, unable to resist the pull any longer, he pressed into you fully. The softness of your lips was everything he had ever imagined and more, and when you kissed him back, it felt as if his chest might break open with the sheer force of it. His hand rose instinctively to your face, fingers cradling your cheek with a tenderness he hadn’t known he was capable of. You gripped the fabric at his waist, clutching at him as though he were something worth holding on to, and the contact sent a warmth through him so fierce he almost staggered.
When he finally drew back, unwilling and breathless, he found you still with your eyes closed. You let out a soft sigh before catching your bottom lip gently between your teeth. Beomgyu felt the heat rush to his face, a blush blooming so vivid he thought for certain you would hear the blood rushing in his ears.
“Was that alright?” Beomgyu asked. His thumb brushed across your cheek in a faint tap, not so much to demand an answer as to feel reassured that you were still right there before him, real and close and not some cruel vision his weary mind had conjured.
You opened your eyes, the lashes lifting slowly and a tender smile curved on your lips. There was a glimmer in your gaze, a shimmer that left him wondering why you looked as though you might cry.
“It was more than alright,” you whispered, the words so quiet that he leaned forward instinctively to catch them, and when you added with a small tilt of your head, “Do you feel rebellious now?” there was a spark of teasing in your tone that made him laugh in earnest.
“Yeah,” he admitted between breaths, still chuckling as he met your gaze again. “All thanks to you.”
The two of you stayed beneath the ivy-curled arch of the ruined walls, the dappled light shifting across your faces as the afternoon stretched long. Beomgyu found himself talking more than he had planned, the words spilling in an unbroken current as he confessed things he thought he’d had to bury in himself forever. He spoke of the art competition Hyeeun had told him of, the way his heart raced at the thought of it, the meeting with his father that loomed like a stormcloud on the horizon, and the sleepless nights he spent tangled in his own dread. You listened without interruption, carried all the emotions he laid out. He had never felt so heard.
When you finally asked if he had already decided on a painting for the competition, he nodded without hesitation. “I have one in mind,” he said, but almost at once his confidence faltered, the doubt sneaking in through the cracks of his composure. “But… I don’t know if it’s enough. What if it’s not worthy of winning?”
Your answer made it sound like truth rather than consolation. You told him that his art had already saved him once, that it had already breathed life into the parts of him his father tried to crush, and that if it could do that, then surely it was strong enough to win him a place in the world beyond these suffocating walls. He clung to those words, let them root themselves in him.
That night, when he lay in his bed, Beomgyu realized that he wasn’t trembling with the usual unrest. His body, for once, allowed him the mercy of stillness, his mind quiet enough to let him drift. He carried into sleep not with the sound of his father’s voice or the sting of his doubts, but your laughter, your encouragement, the press of your lips on his. He dreamt of you through the night, and in those dreams your voice reached him like the consolation of the ocean, vast and endless, a tide that could carry him anywhere.
And after all, once the ocean enters the mind, it never leaves.
Hyeeun brought him the flyer a few days later, slipping it into his hands when she returned from the town with a basket of goods. To know that Hyeeun, too, was willing to risk her position and nudge him toward freedom left him both overwhelmed and quietly trembling inside. Between her faith in him and your constant encouragement, he felt more determined than ever before to win the art competition.
The candidates had to register in person, and there was no clear excuse that would allow him to slip into town without someone trailing him. For now, he had to tuck that possibility deep in his chest and force himself to focus on what came first — the meeting. Hopefully, if he did good, his father will let him off the hook without much questions.
The night before the event, sleep barely touched him. By morning, his body felt hollow, yet he had no choice but to rise when the staff bustled into his room. They dressed him in the crisp suit his father had selected, tugging collars straight and brushing invisible specks from his sleeves until he stood polished into an image that was barely him. All the while, his father kept a hawk eye on every of his motions as if he was waiting for Beomgyu to cause a mishap for him to unleash his wrath.
On the car ride, whispers under his breath that carried more venom than volume, his father recited the rules like scripture — when to bow, when to smile, what to say, what not to even think and threaded threats between them like barbed wire. Beomgyu gave nothing back except a stiff nod here, a blank stare there, swallowing everything into the pit of his stomach where it burned like swallowed fire.
It was sickening how his father’s entire demeanor melted into warmth the moment the doors opened and they stepped into glittering light. The man bowed, shook hands, traded laughter and compliments as though he had never once raised a hand against his son. Beomgyu, standing just behind him, followed suit with the expected grace, bowing to officials, exchanging pleasantries with strangers who wore silk smiles. Their words dripped with honey, but their eyes betrayed them. Some held pity so raw he wanted to shrink under it, others carried evil so bone-shattering that he wanted to run away as soon as possible. He was simply counting down the minutes for this to be over.
After what felt like forever, the return journey began though Beomgyu found himself more alert than ever, because he noticed the peculiarity in his father’s behaviour. The man who had been a shadow of menace for days now looked unusually jolly. Beomgyu suspected that the night’s event had yielded him deals he considered golden. He spoke to no one in particular at first, chuckling under his breath, then a call came through, and the hollow walls of the car filled with his booming laughter. The man spoke of opportunities and names he never bothered to share with his son, before ending the conversation with another peel of laughter that rattled against the windows.
Beomgyu sat still, hands folded in his lap, stiffening only when his father’s hand clapped down on his shoulder with a jarring weight. The praise that followed was foreign; words of approval that Beomgyu could hardly believe were directed at him. He had behaved well, his father said, and for that he was worthy of a pat and a chuckle. To anyone else, it would seem like a tender moment between father and son, but Beomgyu’s bones knew better.
Beomgyu inclined his head slightly, not daring to break the fragile surface of good humor. The man, already turning away, launched into another fit of chatter with the driver, spinning half-jokes and boasts about new alliances. Beomgyu, calculating beneath his calm exterior, nodded along as though in admiration before offering his own words at the perfect moment—
“Congratulations, father. It sounds as though you’ve secured what you’ve been working toward.” The words tasted like ash on his tongue. He paused, let his tone soften just enough to sound harmless, before adding, “I’ll need to go into town tomorrow—”
Perhaps on another night, suspicion would have lined his father’s gaze, would have chained Beomgyu’s request to interrogation and threats. But tonight, drunk on his own success, the man barely spared him more than a careless wave of the hand. “Go, go,” he said, still chuckling. “Do what you want, just don’t cause trouble.”
That was Beomgyu's green light and he sat back comfortably against the car seat, not participating in the conversation further. The rest of the car ride, beomgyu had a smile.
The gallery was crowded. Students with sketchbooks tucked beneath their arms, older painters with hands still stained in pigments, children darting between parents who urged them to stand still, and men and women dressed in their best coats. Beomgyu looked around taking in the smiling and vibrant faces of talent surrounding him. So many artists came to sign up for the competition and he thought to himself if it was even possible to compete with them. They carried with them families who clapped shoulders and whispered encouragement but most importantly they looked happy. It was a picture of belonging, and for a moment, Beomgyu wondered what he was doing among them.
He shook himself as though forcing away a cloud. No, no — he could not let his thoughts collapse inward now. He was not entirely alone; Hyeeun had been with him since day one and you had told him more than once that you believed in him. That faith mattered. Just as he was about to scan the crowd for the registration desk, a voice broke through the noise.
“Looking a bit lost there. Are you here to sign up?”
Beomgyu turned to find a young man approaching. He had a charming, friendly smile etched on his lips that enunciated the sparkle of his big eyes. The stranger looked about his age, perhaps even younger, and there was something almost familiar in the openness of his expression.
“I am,” Beomgyu answered, inclining his head politely. “I was just trying to find where to go.”
“Well, you’re in luck then,” the young man said, holding out a hand as though the two had already met. “Kang Taehyun. Come with me, I’ll show you.”
Beomgyu accepted the handshake, the other’s grip firm but not overbearing, and allowed himself to be led through the crowd until Taehyun stopped before a counter stacked with papers, inkpads, and a long line of hopefuls. Beomgyu joined the queue and let his gaze wander again — he found it easier to observe than to think.
Across the room, not far from a display easel propped up with last year’s winning piece, Taehyun stood directing another group of artists toward the line. As though sensing Beomgyu’s eyes, he glanced up, and their gazes met. Beomgyu was probably losing his social skills because how else could he explain the unrecognizable chill running through him upon their eye contact?
Taehyun gave him a small nod and a smile, Beomgyu, uncertain of how to mirror such natural ease, offered a stiff nod in return, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in an awkward curve. Then Taehyun turned away again, already guiding another nervous painter toward the counter.
Registering his name felt like signing the deal for his new life, Beomgyu’s heart catapulting in his chest as he looked at the approved stamp beside his name. He pressed the form back toward the registrar and stepped aside, chest rising and falling as if he had run. This was his only chance and whatever it took, he could not afford to fail.
From his peripheral vision, he noticed the same young man approaching him again. That bright smile was back on his face when he stopped in front of Beomgyu, hands loosely tucked into his pockets. “All done?” he asked.
“Yes,” Beomgyu replied, dipping his head slightly. “Thank you, for earlier.”
“You look nervous,” Taehyun remarked lightly, tilting his head as he studied him.
Beomgyu’s lips quirked upward faintly. “I think that’s the common feeling packed into this place.” His words were dry, a little self-deprecating, but not entirely untrue. He could almost hear the dozens of hearts pounding around him, his own included.
That earned him a soft laugh, and Taehyun nodded as though Beomgyu had said something particularly clever. “Fair point. Still, it helps to walk around a bit, take your mind off it. Want to look around?”
Beomgyu blinked at him, uncertain. “Ah… but aren’t you a volunteer? Shouldn’t you be working?”
“My shift just ended,” Taehyun answered without missing a beat, lifting one shoulder in a shrug that was almost too casual. Then his eyes sharpened, bright with expectation as he leaned forward slightly. “Mister…?”
Caught off guard, Beomgyu realized with a start how rarely he introduced himself first. “Choi Beomgyu,” he said after a pause, the syllables of his own name tasting strange on his tongue in such a public space.
“Beomgyu,” Taehyun repeated, nodding as if sealing it into memory before gesturing for him to follow. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
The gallery was like a maze, hall after hall of color and silence broken only by the shuffle of shoes and the faint murmur of voices that rose and died away again. Beomgyu followed Taehyun through it, exchanging half-thoughts and fragmented words about the paintings and about nothing in particular. The conversations were not meant to be memorable; they existed only to fill the space between them, like scaffolding that kept Beomgyu from collapsing inward under the awkward pressure of being guided by someone he had just met. And yet Taehyun’s presence was gracious without being overbearing which kept Beomgyu from wishing himself elsewhere.
It was in front of a large canvas, colors sun-scorched and sea-drowned, that Beomgyu stopped. A boy in mid-fall, arms outstretched, feathers scattering around him like dying sparks, the sea below dark and wide, the sky above merciless.
“Ah, the infamous Icarus,” Taehyun remarked. He felt Taehyun move closer. “I don’t know much about him, only that people say his tale still echoes as tragedy, even now.”
Eyes never once wavering from the scene, Beomgyu’s tone dipped an octave lower when he spoke. “His father, Daedalus, built wings out of feathers and wax so that they could escape the island of Crete. He warned his son not to fly too high, because the sun would melt the wax, and not too low, because the sea would soak the feathers. But Icarus…” He hesitated, then exhaled. “He was overcome by the wonder of flight. He soared upward, forgetting everything but the sky, and the heat tore his wings apart. He fell into the sea and drowned.”
Judging from Taehyun’s expression, it seemed like he was letting the explanation soak into his mind as though trying to see the boy through both lenses at once. Eventually, he said, “So in the end he died because he went against his father’s words. All that brilliance, all that promise, undone because he couldn’t obey. That’s what makes it tragic, isn’t it? Pointless.”
For a long moment Beomgyu said nothing, his jaw tight as he studied the painted boy’s broken flight. Then, he shook his head. “I don’t see it that way.” His gaze was distant, the words coming from him felt like they belonged to someone else. “Icarus fell, yes. But I like to believe he wasn’t afraid. Even when the sea claimed him, what mattered wasn’t the fall. It was that, for one moment, he flew.”
Taehyun turned toward him. “You think there’s fulfillment in that? To burn out like that, for just a taste of freedom?”
Beomgyu’s eyes softened and a faint, almost sorrowful smile tugged at his lips. After a pause, he gave the smallest nod. “Yes. Freedom asks for a price. He paid it. But in return—he knew what it was to soar.”
When Beomgyu returned home that evening, the house felt cavernous in its silence. He didn’t search for his father as such disappearances were commonplace. Beomgyu instead slipped past the polished halls and made his way toward the staff quarters. In the kitchen, he found exactly who he sought.
“Hyeeun,” he called gently, stepping inside. The older woman startled, pressing a hand to her chest before fixing him with a mock glare.
“Good heavens, child, do you mean to take years off my life? You can’t go sneaking up on me like that. I’m old, remember?” she scolded, though the affection in her voice softened every word.
Beomgyu grinned, crossing the space to wrap her in a brief hug before dropping into the chair beside her. “You’ve been saying you’re old for as long as I’ve known you, and yet you still outwork everyone here. What are you looking at?”
On the table lay a worn photo album, its edges frayed, the pages softened by touch and time. Hyeeun closed a hand over it, almost protectively. “Just these. I thought I’d keep them company for a while.”
Together they turned the pages, revisiting pieces of his past. The photos were a mix: some from the orphanage, others taken after adoption, stitched together into a patchwork of memory. The warmth of her presence and the scent of cooking still clinging to her apron wrapped around him as they reminisced, voices occasionally dissolving into laughter at some captured expression of his childhood self.
One photo in particular drew his eye. He tapped the corner with a finger, brow furrowing. “Ah, this one… this was when the nannies took us on that park trip. I remember chasing after a kite until my shoes were ruined.”
The image showed him with a handful of children, their faces flushed with play. Yet, behind them, almost out of frame, a small family stood frozen in time: a father, a mother, and a girl about his age, their smiles angled toward another camera. The longer he stared, the more the detail nagged at him, a tug at the edges of his memory that refused to resolve into clarity. He tried to summon the day, to piece together fragments, but all that surfaced was an unsettled pull in his chest that he was forgetting something vital from this particular day.
Before he could dwell longer, Hyeeun turned the page with a little hum, drawing his attention to newer photographs, and the moment slipped away like water through fingers. Beomgyu exhaled and let it go.
“Actually,” he said after a beat, glancing at her with a small smile, “I came to tell you something. I registered for the competition today.”
Her eyes widened, and then her whole face lit up, relief and pride tumbling into her expression at once. “Did you now? Oh, Beomgyu, that’s wonderful! You’ll win, I know it.”
He chuckled softly, looking down at her hands and placed his own over hers. “I don’t want to set my hopes too high, but I swore to myself I’d give everything I have this time. Not just for me, but for you too. If I win… I’ll take you with me like I said. We’ll leave this place behind.”
She squeezed his hand gently. “You always speak as though you owe me something, when all I ever wanted was to see you find your happiness.”
Happiness… the word triggered a memory of something, or rather, of someone. Beomgyu hesitated, a sheepish look crossing his face before he spoke again. “There’s… someone I’d like you to meet, one day.”
Hyeeun’s brows rose, her expression shifting from surprise to dawning curiosity. “Someone? Beomgyu, are you telling me you’ve met a person worth introducing to an old woman like me?”
He nodded, lips quirking into a shy smile. Her disbelieving laugh rang out, bright and affectionate, as she shook her head. “You’ve kept this from me? Well, you’d better not think you’re escaping without details. Who is this person?”
“Not yet,” he said gently, sincerity ran beneath his words. “But when the time is right, I promise I’ll bring her to meet you.”
He couldn’t fall asleep that night; he didn’t know whether it was from the rush of adrenaline that ignited in his veins or the stress caused by the thought that he had to work — and quickly — on a new piece which was presentable and qualified enough for the art show. Beomgyu had to be cautious with his art tools. Things would get ugly if he gets caught by his father again. He had to do it all in one month.
He got down to work as soon as he knew he was safe to do so. Days and nights were spent behind the piece he worked on. He was diligent and careful — alert not to make any mistakes. There were moments when Hyeeun had to drag him away from the canvas to eat, or to send him for a bath. On days when the manor’s atmosphere grew too watchful, too unsafe for him to risk even a brushstroke, he carried his tools in secret and escaped to the ruins, where your presence became his shelter.
One afternoon, you arrived and settled beside him to watch. Beomgyu did not need to look up to feel your gaze fixed on the canvas, though when he finally did, he caught the expression on your face and smiled faintly. Your eyes were wide, awestruck.
“It’s beautiful already,” you said. The colors caught in the fading light, and your breath seemed to hitch as you took in how far the piece had come. You reached for his hands. Beomgyu let you take them, watching as your fingers traced across his palms, turning them this way and that, as though searching for some hidden proof of pain.
He gave a small laugh, soft and almost boyish in the dim afternoon light. “Are you checking for wounds?”
Your thumb brushed against a callus, but your gaze had already returned to the canvas. Beomgyu tilted his head and cupped your face in one paint-stained hand.
“I’m being careful,” he assured. “That’s why he hasn’t noticed. That’s why I haven’t had to take any blows lately. I know what’s at stake.”
You turned into his touch, eyes shadowed with worry he had seen before, though never quite so open. “Knowing what your father is capable of,” you said, punctuating the half finished sentence with a sigh, you added, “I can’t help but worry for you.” Your hand tightened faintly over his. “But I also know what you’re capable of, Beomgyu. And when I think of that, I’m certain his hold over you won’t last forever. It’s only a matter of time before one day, everything he’s built will turn to ashes."
Beomgyu let out a quiet laugh. “It’s endearing,” he murmured, “how much you trust me.”
Your eyes curved faintly, though not with unguarded joy; there was a rueful tilt to your lips. “You’ve shown me many reasons to trust you,” you said softly. “I told you before, didn’t I? That you are a kind person.”
He stilled for a moment, the brush pausing mid‑air, before he set it down. He leaned closer, brushing a kiss against your linked hands. “I trust you too, just so you know.”
That was when you went quiet for a moment, eyes flicking over his face as though searching for something, before you asked him why. “Why do you trust me? You don’t even know my name, never once asked me where I came from, who my family was or what I could’ve wanted out of this strange companionship that bound the two of us together. Aren’t you afraid?” you pressed, “that I might be here with some other purpose? What if I hurt you?”
Beomgyu sat back, listening, and the canvas waited but he didn’t care, because the question deserved more than an absentminded answer. His gaze dropped briefly to his hands in yours, then lifted to your eyes. He smiled with an open sincerity.
“Maybe it is strange,” he admitted, “trusting someone when I don’t even know the simplest things about them. But you’ve been nothing but a joy in my life since you appeared. If you wanted to hurt me, I think you would’ve done it long ago. You wouldn’t be here, sitting next to me, watching me chase after something I’d given up on a long time ago. You wouldn’t be the one reminding me that my dreams are worth the risk. Unless…” He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Unless it’s part of your trick, in which case—I’ll say this much. Instead of harm, you’ve made me work harder, and believe that maybe I have a place beyond these walls. If that’s your scheme, then it’s the kindest one I’ve ever seen.”
The ruins were still, save for the faint rustle of wind passing through broken arches. He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret with you. “You told me once you envy me for holding onto compassion even when life didn’t give me reasons to. But… I think you’re just as compassionate, maybe more. Otherwise, why do you look at me like you’re about to cry every time?”
Beomgyu’s heart beat wildly as he said those words, watching your face and how for a long while words seemed to desert you. He wondered if your heart was beating fast too? But you sat there hollow-mouthed, perhaps felt caught between wanting to confess everything and refusing to let a single syllable slip. Beomgyu did not appear unsettled by your silence.
Instead, he turned his gaze toward the broken arches and the scattered stones of the ruin, the evening light slanting across his features as though it wished to frame him in gold. With a small, reflective smile, he said, “Do you know what I’ve realized? You’ve given me more reasons to smile in these past weeks than I’ve had in years. You’ve given me reasons to step out of that house and to look forward to what comes when the sun rises. A cruel heart could never grant that.”
“Do you really think I could be… kind?” you quietly asked.
Beomgyu’s chuckle slipped out, light as if he had caught a breeze between his teeth. He leaned back a little, fingers brushing against the edge of his canvas. “I think I’ve been watching you try to change,” he said warmly but for reasons unknown to him, his words made your eyes dart toward him in alarm. He let that slide. “You don’t need to, you know. You’ve already shown me the heart you carry, but you shift and grow too, and that’s what makes you… harder to pin down. Which is why honestly,” he added with a wry smile, “I’ve hesitated to give you a name.”
Even after having a word for it, there were nights he thought if his definition of you was all that you were. That would be too cruel and unjust for you. He didn’t want to limit you.
Your brows furrowed, curiosity outweighing the panic that had risen in you moments before. “Define me, you mean?”
“Giving you a name,” he corrected gently, tilting his head as he met your eyes again. “A definition fixes a person into one place, doesn’t it? It leaves no room for change. You—” he broke off briefly, lips tugging into a faint smile, “—you evolve. If you’d still like to know what’s been crossing my mind for you, though, I’d be more than glad to tell you.”
A tremor left you in the form of a shuddering breath, but you replaced it with brightness, shaping it into a smile so true and dazzling that it made his chest ache. “I’d still love to know,” you said, eyes catching the light until they shone with a gloss that made you look as though you stood on the edge of tears. There it was again, looking at him as if you’re about to break.
Something in his own expression softened at that. You turned your face away then, toward the half-finished painting between you. “Hyeeun will love this,” you murmured.
“I hope she does,” he answered. Then, after a small pause, he added with an earnestness that he prayed to reach your heart, “I want you to meet her one day. She’s very dear to me.”
You let your eyes rest on him again, watching the openness with which he spoke of her, the fondness etched into his face as though the thought of her could smooth away every scar he had known. “I can tell she is,” you said, “She brought you up, didn’t she? I can see the proof in you. You’ve grown into a lovely person, Beomgyu.”
Time slipped away faster than he could hold it, until suddenly there was only a week left before the submission.
The day had dawned a dreary overcast. Beomgyu’s gaze wandered for a moment to the window, droplets threading their way downward, before returning to the canvas in front of him. His chest swelled with a quiet pride.
A bouquet of vibrant yellow roses framed by a pair of gentle hands. He had managed to capture the image exactly as it had lived in his memory, as if time had folded to give him back that fleeting sight. Looking at it now, he felt vindicated. The scene was striking, full of warmth, just as he had always believed it would be.
A knock came against the door, breaking his reverie. His heart leapt, the corners of his lips tugging upward the moment he saw Hyeeun standing there. He beckoned her in, his eagerness almost spilling out.
“So you’ve finally decided to show me what you’ve been working on,” she said with a playful tilt of her brow.
“I can promise you it’s worth the wait,” he answered with a laugh.
Hyeeun raised her brows in anticipation when Beomgyu jogged up behind her and gently covered her eyes with his hands, guiding her toward the canvas. A laugh tumbled out of her as she allowed him to lead. When he pulled his hands away, Beomgyu stepped back, searching her face as the veil of surprise lifted. For a heartbeat, she looked baffled, and then it began to dawn on her. Her eyes flicked from the painting to her own hands, and there, gleaming on her ring finger, was the silver band reflected on the painted one.
“Are those…?” Her voice cracked, words catching before they could form.
Beomgyu only nodded, the satisfaction in his chest deepening. Her reaction alone was enough to tell him that he had succeeded. Crossing his arms, he looked at the canvas not as an artist, but as a son. “I’ve named it A Mother’s Love.”
Hyeeun pressed her lips together, her eyes glistening despite the small scoff she gave as she wiped at them. “You really know how to move me, don’t you?”
“You once told me I don’t owe you anything,” he paused, looking down. “But I don’t think that’s true. I owe you everything, and I’ll spend the rest of my life finding ways to repay all the years you spent caring for me, standing by me, and loving me as only you could… mother.”
Her arms went around him in a tearful embrace, and he closed his eyes against her shoulder. For all his words, for all the paint he had poured into canvas after canvas, nothing could quite hold the depth of what she had been to him. So he prayed, silently, fervently, that he might one day be worthy of it all.
And just when you think you’re finally at the peak of having the sun in your grasp, you get reminded why Icarus fell for flying so close to it.
The night had been like any other but Beomgyu had paused as he passed the door of his father’s office. He should have walked on. His feet should have carried him back to his room, but instead they rooted to the floor as though the very grain of the wood was determined to betray him into eavesdropping.
“The tide is turning in our favor,” he father said, pacing as he spoke, the scrape of his shoes brushing against the carpet. “The numbers are already showing it. They’ll crown me before the final vote is even cast, you’ll see. But all of it means nothing if ghosts are allowed to claw their way out of their graves.”
Beomgyu’s blood ran cold. Across the room, he heard the secretary’s voice. “It’s been more than ten years, sir. Ten years, and not a whisper has surfaced that can truly harm you. The records are buried deep, the editors are in our pocket, and those who might’ve spoken have either been bought or silenced.”
His father let out a short laugh. “And that is why you’ll make sure they still find nothing to tug at. The family’s death was written off as an unfortunate accident, nothing more. A fire, a tragedy, and then the ashes swept clean. Keep it that way. I don’t care how many papers you have to burn or how many mouths you need to shut. My victory depends on silence.”
The secretary’s chair creaked as he leaned back, the faint metallic tap of his pen following. “It will be done. We’ve kept the story buried this long; another season won’t change that. But—people are digging harder now, rival camps are hungrier. If even one old article resurfaces about the murder—”
“Then destroy it,” his father cut in, dismissive. “Destroy it before the ink has time to dry in their minds. We’ve already killed them once; don’t let their memory rise to kill me.”
It was the way his father said it, offhand as if it were no heavier than instructing the staff to clear the dining table, that made Beomgyu’s breath falter. The word murder hung there, stripped of any disguise, spoken so plainly it scalded him. A murder case, reduced to a nuisance of paperwork and bribes. His father’s voice did not even lower when he referred to the life that had been taken — it was the unshaken belief that power was strong enough to wash blood clean, that made Beomgyu’s insides twist.
He didn’t know whose lives had been extinguished, only that the secretary’s agreement confirmed it had been done and that it was not the first time. All his life, he had exaggerated the fact that his father was capable of ‘killing’ only by taking away someone’s dreams but now Beomgyu truly understood — his father was capable of more than cruelty, more than fists and cutting words; he was capable of ending a person entirely. The realization rooted in Beomgyu’s chest like ice. He staggered back from the door as though struck, each step of retreat a battle to keep his breathing quiet, his hands trembling against the banister as he forced himself back to his room.
Once inside, his strength gave out, fumbling the latch shut. He collapsed to the floorboards, chest convulsing with shallow gasps that refused to fill his lungs. The room blurred and spun, palms pressed against his temples as though he could keep the words from seeping deeper into him. His father was capable of killing. He had done it before, and he had hidden it so well that the world lauded him still.
What seized him more violently was not the thought of his own end should the truth of his defiance ever reach his father — it was Hyeeun.
If his father discovered the plan, if his father so much as suspected her role, what would stop him from erasing her just as he had erased those innocent lives? Hyeeun — sweet Hyeeun, who had given up her years to raise him with tenderness his father never knew — what would he do if she was dragged into the fire? Beomgyu’s nails dug into the floor as his breathing quickened, panic thrashing inside him without direction.
He did not, for one moment, fear what could happen to himself; but the thought of harm falling upon her left him shaking, gasping on the floor. If his father dared to touch Hyeeun, Beomgyu did not know what he might do, only that the boy he was tonight would cease to exist.
He was falling. He was falling and all he wanted was the embrace of the ocean to engulf him so that the terror coursing through his chest would dissolve into something vaster than himself.
Yet he had not moved all day; the bed had kept him prisoner by dread so thick he could not even bring himself to step outside. Though he thought of the lakeside, though he thought of the ruins, though he thought of you, he could not will his limbs to rise. He remained drowning in his own depression, sick with the wish that you would come find him instead, to appear at his door as if summoned by the desperation he could no longer mask, to drown him instead in the breadth of your presence, to hold him and promise that the truth he learned was nothing more than his hallucination.
He could not bear it any longer. Past midnight, when the stars were scattered pale across the sky, he fled toward the ruins. He did not know if you would be there. He did not even expect it, for you had only ever met him in the span between afternoon and evening, your paths parting with the descent of the sun. And yet, he went, driven by the need to breathe somewhere far from walls built by a murderer.
The ruins at night were a husk of themselves. Steeped in shadow, the stones veined with silver where the moon spilled across them making the place look unreal in its beauty. Reality was already growing porous for Beomgyu from the burden of his emotions.
In truth, he did not expect anyone. He had prepared himself for emptiness, perhaps even needed it. So when he caught sight of you there seated in that desolate cradle of stone — for a brief second he thought he had conjured you out of longing, a hallucination born of fear.
His knees struck the earth hard. Raw and jagged sobs broke from him shaking him until he bent forward with his face in his hands, incapable of speech, incapable of anything but breaking apart. He dimly registered your startled voice, the sound of you rushing to him, your hands clumsy on his shoulders and his face, trying to discover where he was hurt, what had struck him down.
“Beomgyu—Beomgyu, what happened? Are you hurt? Tell me where—” Your words stumbled over each other in alarm, your palms framing his jaw.
But no words would come. The air tore in and out of his lungs but brought no calm, only more shudders. His hands caught at you desperately, clutching your arms, your shoulder, wherever he could find purchase to feel you weren’t an image he conjured up.
“Breathe,” you whispered, pulling his face against your shoulder. “Just breathe, it’s alright. You’re here, I’ve got you. You’re safe, Beomgyu.” The cadence of your words was uneven, rushed at times, but that only made them feel more alive.
It took long minutes before anything coherent slipped through his teeth. “I—I can’t—” He broke off, pressing his face harder into your shoulder because the words themselves burned. “The house—it’s—” His chest hitched again, another sob scraping his throat raw. “I don’t know what to do. Hyeeun—I’m so scared.”
You stroked the back of his neck, shushing him in soft fragments but Beomgyu could hear your heart beating in confusion. “Then don’t think about the house right now. You’re here. Just stay here with me. Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone.”
He shook his head, unable to form more. He couldn't place it into words — couldn’t say my father is capable of killing, couldn’t bear to let it take shape.
You let him be for a little while longer, waiting until the worst of his trembling had passed before gently suggesting that the night air would make him catch a cold if he stayed out any longer. He didn’t resist when you touched his sleeve and urged him to his feet, though his movements were sluggish. His gaze trailed after you when you stooped to collect the lamp you had with you, its pale flame quivering with each step you took toward the ruined structure.
The ruin looked much as you both had left it the last time — almost domestic in its stillness, thanks to his earlier persistence in sweeping and arranging. The corners were free of the usual drifts of leaves, and the mat you had unrolled together rested against the far wall. You brought him there with a small guiding press, and he sank down onto it. When you passed him your water pouch, he gratefully accepted it. The liquid wet his lips, ran down the corner of his mouth, and only then did he realize how parched he was.
You stayed low before him, crouched so that your eyes caught his without obstruction. The flame from the lamp painted copper onto the brown of your gaze, lending it an otherworldly sheen that held him captive despite himself. He thought, wildly, that if he had enough strength left he would keep staring until the night collapsed into morning, that maybe your eyes could hold him upright where his own body could not. His heart, which only moments ago had raced from panic, now beat with a different restlessness.
“What were you doing here?” he asked at last, his voice roughened not only by thirst. He glanced at the darkness beyond the broken threshold, then back at you. “At this hour, I mean. It’s far too late for you to be wandering.”
Beomgyu once again caught the familiar flicker of hesitation in your gaze as you thought for an answer. He was no fool, he knew you had secrets, but you weren’t an enemy. That much, he was sure of, and if one asked him why then they’d be disappointed knowing he too had no idea why. He just knew.
“I couldn't sleep.” You brushed a stray lock of hair back as you spoke, your gaze drifting briefly toward the lamp. “When my house doesn’t feel like a home, I come here, remember?”
A rueful smile touched his mouth, though it faltered almost as soon as it appeared. “Then I should apologize for invading your space. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t even know if you’d be here. It’s only that—” he swallowed, thumb tightening on the water pouch before setting it aside, “I hoped for you to be here. You’ve become… I don’t even know the word. Important, I suppose. Too important, perhaps. It’s strange—funny, even.”
The wind slipped in through the gaps in the stone, stirring a faint draft that made the flame inside the lamp gutter dangerously, shadows reeling across the walls. The two of you instinctively glanced toward it, watching as it bent and righted itself. The pause in conversation stretched there, tension threading the air in the wake of his words.
“Are you still sure you want to do this?”
“Do what?”
You looked away, toward the lamp that threatened to die and then flared again, and you shook your head like you were denying both him and yourself. A faint, tired curve of your lips betraying nothing of the turmoil beneath. “You shouldn’t trust me this much.” The words were a weak last attempt at a warning.
Beomgyu chuckled dryly. “You’ve said that before,” he murmured, rubbing at his face with both hands as if he could wake himself from this strange, aching dream. “And I told you—I don’t care. If you were going to hurt me, you would’ve done it already.” His hands dropped back to his lap, his eyes finding yours in the half-light. Softer, almost broken, he added, “You still had the chance to do it tonight… but instead you held me.”
His head tilted, hair falling across his brow as he studied you. “Why do you keep doing it?”
The lamp flickered violently, its glow throwing wild shapes across the walls and cutting harsh lines over his face. He leaned back against the stone, letting his legs stretch before him. The night wind had worked his hair into a tangle, and without thinking, you shifted closer, reaching out to smooth them away. His gaze never broke from yours, even as your fingers threaded lightly through his hair he kept waiting for your answer.
When your silence stretched, he exhaled a breath that trembled at its edges. “It’s too late to take it back now,” he said softly. “I’d rather trust you and be wrong than keep drowning alone.”
It was true. Never once had he felt danger in your presence. Unease, yes, at the beginning, when you had first unsettled him with your strange quietude but never once did he feel the need to truly run away from you. Even if he was destined to burn like Icarus, chasing the warmth of a freedom too close to touch, and even if you were the ocean that would swallow him whole, he could not bring himself to care. Let the story be a tragedy rewritten. He still wanted you.
You said his name — just his name — and the sound of it loosened a sigh from him. His hand rose almost instinctively, closing around yours where it still rested in his hair. That simple gesture drew your eyes to him at last, made you meet him fully beneath the thinning light. The wind surged through the broken windows, and the flame in the lamp gave its last quiver before snuffing out, leaving the two of you in the silvery hush of moonlight.
He saw the way your lips parted with the faint tremor of restraint there, and how your gaze dipped, traced the line of his mouth before returning to his eyes. Beomgyu didn’t move at all, offering the decision into your hands.
You were torn, that much he could see, and guilt pricked him for laying this heaviness on your shoulders. He softened instinctively, ruffling your hair with his palm before patting the top of your head with a small chuckle which was no less warm.
“Thank you,” he said. “For always catching me when I fall, even when you don’t realize it.” He started to push himself upright, brushing dust from his palms. “I’m okay now. I can go back.”
But your hand caught his collar before he could straighten fully, the tug sharp enough to unbalance him, dragging him back down into a sitting position where your mouth caught his. Beomgyu had no time to even melt into the kiss because you were pulling away already. He stared at you when did, still so close that your breaths touched. His pulse pounded so harshly in his ears it drowned out the rustle of the trees outside. Your grip on his collar only tightened, holding him close enough that he could see the way your chest heaved with uneven breaths.
“Please,” you begged, “ask me what you are to me.”
His chest ached at the rawness of it, a smile breaking loose even as he lifted his hand to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your skin tenderly. “What am I to you?” he whispered.
You cursed under your breath, eyes squeezing shut as though forcing the truth out cost more than you wanted to give, before you opened them again and pinned him in place.
“I want to save you, Choi Beomgyu.”
“I’m all yours.”
Mouth claiming mouth, returning to each other with a rush and much less hesitation this time. His hand slid up to the back of your head, holding you against him. The taste of you filled him, overwhelming and it wasn't enough, never enough, so he angled his mouth to press harder against yours — lips parting, pulling you closer until your knees knocked his thighs. Beomgyu’s back thumped lightly against the wall as you pressed forward, the jolt sending a shiver up his spine. He didn’t even care about the rough stone digging into his shoulders; all he cared about was the feel of you crawling into his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips, your body pressing down until he could hardly breathe for the rush of sensation.
A groan broke from him when you settled more fully against him, the friction near unbearable through the layers of cloth still separating you. Your dress had ridden up over your thighs, exposing warm skin beneath his palms as his hands slid along them, and the shiver that trembled through you only pushed him further into the haze of need. The movement forced another roll of your hips against his that made his vision blur for a moment. He broke from your mouth only to gasp for air, forehead falling against your shoulder, his breath hot where it hit your skin.
“Is this—” he rasped, voice raw with need, “—is this really okay?” His fingers flexed against your waist, betraying his fear of pushing you too far, of losing what he already had.
“Yes,” you breathed against his ear, the word catching on your throat, more exhale than voice. “If you want this too.”
He tilted his head back enough to catch your mouth again, kissing you like that was the only answer possible. “God, I do,” he muttered against your lips, barely coherent as he drew you down harder against him, his hips shifting upward to meet the roll of yours. The friction burned, sharp and maddening, and he couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped when you rolled down again, slow enough to make his entire body quake.
“You’re trembling,” you whispered against his cheek, your hands threading through his hair, tugging lightly.
“I—” he choked out a breath as his hands slid from your hips up along your back, “—I don’t think I can stop even if I tried.”
“You don’t have to,” you said simply, continuing your blissful torture on him, dragging across the strain between you both. Beomgyu’s jaw dropped around another groan, his eyes squeezing shut at the flood of sensation. His mind shrank to nothing but the heat of your body rocking against his, the sound of your breath mixing with his own, and the wet press of your mouths colliding again and again, each kiss hungrier than the last.
He had thought he’d drown in loneliness before, but this was drowning too — in fire and salt and sweetness, a burn he would gladly take if it meant more of you, closer still, until there was no space left between. He didn’t care if it consumed him entirely; he wanted more, and more, and more.
You pressed another kiss to his lips, and he was hungrier than ever. His voice broke into a low moan against your mouth, his body jolting when the hard line of his arousal slid against your center through the thin barrier of fabric. His face burned crimson as he wrenched back just far enough to groan. You take the break to graze your lips against his neck, and he shudders beneath you, his fluffy black hair beginning to stick to his forehead from sweat.
He’s already unbearably hard and his mind was reeling from this in a way no danger, no sleepless night, ever had. He felt you shift back a little, your hand slipping lower, trailing over the bare stretch of his stomach where his shirt had ridden up, before resting with the softest pressure against his crotch. The look of asking for permission you gave him nearly broke him apart. He could only nod, his body begging for you, but more than that, his heart begging to be trusted with this.
It wasn’t just the fire of arousal that consumed him, it was the way you touched him as if he was worth handling with devotion. He had never known gentleness like this, never known safety within desire, but right now you were giving him those so easily — your lips pecking his so softly, your body guiding him instead of overwhelming him. He wanted nothing more than to return that gift, to be your harbor the way you were becoming his. His hands, though trembling, moved to help you out of the thin barrier of fabric that still stood between you, his gaze never leaving yours as if to swear again and again that your comfort was his priority. Every shift, every small intake of your breath, he caught and memorized.
Beomgyu had always held the seed of desire under his tongue and let the wild birds hawk the sky. He had dreamt of being wanted; truly wanted, not as a tool or a passing shadow — something heady and sweet and worthy to be held down. And now, when your heat finally took him in, he understood what it meant to be wanted that way.
The sudden stretch tore a moan out of you before you could stop it, and he clutched at you instinctively as you gasped, the tightness around him enough to strip him of all thought. Your face twisted with pain and pleasure, and his heart wrenched — he kissed you through it, every apology falling between your breaths, every praise spilling across your skin in a desperate attempt to soothe. His lips moving over your jaw, your temple, your mouth, anything he could reach as his hands stroked your sides. He massaged gently, trying to calm you down in the same way you had anchored him, murmuring promises into your hair that he would wait, that you could take all the time you needed.
The moonlight fell over you both, silvering the sheen of sweat on your skin, and when he saw the way your mouth parted, the way your lashes fluttered as you began to move along him, it nearly pushed him over the edge. Every slow rise and fall was a gift, every sound that slipped from you felt like a gospel in his ears that caused waves of pleasure to crash into him.
You kissed him through the waves, left him gasping, and he thought — how could one ever stop loving the ocean, even if it leaves you breathless on its shore?
“Sær.”
Somewhere in that heady haze, the name burned in the back of his mind begging to be given a shape, so Beomgyu let it fall from his lips softly and hushed between breaths. It’s the name he thought of for you. Perhaps in another moment, one that was not this, he might have chosen to tell you your given name. But here in this blissful heat of intimacy, it felt right to give you the name he had forged in the furnace of his chest. Now, when he was bare in every sense, was the only time it could have been spoken.
And the instant it passed, he felt you pausing your movements mid-press, your eyes carrying… was it shock? Disbelief? Caught in the frenzy of stumbling heartbeats he could not tell apart why his heart was pumping so loudly. Did you perhaps not like it? Were you disappointed?
“Wh–what?” your voice cracked, the sound so broken in the night air. He clenched his jaw, forced his hips to stay still when every muscle screamed to thrust upward into you. Instead he lifted a trembling hand to cup your cheek, brushing the warmth of your skin with his thumb.
“That’s the name I’ve chosen for you,” he whispered, voice rough with want, rougher with tenderness. “It means–”
“The ocean.”
Countless synonyms of the ocean to exist yet this particular one echoed in his head insistently, stubbornly, and he didn't know why but only that it fit, only that its existence belonged to you. Sær. Ocean. That was what you were to him. Endless, vast, merciless, and yet the only place he could imagine belonging. His final resting place.
Beomgyu’s eyes searched yours like a man praying for absolution when you finished the sentence for him. However, worry started to seize him when you remained quiet with eyes downcast. He pushed himself up, ignoring the way the change in angle made your walls clench tighter around him, ignoring the way his own body begged for movement, and focused only on your face. “You don’t like it?”
When he tilted your face up with his fingers on your chin, Beomgyu’s heart dropped in his stomach as he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. Panic clawed through him. He grasped your shoulders as if trying to hold you together, his voice rushing out fast and uneven. “Are you hurt? Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop? Tell me and I’ll stop, please—”
But you shook your head so fiercely that his words cut off, and in that frantic movement he caught the shimmer of your tears spilling freely. His chest seized, but then you were smiling through it, trembling and tearful yet radiant in a way that shone brighter than any words could have. “No—no,” you whispered, “I’ve never been happier.”
The confession sent a rush through him that loosened the taut coil of tension in his chest, replacing it with a wild, fervent heat that left him gasping against your mouth when your lips found him again, a hungry pull that drew him back into motion, your hips rolling as you seated yourself fully and began to move. Beomgyu swore something had changed right then — intoxicating him more than before.
Every drag of your slick heat around him made his lungs fight for breath, and when you rocked deeper, sinking down until he was pressed to the hilt, he nearly lost himself right there. Your gasps spilled over his mouth, your moans falling into the crook of his throat, and he thought he might die from the sheer sound of you. His hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging into the curves, and he met each thrust with a broken groan, matching your rhythm until it was impossible to tell who was guiding whom, only that you were both drowning together in the same tide.
All of a sudden you smiled at him again, and leaned close until your lips brushed his ear. You whispered your name to him.
The syllables curled inside him like fire, and he swore his vision blurred, his head snapping back against the wall as his eyes rolled and his mouth fell open around a breathy moan. He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, smiling and whispering your name back to you again and again.
Your name on his tongue made you clench around him as your essence washed over him with soft moans, and he knew he wasn’t going to last. The way your body gripped him, hot and merciless, had him groaning into your shoulder, warning through ragged breaths, “I—I’m close, I can’t—” And you nodded against his skin, letting him go, letting him pull free from your heat just as he broke. The sound that tore from him was high, keening, his throat catching on a pitch he hadn’t known he could reach, while his release painted across his abdomen and chest in hot spurts. His body trembled from the force, every muscle giving out as his head dropped back, hair sticking to his sweat-slick forehead, his whole face and neck and ears flushed a furious red.
Beomgyu watched you lean down, dragging your tongue slowly across his abdomen, licking up the taste of him mixed with salt and heat, your eyes flicking up as you paused against his stomach. That sight was so utterly erotic and filthy that he thought he might spill again right then and there.
His fingers found their way into your hair, stroking along the strands before resting on the back of your head. “Kiss me. Need to know what I taste like on your lips.”
He saw the way your face warmed but then you leaned down again, licking up more of his release before swishing it around your lips. When you pressed your mouth to his, the feeling of it had him groaning deep into you, and he clutched at your nape.
He swallowed the taste of himself mixed with you — the electricity of your touch had him drowning and soaring at once. His whole body shuddered at the intimacy of it, at the mess and the sweetness, and he thought he would gladly starve forever if only to be fed this again.
When you finally parted, leaving him panting against your mouth, he found himself smiling afterward. “You have a beautiful name.” He hoped he conveyed his earnest feelings in his words.
Beomgyu watched, mesmerized, when you laughed. You have such a beautiful smile. You had always been beautiful to him, though before you had hidden behind a disguise. But now in front of him you were stripped bare of all tricks and pretense. You were showing him your true colours and that, Beomgyu thought, made you look more breathtaking than ever.
He prayed desperately that he would not come to regret whatever had unraveled between you tonight. He prayed that your damnation might somehow free him, instead of chaining him to some future filled with remorse. But right now, with you in his arms as the two of you laid under the moonlight, it felt just right. He wished to stay like that.
On the day of the art submission, Beomgyu had to be diligent to leave the manor. Seven days until the results, they had announced, and those words had not left his head since.
He told himself over and over that if a public figure like Kwangsun took notice of him, his father would have no choice but to let him go, to let him pursue what he wanted, if only for the sake of preserving his family’s image. But the thought did not bring comfort for long and his fear knew no bounds since after all his father is quite literally a murderer.
When the sixth night bled into its end and he prepared to sink beneath the covers, a soft tap against the glass alerted him. His head shot up staring into the darkness, convinced for a moment that he had imagined it. Then it came again, twice this time. He pushed himself up, bare feet cold against the floor, and went to the window, his hand trembling slightly as he unlatched it—
“Hi.”
—too see you there.
You stood framed in the night, the silver wash of the moon outlining you, but it was not the you he knew. You weren’t draped in the light summer dresses or the casual clothes he had grown accustomed to seeing, no, tonight you wore dark garments cut close to your figure — a uniform. The sight shook him because it hinted at a life he had not yet been allowed to glimpse but that detail was not the top of his worry.
“How—how did you even manage to get in?” He was already panicking, mind racing with the thought of his father’s eyes everywhere. He stepped back just enough to let you climb in. “What if someone saw you—”
But before he could finish, you cradled his face, and your lips crashed against his with such urgency that it drove every frantic thought from his head. Lungs having the air knocked out from them, he staggered back under the force of it, his own hand shooting out to grasp your arm to steady his footing.
There was something desperate about the way you kissed him like it was the last time, as if the world would tear the two of you apart come morning, and that terrified him. A discomfort so prominent began to claw its way up in his chest that he could not push it down no matter how much he tried.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered, when you finally broke away. “Why does it feel like—like you’re about to leave me?”
You only shook your head, your forehead coming to rest against his. “Nothing’s wrong,” you whispered, though your eyes betrayed a depth that unsettled him further. Then, tilting your head back you smirked faintly, words curling off your tongue in that way of yours that always left him defenseless. “Why does it still come as a surprise to you that closeness can’t be achieved from a safe distance, hm?”
Heat shot through his face, and Beomgyu cursed himself for how easily you could melt him. Your teasing expression, paired with the uniform you wore — you looked so different but no less breathtaking that it left him stammering. He knew he looked ridiculous, stuttering for air when all you did was look at him.
You gave a gentle shake of your head again, chuckling before a tiny smile surfaced. “Everything will be okay. That’s why I came—to tell you not to be afraid, no matter what happens.” Your thumb brushed across his cheek, and your gaze never left his, steady even as his heart pounded. “The results are tomorrow, aren’t they? Believe in yourself, Beomgyu. Remember what I promised—” you paused briefly, letting your smile widen, “I will save you, and I will catch you, no matter how you fall.”
The reassurance should have calmed him, but it only heightened his unease. Inside, his chest thrashed with dread, though he kept his expression still, voice as steady as he could manage. “You’re scaring me,” he said, and it came out smaller than he wanted.
But you only laughed softly like you were helping him calm down. “I’m being practical,” you said, nudging his nose with yours. “It’s better to be prepared for anything, don’t you think?”
He hated that you were right. There was no promise that tomorrow would bring triumph. No promise that fate would land in his favor. And yet, even in that terrifying ambiguity, you spoke as if his future was not chained to chance. As if you had already written it differently for him.
So he trusted you, because even when your words hinted at farewells and hidden battles, you had never once turned away from him. What else could he do when your hand was warm against his cheek and your eyes burned with certainty?
His gaze drifted down to the uniform again, questions weighing on his tongue. “Your uh… outfit. Is it for work?” he asked.
You hummed as if the question amused you and stepped back a pace, giving a twirl as though to show yourself off. Then you shoved your hands into your pockets, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Do I look good?”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, cheeks warming again. “You do,” he admitted. He let it stop there, did not press further, though a hundred questions burned in him. He only stared softly at the enigma of you and though you offered him crumbs of your secrets, though you showed him pieces like this, he could not bring himself to despise you or fear you for withholding the rest.
You stepped into him once more, wrapping your arms around him. He returned the embrace, burying his face against your shoulder, and that was when you whispered against his ear, “Please wait for me.”
The words throbbed in his skull. His lips parted, the question trembling on the edge of his tongue — what do you mean by that? — but he could not force it out and by the time he gathered his courage, you were already drawing away. So he only held onto the warmth of you as you climbed back through the window. Your smile was soft, and with one last look, you slipped out into the night, leaving him with nothing but the ghost of your kiss and the echo of your promise.
Dawn felt too bright, the pale gold seeping across the horizon feeling almost cruel when his body still trembled with exhaustion.
Beomgyu had not closed his eyes once, and now the morning found him pacing the length of his room. He sat at his desk and tried to sketch, his pencil scratching lines that twisted into nonsense before his frustration tore the paper apart; he reached for a book, but the letters swam before his eyes, meaningless as waves breaking against stone. He pressed his forehead against the windowpane, hoping the cool glass might still his racing thoughts, but all he could see in his reflection was a boy stretched thin between terror and hope.
Hyeeun came to him more than once, gentle in the way she hovered by the doorframe before stepping inside. She reminded him, “You’ve done your part — now it’s the world’s turn to see it.”
She guided him back into his chair when his legs refused to stop moving, brushed his hair out of his face and held his hands when they trembled too violently to keep them still. Yet her reassurances, as tender as they were, could not banish the echo of the words you had left him with at the window. They repeated endlessly, a vow that should have been comforting but instead carved at his chest with each recollection, because the tone in which you had spoken them had left behind the ache of your absence.
Every creak of the hallway, every rattle of wind against the shutters, every stray sound made his heart lurch, convinced that it was not a messenger at the door but his father, that somehow the man had already discovered everything, that the fragile shield of secrecy would shatter and crush him before he ever had the chance to dream of freedom. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, until the sound he dreaded most came — a knock at the door.
His body jerked upright, cold sweat prickling his neck, and his eyes darted to Hyeeun, who straightened slowly, her mouth pressed into a line as though she too feared what lay beyond that door. But then the voice of a servant filtered through, announcing the arrival of a letter addressed to him, and Beomgyu’s stomach twisted so violently it felt like a blade had cut through him.
The envelope, when it was placed in his shaking hands, almost dropped as his fingers faltered, and Hyeeun’s hands came to rest lightly over his own, urging him to steady himself, urging him to breathe, urging him to open it before his panic consumed him entirely. “Beomgyu,” she said in a way that did not allow disobedience, “you cannot keep fearing what is already written. You owe it to yourself to see it.”
But Beomgyu stood frozen, the envelope heavy as iron. His throat worked uselessly. “What if—” he choked, unable to finish.
What if it told him he was nothing? That every stolen hour by candlelight, every drop of blood hidden in the strokes of his brushes, every secret dream was nothing more than childish delusion?
“You’ll never know if you keep staring at it,” Hyeeun whispered, touching his wrist. Her hand was warm.
His heart hammered against his ribs, a drum of dread, until the silence became unbearable and he tore at the seal with uncoordinated hands.
At first, the words danced, and he had to blink until tears threatened to spill just to make out the letters. He read the ranking once, disbelieving. Twice, his lips trembling over the syllables. A third time, until his vision swam and the letters dissolved into black ink stains.
“It says… it says—” He laughed, a cracked sound that turned into a sob, then another, until tears blurred everything. “First,” he whispered hoarsely, “I ranked first.”
Hyeeun caught him before he collapsed entirely, guiding him down to sit. She was crying too, laughing through her own tears as she wrapped her arms around him. “You did it,” she whispered fiercely into his hair. “You really did it, Beomgyu.”
Pressing his face into her shoulder, his words spilling between broken breaths. “I’m free… I’m free, I’m really—” The rest dissolved into another wave of sobs, his body shaking so violently that the letter slipped from his fingers, fluttering onto the floor. Relief was not graceful; it was messy, all hiccups and laughtert.
The euphoria surged in him like lightning, so overwhelming it forced him to move, to act, to run. He broke from Hyeeun’s embrace with breathless apologies, grabbing his shoes without tying them, bolting through the door, through the grounds, his chest heaving with both joy and desperation. There was only one thought in his mind, one face that rose before him with unbearable longing: yours.
But the lakeside was silent. The ruins were empty. His joy collided with the void of your absence.
His throat tightened as he spun in place, searching the trees, the shadows, the horizon, certain that you would emerge, that you would keep your promise. You did not come.
But still he waited, standing at the edge of the lake with the paper of his triumph folded in his fist, the breeze catching the tears still drying on his cheeks. He whispered into the emptiness, words meant only for you, a vow as fragile as it was unyielding.
“ I’ll wait, just like before. You promised… you promised you’d come for me.”
And though the world around him stayed silent, he remained, eyes fixed on the distance, clinging to the hope that you would return.
Beomgyu welcomed each day half-convinced it had all been a fever dream, that the seal and the words naming him first place had been forged by his starving imagination. He would reach for the folded paper hidden beneath his mattress, hands shaking as he unfolded it, only to collapse into a flood of relief when the words remained the same.
Freedom was almost his, and yet the first step of victory strangely felt incomplete. He carried his sketchbook to the lakeside, to the ruins, waiting for you as he had in those early days. Sometimes he spoke aloud, as if the reeds or the broken stones might carry his words to you: “You’d laugh at how nervous I was,” he muttered one afternoon, biting back a grin that dissolved into a sigh. “I wish you could’ve seen me open it.”
Hyeeun, perceptive as always, saw the faraway look in his eyes. She once voiced her words in the passing, “She gave you courage, didn’t she? Whoever she was.” Beomgyu didn’t answer, but his blush was answer enough.
In the letter it was written that Kwangsun would be meeting the winner. Beomgyu did not know why, but his father had left for another trip on the very day you came to his window, and had been abroad ever since. He overheard the manor staff gossiping about how some “complications” arose that urgently demanded his father’s attention. Beomgyu’s subconscious clawed at him with suspicion — what if it had to do with the cases his father tried so hard to bury? Yet whatever the truth, the absence was a reprieve, buying him enough time to deal with the one thing that mattered.
The atelier was nothing like Beomgyu had imagined.
He had pictured grandeur where the sole elements would be gilded frames, marble flors, and assistants bustling in every nook and cranny. Instead, the space was alive in its chaos, full of mismatched life. There were canvases leaned against walls in crooked stacks and half-finished sketches cluttered tables. At first your senses would be a little tipsy given how strongly the air smelt of turpentine and oil. Dusty light from the tall windows struck the room unevenly casting portraits into half-shadow.
Beomgyu stood in the doorway, palms clammy, his sketch folio clutched so tightly the corners had bent. His heart stuttered with disbelief. This was real. This was him standing here, not the Assemblyman’s son caged in darkness, but Beomgyu the artist, summoned into the workshop of the very man whose name hung in every gallery.
A voice carried across the cluttered room. “So you’re the one.” Kwangsun emerged from behind a canvas, wiping his hands on a rag. His gaze swept over Beomgyu.
Beomgyu bowed low, words caught in his throat. He managed to spell out a meek greeting which the older man acknowledged with a warm nod. Kwangsun gestured toward a canvas propped on an easel — the very one that had won the competition. “I’ve looked at this for hours,” he said, stroking his beard. “It speaks with a voice I recognize. But words on canvas are one thing—hands must answer for them. Do you mind showing me if yours really do?”
Beomgyu blinked. “Show you?”
Did he not believe Beomgyu drew it? Or maybe it was a test to determine the authenticity of the choice they made. It was fair if they wanted to check.
Kwangsun nodded, his smile hidden beneath this mustache. He gestured to a nearby stool where a clay vase sat, chipped at the rim. “Draw this,” he said simply. “Let me see what you can do when the subject is plain, when beauty isn’t handed to you but must be found.”
The room seemed to shrink. Beomgyu lowered himself onto the stool, knees weak, every painting’s eyes pricking at his skin. His fingers trembled as he pulled paper from his folio, charcoal smudging his palm. For a brief, terrifying moment, he thought the pressure alone might consume him before he had even begun until the first line touched the page.
The noises dissolved, as it always did. The air, the people, even Kwangsun’s presence thinned to nothing. Only the vase existed, and his hand became a conduit between sight and truth. He followed the crack first, tracing the fracture as though it were a vein carrying grief, then the softened curve where shadow wrapped itself in reluctant embrace. Each stroke carried him deeper into the fragile imperfection that only he could see.
When he set the charcoal down, he snapped out of his trance. His throat was parched, his palms damp, his body spent as though the act had drawn something vital from him. The murmur of the atelier returned, louder now, the sound of brushes and low conversation filling the silence he had carved for himself. Beomgyu forced his gaze to stay fixed on his paper when the man leaned over the drawing, his eyes moving slowly across the page.
He said nothing for so long that Beomgyu’s pulse began to roar. Finally, the artist laughed warmly. “There is fever in these lines,” he said, voice rich, almost approving. He tapped the edge of the sketch with his finger. “A man who sees the crack first, before the whole.”
Beomgyu solemnly swore he could not figure out whether heard praise or warning. He was so nervous he felt like any moment he could be retching his guts out. Beomgyu dared to look up, searching for judgment. But there was pride in his smile.
“You’ll do well,” Kwangsun said at last. “But you must listen carefully, Beomgyu, because what I tell you now will matter more than the praise.”
He stepped back, his eyes fixed not on Beomgyu but somewhere distant, as if speaking half to the ghosts of countless apprentices before him. “Talent can survive poverty. I have seen men paint masterpieces with nothing but a stub of charcoal and a scrap of paper. It can survive ridicule. I have seen crowds laugh, only for the same work to be treasured years later. But talent cannot—will not—survive the hand that seeks to own it.”
Beomgyu frowned. “Own it?”
“Yes.” He moved closer, laying a large, warm hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder, “Protect it—protect yourself—or it will be lost before you’ve even begun.”
The adrenaline roared in his veins to the point it began to eat away his stomach. No one had ever spoken of his art as something alive or worth guarding except for two people. His throat ached, and he had to look away lest his eyes betray him.
“I will teach you what I know,” Kwangsun continued, softer now. “But it will not be an easy road. You’ll work until your bones protest, and some days you’ll hate the sight of a brush. Still—if you endure, you’ll carve a place no one can take from you.” He paused, studying Beomgyu’s face. “Do you understand?”
Beomgyu nodded, though his voice cracked when he said, “Yes, sir.”
Kwangsun laughed again, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “No ‘sir.’ You’re not a soldier, and I’m not your jailer. Call me teacher if you must, but I’d prefer Kwangsun. We’ll walk this path together—not above and below, but side by side. You’ll stumble, I’ll correct you, and one day, you’ll correct me too. That’s how this works.”
Such warm words were given out so selflessly, beomgyu could not believe his ears. The tremor in his chest eased. This man, with his blunt truths and warm regard, was nothing like his father. He almost laughed at the thought, almost wept too. Standing here, Beomgyu realized he was being offered more than apprenticeship.
He wondered what sacrifice was made for this kind of luck on his side, but he was grateful, and he wanted to guard this luck.
Beomgyu has been flying for a while now, and has flown quite high.
Whispers in the manor reminded him reality was not suspended forever. Servants spoke of news and rumors from abroad, of the Assemblyman’s swift dealings and the likelihood of his return. Beomgyu pretended not to listen, though his stomach coiled with each word. He buried that fear beneath canvases and sketches, pretending the hours in Kwangsun’s workshop were enough to keep the outside world at bay.
But dread has a way of seeping back in, no matter how many colors one paints over it.
One evening, Hyeeun entered his room with folded hands, watching him pack away another sketch. She spoke softly, as though unwilling to startle the fragile bubble he lived in. “Has Master Kwangsun mentioned… any plans about you moving out of this house?”
Beomgyu paused. “Soon,” he replied, there was a glint of relief beneath his words. “Preparations has started. He already knows about you. I told him I wouldn’t leave without you.” Though beomgyu wished the procedure was fastened, he was grateful it even started.
Her eyes warmed, though a crease of worry remained between her brows. “It comforts me to hear it, but…” She hesitated, pressing her thumb against her palm. “How do you plan on breaking this to your father?”
“When he sees how deep I’ve stepped into this path—how much I’ve already built—and when he realizes Kwangsun stands behind me, he won’t be able to stop it. He values his reputation more than anything. To deny Kwangsun’s offer would be to smear his own image. He won’t risk it.” The firmness in his voice felt foreign to him but it felt good speaking. That man would not tarnish his reputation by refusing the offer of a well known artist when the entire world would be watching.
Hyeeun looked toward the window, where the sky burned with the faint traces of dusk. Her voice lowered, more to herself than to him. “They say he might take longer to return. There are… complications, it seems. Great ones. Perhaps something has already happened.” Her tone thinned into a whisper, heavy with foreboding. “Or is coming.”
Beomgyu caught her words, but he let them pass, unwilling to let shadows spoil what little brightness he had managed to claim.
He waits by the lakeside for you, strolling the ruins daily, looking forward to seeing you again to fill up the hollow space in him that couldn't be filled up by his art’s success. Perhaps he should've asked you about yourself instead of making you carry his sorrow. Perhaps he should’ve been more open about his feelings. Perhaps then you’d taken him with you, wherever you went.
The sun wasn’t out that afternoon. It was buried beneath a sky of heavy clouds that sagged low, threatening to burst open yet holding its rain hostage. Beomgyu rubbed his hands together and blew into them, the cold clinging to his skin like needles. He watched the sky darken further, a faint rumble chasing across the heavens.
He had returned earlier than usual from waiting by the lakeside.
As he stepped into the premises of the manor, something twisted in his gut. A thunderclap tore across the distance, startling him into loosening the collar at his throat, pulling at it to release the suffocating press of air against his lungs. There was no reason to feel so unsettled, no reason for his pulse to climb like a trapped animal’s… he must be tired that's why he felt so restless.
Still, when he pushed the heavy door of the manor open, his gaze immediately caught on the figure standing just inside the entrance hall. A maid, one of Hyeeun’s most trusted, stood frozen near the wall, her hands trembling at her sides, eyes locked on him with such stark terror that his feet stopped of their own accord. The blood in his veins seemed to turn cold under that stare.
The moment his eyes met hers, she stumbled forward almost tripping over the hem of her skirt in her desperation to reach him. She lowered her head, but not in the usual, respectful manner. It was more like she was trying to conceal the panic twisting her features. When she drew close enough her words spilled out in a broken rush with a quiet tone as if she was afraid to let them fall into the wrong ears.
“M-my lord—” her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, eyes darting to the side before darting back to him. “The sire… the sire has returned.”
Beomgyu felt his vision sway. Returned? His father was not supposed to be here so soon. He was not supposed to return until a few more weeks.
“He—he came back alone,” the maid stammered on, her breath hitching as her fingers twisted together, knuckles white with strain. “No men at his side, not even the secretary. I saw him… I saw him myself, walking through the doors with n-no word of his coming. He—” Her voice wavered, then broke entirely, her body trembling so violently it seemed she might collapse at his feet.
Beomgyu reached out instinctively, gripping her shoulders to steady her. He tried to force calm into his voice. “Breathe,” he said, though his own breaths came short. “Tell me slowly. What happened? What did he do?”
She shook her head, strands of hair slipping loose as she lifted her face to look him dead in the eyes. The fear carved there was so raw it hollowed his stomach.
“He knows.”
Beomgyu’s blood ran cold. His grip on her shoulder tightened unconsciously as the words echoed in his mind over and over again. Terror seized him to the point he could do nothing but stare at her blankly.
She continued, desperately trying to keep her voice low. “He—he looked furious, more than I’ve ever seen. He ransacked your things and—and—he is waiting in the living room.”
A heavy pounding started behind Beomgyu’s temples, his heartbeat crashing in his ears. He simply managed to ask, “Where is Hyeeun?”
Her eyes widened, her lips parted in a soundless gasp before she shook her head, almost frantically. “I—I don’t know. She was in the kitchen this morning. No one has seen her since.” Her voice broke into a sob, quickly swallowed down as she pressed a hand against her mouth.
Everything around him seemed to fall silent. Every sound swallowed into a thin shrill ringing that pressed against his skull. Beomgyu forced himself to breathe. He could not let his mind run toward the darkest possibilities yet. If his father wanted to face him, then let it be faced. There was no escaping it now.
He steadied his voice enough to tell the maid to leave at once, to gather her fellow servant and not return no matter what they heard. She hesitated, but his insistence gave her the courage to bow and hurry away down the corridor. Once she disappeared, the silence returned, deeper than before. Beomgyu turned toward the corridor that led to the living room, and his legs carried him forward though each step felt as though it sank him into the floor.
He stared at the doorknob like it might sear his skin the moment he touched it. A tightness rose in his chest, breaths coming too shallow, too fast — he closed his eyes, dragged air down his throat until it burned. Was everything he had fought for already collapsing? What if he walked inside and then his future collapsed? Should he turn, find Hyeeun, vanish into the world outside these walls before the trap shut completely? The thoughts clawed at him, frantic, but at last his trembling hand reached out and turned the knob.
The curtains were drawn closed, making the room dark; the only source of light was the fireplace. In the center of the carpet lay a mound so out of place it wrenched the blood from his face — brushes snapped in half, sketchbooks and canvases torn, jars of pigment overturned, their colors bleeding together into an ugly stain. His whole world, piled like refuse waiting for the torch.
His gaze drifted, following the line of the hearth to the sofas. The Assemblyman, his father, sat slouched in the single chair, broad shoulders bent, one hand hanging loose over the armrest, the other resting against his temple. His back was facing beomgyu.
“You finally showed up.”
He had braced himself for that voice to cleave him open, to summon the familiar dread that had ruled his boyhood. Yet, curiously, nothing broke inside him. Instead all he felt was a strange calm. Perhaps he’s been dreading this moment for far too long, and years of fear now finally died out in this moment. Or maybe, this was emotional numbness masquerading as resolve.
Beomgyu stepped forward until only a few paces separated him from the chair, his eyes fixed on the back of that bent head.
“Father.”
The man gave a weak, rasping snort, a sound so careless that it raised a faint tension in Beomgyu’s shoulders. His fingers twitched at his side as he followed the movement of his father’s hand as it dipped into his coat and pulled out an envelope. Beomgyu’s pulse surged when his eyes recognized the seal. So his father had managed to find it when he ransacked his room. It made all sense now — he looked at the pile again — why all his tools were dragged here.
“I was waiting,” Beomgyu said, each word calm though his mind was already racing ahead, laying stones for the path he needed his father to walk. “Waiting for you to come home so I could tell you myself. This isn’t something I meant to hide forever.”
The lie slid from his tongue smoothly. His mind, trained to cower, found itself instead sharpening, wielding deceit like a blade. Manipulation — yes. It was the only weapon he could use against this man, powerful enough to turn his father’s hunger for reputation back upon him. If the Assemblyman wanted to polish his name, Beomgyu would trap him with that very hunger.
His father slowly stood up with an unsteady groan. His legs betrayed him with a slight sway, and Beomgyu’s frown deepened as he took in the disheveled shirt, the collar sagging, the faint smell of sour drink that reached him across the room. Something was wrong — more wrong than usual — but he kept his shoulders squared.
The man’s lip curled into a crooked half-smile as he stumbled a step closer. “What’s this I hear, huh? You actually caught Kwangsun’s eye?” His voice rasped, slurred in the edges. “Ha… guess you’re not as useless as I thought.” He lurched forward another step, the scuff of his boots dragging across the floor, his gaze slipping in and out of focus as if Beomgyu were both present and far away.
Beomgyu did not move back, though the smell of him pressed close. “Yes,” he said, forcing calm into his tone, “it’s better this way, isn’t it? You won’t have to bear the sight of me here. No more disappointments. No more wasted years. This apprenticeship means I’ll be out of this house, away from your sight. You won’t have to feed me, you won’t have to think of me, not once.” His words tumbled with a quiet desperation disguised in reason, laid out like terms of peace, though his hands curled into fists where his father could not see.
The older man let out a low grunt, blinking slowly, his eyes glassy with distraction. His head tilted as if the words reached him through thick fog. He gave a nod that was more of a wobble, muttering sounds that were neither agreement nor refusal. Beomgyu felt the tension coil in his stomach as he searched his father’s hands, his coat pockets, scanning for any glint of metal or object of hidden threat. Finding none, he subtly sighed in relief.
“Beomgyu,” the man gruffed. “Didn’t I tell you… never to touch a paintbrush?”
Beomgyu almost scoffed at his words. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to look at the man, to meet the half-glazed eyes that barely seemed to register his presence. “Father, do you think this will be in your best interest? Turning down the decision of someone like Kwangsun when words have reached the ears of the public that he chose me as his apprentice? Will you stand in front of them all and spit on his name? Will you risk that?”
His blood roared in his veins, heated by anger he had swallowed for too long, a fury that had fermented in the dark years of his youth and now clawed its way out with teeth and fire. For a fleeting, dangerous moment, he forgot that the man before him had killed, had destroyed lives without remorse, and had carved scars into Beomgyu’s own flesh and spirit. All he felt now was the raw burn of defiance.
He drew in a breath, forced it out slowly, as though pacing himself against the urge to strike. These words, so deceptively calm on his tongue, cost him more strength than it looked, and at that moment, he did not know where he got this courage but only one thing played in his mind.
“You’re braver than you think, though you’re still a little too scared to take the first step.” — they echoed inside him as if you were standing there with him, unseen but nearer than the floor beneath his feet.
This was him taking the first step. This was him setting his bravery free. He almost smiled, how even in your absence, even facing the man who haunted his every nightmare, you had given him the push to stand.
His father remained where he was, his gaze cast to the ground, his face shadowed in the glow of the fire. He did not speak, did not even seem to breathe. For his freedom, Beomgyu would do what it took to survive, even if it meant gambling everything on this single confrontation. When the silence stretched unbearably long, Beomgyu shifted forward, lips parting to speak again, but the scrape of his father’s voice broke the air before he could.
“All my life,” his father rasped, “I built myself from reputation. That was my empire, my throne, my kingdom. I bled for it, tore down others for it, did whatever it took to keep my name above theirs.” He began to shuffle closer with his eyes still lowered. “Power in my hands meant no door was closed to me. And I used it. All of it. Until there was nothing left I could not touch.”
Each heavy step he took toward Beomgyu only reverberated louder in his ears. “To taint that prestige… to soil it now, after all I’ve done… that would be unbearable, wouldn’t it? Hah… to deny Kwangsun’s decision, to call the son I have adopted unworthy when the world has already heard otherwise…”
Beomgyu’s throat tightened as his father’s shadow fell across him. He placed a hand on his shoulder and Beomgyu stiffened under it. The odd gentleness in that specific touch did not make sense at all, but what threw him off even more was when his father embraced him, arms folding around Beomgyu in a manner so alien that it froze him in place.
The contact was loose yet suffocating all the same. It made Beomgyu’s skin crawl.
“Beomgyu… you are right. The public must already know of the apprenticeship.”
Those words were so strangely reasonable, almost resigned, that made him wonder if he succeeded in manipulating his father. Was this concession real, or another mask?
The man’s mouth was close enough to his ear for the whisper to feel like a draft of winter down his spine, “But who cares what the public says? Or Kwangsun? What good are their words when my reputation is already rotting?”
Beomgyu’s chest tightened, not from the words but from the sudden fist that crashed into his diaphragm with a force that emptied his lungs in a single violent rush. The air burst out of him in a strangled gasp, pain ricocheting through his ribs, bending his body forward before his mind caught up that he had been struck. The floor caught him hard, and he collapsed in a fit of coughing, his throat convulsing as he tried to drag breath back into his body.
Through the blur of tears stinging his eyes, he lifted his head, only to see his father looming above mirroring a creature possessed by something far more feral. The familiar predatory glint had returned, burning in his eyes as though no human thought remained behind them. His chest heaved with erratic breaths, shoulders twitching as his hands rose to his own scalp, raking through his hair until tufts stood uneven. He dragged his fingers against his temples, muttering hoarsely, words spilling in broken fragments to himself.
“Ruined… I’m ruined now… it’s all gone, all of it… what I built, gone, gone—” He wheezed with unfocused eyes as though chasing invisible threats. “I made sure of it, I made sure the fire took them. The journalists… that man, his wife—I made sure they burned. I made fucking sure of it.” His voice cracked into a rasp as spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth, his breaths breaking into short, ragged pulls. “But her… their daughter—she should have died with them, she should have died—” He broke off, shaking his head violently, hands clamping tighter on his skull. “No… no, she’s still here, she’s still breathing, she’s behind all this, I can feel it, she’s pulling at the strings, mocking me—mocking—”
Beomgyu, sprawled on the ground and clutching his stomach, could only stare, horror stitching his features as his father raved. The madness in his father’s voice was worse than the strike had been. He tried to rise but his body didn’t cooperate and he had to crawl backward away from his father.
A finger, trembling yet vicious, stabbed the air in Beomgyu’s direction. “I gave you a roof over your fucking head, and this is how you repay me?” the man howled, his voice splitting under its own strain. “I dragged you out of that rotting orphanage, gave you a name, and you think you can spit on me? You think you can run, leave me to rot while you go prancing off into the world, chasing dreams that don’t belong to you? No—no, no, no—I won’t let you go, you hear me? You’ll choke here with me, like you should’ve from the start.”
A violent tug on his hair ripped Beomgyu upward, his body jerking with the movement, his cry strangled into silence by the iron grip at his scalp. His father’s face loomed too close, the spit flying from his mouth catching the light of the hearth, his eyes fever-bright with fury. Beomgyu was hurled back down. His shoulder cracked against the floor, and before he could even roll away, the man kicked his ribs knocking what little air remained in his lungs free in a guttural cough. His vision clouded, sparks dancing at the edges as he groaned in pain trying to get up.
“Disobedient trash,” his father spat, towering above him, chest heaving like a bellows. “That’s all you are. That’s all you’ll ever be. Nothing but filth dressed up in a borrowed name.”
Beomgyu could only half-focus through the haze when his father stormed from the room then returned almost immediately with a metal container. His hand shook so violently that drops sloshed against the rim and splattered dark stains onto the floorboards.
The acrid stench hit Beomgyu’s nose before the sight did, and horror clawed at his chest as the realization unfurled. “No—please, don’t—” he begged, dragging himself forward on his elbows, desperate to stop what his words never could.
His father knocked his hand aside with a vicious swat as though batting a fly. He poured without pause, the liquid hissing as it soaked into the pile. The container clattered against the ground as it was flung away, replaced by the glint of a lighter flicking alive in his palm. The tiny flame wavered, yet in that moment it was more monstrous than any weapon.
Beomgyu’s heart thrashed against his ribs as he dragged himself forward, his voice cracking into a scream that felt ripped from the marrow of his bones. “Stop—please, please!”
But the plea was devoured by the roar that came when flame met fuel. In a breath, the pile was consumed, the fire leaping with a hunger that mocked the boy’s desperation, devouring canvases, brushes, dreams, until only ash would remain. The scene became hazy and Beomgyu didn't know whether it was the tears or the smoke that caused it.
His father held up the envelope, the final proof of Beomgyu’s triumph, the seal of his apprenticeship, dangling it like a trophy between two fingers. “This too,” he sneered, his voice cracking into gravelly laughter, “let it burn with the rest.” He tossed it into the flames, and in seconds, it was gone, curling into nothing but blackened fragments that rose into the choking air.
His freedom had been within reach, so close he could almost taste it on his tongue, and now it was nothing more than ash and flame before his eyes, dissolving into smoke that choked his lungs and blurred the world into a shifting haze. He couldn't bear to watch it anymore as he dropped his head. How did things end up like this? Everything had been turning in his favor then how — How, how, how, how—
His father crouched down beside him, slapping him hard before tugging on his hair and forced his face up to watch. The acrid heat of the fire licked against his skin, and though the man’s words hit his ears, Beomgyu didn't make a single sound this time. He hardly felt any pain anymore.
“Consider yourself lucky that you’re not the one burning, boy,” he spat. “Let me warn you,” he went on, pausing long enough to grind his grip tighter into Beomgyu’s scalp, jerking his head like a doll, “if I find you plotting behind my back again—then I’ll send you to where I’ve sent that woman.”
What…?
There was a static buzz filling his mind. Everything around him seemed to slow down and the world began resting on his eyelids, the backdrop a white noise to his ears. But the ground moved — breaking apart and in the haziness, Beomgyu caught sight of a broken piece of an easel leg, one end burning.
Beomgyu wrapped his fingers around the charred wood, his palm seared by its heat, and he flung it forward with all the power left in his frame. The wood cracked across his father’s face, a flash of burning flesh and the guttural shriek that followed cutting through the roar in Beomgyu’s ears. The man fell back shrieking in excruciating pain.
Beomgyu breathed through his mouth as he staggered upright, the ringing in his voice getting louder with each passing second. He threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut to get his vision cleared, but once he opened them and looked at his father — all he saw was red.
His father writhed at his feet, squirming like some wounded beast, curses breaking and slurring together into a maddened chant that made Beomgyu feel sick.
“You killed her?” Beomgyu asked, voice hoarse. He stumbled towards his father, bending down to grab him by the collar with shaking hands. “Did you kill her?” His fist drew back and then slammed down, the room was filled with a deafening sound of his fist colliding with his father’s nose. “Answer me, you bastard! Did you kill her?” Beomgyu wailed, his throat burning.
His father choked on blood, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he went in and out of consciousness. His limbs spasmed with weak, pitiful jerks, yet Beomgyu only scoffed through tears that burned his cheeks, the salt stinging his split lip. A crooked smile tore across his face, blood staining his teeth as he spat, “You fucking asshole.”
His gaze wandered the ruined room, hunting for focus through the haze, until it latched onto the shattered vase near his father’s head. The porcelain shards glimmered faintly, the roses strewn in disarray across the floorboards, their petals bruised and torn. It was the vase he had painted.
Memory is a punishment. Memory is a gun you load yourself. You pray it jams, it never does.
His throat convulsed as a sob broke loose. He recognized the roses — not the previously withered ones he had painted weeks ago, but a fresh bouquet Hyeeun must have placed there. The thought of Hyeeun only made sobs after sobs fall from his lips. Amidst his breakdown, Beomgyu felt his father move beneath him, desperate to crawl away. His father’s eyes flicked open for a fraction, wild and terrified, and in that fractured instant something just snapped inside Beomgyu.
Time seemed to pass in slow motion again. The static in his mind grew and so did the ringing. His hand clutched around a broken piece of the vase as he held his hand up straight above his head. The deafening sound in his ears got louder and the next moments were all a blur.
There is a bitter triumph in crashing when you should be soaring.
All Beomgyu remembered was screaming — so much — that he couldn't even hear his own screams after a while. He dimly registered the fire behind him swelling, the crackle of flames devouring fabric and wood and smoke that behan to suffocate him. His father’s body sagged into stillness at some unknown point, the blood spreading like a dark tide beneath him.
Slowly, the world began to focus again, but he couldn’t stop trembling.
He stared in utter horror at his hands — drenched in red; the piece of broken vase fell from his grasp as shock paralyzed him. He fell back on the ground, his breathing was erratic as it left him dizzy.
“What have I done?”
A rewritten tragedy.
His thirst for freedom, for the promise of a new beginning, had carried him to this very brink. Beomgyu thought he heard a voice, faint and muffled as though spoken from underwater, calling his name through the crackle of burning wood. The sound brushed against his ears, but his mind could not hold on to it. He heard footsteps — they were getting closer. His vision frantically searched around for that voice. But his mind was too far gone to process anything properly.
Everything came to a halt when his eyes fell on the yellow roses. They were smeared in blood this time. How unfortunate. Beomgyu always knew red and yellow were unfitting.
Looking deeper, yellow was the colour of creativity. When red splattered on the flower — it was almost as if it mocked Beomgyu by showing how his father had disapproved of the artistic creative path undertaken by him; how his hopes, a chance of a new beginning, were snatched away.
The fire stretched across every surface, breathing, eating, multiplying without restraint, until there was no part of the room that had not been swallowed by it. He sat in the middle of it, dazed, thinking what life might have been had he chosen differently, had he been allowed to choose at all. He let his gaze move slowly from one ruin to the next.
There is a certain beauty in setting the world on fire and watching from the center of the flames.
Maybe he was always meant to fall, like Icarus, wings scorched and torn, his brief taste of freedom punished by fire. Maybe freedom wasn't meant for him at all. And yet, he found himself bargaining, whispering prayers to gods that had never once answered, asking to be remade — if not in this life, then in another. Let him rise again, if only from ashes, even if he had to crawl back into light with burnt skin and hollow lungs. Let him begin again, somewhere far from this room, far from this blood.
As toxic fumes crowded his lungs and visions, he only thought where you could be. Would you come as you once promised, would you catch him before the fall? He felt himself slip, falling, falling, his wings reduced to tattered ash, unable to hold him aloft. He thought of Icarus again, how the boy must have felt in that last moment — not regret, but the sick recognition that the sun had never been meant to touch him.
All of this must be a cruel dream, otherwise why would he feel arms embracing him?
No… solid, real, too real for a dream.
The embrace cut through smoke, cutting through flame, and a scent he knew so well filled his senses until the fire itself felt distant. He let his eyes close, too heavy to keep open, his body folding into the embrace as his mind slipped into silence.His last thought, before darkness took him whole, was of you.
The field stretched wide, the grass tall enough to brush against your knees as you wandered deeper into the thicket where the laughter of the other children faded into the distance. You hadn’t meant to stray so far, only to chase the sound of cicadas or perhaps the flutter of wings overhead, but soon the shade of the trees swallowed the sunlight whole and the paths all blurred into the same directionless green. The more you tried to remember which way your parents had gone, the more the ache in your chest grew until your small hands trembled around the kalimba clutched to your chest.
You sat on a root, cheeks damp, and began pressing the metal tines. The tune was crooked and uneven, but it was the only one you knew — the lullaby your parents sang at night when shadows frightened you. Tears slid over your round cheeks as you played, each chime carrying your wish that they would hear and come find you.
It wasn’t your parents who came. It was a boy, no older than you, stepping out from between the trees with a look of wonder fixed on you. His hair was untidy, his palms smudged with dirt as though he had been running and climbing long before he found you. His eyes drew first to the kalimba in your lap, then to the tears across your face.
“What are you playing?” he asked, tilting his head with a grin. He was missing two teeth. “It sounds really nice.”
You sniffled, shrinking into yourself before whispering that it was the song your parents always sang to you. He nodded as though that explained everything, then crouched down in the dirt so you didn’t have to look up.
“I’m Beomgyu,” he said, the words tumbling out enthusiastically, and then, when you didn’t reply, he said it again, louder and slower, as if maybe you hadn’t heard him the first time. “Beomgyu! That’s me, an artist! What’s your name?”
You shook your head, lips pressed shut, because your parents had always told you not to give your name to strangers. The boy tapped his chin, clearly thinking. “That’s okay. We’ll pretend we’re adventurers, yeah? And right now our quest is to find your family!” His grin widened at his own idea, and he sprang up, brushing off his knees and already setting off. Then he paused, turning back toward you with sudden seriousness. “But you need a name too. Every adventurer needs one. Imagine you earned it because you just became an adventurer. It’s more interesting this way, isn’t it?”
You stared at him warily, wiping your cheeks with your sleeves. His eyes were so bright with excitement that it made refusal difficult. “I read a book once,” he went on, his hands waving as though to capture the memory. “It was really hard, full of words I didn’t understand because it was for grown-ups, but there was one word that stuck with me. It was so pretty I couldn’t forget it.” He bent down again, close enough that his hair nearly brushed yours, and whispered like it was a secret meant for you alone.
“Sær. That’ll be your name.”
When your eyes opened, there was no field, no sunlight, no boy kneeling in front of you. Only the cliff’s jagged edge beneath your legs and the distant roar of fire consuming the manor. Flames licked through windows, black smoke spilling upward in heavy coils that smothered the sky. It had just started swallowing the manor. From this distance, the destruction was strangely muted, like watching a stage set collapse from the back row. Somewhere behind you, thunder muttered over the mountain. You lowered your gaze and closed your eyes once more before opening again to fix on the manor.
Boots crunched on gravel behind you. Without looking, you knew who it was.
“Congratulations. The assemblyman has died. Your mission is a success.”
You did not turn. The fire reflected faintly in your gaze, and you kept it there, unblinking. You wanted to see how far they could reach. “Have you done what I asked you, Taehyun?”
A low hum came first, then the scuff of shoes on stone as Taehyun shifted his weight. You could hear the faint metallic click of keys in his pocket as he glanced back toward the car parked a little down the slope. “See for yourself,” he said finally, a grin audible in the lilt of his tone.
Your head turned, just slightly, enough to catch the sight of the vehicle. Through the window, an unconscious woman lay under a blanket. This was not the meeting you’d wanted with her, but it was also inevitable and your chest tightened once before settling again. “Have you been gentle with her?” you asked, the question leaving you coldly.
Taehyun gave a short laugh, scratching at the back of his neck as he strolled toward the car. “Of course. I’m a gentleman, aren’t I? There’s no way I’d handle an elderly woman without respect.” He tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders as he spoke, glancing back at you with a lopsided grin. “She was frightened at first, naturally, but it went smoothly otherwise. No harm done to her… as for the other men… hehe.”
Taehyun’s face cleaned off the grin as he came up behind you. A seriousness clad his tone which wasn’t there moments ago. “What are you planning to do with the boy?”
“It is none of your concern what I do with my pawns,” you answered coolly.
Taehyun’s laugh that follows is not bright.“Pawn?” he repeats, beyond amused. “Don’t insult my memory. I’ve seen your pawns over the years, how you move them, how you dress them up when they are useful and how fast you set them aside once they have done what you wanted. I haven’t seen one like him before. Don’t bother to dress this in lies for me.”
Silence grows in the space between the two of you, but it is not empty; it tastes of ash and the metallic aftertastes of old plans. Your eyes narrowed slightly as sparks shot out of the broken windows.
Taehyun perhaps sensed your unwillingness to further entertain his remarks. One good thing about him is he knows when to step back. Hence when he spoke again, he gently reminded you of the reality of your world.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said, a patient warning that is practical rather than moral. “We are puppeteers. That’s all we’ve ever been. We pull strings, make pawns dance, send them into the fire so we don’t have to. That’s our purpose—to cut down the filth that the so-called justice system is too rotten to touch. But our world is not his. And if you think of bringing him closer, then you’re dragging him into this hell with us.”
You looked down at your hands, at the faint scar along your palm that felt old and thin as paper under the light, then lifted your eyes to the house. The fire roared louder and you could almost hear it overlapping with the sound of wood snapping from long ago. You swallowed, the taste of ash still clinging to your tongue after all these years.
“All my life I wanted only one thing,” you say, and the sentence is small against the breadth of the scene. “To destroy the man who burned my entire world to ash in a single night. My parents died all because they tried to expose his corruption; they lit a match to the truth and he doused the evidence just like that. I don’t even know how I survived that night.” You paused, breathing in slightly as the memory still haunted you.
Even though Taehyun knew your story, he remained silent and let you speak. You mentally thanked him for it.
“He bribed everyone, paid to make it seem like a tragic accident, buried all the leads and soon the case was closed.” You smiled sadly. “His only mistake was never making sure if I died too.”
Watching the flames swallow his house felt like examining a completed equation — a cause and a consequence matched with a blunt, terrible neatness — how fitting, that he should burn in the very way he once burned down your home. He was meant to die this way, by hands he thought he could order and by a vengeance he had never expected to meet.
Taehyun once again asked — “What about Choi Beomgyu?” — this time, uttering his name. It caused your heart to ache more than you had expected.
When you were given the file, you thought at last the axis of your life would tilt back into place; for years your hunger had been a compass that never wavered, and the dossier looked like the map you had waited for: names, dates, receipts of bribes, a record of how your parents’ killer’s influence had suffocated every attempt at truth.
Seeing Beomgyu’s name on the paper did something at once absurd and obscene — you remembered the child at the park who was once your savior and the terrible neatness of history when it folds itself so that the wrong people receive mercy and the right ones are crushed. You could only laugh bitterly to yourself back then because the boy from your past had been placed under the care of the very man you had sworn to kill, and the irony tasted like betrayal; in that first hour you made a decision that was blinded by revenge: use what you had been given, treat him like a tool, turn the son into an instrument to remove the father.
You had told yourself you would use Beomgyu, that he would be no more than the main piece set upon the board, an expendable pawn in your long game of retribution. For a time, it even seemed possible. He fit into the parts you expected; he believed the lies you fed him like the pomegranate seeds. And then the plan started to fray at its edges because he kept being, in ways that were not convenient, human. Bruises that mended but did not disappear, flinches at certain words, an almost-childish eagerness at small mercies, a patience that was not the same as weakness.
There were nights you watched him without revealing yourself and found yourself cataloguing his kindnesses like contraband. The more you observed, the more the old certainties you had dressed yourself in — the rhetoric of necessary cruelty, the comfort of being a shadow that arranges people into ends — began to fall apart into a different shape; instead of the cold efficiency you had promised yourself, you felt relief that he was not a mirror of the man you wanted to destroy, and that relief drew an entirely different feeling — care.
It was dangerous, ridiculous, and intoxicating in the worst way — to care for the one whose life could be the tool for your justice — but it was also, for the first time since the night that took everything from you, the truest thing you had felt as a puppeteer. A sharp, selfish, startling desire to save him rather than to use him. Attachment settled not as a concession but as an insistence; the tactics you had deployed so many times without question now tasted like betrayal of your own principles, because to hand him over to violence would be to commit the very injustice you had spent a life trying to rectify. You rehearsed every argument inside your head until the reasons to spare him stacked like stones and each stone became another refusal to let the mission reduce him to a means. You wanted to save him from the cage built around him. You wanted to be his salvation.
“We only kill those who truly deserve it. We always make sure of that, don’t we, Taehyun?” you asked softly.
From where he stood behind you, Taehyun exhaled, the faintest sound of acknowledgment reaching you. “That’s right.”
You then say the thing that rearranges the plan in one small sentence. “Choi Beomgyu doesn’t deserve that.”
You had wanted to harm him because of who his father was, because the ledger of pain called for balancing, but that would be a subtraction of justice by a different name. To hurt him would be to become the rot you had sworn to excise. The doctrine you once cultivated — that the ends sanctify the means — now tasted like ash when the means was Beomgyu. You will not lie to Taehyun about the line you are crossing, because the truth is the only currency left that matters.
“I talked to Choi Beomgyu that day,” he said, as though recalling a casual meeting, though there was a trace of thoughtfulness woven into it. “He did seem like a decent guy. After speaking with him, I caught myself thinking that maybe, under different circumstances, or in another life entirely, I’d have wanted to be his friend.” He gave a short laugh at his own admission, almost surprised by it, then carried on without missing a beat. “I see why you like him. To think you went so far for him. You pulled so many strings behind the scene—perfectly planning the leaflet handover so that old woman would be the one to give him the news of the art competition, making sure Kwangsun noticed his piece. And these were just the surface elements. You really are… the most vicious puppeteer of our generation.”
His voice carried a note of admiration, though the words themselves cut. He clicked his tongue, as if sealing his judgment. “He had waited all his life for freedom, and it killed him the moment it found him.”
You turned your head just enough to catch his profile from the corner of your eye, and the look you gave him stopped him cold. It was not rage, not even anger — it was colder than that, and for a second he seemed to forget the air in his lungs. “Watch what you say, Kang Taehyun,” you said calmly, which contradicted the underlying threat in your words.
He lifted both hands as if to ward off the weight of your gaze, his lips curling into a nervous chuckle that betrayed his retreat. “Alright, alright,” he murmured, his hands lowering just as easily again. “I’ll keep my mouth in check.”
You remained quiet for a brief moment before finding yout voice again. “He only wanted freedom. That’s all. It wasn’t his fault. None of it was ever his fault.” Your eyes returned to the flames. “I thought if I helped him find it, if I saved him from that man… then I could atone for my sins. Maybe then my parents could rest in peace.” A shallow breath caught in your chest, though your expression did not break. “That man is dead, but my parents are not coming back. Still… at least Beomgyu is free. I thought that maybe, if I saved him, I’d finally feel like I had accomplished something.”
Taehyun hummed, considering your words. “Normal life is gone for him now. To the world, he died tonight in that fire alongside his father. His only choice now is to vanish, build a new name, disappear into another country. Unless…” His eyes slid toward you, narrowing faintly. “Unless you’d rather he joins us. Becomes one of us.”
You shook your head solemnly. “I won’t be dumping such a decision on him to make alone. I’ll be there with him, sorting through every bit of it. He won’t carry this alone, not if I can help it.”
For a moment Taehyun stood over you, his silhouette bent against the restless light of the fire, then he crouched beside you with a sigh. One hand landing on your shoulder with more care than he was known for. “Do you think he’ll forgive you?” he asked, eyes softening as though the question itself pained him. “For what you’ve done? The lies, the secrets, all the deceptions, what if all of that leaves him scorning the sight of you?”
Perhaps you would live the rest of your days under the shadow of Beomgyu’s resentment, and you knew you deserved as much. He had every right to despise you, to spit your name like venom, for while he had shown you warmth in a life that had offered him little else, you had responded with deception, weaving strings around him until he had been caught in a net of your puppet-play. He had been given to you as though by fate, and perhaps fate had meant it as punishment.
“If he hates me then that’s what I’ll carry. I’ll let him see me for who I am. I’ll stand in front of him as myself,” you said at last, not forcing steadiness into your tone, only allowing the truth to rise unadorned. “He has a heart… kinder than the world allowed him, softer than I deserved. I can only hope that one day he will use that heart to forgive me.”
Taehyun rose with a long breath and cast his gaze toward the manor which had become little more than a glowing carcass collapsing into itself. Soon the journalists and fire engines would flood the scene, and by morning the newspapers would write of the assemblyman’s death, his estate reduced to ash, and his son gone with him. The lie would be cemented in ink before the sun rose.
He checked his phone, its glow lighting his face for an instant before he slid it back into his pocket. “My men delivered what you asked for,” he told you, tone clipped by the urgency of time running thin. “A body’s been taken from the morgue, charred beyond recognition. It’s in his place already. We should move quickly before the press takes over.”
You made a sound in acknowledgment and pushed yourself to your feet, brushing ash and dust from the hem of your uniform. Taehyun had already turned toward the car waiting down the dirt path but when he noticed you veering toward the scorched path that led back to the manor, he stopped in his tracks. “Where are you going?” he called out, the urgency in his tone did not sway you.
“I made a promise,” you said with a small smile, every step carrying you closer to the blaze. You did not look back. “And I intend to fulfill it.”
The flames spat and roared, painting your outline against the night, and as you walked toward the burning ruin, you thought of the boy who had yearned for a gentler life but had never been granted it. Freedom burned him instead of warming him.
His sun was never gentle to him, so let his ocean be.
i regret the day i looked at this fic, looked at the warnings and decided to turn my head away! >< yun, what you've created here is nothing short of a masterpiece!
i kid you not, after reading Metamorphosis, i had to take a moment to just sit and cry my eyes out
god, this fic touched my soul in ways i did not expect it to!
first, i want to get into the surrounding relationships between beomgyu and the side characters! i love that everything was written in beomgyu's pov and it was still so incredibly immersive! i absolutely loved seeing the world from his eyes! i've said this before and i will say it again. ms.yun, i will be eternally jealous of your ability to build a world so vivid and effortlessly just by using words! my goodness! please never put your pen down! (i'm on my knees)
alright, alright, beomgyu and the side characters. ms.hyeeun! oh how i loved her, i loved every second of beomie in her presence and the purity and childlikeness of their interactions! their relationship was beautiful and so, so healing! i'd also like to talk about taehyun. i might feel a little grey about him, but he did a lovely job at making beomgyu gain confidence in himself, even if it was all a setup. and of course, mr.kwangsun. i loved every little bit of advice he gave beomgyu! i genuinely learned a thing or two from their interactions! they had such a good foundation for their dynamic! lastly, beomie and his father. the rage i felt towards this character was unreal. oh, it felt unnecessarily good and satisfying when beomgyu finally struck back! – even if it may or may not have been too late at that point. i processed so many events in my life through the pain beomgyu went through with this man! i'm privileged enough to say that i've never lived in this reality, but there's just so much to be learned here! – that if i ever do encounter someone who lives in parallel with Metamorphosis beomgyu, i'll be able to understand them and support them a little better ♥︎
now let's get into beomgyu and reader :) i love how we knew so little about her and you were still able to build such a massive storyline for her and beomgyu in this fic! you are so insanely good at this! every detail of their story and their relationship specifically had me on the edge of my seat!! and gosh when she cried when he had given her her name (i don't want to spoil anything for anyone!) and when i got to their little flashback i was gone! i practically evaporated! the second i saw those italics was the exact second i started bawling my eyes out
beomgyu, you precious, precious boy. he had no idea the impact of his words, of his encouragement that day. he changed little reader's life forever! this specific part was written brilliantly! yun, you are a genius!!!
(can we talk about how they made sweet, sweet love and how everything went perfectly and how that scene alone told me that i would be crying my eyes out later, at some point. thanks!)
i also loved the ending! i'd like to believe that she did save him! that she did get him out of that house and out of the manor and that they managed to escape and live happily ever after, thank you very much! and that beomie was madly in love with her and forgave her immediately and and and! you get me!
— also, i knew the second reader mentioned that her parents passed that it would be a pivotal piece of information and kept that at the back of my mind! :p
i love how their stories were interwoven, how you gave reader and change of heart and mind at the end and how beomgyu did actually get his freedom!
there's so much more i wanted to say, but i'll send all my other rants to ms.yun personally! ah!
Metamorphosis, you have done me well! 1000/10! i will be reading this fic again!
sending my sweetheart yun the biggest, fattest hug for putting together and writing this masterpiece! mwah mwah!!! ♥︎
toes curling at the masterlist you just released for 9 to 5. i love a good, smutty fic, but there's just something so juicy about suggestive fics that get me going! implicit scenarios just do it for me sometimes! super duper excited for this, ms.soobvns. i would definitely like to be added to the taglist! x
eek thank you so much for the early support !!
i completely agree sometimes i love the chase rather than a full fledged smut scene ><
𝑁𝑂𝑇𝐸 ! all prompts (thus far) are nsfw-coded and are intended to imply or inspire smut. if you're a writer and you want to make use of my prompts to create fics/drabbles feel free to do so – make sure to tag me in your works! i would love to see different takes on my ideas! if you're a reader you may tag writers in the comments to cover the prompts! do not spam them! other than that, enjoy my sweeties! ♥︎
prompt 1 – wearing thin
prompt 2 – just the tip
prompt 3 – bittersweet
prompt 4 – tensions brew
prompt 5 – foursome
prompt 6 – bouncer
➳ 𝑓𝑖𝑐: bouncer – @swiftjay23 (10.8k words)
bouncer!heeseung x reader, toxic!bf!hoon x reader || angst / comfort / smut (MDNI)
prompt 7 – unload, reload
prompt 8 – case: why are my clothes still on?
➶ group works:
𝑁𝑂𝑇𝐸 ! all works of mine (thus far) are suggestive or contain smut! ¡MDNI! all works are my own — do not copy or translate!
– txt –
yeonjun ✴︎
a/b/o txt (headcannons)
txt as songs on ariana's positions album
soobin ✴︎
a/b/o txt (headcannons)
soft dom alpha!soobin (headcannons)
txt as songs on ariana's positions album
beomgyu ✴︎
a/b/o txt (headcannons)
alpha!beomgyu (visual I) (visual II)
alpha!beomgyu & his mate (pt.1), (pt.2), (pt.3), (pt.4 - final)
txt as songs on ariana's positions album
taehyun ✴︎
a/b/o txt (headcannons)
alpha!taehyun x fem omega!reader (pt.1), (pt.2), (pt.3), (pt.4)
txt as songs on ariana's positions album
hueningkai ✴︎
a/b/o txt (headcannons)
alpha!kai (visual)
hidden hard dom alpha!kai (oneshot)
alpha!kai with a breeding kink (oneshot)
txt as songs on ariana's positions album
– enha –
ni-ki ✴︎
criminal!riki x fem!lieutenant reader (headcannons)
➶ miscellaneous:
my biases + bias wreckers as dads
dividers masterlist
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