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genre ; aged up hogwarts au⠀×⠀childhood friends to enemies to fwb to ?? au⠀×⠀smut and fluff and a biiiit of angst
wordcount ; 8.9k
warnings | tags ; lowercase, cursing⠀×⠀yeonjun still overthinks A LOT NOW⠀×⠀smth that could look kinda like somno but not actually⠀×⠀eating out⠀×⠀door quickie⠀×⠀marking. like... purposeful marking⠀×⠀no protection like usual lol⠀
⠀⠀⠀[ my masterlist | cysm masterlist ]
your eyebrows shot up, lips parting the moment you noticed him staring at you weirdly, and panic started growing in the pit of your stomach. “hey. hey, i’m sorry,” your hand found his forearm mindlessly, as if the small touch could show that your apologies were sincere. “i was just joking. i’m sorry,” you repeated it again—and again when his eyes only searched your face for something. “i didn’t mean to upset you.”
he inhaled shakily and shook his head, still a little too robotic even for himself. “no—” yeonjun cleared his throat—get a fucking grip, for god’s sake!—before continuing, “no, i’m not upset. sorry. just…” he looked at the chocolate in his hands. just what? just ‘are you perhaps in love with me? there’s amoretintia inside, and i’m pretty sure you’ve just described me’? “i just think the chocolate got spoiled…” he glanced at you, your worried expression, and swallowed, forcing a cocky smile. “should get rid of it. can’t have anything more spoiled than you here, can we?”
you opened your mouth, taken aback by his audacity, before closing it again, and exhaled through your nose, pretending to be annoyed. “might as well,” you pointed at the box with the cards still lying on the floor behind you, “get rid of all of those. can’t have anything cuter than me here, can we? and…” you hummed, acting like you were thinking. “and more annoying than you.”
yeonjun rolled his eyes at you, levitating the chocolate box back where it was and pushing it under the table with a small flick of his wrist. “will deal with it tomorrow,” he shrugged, heading to his bed. “was going to do it long ago, but something urgent kept coming up, you know?” he explained and plopped down on the bed, arms behind his head. “someone needing my attention asap, someone suddenly getting horny, someone having one more random ‘this or that’ question. stuff like this,” he shrugged again, a little grin on his face.
an accio-ed pillow hit the bed post, making him jerk and almost yelp—well, you were going to hit him in the face, but this would suffice—and you crawled into the bed next to him, falling on your back, half of your limbs lying on him. “dunno what you’re talking about,” you shrugged, yawning and stretching your arms, your wrist ‘accidentally’ ending up on his face. “unless there’s someone else horny, needing your attention and asking you stupid questions.”
he sighed, fingers wrapping around your wrist and lowering it to his stomach holding it there. “now you’re gonna sleep like this,” yeonjun announced, squeezing your hand to show how serious he was. “and if you continue being a brat, i’ll use cuffs,” he warned, watching you from the corner of his eye, and he felt his chest tighten when you batted your lashes at him with an innocent ‘promise?’ instead of tugging your hand away. you were—he huffed and rolled his eyes, despite it getting harder to breathe. “promise.”
the satisfied little hum you gave him was music to his ears, no matter how cliche it sounded, and when you let your eyes flutter shut, your hand moving in his hold just to turn around for your palm to rest on his stomach, not pulling away, he felt his heart stutter. but he just scoffed under his breath, pretending he wasn’t ecstatic that you acted like you owned the place. “unbelievable. just make yourself at home, why don’t you.”
“thanks, i will,” you mumbled, voice already lazy with sleep, as you slowly slipped under the exhaustion of the day, letting everything around you lull you further. you barely realized you wriggled closer—not cuddling, not even touching except his hold on your wrist, but your face was just an inch away from his arm, every inhale full of him pulling you deeper.
his lips curved despite himself. yeonjun adjusted the blanket over you both, pretending it was just so you wouldn’t steal all of it in your sleep, but really because the sight of you half-asleep so close to him was doing dangerous things to his already aching chest. “menace,” he muttered, shaking his head. his fingers around your wrist twitched, as if he wasn’t sure if he should keep holding you, but… there was nothing in the world that could make him let your hand go—only your need and want for it, and he knew he was lucky as hell you were allowing it. “unbelievable menace.”
you didn’t answer, only let out a soft exhale that warmed the skin of his arm, and within moments, your breathing evened out, steady and slow, and the weight of you settled heavier next to him. yeonjun laid there staring at the ceiling, every little sound amplified—the rustle of sheets, the fire crackling in the fireplace, the steady rhythm of your breath syncing with his heartbeat.
yeonjun should sleep. he really should. he knew he really should. but all he could think about was the damn chocolate, your scrunched nose and dramatic sighs, the words you’d thrown out so casually. mint, beer, salt. him. his hand was still wrapped loosely around your wrist, and he tightened it just a little, grounding himself. he closed his eyes, but the warmth he was certain he could feel radiating off you only made his thoughts louder.
yeonjun closed his eyes, but it didn’t matter, it didn’t help. maybe it even made everything worse. the faint smell of the cinnamon-vanilla chocolate lingered. your voice lingered. your words lingered. mint, beer, salt. amortentia.
maybe it wasn’t him? maybe it was someone else. it could be. it had to be possible, right? sure, he didn’t think so—no one else was around you like he was—but that didn’t mean it was impossible, did that? it could be someone else. and if it was, then all of this was in his head. he was reading into it. he was stupid. desperate. a fool. an idiot who was inserting himself into the picture, dying to hear his name between your words when you’d never actually said it? yeonjun tried to imagine it, but the thought made his chest clench so hard he had to shift, careful not to wake you.
but no. no, it was him. it had to be him. everything screamed it was him. mint toothpaste, muggle beer, the way you always said he smelled like the sea or the ocean. no one else matched that. no one. so it was him. but—then what? if it was him, maybe it wasn’t love at all. maybe it was just sex. what if that was how amortentia worked for you—just strongest pleasure, strongest climax, strongest… orgasm. tied to him, sure, but not to him. not really. not him as a person. just what he gave you. he swallowed hard. that didn’t count. that wasn’t love.
except—what if it did mean love? what if it really was him, and it really was your heart, not your body? that was worse. that was so much worse. because then he couldn’t control it. couldn’t hold it. you could wake up tomorrow, realize it, and run. shut down. shut him out. end everything and never say why. maybe you’d think he didn’t feel the same. maybe you’d want to protect yourself. maybe you’d lie and tell him you didn’t like him at all, because that would be easier for you. he’d never know the truth. never.
and he could fix himself. he could lock everything down, force his feelings into silence if he had to. he’d take just sex. just closeness. it wasn’t enough—it would never be enough, not even close to ‘enough’—but it was better than nothing. but you—your feelings—he couldn’t fix those. they were unpredictable. you were unpredictable. you could ruin him without even meaning to. or even worse—ruin him by trying to protect him.
yeonjun thought about confessing. waking you up and blurting it all out now, before he lost his nerve. but what if it wasn’t him? what if it was only sex? what if it was a misunderstanding? he’d ruin everything. he’d lose you. so he said nothing. coward, coward, coward. he held your hand instead, clinging to the smallest glimpse of your warmth like it was the only thing keeping him alive. better this. better silence. better this pain than the pain of having nothing at all.
but still the loop spun, choking him. maybe not me. maybe just sex. maybe me, but too much, too dangerous, too fragile. maybe i’ll lose her anyway. maybe i already have. maybe—shit, he couldn’t do this anymore.
yeonjun woke you with a soft nudge at first, a hand brushing your arm, a whisper so low you barely heard it over your half-asleep groan. he pressed closer then, turning on his side to face you. his hand slipped under the covers, seeking warmth against your thigh, hesitating just long enough to let you adjust, waiting for the tiny sign that you were okay with it, and when your sleepy hand drifted over his stomach up to his chest, naturally, he froze for a moment, eyes flicking down to catch the contact, and that small, unconscious gesture undid him entirely.
your lips parted slightly in a slow inhale, and yeonjun leaned in, brushing his mouth against yours with the lightest touch. he didn’t rush—he couldn’t. not yet. the anticipation for this cruel softness had been building for hours, days, weeks even, and he needed to savor the reaction he was craving. your lips moved against his almost lazily at first, sleepy and tentative, but the subtle pressure told him everything he needed to know—you weren’t saying yes, you weren’t speaking at all, but the tiny contact, the faint parting of lips, your hands on his chest was enough.
he deepened the kiss slowly, one arm winding around your waist, pulling you flush to him, while the other hand traced the curve of your hip, and your soft, half-limp limbs wrapped lightly around him, fingers brushing his neck, shoulders, back wherever they could land. your lips parted just enough for him to slide in, tongue brushing yours in soft, teasing strokes, and your half-conscious moans and tiny, sleepy movements drove him wild—he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t wait, couldn’t care about being gentle or patient any longer.
yeonjun pulled back just slightly, murmuring a gentle ‘okay?’ against your lips, warm breath mingling with yours. the way you pressed forward again, lips finding his instead of answering, so subtle but insistent, made him shiver. your hand lingered on his neck, thumb tracing patterns he could feel through muscle and skin, and it was enough—he didn’t need words, didn’t need consent spelled out loud. the small, trust-filled gesture was everything. it was an invitation, and he accepted it greedily.
your sleepy, soft kisses slid into more desperate, messy presses as he adjusted, fingers tangling in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head, guiding you closer, making you moan and arch. the groans escaping him were low, half-pleasure, half-frustration, a raw mixture of need and relief, and your own sounds were faint, intermittent, like soft murmurs of permission that tore through him more than any fight or hesitation could have.
he rolled the two of you, his body on yours, ensuring he had better access, every motion careful enough not to hurt, but reckless enough to drive both of you wild. his mouth moved lower after a soft, lingering brush of teeth along your jaw, trailing down your neck, collarbone, until he found the sensitive spots that made you gasp and whine in your sleepy daze—the spots he knew as the back of his hand—and he couldn’t help but leave the smallest hickey there before moving lower.
it was probably the thing that woke you up a little more, and your fingers, holding the fabric of his tank top on his shoulder blades tightened, tugging him slightly with an unsatisfied whine. “‘jun—here—” you breathed out, frowning and pulling the fabric a little stronger. “please… properly. you should too—”
your words were a mess—quiet, and sleepy, and whiny—but for yeonjun it was as easy as breathing, and his heart clenched, when he fully realized what you wanted—for him to feel just as good, you cared about him even when you could barely think, when you had no walls around you. and maybe you didn’t know it—of course you didn’t—but for him it was meeting his pain and self-destruction with softest hands and care. and it wasn’t an act, it was you.
yeonjun moved back, pressing his forehead to your temple, lips brushing your cheek as he whispered that he needed just one—maybe two, not more—orgasms out of you with his mouth, and then you’d do it properly. your soft ‘promise?’ went straight to his heart, and his hold on you tightened for a second before murmuring just as soft, certain ‘promise’—he was going to give you the whole world when you relaxed your hold on his tank top with a trusting ‘okay’.
you barely registered the way he slid lower, his lips brushing down your stomach in patient kisses, but when his mouth finally settled between your thighs you gasped, the sound broken, startled, half-asleep. his tongue traced you with unhurried precision, slow and reverent, and your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, tugging softly as if to ground yourself in the overwhelming waves he was pulling out of you. yeonjun groaned low into your skin at the first taste, his hand tightening on your thigh as though he could pin you open forever.
but he forced himself to pace it, holding back when he wanted to devour you, slowing down when you writhed and whimpered, letting your sleepy pleasure build instead of crashing too fast. the sounds spilling from you—soft cries, desperate breaths, barely-there whines—burned into his chest, and he swallowed them greedily, desperate to carve them into memory as if he was already sure everything’d end soon. he could’ve kept you like this until you were crying, begging, until you couldn’t take anymore, but he reminded himself again—promise.
your orgasm came quick, sudden, your body tensing beneath him, thighs squeezing his head as you cried out softly, brokenly. yeonjun let you ride it out on his tongue, savoring every twitch and tremble, but the moment you began to edge into sensitivity, he pulled back, pressing a last, lingering kiss against your thigh—his chest ached, the hunger in him unsatisfied, but he ignored it, climbing back up your body with careful hands, kissing your lips softly to soothe you.
“one,” yeonjun murmured against your mouth, breathless and almost guilty. “just one, baby” his eyes searched yours, tender and wrecked all at once, his hand on your waist under his shirt, another cupping your face, thumb brushing away tiniest tears. “next one… properly,” he whispered and pressed his forehead to yours, waiting for you to tug him closer—and when you did, he couldn’t help but exhale shakily, goosebumps wherever you touched him. “so good for me. thank you so much, baby.”
you whined softly, tugging him closer with your legs too, trying to grind up at him, your hips jerking at the intense feeling of his boner rubbing against your sensitive clit. “please…” you whispered into his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair. “need you, jun—” you breathed out, barely finishing the sentence before gently pulling him down to feel his lips on yours properly.
yeonjun had never felt this pathetic. your quiet words, your soft but desperate kiss, your legs around his waist, gentle and trembling fingers in his hair—everything made his eyes sting, his breathing getting heavier and heavier. if he was right, if amortentia really smelled like him for you, if it wasn’t just sex—because it was so fucking far from feeling like ‘just sex’ right now—maybe he’d be able to catch you before you ran away. maybe he’d be happy. with you.
the thought nearly choked him, the hope being so much more cruel than the lack of it. if you left… if he was mistaken… if—shut up, shut up, shut up! yeonjun tugged his sweatpants down harshly, underwear following, a hiss slipping through clenched teeth at the cool air hitting the hot, wet with pre-cum skin. fuck, he needed to be inside of you right now—not even for his dick’s sake, but for his heart.
he pushed in slowly, holding himself back, his teeth clenched tight, hand on your thigh not gripping, not digging the nails into your soft flesh—barely so. they, these thoughts, were filling his mind and poor aching heart again, and he wanted nothing more than to fuck them out of his head, get so tired that he’d just collapse next to you after cumming and fall asleep immediately, but he had to be gentle with you, give you what you actually deserved. and each roll of his hips was careful, slow and… forced.
yeonjun’s mouth trembled against yours, your soft moan of his name breaking him in ways he couldn’t even imagine before it. you were supposed to be ruined, undone, too hazy to think of anything but the aftershocks still echoing through you—and yet, even now, your hands tugged him closer, your voice the softest, sleepiest whisper against his lips: ’s okay… you can go harder.
his breath hitched, body shuddering as if your words cracked something in him. yeonjun wanted to argue, wanted to tell you no, that he’d take it slow, keep you safe, let you drift in softness—but you looked up at him with those heavy-lidded eyes, trusting, open, knowing. your trembling hand finding his cheek, a soft ‘please’ barely heard even in the quietness of his room. you knew he was holding back. you knew he needed more. fuck, he didn’t deserve you, but he wasn’t ready to let you go.
a low curse slipped out of him before he kissed you again, messier this time, his hips finally rolling forward in a way that made you gasp into his mouth. his control frayed instantly, every thrust deeper, harder, desperate—chasing not only his own release but an escape from the storm still clawing at his chest, still filling his mind with cruel shadows that were laughing at him, mocking his patheticness. your sleepy moans only pushed him further, your arms looping around his shoulders again, clinging, guiding him closer.
“fuck—” his voice cracked, forehead pressed to yours—any other way was too far, and he couldn’t bear the distance. he’d rather claw his heart out than be so far away from you. “you feel so good, baby, so fucking good—thank you, thank you.” yeonjun was babbling, broken, his words spilling faster than his breath, and still he couldn’t stop, his thrusts getting faster and harder—just like you allowed. every time you whimpered his name he swore he’d give you everything, even if it destroyed him.
the way your body opened for him, the way your little whines turned sweeter when he finally gave in to rougher thrusts—it wrecked him, made his chest ache with something far bigger than desire. and then your legs tightened around his waist, your back arching, your chest pressed to his so close that it almost felt like your hearts merged, your mouth parting against his ear with another soft, breathy ‘yes, jun… like that, oh god—jun—’ as you clenched around him, falling over the edge in his hold—he nearly came undone on the spot.
yeonjun buried his face in your neck, thrusts sharp and needy, your walls fluttering around him with each movement. he didn’t realize that he was trembling, that your skin was between his lips and teeth, biting and sucking, trying to leave a hickey without even thinking, until your hand slid up to his hair again, settling there gently despite everything—as if to anchor him, to remind him you were still there, holding him together even when he was falling apart.
“baby, i—” his voice cracked, broken into a groan as his rhythm faltered, hips snapping harder until he spilled inside you with a guttural moan, body shaking, clinging to you like he’d drown without you—silence followed, broken only by your soft breaths and his ragged ones. yeonjun slumped over you, forehead pressed to your temple, sweat cooling on his skin. you were warm, pliant, a little more awake now beneath him—just a little, though—and you played with his hair so gently, as if you knew he needed it more than anything right now.
yeonjun rolled off you soon, chest heaving, still impossibly tight, but finally satiated. your eyes fluttered shut, your hand finding its place on his stomach—exactly where he’d placed it not so long ago, holding it there. but now you were the one to put it there, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his skin, slower and slower with each second, mirroring your breath. your hand stilled eventually, and when he covered it with his—carefully, but greedily—his thumb slipping under your palm, you curled your fingers around it, holding onto him.
he was too spent to overthink it, though. for the first time in two weeks—that felt too long—he was just enjoying your warmth, your closeness, your softness, you. without wondering if it meant anything, if he was reading everything wrong, if it was just sex for you. and in the morning… yeonjun didn’t give a shit. he was happy now. every little touch, every soft exhale, felt like confirmation of everything he’d been spiraling over—the feelings, the risks, the love, the desire. it was safe, fragile, perfect. even if it turned out to be just an illusion.
and as sleep finally tugged at his eyelids, yeonjun let himself relax fully, still tethered to you through that one small, grounding touch that meant the world.
he was the first to wake up early in the morning, long before sunrise, and just one glance at you, still asleep, your hand still on his stomach, made his gut turn in anxiety. what if you would remember what had happened this night and run away?... no. no, yeonjun didn’t want you to forget, but… but he was scared you’d start thinking about it too much and… he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, his hand squeezing yours mindlessly as if it could keep you there for a moment longer.
you murmured something in your sleep—he couldn’t really understand what, but you frowned and squeezed his hand back, as if you could read his mind while being asleep and weren’t too pleased with him spiralling. it made him chuckle—half-bitterly, half-amusingly. you really were like this… when your walls were down, when you were half-asleep, or asleep at all, or too fucked out to think, and yeonjun wondered if he would ever see you being like this wide awake.
he let himself rest a little more, eyes closed, his hand covering yours, his whole attention on the slow rhythm of your breathing. yeonjun wasn’t sure if he tried to fill his mind with something to not spiral or if he wanted to memorize how being next to you felt, burning your small touch, your every breath into his memory to the point of it being bright and vivid even after years of never seeing you—the thought made his throat tighten.
yeonjun slipped under too soon, his sleep restless and tiring, and the first thing on his mind after waking up again was that he regretted falling asleep again—but then, he realized your hand wasn’t on his stomach anymore, and the mattress weren’t dipping next to him under your weight. he opened his eyes and… yeah, you weren’t there—and it felt like knife straight to his heart. pathetic… you’re fucking pathetic, choi yeonjun. she probably just—
and yes, here you were—coming out of the bathroom, his shirt down your left shoulder, eyes barely opened even before you yawned, covering your mouth with your fingers. so freaking cute and—yeonjun swallowed thickly—domestic… you fell back unto his bed with a soft groan, probably not even noticing he was awake, grabbed his hand, placing your intertwined fingers between your thighs and holding it there, and relaxed into the sheets almost immediately, your breath evened out.
yeonjun watched your face, barely breathing, almost too scared to look down where your hand was holding his on your body. it was the habit now, since you started sleeping in the same bed—having his hand on your thigh or ass, sometimes just resting, sometimes squeezing or kneading even—every night, no breaks. and he used to think it was for him only, that you simply allowed it but now… could it be that you loved it just as much?.. that maybe it wasn’t the first time you’d done it?..
you were a mystery to him… yeonjun felt like he knew you too well, like the back of his hand—not just your body, but your mind, soul and heart too, and it was only his own insecurities and fears making him believe it wasn’t true. or maybe he was mistaken? maybe he didn’t know you as well as he thought he did, and each time he felt attuned to your emotions it was just a coincidence? or maybe he did know you, but—
“i can almost hear the way you’re thinking,” you grumbled, pinching his hand that you were holding, not even opening your eyes. “and i’m sure that if i try a little harder, i’ll even hear your thoughts in general.” you opened your eye at him, trying to give him a death glare—well, a half of death glare—before losing the battle against sleep and letting it flutter shut too. “rest, please. we have almost an hour ‘til breakfast.”
yeonjun murmured a soft ‘sorry’, taken aback by your words—how in the world did you… he let out a shaky exhale—okay, no thinking now. you were a little grumpy gremlin who, perhaps, started reading his mind, and he didn’t want to make you angry. he grabbed a book from the night stand, struggling to open it with one hand as the other one was busy with something more important—but succeeding in the end—and let the words fill in his mind while they still could, not yet being pushed out by his spiraling.
you woke up when yeonjun was still reading, his thumb brushing the skin of your thigh, hand squeezing the flesh from time to time mindlessly. you laid quietly for some time, considering if you really wanted the day to start or skipping classes and staying in bed until the next day—or next weekend—was a better idea. the sky on the enchanted ceiling was gray and gloomy, meaning the hogwarts halls were just as bad, but the sheets were nice and fire was crackling so cozily and the damn chocolate didn't smell too strong anymore.
but yeonjun noticed you eyeing the sky and laid the book on his chest before pinching your cheek. “woke up, sleeping beauty?” he chuckled at your death glare, shaking your pinched cheek a little. “though you do look a little like an evil queen,” he hummed, pretending to think, and nodded. “yeah, definitely.” his gaze trailed lower before pausing at your neck, and his eyes widened. “uh-oh…”
you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a second—he didn’t sound apologetic at all, so there could be only one thing. “don’t tell me you left a hickey…” you threw the blanket away, uncovering your legs, and lifted the hem of his shirt, only to see—yeah, a few more hickeys and tiny marks from his fingers. you looked at yeonjun, who was shrugging with this absolutely insincere apology, and sighed. “i’m using your covering make up for it.”
he didn’t complain and actually helped you with covering them—partly to really help you, partly to memorize each mark because he was sure he was seeing them for the last time as you would probably keep them covered until they fade. but he would leave more, right? yeah. even before these ones faded. if you allowed him—and he knew you would, because you loved the process just as much as he did, didn't you? fuck, you were perfect.
the rest of the morning went as usual—full of banter, tossing stuff at each other and unnecessary sexual comments that you both welcomed with eye rolls or disgusted faces before hitting back with something even worse. yeonjun barely thought about the last evening, grabbing the whole “valentine’s box” on his way out to throw it away with his heart light—maybe it wasn’t exactly fair for the ones who gave him them, but… he wouldn’t reply to any of them anyway.
the day slid on lazily, with lessons and small tasks filling the usual gaps. you walked through the castle corridors together, tossing sarcastic comments back and forth about everything—from charm class disasters to the questionable taste of the stew you had for lunch—and yeonjun’s laughter followed you like a shadow. every so often, he’d glance at you with that slight, soft intensity, jaw tightening for just a moment before shaking it off, like he was carrying thoughts he didn’t want you to see.
by mid-afternoon, the castle was quieter, the rain was stuttering against tall windows, and yeonjun’s frown returned, small and fleeting at first, then sharpening. he tugged at your sleeve, murmuring something about needing to ‘check something out’ and guiding you down a side corridor. you hummed, knowing what he wanted and followed without a word, sensing the weight behind his movements. a broom closet? an empty classroom? somewhere no one would walk in? the hallways blurred around you.
once inside, yeonjun pressed the door shut with a soft thud, the sound swallowed quickly by the press of your back against the wood. there was no hesitation now, no trace of teasing—his mouth found yours in a kiss that was rougher than usual, his teeth catching at your lower lip before his tongue brushed against yours, greedy, unsteady, like he couldn’t decide whether to savor you or consume you whole. you let him, tugging him closer, fingers curling into the fabric at his shoulders.
his hands slipped beneath your clothes with a desperate need for skin, dragging over your waist, ribs, hip, holding hard enough that your shoulder blades pressed deeper into the wall. his grip was reckless, careful all at once, a contradiction that felt so uniquely him—tight enough to remind you how badly he needed this, soft enough that he never crossed the line into pain. every small growl that left his throat was caught between your lips, every breathless sound you gave melting into his mouth until neither of you could tell whose was whose.
when yeonjun finally broke the kiss, it wasn’t far—just enough to press his forehead against yours, his chest heaving, his lips swollen and pink. his fingers flexed at your thigh, like he was grounding himself there, like he wasn’t ready to let go yet. your breaths tangled together in the narrow space, heat rolling off both of you, and you couldn’t help but smile through the mess of it, lips still tingling.
it took the two of you just a few seconds of considering stopping to crash your lips together again, as if a doorway-quickie was much more important than a whatever class you had next—because maybe it was. the kiss was even rougher, so much more impatient, and his hand was under your skirt in no time, cutting your underwear with a too-familiar-now spell before moving to your thigh to lift your leg over his hip, fingers of the other hand tangling in your hair, clenching it in the fist right at the roots, your whimper sweet against his lips.
there was nothing careful in the pace he set—messy, hurried, almost frantic, as if he was trying to chase something only you could give him. his grip on your thighs tightened every time your body jolted with his movements, nails biting into his shoulder when he hit deep enough to knock the breath from your lungs. the little growls that tore from his throat bled into your moans, the narrow space filling with sounds that were more raw than pretty, too desperate to be restrained.
yeonjun kissed you through it all—sloppy, open-mouthed, like he couldn’t let you go even for a second—until both of you were flushed, breathless, trembling from the speed of it. when he finally stilled, forehead resting against yours, your hearts pounded so loud it felt like the entire room could hear, and still he refused to let you go, hands anchoring you close as if the chaos would swallow him whole if he loosened his hold.
you didn’t try to leave his arms, your hands clenching the fabric of his shirt on his sides, forehead pressed to his shoulder, small fucked out giggles spilling from your lips. just one orgasm and you were like this… unbelievable. but also… obvious. it had been like this since october, except now… now his post-orgasmic hold was stronger, and you wondered if it had anything to do with this thing that had been bothering him lately.
perhaps, it was a little clumsy and not believable enough, but you hoped yeonjun was too out of it yet to notice. you hung on him, arms around his neck, voice whiny and dramatic as you complained about him fucking you far too well and how you couldn’t stand. or talk. or think. he chuckled, clearly slipping out of his head to note that maybe he hadn’t fucked you well enough to stop you from making a fuss—you squealed when his hand slipped under your skirt again, and he laughed, pulling it out to wrap it back around your waist.
the two of you went straight to the common room, finding it pointless to attend the class when you were already late and had permission to skip it. maybe it was a little suspicious that you skipped classes together, never only one of you, but neither of you really cared about it—it had been like this for months already—so you did it again without any shame or remorse, chilling in yeonjun’s room, busy with your own tasks and munching on the stuff you took from the kitchen—perfect rainy monday of two head students.
you washed all the make up off your neck after the night patrol, complaining about how annoying it felt on your skin and how much you hated having to wear it. yeonjun apologized and promised to be careful next time, but you sighed and shook your head, saying it wasn’t the hickeys being a problem—it was covering them with anything but clothes. he lifted his eyebrow at you, uncertainly asking if it was okay to leave them lower—or higher when it came to legs—and you popped a ‘yep’, making him lick his lips.
yeonjun leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, tilting his head as he eyed your bare collarbones, a slow smirk spreading across his face—as if he was some hot as hell character from a young adult book, but he was hot and he knew it. “so… i can leave a mark here, right?” he asked, nodding at the uncovered skin, his voice teasing, as he approached you, fingers brushing against the bare, clear skin—clear yet.
you rolled your eyes, looking back to the mirror, trying not to show how his earlier cringe domestic lean against the doorframe made you just a little weaker in the legs—which only got worse when he appeared so close to you, his fingers feather-light under your collarbone, looking so good on your reflection. “only if it’s not too obvious,” you mumbled, not brushing his fingers off despite knowing it’d make perfect sense. you were enjoying his touches, and your pride didn’t mean a shit when his hands were on you.
“not too obvious, huh?” yeonjun hummed, stepping closer behind you, letting his hands trail lightly over the tops of your shoulders, teasing down toward the curve of your neck. “we’ll see about that,” he murmured against your skin, and a soft laugh escaped you as he pressed fleeting kisses, each one soon to be a tiny mark that no one would notice under your clothes—but you would feel them, and he would see them, a delicious reminder that was just for you and him.
his lips lingered longer this time, skimming the slope of your shoulder, brushing along the nape of your neck, and you nearly lost the composure you’d been trying so hard to keep. you bit your lip, your fingers digging into the edge of the sink, as you watched the two of you in the mirror—his frame curved around yours, his hands holding your waist with that mix of care and claim, his mouth moving lazily down your skin.
the longer yeonjun stayed there, the harder it became to keep your head up. you tilted just slightly, exposing more of your throat without meaning to, and he caught it, smirking against you before sinking another kiss at the base of your neck. ‘see? you don’t even mind’ almost mocking as he teased quietly, and you hated how right he was—and how you couldn’t even argue with it.
your hand twitched, reaching to push him off nevertheless, but instead you ended up resting it on his forearm, grounding yourself as his kisses trailed lower—slow, purposeful, heading toward the neckline of your shirt. you let out a small huff, half a laugh, half an exhale of defeat, and yeonjun chuckled against your skin before finally straightening up, spinning you gently in his grip.
“c’mere,” he muttered, voice low, and his hands found your waist and lifted you effortlessly, guiding you to perch on the sink counter—he didn’t waste time before stepping between your spread legs. his lips brushed over your neck and shoulders again, teasing, almost coaxing you into relaxing against him before he finally chose his spot, and his mouth closed over the gentle skin just below your collarbone. the first pull of his lips was soft, almost harmless—until his teeth caught you there, light but undeniable.
you gasped, fingers curling against the edge of the counter, your whole body tensing at the sudden sharpness. it wasn’t painful, not really, but the heat spread quick, blooming under your skin where he held you in his mouth, and flowing lower, to the pit of your stomach, making you try to close your legs. he hummed against you, clearly pleased at the way your breath hitched, and eased back just slightly, pressing a softer kiss over the forming mark as if to soothe it.
“pretty,” yeonjun murmured against your skin, his voice low and smug, as he moved just an inch to the side to leave another mark. he didn’t need to look at you to know you rolled your eyes when you muttered that he was ridiculous, but he also couldn’t keep the cocky hum inside when you arched your back just a little to give him more spaced, your hand finding the back of his neck, keeping him close, betraying the way your body leaned into the sensation instead of away from it.
before you could pretend you didn’t, yeonjun’s lips trailed down, tracing the curve of your chest with featherlight kisses, deliberate and slow, making you anticipate the next mark. his hands tightened at your waist, keeping you steady on the sink as he bent lower, mouth finding a new spot just above the neckline of your shirt—of his shirt, of course. “here too,” he whispered against your skin, not really asking, and then his teeth sank in a little harder this time—still careful, still measured, but enough to make you jolt with a sharp inhale.
a broken moan slipped out before you could swallow it, your hand tightening in his hair for a moment—the sting was sharper here, the pull of his mouth more insistent, and when he finally let go, warmth rushed across the tender spot, throbbing faintly under his tongue as he licked over it to soothe. shit, it felt too good. if he made it his mission to turn your body into his personal canvas, you weren’t going to live to the next day.
yeonjun murmured a smug ‘knew it’, smirk audible in his voice, and when you glanced down, you caught the glint in his eyes—hungry, a little mischievous, but softer underneath. and you should’ve shoved him, told him off for being so smug, but instead you only breathed out shakily, thumb brushing over the back of his neck. “don’t get used to me letting you do this everywhere,” you managed, though your flushed cheeks certainly betrayed you, nearly spelling it out for him: ‘i’ll beg you’.
his smirk deepened, and without a word he leaned closer again, lifting your shirt and humming when your fingers grabbed the hem mindlessly, holding it up to free his hands. his lips traced a slow line down toward the curve of your ribs, his hands sliding along your sides, fingers teasing the underside of your breast just under the hem of your shirt, as he looked for a tender enough spot. and when he found it, he pressed in gently with his teeth—enough to make you gasp and arch instinctively into him.
“told you,” yeonjun murmured, voice low, almost teasingly, as he licked over the faint sting he’d left, drawing a shiver from you. your hands tangled in his hair, thumb brushing the nape of his neck, unsure whether to scold or beg. your breath hitched when he dipped lower again, mouth moving with a careful rhythm, lips brushing skin no one else would see, leaving tiny proof that was just for him—and you.
your words got caught somewhere between a soft whine and a breathy warning, but you didn’t push him away—the warmth, the teasing, the delicious mixture of control and care had you gripping his shoulder as if you could anchor yourself to him, and he noticed, smirk widening. he whispered a soft, but teasing ‘everywhere, yeah?’ against your skin, but his hands tightened slightly, reminding you—and himself—that even in play, everything was up to you. and you nodded with a breathless ‘continue, please’.
his mouth didn’t linger on any single place for long, instead drawing a slow trail lower, lips brushing over your stomach with infuriating patience. each kiss was a question, a warning, a promise, everything he couldn’t say out loud, and your fingers tightened in his hair the further he went. he knew you could feel his smirk against your skin, the deliberate way he avoided the spots you secretly hoped he’d touch, focusing instead on painting constellations of lovemarks only he understood.
by the time his lips reached the edge of your waistband, your breath was shallow, legs already parting on instinct, hand on your chest clutching the fabric of your shirt, and yeonjun chuckled lowly, looking up at you through his lashes. “you’re letting me, baby, don’t you?” he whispered, more statement than question, as his fingers hooked lightly at your hips, holding you steady while he shifted lower. “thank you,” he murmured, the sound muffled by your thigh.
your thighs tensed as he pressed the first kiss there—high enough to make your stomach flip, low enough to make you whine his name. he nipped gently, just a scrape of teeth, then soothed it with his tongue, leaving behind another faint, secret mark. “this one’s mine,” he said softly, lips brushing against the mark, almost cherishing it, as he looked up at you, your chest heaving, teeth sank in your lower lip. “just for me,” he whispered, not even certain himself if he was talking about the hickey or about you.
you wanted to argue—tell him he was ridiculous, tell him he was smug—but the words melted into a shaky exhale when he moved to your other thigh, repeating the same slow torture, sucking just hard enough to leave proof, careful enough not to hurt, purposeful enough to make you want more. your hands trembled on his shoulders, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him back, but you did neither. “‘njun,” you breathed, head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut. “bed. i can’t—”
he pulled back only a little, lips swollen, eyes glinting with hunger and amusement, and tilted his head. “counter not good enough for you, baby?” he chuckled, watching you, but your glare was ruined by your flushed cheeks and your shaky hands tugging at his hair. you muttered something about flat ass and a hard surface—half whining, half demanding—nudging him to move, and yeonjun laughed softly, proud and smug, before standing to lift you easily into his arms—your legs wrapping around him instinctively, arms tight around his shoulders.
you listed all the things you were going to do to him if he dropped you as he carried you out of the bathroom, and, honestly, yeonjun didn’t even want to tease you by pretending to do it—you were so… precious? and you already clung to him so cutely, fingers clenching the fabric of his tank top. he just wanted to be… safe for you? he groaned mentally—what’s with you, choi yeonjun? yeah, no, being in l—
“are you going to set me down?” you complained against his ear, feet dangling despite arms holding up just as tight. yeonjun stopped a few seconds ago, the bed was right under your butt, but he didn’t seem to even consider lowering you on it. “or you were going to keep showing off your impossible strength and hot as fuck arms?”
the whine—yeonjun refused to see your bratty complaints as anything but whines—mixed with the praise snapped him out of his thoughts, and he lifted his eyebrows, turning his head to look at you. were you really being a brat in this position? when you perfectly knew he was an ass who wouldn’t have any remorse about dropping you—yeah, well, he’d had it just a few seconds ago, but now he reconsidered it.
yeonjun relaxed his hold just enough for you to squeal and cling tighter, cursing him under your breath, before he lowered you onto the bed—carefully at first and just letting you fall for just a few inches. there was no hesitation in the way he pressed his body close as soon as your butt touched the mattress, and your hands immediately found his hair, tugging lightly as if to say don’t stop, and he groaned low, one hand settling at your waist to keep you flush against him while the other found the back of your head, tangling in your hair.
patience wasn’t one of your virtues, and you tugged him down, lips finding his without any effort, the kiss turning sloppy and messy just a few seconds in, his tongue slipping between your lips even before you parted them properly. you arched your back, moaning into the kiss that was getting more and more heated with each brush of his tongue against yours, and it made his hands roam bolder, not just brushing, but squeezing and grabbing now, leaving traces by his nails as if they’d stay for longer than a few minutes.
you couldn’t even deny you got obsessed with his kisses somewhere along the way. sometimes making out was just as good as sex—and, well, even better, because it inevitably ended with sex—and if you could spend the rest of your life with his lips on yours, with his weight caging your underneath, you’d probably not think twice about saying ‘yes, please’. you were almost certain he had something in his damn saliva, because it wasn’t supposed to work like this.
yeonjun felt the same—the way you always responded to him, arching your back, moaning and whimpering his name, your hands roaming around his back as if they didn’t know what to grab, everything was like a drug for him. shit, he definitely needed an hour-or-two-long making out session with you a few times per week—as a medicine from going insane, of course.
the saliva of you both was already running down your cheeks from the corners of your mouth, making you only tilt your head in a pathetic attempt to deepen an already deep kiss—you weren’t going to lose an opportunity if it was possible. but yeonjun leaned back the moment you did it, to catch a breath and let you do the same, and you couldn’t help but use the opportunity. “wasn’t it supposed to be a marking session?” you whispered, too out of breath to sound as bratty as you wanted.
you were— “a menace,” yeonjun breathed out with an amused smile despite the position you were in. “you were the one to tug me down!” he exclaimed—well, as best as he could while still in the middle of trying to catch his breath—and pinched the back of your thigh when you hummed and mumbled ‘yeah? dunno…’ against his lips. “a menace,” he repeated before moving to your neck to leave a few kisses—not marks, of course. not there.
by the time yeonjun had trailed down from your neck, leaving a handful of gentle kisses along your collarbones and shoulders, your breath was already uneven, hips tilting just slightly toward him without realizing it—and he hadn’t left a single mark yet. his hands roamed everywhere, focusing on the spots that made you arch a little more and gasp a little louder, that made your fingers clench on his shoulders or the back of his neck with a soft moan of his name.
you weren’t sure you still remembered how to breathe when yeonjun decided he was done with your shoulders and chest. the marks weren’t crazily violent, wouldn't bloom bright red or purple later—almost as if he enjoyed the process even more than the result—but there was bunch of them, trailing down from your collarbones, across your chest and over your heart, each one placed carefully and gently, licked after to soothe it just in case.
when yeonjun’s lips finally found your inner thighs, teasing the sensitive patches near your hips that he’d left in the bathroom, your hands tangled in his hair instinctively, tugging him closer as a quiet, broken moan slipped past your lips. he stayed just on the edge—slow and teasing at first, tracing each existing mark with the tip of his tongue, pressing his lips to it as if to show how much he treasured them, letting you catch your breath, letting you feel every deliberate kiss and lick.
your body responded before your brain could process it—you were trembling from the pleasure, but also from the closeness, the way he moved, the weight of his hand on your ribs, holding you down and tracing shapes with his thumb, soothing you. each soft mark he left on your thighs made you gasp and whimper, hips nudging him subtly, guiding him without words, and he caught every one of your tiny signals, humming the softest praises into your skin.
yeonjun didn’t notice when he finally allowed himself a little more insistence, the bites taking longer, the kisses more deliberate, but the pressure and motion still perfectly tuned to the way your body tensed and writhed, his whole attention on your shivers, on the small whimpers slipping past your lips, on the way your hands clutched at him, at the sheets, at your own shirt, as if he was eating you out, not leaving marks on your inner thighs. he couldn’t help but groan softly against you—you were so perfect…
by the end, your chest, stomach, thighs were dotted with soft, impermanent marks—the ones that would fade probably too fast for the liking of you both, but, well, you could repeat it, couldn’t you? you were trembling, breathing hard but smiling faintly, nearly giggling whenever you looked down—you looked like you came straight out of a fight with a toothless vampire who struggled to find a place to drink your blood from, but was decent enough to only try in the secure places of your body.
yeonjun crawled up your body, confused at the way you covered your eyes with your forearm, your smile wide and cheeks flushed, and hovered over you with an amazed smile. “you okay?” he murmured, adjusting your shirt with his free hand, and when you nodded, sharing your thought with him, unable to keep the giggles in every few words, he couldn’t help but laugh with his whole chest. “i’ll get us ‘toothless vampire’ and ‘his poor witch-tim’ couple t-shirts,” he promised, not thinking for a second about the way ‘couple t-shirts’ sounded.
you giggled and nodded, telling him you were taking him up on it, maybe a little too out of it to pay any attention to any unimportant words. a yawn broke through before you could say anything else, and yeonjun cooed, teasing you for being sleepy when it wasn’t even eleven yet—you nudged his shoulder and pushed him off your body, calling him an ass, and he fell on the mattress next to you dramatically, bouncing and groaning as if it was the worst hit of his life.
he covered you with a blanket, resting next to you, his hand naturally finding its place on your thigh under the fabric, other arm already under his head as he stared into the clear sky on the enchanted ceiling. he wasn’t going to sleep yet—just was waiting for you to doze off to go and busy himself with something, but perhaps your slow breathing and the feeling of your fingers wrapped around his forearm, firm but still gentle, were too lulling, and he drowsed off too, his breathing eventually slowing down to match yours.
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genre ; aged up hogwarts au⠀×⠀childhood friends to enemies to fwb to ?? au⠀×⠀smut and fluff and a biiiit of angst
wordcount ; 14.6k
warnings | tags ; lowercase, cursing⠀×⠀yeonjun still overthinks but a little less⠀×⠀surprisingly just one smut scene⠀×⠀quarter-public sex [even less public than in the prev chapter]⠀+ soft face-fucking / no hands blowjob [they loved it lol]⠀
✉ notes ; if you thought we're done with beating around the bush... nope :') and yay reusing the same pics for the header!
⠀⠀⠀[ my masterlist | cysm masterlist ]
yeonjun volunteered to clean up the mess you left behind, telling you to just gather the notebooks, parchments, and quills. you assumed he’d actually do his part, but instead he whined about his hands being cold, then came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and sliding his hands under your sweater and onto your stomach, and you jumped with a squeak at the icy touch.
he laughed, brushing the tip of his nose against your neck, making you jerk again at its chill. “sorry, mouse. just kidding.” yeonjun was already pulling his hands back out, clearly thinking of some other way to warm them, when your hands caught his through the knit fabric, holding them in place. he froze, but you just murmured ‘s’okay. warm up’ and went right back to stacking the quills. he prayed you couldn’t feel how hard his heart was hammering—he had no excuse for that.
yeonjun tried not to think about every small gesture of care you’d given him this day or attempted to—especially the ones that made you choose between your comfort and his. he kept reminding himself, that you’d let any of your boys warm their hands on you—not something as intimate as stomach of course, but maybe your hands or forearms. you’d hold them to warm them up or rub their frozen fingers and cheeks, and for him…
you were just letting him use you, weren’t you?... if he had to be real. and while ‘using’ was undeniably hot when it was about the blowjob earlier, now… could it be that you just didn’t care…? but his hands were cold, and it was terrible on the warm skin of your stomach for sure—at least for the first few minutes. and you didn’t let him pull them out. so you cared. didn’t you?..
your hand stilled at the zipper of the bag, halfway through—yeonjun was slipping away again. you had no idea how you knew, but you did. spider-sense. fennec-sense, with these huge ears. we’ve-known-each-other-for-our-whole-lives-sense. whatever. you clenched your teeth—what were you supposed to do? turn it sexual when you were on your period and couldn’t even finish whatever you started? what even was with him recently, gosh…
“did you know,” you started as if you were sharing something extremely interesting. “that this magical glass was originally charmed for students to do their projects?” you made a pause, throwing a glance over your shoulder at him, and continued, when you got his attention. “like, studying the effect of different wave-lengths on the magic plants or tricking night-only plants into thinking it wasn’t noon. it never included giving—or getting—a blowjob! can you believe it?!” you exclaimed, making it sound completely unbelievable.
yeonjun who listened so attentively to what you had to say, curious to know one more random-but-cool fact about hogwarts, opened his mouth only to close it, before his lips stretched in a smile and he pinched your side. “you’re unbelievable!” he squeezed your waist and shook his head. “i was so ready to hear something new, and you—”
“it is new!” you argued, turning in his arms, his hands slipping to your lower back now. you couldn’t deny you were happy he got distracted from whatever was bothering him—at least for now. and later… you’d come up with something new to take his attention away from his own thoughts. “tell me, who told you that it wasn’t for blowjobs, huh?” you lifted your brows in this ‘go on’ gesture, and he shook his head once again. “see? see? no one! so you can't deny it is new!” you poked his chest with each word, making his smile wider.
you were silly. absolutely silly, but cute and adorable even when bratty—or maybe especially when bratty. at least, yeonjun really didn’t want to argue with you on it—sometimes he could sacrifice being right just for the sake of your smile. didn’t mean he had to put up with your sassiness, though—he pulled his hand out of your sweater, pinching your cheek gently and shaking it. “maybe. but i can do this.”
the way back to hogwarts was full of laughter and play fighting—you were lucky to walk in these ten minutes without rain, and whenever yeonjun started complaining once again that he couldn’t be a gentleman and protect you from rain with his coat which was undoubtedly your fault for taking so long and missing the rain, you threatened to push him into the nearest muddy puddle, your hands gripping his shoulders dramatically as if you were about to, even though you could barely stay on your feet yourself, clutching your stomach from how much you laughed.
at some point, when you were already close to the training grounds, just a few minutes away from the entrance, yeonjun stopped mid-step, turned, and in one smooth motion threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. you squealed, clutching his back as he started walking again, loud and unbothered like he did this every day. “what? you only let me carry your bag,” he said, smug as anything—he’d snatched it from the table before you could, slinging it over his shoulder and ignoring every attempt you made to take it back—“so now i’m carrying you too.”
you slapped his ass—perfect position for that— and he didn’t even flinch, promising to show you his chaser skills if you were going to be a brat, and you could swear you felt his grin in it. “by manhandling me?” you asked innocently, hanging half-upside-down. yeonjun hummed like he was considering it before delivering a very deliberate slap to your ass in return, not caring in the slightest that someone could see.
and maybe it was the way he did it—so casual, so thoughtless—or maybe the fact that he hadn’t even slowed down after lifting you like you weighed nothing, or maybe you just was horny in general, no birth control potions in these seven days making you so much hornier, but something about it made your laugh catch in your throat for a beat. the slap was a ‘yes’, right? you noted mentally to talk to him about it later, when your period was over. well, hint at it by being a brat, of course. or maybe make him do it…
the boys were already in the great hall when you arrived—at the slytherin table, of course; where else would two hufflepuffs, a gryffindor and a ravenclaw be?—and you plopped down next to beomgyu before groaning and gesturing to yeonjun, who was already sitting across the table, to give you your bag. taehyun and beomgyu looked between the two of you weirdly, eyebrows raised, but when you both mirrored the gesture right back at them, they only shook their heads. not very convincing, but well…
dinner stayed loud, as always. beomgyu and soobin were still at each other’s throats about the league of legends match they played on lunar new year—it’d been three weeks and they still didn’t let it go, because beomgyu found it funny to remind soobin about it at every opportunity. kai was busy telling you about the new things he’d learned about china from the letter lea sent him this morning, while yeonjun and taehyun were in their own world, discussing the upcoming quidditch match—ten days until slytherin vs. ravenclaw.
eventually, taehyun switched his attention to kai to talk about how prepared they were for tomorrow’s advanced arithmancy colloquium, which left yeonjun to entertain himself—which obviously couldn’t be good, because with soobin and beomgyu still arguing about the win criteria, the only one left for him to bother was… you. who, in his opinion, was just as bored after kai was snatched away, and your herbology project notebooks were… definitely a way to fix that boredom. too shy to ask him first. weren’t you a cutie?
it so wasn’t like that, but could you ignore him when he nudged your ankle with his while having this annoying shit-eating grin on his face? no way. you nudged him back and then pressed tip of your shoe to his, stubbornly pushing it as hard as you could—he didn’t give in, holding his ground, so you quickly moved your foot between his, shoving it to the side and making him jerk in his seat because he didn’t expect it.
you were so proud of yourself, so obviously smug about managing to catch him off guard, that it was basically begging for revenge. yeonjun leaned back just a little, the corner of his mouth curling slow and dangerous like he was already plotting something evil, and you didn’t even realize you’d walked right into his trap until both your ankles were caught neatly between his. he closed them in one smooth motion, not even looking at you—oh no, he was suddenly very invested in his pumpkin juice—while you tried to tug your legs free without making a scene.
“yeonjun,” you hissed under your breath, voice caught somewhere between warning and embarrassment, but he just sat there, calm as ever, thumb tapping against his glass while that infuriating smirk spread wider. you could feel the heat creeping up your neck as you gave one last, hopeless tug, and the only thing he did was squeeze his ankles tighter for half a second—just to make sure you knew exactly who was winning this round.
your hiss got beomgyu’s attention and he looked between you with his eyes narrowed and head tilted before humming and turning back to soobin—only to exhale loudly the very next second as if he suddenly remembered something and turn back to you. “did you know—” he paused at your and yeonjun’s sudden synched groans, realizing he’d clearly missed something, before continuing, “that most head boy–head girl pairs from the same year ended up marrying each other after graduation?”
yeonjun, mid-sip of pumpkin juice, almost choked on it—he froze for half a heartbeat before managing to slap his palm over his mouth just in time, shoulders shaking as he tried to swallow without launching the juice across the table. you, on the other hand, just… blinked. once. twice. brain very much lagging behind reality as your ears caught up to what beomgyu just dropped in the middle of dinner like it was some casual trivia fact, which maybe was true, but—
“what—” yeonjun finally got the juice down, coughing into his sleeve, still trying to comprehend not even what beomgyu said, but why the fuck?! and what even pushed this thought up to the surface of his mind suddenly?! it was a well-known fact that head students did it—probably, because the ‘through thick and thin’ concept usually became pretty familiar before halloween—but why the hell?
you blinked again because what did he just—and then it hit you, because of course he’d say that here, with that stupid grin on his face. parent-trapping. again. so once your voice came back, you mastered the voice you’d already used today—the ‘random-but-cool fact’ one. “did you know,” you said, making a meaningful pause after it, “that most annoying gryffindors who spent way too much time at the slytherin table and dared to tease slytherin head boy–head girl pairs… ended up not being invited to the weddings?”
yeonjun’s eyes widened for a second at your reply—he clearly didn’t expect this phrasing. perhaps he thought it’d be something closer to hitting him with a notebook calling him a bad puppy, but that one was brilliant—and his lips stretched in a grin, his head turning to you. “i also heard they got banned from sitting at the slytherin table until head boy–head girl pairs graduate.”
“oh,” you drawled, your eyes on him, as you did a rapid-fire nod, “yes-yes! definitely heard of it!” you slowly turned your head to beomgyu. “have you? i think it’s a pretty well-known fact,” you nodded a few times again with ‘mhm’, your hand slowly crawling towards the herbology notebook lying before you, and when his gaze fell on the movement, he raised his hands in defeat, jerking when your hand shot to the top of his head—but you only ruffled his hair. “good boy.”
beomgyu muttered something about ‘evil slytherins’ under his breath, smoothing his hair down while you and yeonjun shared that stupid look you both always shared after winning something small and petty. the dinner blurred after that, leaving you six in a comfortable silence, busy with the homework leftovers you hadn’t finished before dinner. beomgyu rested his head on your shoulder eventually, showing he wasn’t mad at you—you rubbed your cheek against the top of his head as a sign that you weren’t mad too before returning to your notes.
the gesture didn’t slip past yeonjun’s eyes, and he squeezed your ankles under the table instinctively—he still hadn’t let it go, but you didn’t even try to pull away anymore, relaxing in his hold. he wasn’t jealous, wasn’t even possessive—no, when it came to you with the boys, he was… envious. this long forgotten feeling from years ago, when you’d only started getting closer to them, and he couldn’t stop asking himself why you couldn’t be the same with him. back then it was tearing out as anger, but now…
you glanced at yeonjun from your notebook almost as if you could feel that something was wrong—he was frowning, quill skimming across the parchment, eyes following it quickly, and nothing seemed wrong. but you felt it in your throat and in the pit of your stomach. maybe it was the angle of his brows, a bit too deeper than needed, maybe the way he pressed his lips, just a little tighter than when it was about concentration. but, fuck, you’d known him for your whole life and he hadn’t change since you were children. you knew.
the sigh you let out barely got anyone’s attention but yeonjun’s, who looked at you with a confused frown—you wondered if he could tell the difference between your authentic reactions and fake ones, because it certainly seemed like he’d done it right now. “can we patrol an hour earlier?” you whined, addressing the question to no one in particular, and shut the notebook, laying your forehead on it. “i’m so tired,” you sighed again, your voice as pitiful as it could be.
beomgyu and kai petted the back of your head with a soft ‘aw’, soobin and taehyun asked you if you wanted them to patrol for you this night, but you shook your head with a little sniffle without lifting it off the table and said you’d used their kindness enough the past few months and just wanted to pull yourself together and do it yourself. yeonjun got up, patting the back of your head with ‘let’s go, martyr’ before they could insist on doing it for you anyway, and you followed him after hugging everyone good night.
except you were tired, even if your dramatic sigh was just an exasperation. you trailed after yeonjun through the halls, most of which were already empty, trying not to yawn every ten steps. he teased you for some time, ruffling your hair and calling you a sleep-deprived ghost that he hadn’t seen for so long, but soon his attention started slipping away again—up to him simply not noticing you stopping to adjust your shoes until turning the corner.
but you were someone who knew how to put priorities straight, so even if you could barely lift your feet off the ground to walk and couldn't tell a sentence without yawning, you weren’t going to let him be a broody ghost that didn’t notice the world around—you were going to bother the hell out of him.
you started with tugging his sleeve every possible second because ‘he was too fast and you were dying’—he looked at you unimpressed, because you clearly didn’t have problems with keeping up, and threatened to throw you over his shoulder and squeeze your ass every four steps. it was tempting, but didn’t work. okay. you still didn’t let his sleeve free, though—just in case you needed to stop and he wouldn’t notice it again.
then the question came. “if you had to fight one hundred chicken-sized dragons or one dragon-sized chicken, which would you choose?”. yeonjun replied without thinking twice—”dragon-sized chicken, because it can’t spit fire and we’ll get a year's supply of tasty meat”—and you hummed, because it made perfect sense. “five twenty-year-old beomgyus or one five-year-old beomgyu”, and it was “one five-year-old and i’d tape him to the wall like in this meme”, which made you giggle.
there were more—every possible random stupid question you could come up with. at first yeonjun didn’t seem too enthusiastic, almost as if he was answering just to not upset you, but half a dozen in he started brainstorming, weighing each option and trying to make his answers as funny as they could be. about a dozen in he started asking you similar ones, each more ridiculous than the previous, and your cheeks were aching from smiling and laughing by the time you approached the slytherin common room entrance.
you followed yeonjun to his room without even thinking—he turned to his dormitory, so obviously you were going to go there too. honestly, you weren’t even sure when was the last time you slept in your room without him, and if he was going to sleep in his, you were going to sleep there too—it made perfect sense, so you followed him like a shadow. or like an ‘annoying curious kitten you can’t help but find adorable’ as yeonjun called it.
he plopped down on his bed with a tired sigh, fatigue suddenly filling his limbs the moment his back hit the mattress—it was a long day. he watched you take your clothes off, grab one of his shirts from his wardrobe—how he’d never noticed how at home you felt in his room if it was this obvious?..—and head to the bathroom with a yawn and tired wave of your hand. he didn’t follow you—obviously. you weren’t too comfortable with taking a shower together when you were on your period, and while he wasn’t sure he cared about some blood enough, he still gave you space.
when you returned, you looked more like a ghost than before even—feet barely lifting off the floor, white oversized t-shirt hanging off your shoulders, hair in a mess and your eyes blinking so slowly it seemed more like the quickest little naps, which made you move slower not to hit anything on your way. cute. undeniably cute. you dragged yourself to the couch before the fireplace and sat down on the edge, sleepily accio-ing the hair brush with a yawn—yeonjun had to cover his mouth to not laugh out loud when it almost hit you in the head.
no surprise you are so sleepy despite taking a shower, he thought, when he entered the bathroom. it smelled like every possible herb that humanity had used for relaxing and falling asleep for the whole history of humanity. faint, not headache heavy kind of smell, but still undoubtedly this one, and he couldn’t help but yawn every few seconds while taking a shower himself—hot water was only lulling him more, too.
when yeonjun came back, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair dump, you were already curled up on his bed in that very shirt, clutching his pillow to your chest, face half-buried in it, as you were obviously already deep asleep. he glanced on the other side of the bed as if another pillow for him could appear there magically, but it was empty, and he grabbed a pillow from your bed with a sigh before heading to his one and throwing the pillow on it.
yeonjun tried to lower himself onto the mattress as carefully as he could, not wanting to wake you, but the moment his side of the bed dipped, you stirred and murmured something, eyes fluttering open. you blinked at him a few times before letting out a soft, content hum—something that sounded almost like ‘you’re here’—and closed your eyes again. your body shifted just an inch closer to his, your hand slowly crawling across the bed until it found his arm, the side of your palm warm against his bicep.
since when… yeonjun chuckled bitterly—since when what? everything? since when you were sleeping in his room when you had nothing to work on together? since when you were choosing his bed when you were on your period and could do nothing sexual before or after sleep? since when you were sleeping with your face in his pillow and reaching out for him in your sleep? and why the hell had he never noticed it before? how was it possible to be so blind? he was sure everyone saw it—especially the boys.
gosh, of course they did—what else could it be? this parent-trapping, much more subtle this time, these stupid remarks. what had beomgyu even meant with this marriage comment earlier? no, it didn’t mean a shit. what mattered was, why had you said what you’d said? what was with this ‘didn’t get invited to the weddings’? why hadn’t you said that talking about your marriage was absolutely ridiculous? could it…
yeonjun slapped himself mentally—could it mean what? your feelings? of course, yeonjun. because every girl in love reacted exactly like this, when she heard a shit of ‘were sitting on a tree’ kind—non-chalantly, friendly venomously, teasing back. of course, it wasn’t blushing and getting shy and biting back in some tsundere-way. yeah, no, everyone was different, but you were… you were who?
back when you were kids—a bitter breathy laugh slipped past yeonjun’s lips—he thought of how it always circled back to this. weren’t you the same? other kids kept teasing you two, exactly this ‘yeonjun and [ yn ] were sitting on a tree’ following you whenever you two went, and you never became shy—you only turned your nose up and said something about them just being bullies before walking by them, not sparing them a single glance anymore, your hand warm and a little sweaty in yeonjun’s.
even now yeonjun could almost hear the giggles behind you again, the sharp sun, the smell of grass. you always sat in a quiet corner after it, hugging your knees to your chest, and he sat next to you, his arms around your shoulders. listening to them picking on you for being friends was never easy for you, but you refused to show it to anyone—even your parents. but you were never hiding it from him.
later yeonjun started stepping in first, ridiculously proudly saying they were jealous and ‘couldn’t have what you had’—something stupid he overheard in some tv drama his parents watched—and tugging you away from them, looking too proud for his own good. ridiculously proud, even, as if quoting some actor made him wiser than everyone else on the playground. his hands were sweaty too, but you always held onto them tightly, not caring about it for a second. you’d often call them names when you two stayed alone, giggling at each one—each new insult said in a whisper so your moms didn’t overhear you.
yeonjun wasn’t even sure where it came from—your families had always said you two would get married, for as long as he could remember. and it never was something like arranged marriage, or business marriage, or ‘we’re besties, so our kids should get married’. it never scared him, never made him feel like grown-ups wanted to do something against his will, never made him embarrassed or upset.
sometimes he barely paid any attention to it, especially when you two were busy with something, but still heard these conversations a few feet away from you, because it felt like something as a matter of course—like going to school or growing up or staying with you forever. he knew you felt the same. yet the words must have started somewhere, haven’t they? like a story told so many times it stopped feeling like a story at all.
but why would your families start it in the first place?.. yeonjun glanced at you from the corner of his eye, gaze sliding down to the white shirt on you, and he frowned before closing his eyes at all, trying to catch the memory that suddenly sparked and hoping it wouldn’t disappear before he did. a white dress… oh. it flickered just out of reach, trying to mock him, but he was quicker. he couldn’t believe he forgot it—but given how blind he was when it came to present… he probably shouldn’t have been so surprised.
it was his second cousin’s wedding, you both were five and it was probably the first time you both saw a wedding in real life—not in cartoons or movies—and it was… boring. his hanbok felt weird, especially because he was told to be extremely careful with food and drinks, and the skirt of your hanbok was hilariously huge—you were walking around like a cloud, but with your face you were closer to a thundercloud, and yeonjun couldn’t stop laughing at your grumpy expressions.
yeonjun was throwing petals with another girl from the groom’s family, and you were sitting on his mom’s lap with your arms crossed, pouting and frowning and all grumpy, looking at him like he was the biggest traitor in the world—‘et to, brute’, probably, if you knew it back then. his mom kept whispering things to cheer you up, but you stubbornly turned your face away every time, your little shoes kicking the air in protest—it only made her coo at you, finding you even more adorable
he ran to you the moment he was free from the task, his smile the widest it could be, glowing brighter and brighter with each quick step, and your smile was growing too—you hugged like you hadn’t seen each other for years and like you weren’t grumpy at him just ten minutes ago. the adults laughed quietly, watching the two of you cling to each other like the world had been cruelly keeping you apart instead of just a wedding aisle.
the grown-ups let you go and find something you wanted to do without anyone else, when the main meal was over and more and more little green bottles started appearing on the tables—you were already half-way out, hand in hand, when yeonjun’s mom tried to remind you to be careful with your hanboks. there was no need too—it was already too late to play, you both were tired and full after the dinner, and simply sat in a quiet corner of the garden, watching the little stars above your heads.
after a few minutes of silence, you muttered that the wedding seemed too boring and grown-up—the wedding hanbok was pretty, but the rest was ‘bleh’. yeonjun made a face, agreeing with you and telling you that his would be better—fireworks, and candy, and juice instead of whatever thing the adults were drinking. you quickly added that no speeches were allowed too, because they were way too long.
it stayed silent for a moment—yeonjun tried to remember what else was happening at the wedding—the not tasty cake, weirdly smelling glasses, boring conversations, and… “and no kissing either,” he added finally, making a disgusted sound. “ew,” he made a face again, and you mirrored it, agreeing. he plucked at the grass with his fingers for a moment, thinking hard. “yeah… our wedding’s gonna be way cooler,” the words came out so simply, that neither of you really reacted. it was obvious, wasn’t it? your wedding, his wedding… the same thing.
and then you announced it to your families the next day, absolutely officially, your faces as serious and solemn as they could be—‘we decided something. we’re getting married’ (of course yeonjun was the one to say it as the little gentleman he was). someone laughed, asking you if it was planned for tomorrow, you looked them deadly in the eyes—as if wondering how adults could ask something so obvious—before saying that you were too young yet to get married, so you were talking about the future.
but everyone laughed, and you both frowned, yeonjun’s fingers curling tighter around yours—you squeezed his hand even more, frustrated with everyone not taking you both seriously. you both pressed your point even harder, insisting you were serious, and that you even had a list already—candy, juice boxes, fireworks, and no kissing or speeches. they found it even more adorable, and you both stomped out of the room, hand in hand—like always.
you were sitting in a hidden corner of the garden, angry and frustrated and on the verge of tears, your knees hugged to your chest, fingers clenched around the fabric of the pants, as you tried to keep yourself together. yeonjun watched you, trying to come up with something that would make you smile—he was angry at adults too, but seeing you sad was making him sad too. he nudged a little rock with his finger before grabbing it only to throw it away. stupid grown-ups…
“we will show them,” yeonjun muttered, frowning and dragging his knees to his chest too. “we will marry the moment we can, and they will see,” he assured you with as much certainty as a five-year-old boy who was ready to do anything to make his best friend feel better could have. he stuck his pinky out at you, and you grabbed it without thinking twice. you left the garden full of determination.
of course, the revenge was forgotten too soon. yeonjun went to his mom to ask her when the two of you could get married—she wasn’t there when you announced it—she said you’d have to wait until you both were eighteen and asked why he was curious about it. he explained that the wedding was boring and you wanted to have a cooler one—and it also made sense to stay forever with his best friend. he even told her about your wedding list, and she nodded thoughtfully, saying it could be arranged—as well as the family ring if he really wanted.
there wasn’t the family ring when you both passed eighteen. no fireworks, no juice boxes or candy, no revenge or pretty wedding hanbok for you, and perhaps too much kissing in the last few months. ‘no speeches’ was probably the only thing that stayed true, because you never discussed anything truly meaningful. all of this was in the past now, nothing but memories. of the way you wanted it so much, of your proud answers when you were teased for acting like you were in love—because there wasn’t anything to be ashamed of.
just like… yeonjun swallowed, glancing at you again. just like now. the little you would reply the same way you did earlier after some growing up, and he never doubted the feelings of this ‘little you’ even if you were too young to call it ‘feelings’—it was always about what had happened after. and now… now was this ‘after’. but you reacted the same way you’d been doing it when your feelings were real, when you cared about him, when you wanted to marry him. could it be that now…
he almost groaned out loud, hands shooting up to cover his face—it felt like he’d known you for your whole lives, but had he? did he know you now? could he know what was in your head when you reacted one way or another? it’d been more than fifteen years, you were grown-up now, and you were a slytherin—you were native in sarcasm. and maybe you pitied him too, and didn’t want to hurt his feelings?.. you’d always been like this with him, and you were like this with him now.
you blinked slowly, trying to catch something in the pitch dark room. the sudden jerk against your hand and the loss of his palm on your thigh stirred you awake, and you frowned, seeing yeonjun covering his face—had something happened? “you okay?” you murmured, voice sleepy and quiet, as you put your hand on his wrist, caressing gently. “a nightmare?..” you asked uncertainly, frowning just a little harder before sitting up.
yeonjun looked at you and swallowed—fuck, he didn’t mean to wake you up. and being seen like this… “no, it’s okay,” he rasped, laying his hand on your thigh and squeezing it as assuringly as he could—wasn’t too convincing even for him, but you’d just stirred awake… “go to sleep, baby. don’t worry,” he said, rubbing your thigh, which was more of an attempt to calm himself down and distract you.
you hesitated, watching him through the darkness, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his wrist—you were weighing whether to believe him or not, and the latter was undoubtedly winning. he didn’t move away, didn’t try to joke, or push your hand off, or grab your wrist and pull you to plop on top of him, and that alone told you enough—he never stayed quiet if he was really fine. “yeonjun,” you said softly, still groggy, your hand on his wrist getting even gentler without you thinking about it. “you’re not okay.”
he wanted to laugh, to tell you that he was fine, to act like you were imagining things—but the sound of his name in your sleepy voice made something tighten in his chest, and your hand was still there, warm but certain against his skin, and it felt like that warmth was the only thing tethering him to the present right now. “i’m just… tired,” he said finally, and it wasn’t a lie. just not the whole truth either. he turned his hand to catch yours and squeezed it. “really.”
you studied his face for a moment before nodding slowly—you didn’t believe it for a second but also didn’t want to press. were you even close enough for this?... for him to share what was on his mind for the past few days. the only friends you were, was ‘friends with benefits’—you shared a bed but not worries. “then sleep,” you murmured, tugging his hand as you laid down yourself. “you’re being weird,” you muttered, brows frowned, and settled more comfortably on the mattress.
yeonjun almost laughed at that. weird. yeah, maybe he was. maybe he was losing it. maybe he just wanted to stop thinking for five seconds. so he let you relax in the sheets, the mattress dipping again as he settled next to you, trying to stop the annoying thoughts. you turned on your side, half-asleep already, and your hand found his under the blanket without you even looking, without thinking probably, fingers slipping between his before you squeezed it and… left it like that.
he wanted to live and die in the same breath. maybe yeonjun wanted to believe it meant something—that you weren’t just pitying him, or simply being nice—but could he afford to? the price of misinterpreting was heartbreak, the kind that gutted you clean—he’d had enough nights to imagine how bad it could be. and worse… worse would be losing you entirely. hearing not just ‘i don’t feel the same,’ but ‘i don’t feel the same. and i don’t want to hurt you more’. the kind of kindness that would hurt a thousand times worse than sleeping beside you with no hope at all.
you grumped something incoherent, making him look at you—you were frowning, slowly blinking at him again, clearly unsatisfied with whatever you were seeing. before he could say anything, you tugged his hand as hard as you probably could, and murmured a strict and therefore an unbelievably cute ‘sleep’, pressing your intervened hands between your thighs and holding them there.
yeonjun had to hold himself back from brushing a strand of hair away from your face. he only squeezed your hand for a second as if apologizing and giving a promise to sleep, and closed his eyes, forcing every little thought away and trying to not let the feeling of peace and quiet that holding your hand was bringing fill the void. he knew that in the morning it’d only turn into the the most venomous poison he could ever imagine—he still wasn’t immune to it despite feeling it go through his veins each time you looked at him with a warm smile.
he was the first to wake up, but you followed right after, lids heavy and brain still cottony from sleep. you didn’t even notice you were still holding onto his hand until you pushed yourself upright, arms stretching high above your head with a soft groan. the morning light of the enchanted ceiling was barely slipping past the canopy, painting the room in faint shimmering gold, and yeonjun was sitting there like the picture of annoyance—messy hair, furrowed brows, eyes half-shut, looking at the wall like it’d personally wronged him.
you reached out and nudged his shoulder once. twice. yeonjun sighed through his nose. then you shook it, not too hard, but with the kind of stubborn persistence that only got worse when he ignored you. he finally glanced at you, muttering that you were a menace, but you only grinned, leaning in just to poke his cheek for good measure, letting him know that he looked like a grumpy old cat. he stared at you flatly, clearly deciding how to retaliate.
and then his hand shot out, warm and quick, wrapping around your wrist before you could react—he gave one sharp tug that had you toppling onto his chest with a surprised yelp of ‘oh my god—’. you barely had time to recover before he shifted his weight, quick as anything despite looking half-dead two seconds ago, and suddenly you were flat on your back with him on top, his messy hair falling into his eyes and his grin sharp and triumphant.
you stared up at him, blinking in disbelief, then smacked his shoulder with the flat of your palm, hissing that he was a menace, voice caught somewhere between outrage and laughter. but yeonjun only leaned closer, grin widening like he’d just won a war, as he said that you started it, voice still rough with sleep, his face too relaxed for someone who was currently suffocating ‘a poor girl with all of his chaser weight’—he laughed, bright and loud, telling you that you deserved it.
you grumbled that you were trying to wake him up, not get murdered, shoving at his shoulder again, but yeonjun didn’t even flinch—he just leaned there over you like he was perfectly comfortable, grin widening the longer you glared at him. he shifted his weight a little, on purpose, the bed dipping further clearly to remind you how stuck you were, until you smacked at his arm in retaliation, feeling your cheeks warm up, because… it did feel nice. he laughed under his breath, low and infuriating, obviously knowing what you were thinking about.
eventually, yeonjun rolled off you with the most dramatic sigh in the world, like he was the victim here, sprawled out with his hair sticking in every direction. you shoved at his leg on your way to get up, only for him to kick lightly at your ankle in revenge—lazy, perfectly timed, and enough to make you stumble and curse under your breath while he bit back a grin.
you threw the nearest pillow at him for that. he threw it back before you even straightened up, the hit landing square on your shoulder. soon enough there were socks flying, something that might’ve been a hoodie, and both of you were ducking and dodging somewhere between half-asleep threats, poorly aimed throws and trying not to fall off the bed.
it always ended the same way. yeonjun smirking like he’d won something, you glaring like you hadn’t yet, and both of you breathing harder than you should after a pillow war that lasted all of three minutes—‘age takes its toll’ as he always said as if you were turning fifty in a few weeks. and then, as always, you got ready for the day in the middle of that same familiar chaos, pretending not to laugh whenever you passed each other while looking for all the things you’d thrown around earlier, pretending you weren’t already planning the next round.
yeonjun didn’t notice how your mornings, and days, and evenings changed—for the second time. it’d been teasing and light-hearted and full of banter for months, that he realized, but recently it’d become… more physical? and not in a sexual way—well, at least not only in a sexual way. he couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d become so needy recently, so clingy and… bothering? but not in a bad way—of course, not. you just seemed to need his attention more often, showed it openly through bothering him. with touches, or with your presence, or with your brattiness.
but most of all, yeonjun didn’t notice how bad he started craving it, when he was left alone. it was rare—you were constantly together, only parting your ways when he had to go to the quidditch practice—but it was a week until the next match, and it was a tradition for him to stay behind for an hour or so when the rest of the team left after the last practice before the match—at least if the weather was good enough for flying around and clearing his head.
it was the same this time, but barely twenty minutes in, yeonjun realized he was… missing you. the practice wasn’t a problem—his head was full of tactics, new ideas, possible situations; he was too focused on watching each player like a hawk to think about anything else. and previous few practices he’d leave with the rest of the team and find you as soon as possible after showering and changing, but now… now his head was empty and inevitably started being filled with you.
yeonjun circled lazily above the pitch, dragging out the minutes like he was waiting for something—someone—but you weren’t there, and he had no excuse to stop early. there was no reason for you to be here, either, and yet the emptiness beneath him felt strange, like the whole place was wrong without your voice echoing somewhere near him. ridiculous. he groaned under his breath, angling into another turn before finally admitting he wasn’t even flying properly anymore, just wandering in the air like an idiot with too much on his mind.
he felt himself getting needier for your attention with each second, and the needier he was getting, the harder it felt to just land and go back to hogwarts. what if you’d just… ignore him? what if you weren’t in the mood to bother him, and he’d have to just sit awkwardly nearby, pretending he wasn’t waiting for you to start annoying him. of course he could be the one to do it first, but recently he barely started it anymore, scared of making you angry with him or accidentally showing his feelings and making you leave because of them.
it was stupid, yeonjun knew it better than anyone, but the risks were too high and—he frowned, then felt his chest ease as a smile bloomed on his face before he even realized why. he’d spotted your figure across the field. the thought about his heart recognizing you before his brain did got slapped away so fast it was almost funny—impressive and concerning at the same time. even more impressive and concerning? the more of those cringe, pathetic thoughts he had, the less ashamed he was getting about them.
you jumped excitedly, your arms up in the air as you waved at him, despite him already tilting the broom to get back down to the ground. usually yeonjun returned earlier from the practices, but it had been almost an hour since you saw the whole team get back to the common room without him. and knowing him, his head was definitely filled with whatever was bothering him recently—you didn’t need to be on the pitch to know it. so you got up and headed there, to annoy him and drag him back to the castle.
yeonjun tried to land as close as possible to you, but still with some distance—in case the broom decided to act up suddenly. you sprinted to him the moment you realized where he was going to land, and he barely had time to get off the broom before you almost collided with his body, making his eyes widen—and making his smile widen too without him even noticing it at first. “what’s gotten into you?” he laughed and then took the broom in one hand to pull a glove off the other, catching the tip with his teeth and tugging it off.
your eyes slid down to his hand, the fabric dragging over a bit too defined veins and tendons that definitely had no need to be so tensed—you were sure he was flexing them on purpose—before slipping over his knuckles, sharp ridges shifting beneath the slightly red skin, then slowly uncovering his joints and fingers like he was performing a freaky hand striptease just for your brain that hadn’t had a proper sex in almost a week. you licked your lips. “am horny,” you muttered, not even trying to move your gaze elsewhere. “hurry up. we can dryhump.”
so you were horny… yeah, no, he figured—he wasn’t even making a show out of taking the glove off, he just wanted to pinch your cheek and doing it while still having it on was ew, but you were watching it as if it was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. was it feeding his ego? undoubtedly. yeonjun hummed, hiding the glove in the pocket of his quidditch robe, lips pressed tight as he tried not to giggle at the way your eyes followed his hand. “need to catch my breath for a bit. here’s my broomstick, have fun while i’m at it.”
you slowly took the broom he handed you, half-hypnotized, your thoughts still on the way he took off the glove, and half-confused because why in the world he’d give you it? what were you supposed to do with it, when the last time you’d ridden a broom was almost seven years ago—when he saved your pathetic ass from being murdered by gravity. you pouted, eyes in broom in your hand. “can i have fun with another broomstick of yours?..” you mumbled, frowning, your pout deepening as you looked at him again.
yeonjun’s eyebrows shot up as he blinked at you a few times—were you…? it was so terrible that it was close to the best thing he’d ever heard. he tugged the second glove off—properly now, as his hands were free—and sighed. or pretended to, because he felt like his mind was finally at peace as you were standing here. “yeah. after i catch my breath,” he repeated and ruffled your hair. “you can fly and i’ll go to the changing rooms when you had enough fun, or you give me the broom back and i go now. not letting you fly alone.”
the speed you shoved the broom back into his hand was probably your personal record, and yeonjun chuckled, clearly expecting you to do so. you tilted your head at him, rocking back and forth on your feet, trying to be as annoyingly cute and innocent as you could master. “can i join you? it’s freezing and boring out here,” you looked over the huge pitch before returning your gaze to him. “can i?” you asked, tips of your fingers trailing up and down his arm. “pretty please?”
yeah, yeonjun perfectly knew how it would end—you bothering him to hurry up with undressing, showering and dressing back or you making out against the wall in some quiet corner of the changing rooms, and couldn’t pretend he wasn’t looking forward to either. he patted your lower back, gesturing to the exit with the tilt of his head. “let’s go, ghost girl,” he said, waiting for you to turn, and followed you when you headed to the changing rooms, a little frown of confusion on your face. “because you haunt me,” he explained, shrugging. he definitely wasn't looking for an exorcism.
you didn’t talk on your way to the exit, but you still kept your eye on him in case he started slipping away again despite how short the walk there was—the last few days he didn’t need much time to start zoning out. just a few minutes of silence, and—boom—here he was, staring at the wall or moving suspiciously mechanically. you were constantly ready and waiting with a random stupid question prepared in your head, fingers flexing to start tugging his sleeve or body already half relaxed to lean on him annoyingly and complain.
yeonjun opened the door for you with a flourish, one arm sweeping out in a theatrical arc as if he was a courtly gentleman from a century ago—he even dipped into a shallow bow, chin down, eyes flicking up to you with a mischief that ruined the seriousness of the gesture. you played along, lowering your head just enough in a mock-demure acknowledgment, your hands gathering the sides of your robe as if it was a gown, as you stepped inside.
it was ridiculous, a parody of some 18th-century ballroom scene, and yet you both carried it with the kind of deadpan solemnity, doing your best to bite your grins and giggles back, that made the moment twice as funny. yeonjun invited you to have a sit—on a low and hard wood bench next to his bag, but you both acted like it was a centuries-old sofa with the softest cushions you’d ever sat on.
you averted your gaze when yeonjun untied the robe on his neck, shaking it off his shoulders, and grabbed a blank piece of parchment that was lying on the bench next to his bag, easily transfigurating it into a fan and covering your face with it as a modest woman, who was clearly trying to hide her blush and shy smile, not the handsome man from her eyes. “my apologies, milord,” you murmured from behind the fan, the edges of your lips twitching as you fought a grin, “i am not certain that undressing yourself before a lady is… proper conduct.”
yeonjun stilled dramatically, his robe dangling from his fingers, then straightened his spine with a solemnity fit for a king. “ah,” he intoned, as though gravely struck by your reprimand, “you wound me, milady.” he dropped the robe onto the bench, swept into another exaggerated bow, and caught your free hand with a flourish, lifting it delicately.
instead of pressing his lips fully to your skin, he hovered just above, letting his breath ghost warmly against your knuckles—close enough to make the gesture feel scandalous, though he remained perfectly polite in his parody. “forgive my insolence,” he said, voice rich with mock remorse, though his eyes gleamed wickedly up at you. “i was under the impression that you had witnessed me bare enough times to no longer fall victim to such charming modesty.”
you snapped the fan closed with a sharp flick, yanking your hand out of his and hiding your face behind it now instead, because his gallant performance mixed with this filthiness was far too much for your composure. “you’re such a perv,” you mumbled, poking his shoulder with the fan, and doing it again, with a little more force when he crouched down before you, his elbows on your knees. “the biggest perv.”
his brows arched, his face the picture of injured nobility, though his grin betrayed him. “perv?” yeonjun repeated carefully, tasting the word like it was foreign wine. “perv… forgive me, milady, but this peculiar term is not one known in my century. might i implore you to enlighten me on its meaning?” he tilted his head, leaning in and resting his chin on the back of his palm, his smirk far too wicked for a man pleading ignorance—and he didn’t even try to hide it.
“if you open a dictionary and find this word,” you started, taking your hand off your face, the end of the fan now caressing his arm, “there’ll be a picture of a man.” you looked away from him with a theatrical dreamy sigh, looking nowhere specific, your expression almost blessed. “so beautiful even angels would fall for him, so enviable even gods would seethe… and yet so sweetly sinful inside that even demons wouldn’t resist,” you signed dreamily again as if imagining him. “and beneath it is written… the biggest perv choi yeonjun.”
yeonjun froze for a second, his brain short-circuiting—so beautiful even angels…—and then that huge grin broke across his face no matter how hard he tried to keep it in. he bit his lip, pressed his lips together, tried to lower the corners of his mouth, but it only made his cheeks rounder, the corners curling up despite his attempts. he covered his mouth with his fist first, trying to hide the grin, then half of his face, dragging it down, only to end up collapsing forward until his forehead was half-buried in the crook of his arm on your lap.
he mumbled something against his sleeve first, barely audible, a choked laugh then, a tiny groan after—yeonjun had no idea where to put himself now, when he was giddy and a complete idiot in front of you now. “you’re so—” he mumbled into your knees, cheeks already aching, and shook his head. a menace. you were a menace. but he wasn’t any better. he peeked up at you, your grin just as wide, his eyes crinkled as he finally recovered enough to speak. “so… tell me, are you the angel that fell for me, or the demon that didn’t resist?”
you hummed, your fingertips trailing up his arm, to his shoulder, up his neck, catching the earring with the tips of your fingers, caressing the smooth silver surface with your thumb. “hm…” your hand paused for a second, before you shrugged and continued the gentle movement. “a half-blood that didn’t resist falling?” the response was more ridiculous than flirty, but you just continued the banter without thinking twice about what you were saying—just like most of the time. “and maybe a seething goddess a little?”
yeonjun pressed his hand to his chest, bowing his head in a mock-gratitude. “i’m honoured to have a goddess who didn’t resist falling right here,” he intoned as if he was delivering a sacred oath, but the glint in his eyes betrayed him—more jester than knight. he straightened, shoulders shaking with the effort to keep it serious, then broke into laughter anyway, his grin stretching wide, boyish and irrepressible, as he leaned closer. “half-blood, goddess, demon, angel—whatever you are, you’re mine to deal with, aren’t you?”
you didn’t have a ready comeback for that, so instead you flicked the fan against his arm one last time, shaking your head at him and rolling your eyes even though the smile on your face betrayed you completely—he caught it easily, tugged it from your fingers, and with a dramatic snap folded it closed before tossing it on the bench as if discarding the last prop of your little play, and the little sparks ran over the surface of the fan, turning it back into the blank parchment.
the theatrics faded with it, leaving the air quieter, more ordinary, though still light with laughter. yeonjun untied the rest of his robe with an absent tug, shrugging out of the thick fabric, his body moving with that unbothered ease of someone used to changing in front of other people—but you turned your head away anyway, suddenly too interested by junière tied to your wand. your thumb brushed over the huge ears again and again, a mindless fidget, the metallic click almost too loud in the hush that followed your banter.
—
“you know,” his voice came, amused, low and echoing softly in the space, “it’s not like you haven’t seen me before.” yeonjun knew you could practically hear the smirk in his voice even without looking at him. “if you want to look so much, you can. i don’t mind,” he winked at you when you glanced at him. his words were half a too self-assured joke, but only half, because just like you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, he wanted the same for you. and well… seeing you being interested in him…
your cheeks warmed, you grip on the wand tightening, and the corner of your mouth curled up—you didn’t know if it was still okay to look at him. would he tease you? laugh at you? you pouted, averting your gaze and crossing your arms on your chest. “don’t wanna now…” you muttered, but the defensive note in your voice only made him chuckle, a sound that wrapped around you like it always did, warm and far too knowing, the furthest possible from mean.
“sure you don’t,” yeonjun said with a smile, dragging the words out in that sing-song way he used whenever he was very sure he’d won. the rustle of clothes followed, quick, careless—sweater, thermal shirt, shoes, equipment—until his quidditch trousers hit the bench in a heap. he padded toward the shower stalls, his bare footsteps soft against the stone floor. “come on, baby,” he called over his shoulder, not even looking back, the invitation tossed out as casually as if he was asking you to follow him down the hallway. “let’s shower and then come back to the castle.”
you hesitated, arms hugging yourself tighter, but fingers reaching for the pull of your jacket nevertheless. the truth was—your period had only just ended, and even if it wasn’t anything dramatic anymore, your body still felt tender, uncertain, you could bleed despite it assumingly having ended. the idea of stripping down and showering next to him in that tiny tiled space made your stomach twist. your first instinct was to shake your head, and to make some excuse—just not to embarrass yourself if your body decided to act up.
but yeonjun had stopped at the doorway before you could reply, leaning against it, hair mussed and damp from sweat, eyes softer than his grin. “hey,” he said quietly, serious now. he knew periods weren’t easy, and while he was aware yours had ended, there was no need to spell it out for him. “i won’t touch you anywhere you don’t want me to. promise. you can just… stand under the water and complain about how cold you were, if you want.”
you let out a small huff, the tension easing just a little. yeonjun always did this when it was about something important—took your stubbornness and gentled it, gave you an out without making you feel small for hesitating. and maybe that was exactly why you ended up setting your wand carefully on the bench and stood up, unzipping your jacket and shaking it off your shoulders. “fine,” you muttered, your pout deepening despite your hand being quick to get rid of the clothes. “but if you laugh at me once, i’m hexing you bald.”
yeonjun’s laughter echoed in the empty room, loud and bright, as he leaned on the doorframe, watching you discard your clothes quickly, most probably not wanting to make him stand there in just underwear for too long. you came up to him, and before you could roll your eyes at him again he bent down and pressed a quick, almost reverent kiss to your temple. “i promise to behave,” he murmured against your skin, then nudged the shower door open for you with the same theatrical flourish as earlier, bowing his head. “after you, milady.”
you stepped past him, the steam from the shower wrapping over your bare skin, making it easier and harder to breathe at once. yeonjun followed, still careful, his usual—for this situation—cocky confidence dimmed to something quieter, much more attentive as he stayed just close enough, like he was waiting to see what you would do—not to tease you for being desperate, but to take charge the moment he saw you need it.
it was so weird to feel this nervous—almost as if the sensitivity of your body sank into your mind and heart, wrapping around them too—and you drew a little star on the fogged glass with your fingertip, chewing on your lip before looking up at him. and then—before you could lose the nerve—you leaned up and pressed your lips to his, your eyes fluttering shut. it was barely a kiss, a soft brush, fleeting, more like a question than anything else. but it was enough. you felt the way his whole body stilled, how his breath hitched against your mouth.
the answer came a heartbeat later. yeonjun tilted his head, his hand lifting only far enough to cup your jaw—gentle, deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away—as the other found your hip. his mouth moved against yours with warmth and patience, deepening the kiss only when you leaned into him, your shy little question turning into something braver.
yeonjun felt your palms find his chest, barely there, feather-light, and somehow fear of you doing it only to push him away was so much stronger than fear of you feeling the way his heart was thundering against your touch. but before you could do the latter, your hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders, and parted, one finding its place in his hair, another pulling him closer by his neck, your chest pressing closer to his, as you tilted your head too, parting your lips even before he could ask for it.
the kiss deepened, the soft, unthinking eagerness of your lips parting for him made his chest ache. yeonjun’s hold tightened, one arm wrapping firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against him, while his other hand slid from your jaw to cradle the back of your head. he kissed you harder then, but only for a moment—because suddenly he pulled back just slightly, his breath warm and shaky against your lips. “okay?” he whispered, his voice rough, his forehead almost pressed to yours.
you breathed out a mindless ‘mhm’, already leaning forward again, brushing your mouth over his before the word was even gone. needy, desperate, barely being able to stand the space he’d put between your lips, and you weren’t even ashamed of it. your tongue slipped past his lips, gently poking his before sliding back, coaxing and inviting him—he knew you so well, you didn’t need to worry about him not getting the hint.
the moment his tongue brushed yours, everything tipped over the edge—the kiss grew messier, hungrier, your mouths moving against each other like neither of you could get enough, like every second of space between you was unbearable. your fingers clutched at his damp skin, sliding over his shoulders, down his back, into his hair, pulling him closer, closer, as if you could merge yourselves entirely if you only tried hard enough.
yeonjun groaned low in his chest, the sound vibrating through you, and without even thinking about it, he guided you backwards until your spine met the cool tiled wall—the contrast against your overheated skin made you gasp against his lips, but the shock only gave him the chance to kiss you deeper, swallowing your breath like it belonged to him. fuck, he wanted nothing more than share every breath with you. no—he wanted nothing else.
his hand spread over your hip, anchoring you there, thumb brushing circles into your skin even as his other arm braced the wall beside your head. you tilted your chin up, offering him more, every part of you pressed to him now, the shower spray catching the edges of your tangled hair, dripping between your mouths as you kissed like you’d both been starving for weeks—as if you weren’t all over each other any moment you could.
he kept his touches as innocent as they could be, keeping his promise despite how heated the kiss was—caressing, brushing, barely squeezing the flesh. and somehow it made you lose your mind, made you want him even more. you pressed closer, whimpering softly into the kiss just at the thought before leaning back, not even an inch away. “‘njun…” you breathed out, pressing lips to his right after, even for a second, and broke the kiss again. “can i suck you off? please.”
yeonjun’s hand moved to the back of your head, tangling in your hair, his lips on yours again as if he didn’t hear the question. but of course he did—he simply wanted to show you how fucking magnificent you were. his tongue slipped past your lips again, and he swallowed your moan greedily, arm sliding between your lower back and the wall when he felt you arch into him. gosh, breaking the kiss to reply was impossible… “only if you want to,” he murmured, lips brushing yours.
“really do,” you managed to whisper, barely holding yourself back from finding his mouth again, because you weren’t sure you could breathe without his lips on yours at this moment. you had to force yourself away, your hand finding his instinctively now—he always helped you go down, his hand firm under yours whenever you lowered yourself on the floor. shit, you couldn’t with this man… couldn’t without him either. you looked up at him, licking your lips mindlessly. “can we do it like in the greenhouse?.. against the wall.”
fuck—yeonjun felt his already hard cock twitch, his fingers in your hair stilling for a second, as he cursed through his teeth. whatever his baby wanted—anything. he was going to spoil the hell out of you. “‘course, mouse,” he rasped, his hand on the top of your head gently pushing you closer to the wall, and he exhaled shakily when you followed his guidance, pressing your back and head to the wall. “such a good girl…” he praised, his thumb brushing your lower lip.
yeonjun pressed the tip to your lips first, spreading his precum a little, letting you taste him before he moved any further. he slid slowly inside when you parted your lips in what felt a little too much like an invitation, his rhythm careful, hips pressing lightly into the wall, hands gripping only for balance—one against the tile, the other brushing your jaw, mindless but sincere praises slipping past his lips breathlessly. such a good girl… the best girl.
your lips stretched around him, eyes fluttering closed as you tried to keep up with the slow pace, sucking, tracing the vein with the tip of your tongue, curling it around the head—everything you knew yeonjun loved. the wet heat, the friction, the impossibility of using your hands, being restricted not by cuffs or a tie, but by his wish and your need to please him—everything made your mind spin faster than your body could keep up.
you lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze for just a second, and the sight of him—water glistening along his chest, hair plastered to his forehead, brows frowned, breath coming out ragged, cock slick and flushed in your mouth—made heat pool low in your stomach in a way no other man in the world could. your fingers twitched against your thighs almost instinctively, needing something, anything.
yeonjun watched your hand drift down, curling between your legs, and the image of it made his hips stutter even before your moan around him did. shit, he still couldn’t get used to you touching yourself while sucking him off. your pleasure was his top priority—always—and whenever making him feel good made you feel the need to pleasure yourself… he was losing his mind. “that’s it, baby… so—fuck—so good for me,” he breathed out, voice unsteady.
you whimpered around him, eyes on his, not leaving even for a second—he was too hot for your sanity. your fingers quickened at the same time he rolled his hips against your face a little deeper—not enough to trigger a gag reflex, but, oh, more than enough for it to become harder to keep your eyes on him and not roll them back in pleasure. each inch in and out, each drag of his cock over your tongue, made your walls clench around nothing but air, the tension building until every small motion sent shivers down your spine.
he cursed softly under his breath, hips moving just a little faster, the rhythm of each roll getting more and more uneven—the way you were touching yourself, looking up at him so… needily? fuck, yeonjun couldn’t get enough of you wanting him, needing him just as much as he wanted and needed you. his hand slid down to the back of your head, shielding it from the tile wall, when his pace became too unpredictable even for him.
but you welcomed it, relaxing your mouth, letting your lips and tongue do the work on their own, without thinking—it was face-fucking, after all. even if it was soft, and gentle, and a little too full of care and attention, and so freaking undoubtedly yeonjun—the thought made you moan. your fingers quickened, trying to match the pace of his hips instinctively, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, the little sounds were leaving your lips more and more often, vibrating through his cock and making him buck his hips into your face.
yeonjun was close and it was easy for him to say you were too—concerningly easy, but he didn’t care. he knew your body well enough to know it without needing to touch you to check. the way you sounded, how often soft whimpers and moans were escaping you around his cock, the way you could barely keep up with his pace now—everything was there, and his own approaching high didn’t overshadow it—couldn’t overshadow it. for him it was you only.
your thighs twitched, squeezing your hand between them at the same time yeonjun’s release started filling your mouth—you couldn’t keep a prolonged moan inside, eyes rolling back. he bucked his hips, hold on your hair tightening, pulling almost and breaking your needy whimpers that managed to escape at every drag of your fingers against your clit. you had to force your head to stay still and just swallow everything, when you wanted nothing more than to bob your head and get more—get everything you could.
he held your head nevertheless, fingers gripping your hair tight—tighter than he intended—your name mingled with breathless praises slipping past his lips as he felt you suck in around him, tongue trying to lick everything off. he moved his hips just an inch away, hand sliding up to the top of your head and guiding it closer, and he swore under his breath when you got what he wanted.
it was non-verbal ‘you’re free to move’—you weren’t sure how exactly you understood it, but you did—and you moved away, letting his cock slip away from your mouth, a trail of saliva connecting the tip to your lower lip and you felt yourself clench around nothing. shit—too hot. you leaned in, tongue out and licking everything that left, your licks careful and soft—hurting him was the last thing you wanted—and his hand slid down to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb, praises even more breathless now.
yeonjun pushed you away gently when it became too much, overstimulation making him inhale through clenched teeth. he helped you stand up, one hand holding yours, another on your waist the moment he could put it there, steadying you. he giggled, pressing lips to your temple, murmuring how good you were making him feel, how lucky he was, brain still a little hazy from cumming—he wasn’t sure what he was saying.
but you only giggled, letting your forehead rest on his shoulder, too out of it to understand what he was saying too, just enjoying gentle rubs up and down your back and the way he played with your hair. warm water, low soft murmurs, his scent were lulling you even further, and your arms found his waist, hands too heavy to wrap around his shoulders. you started blinking slower and slower, eyelids heaving before finally fluttering shut, a small exhale escaping you—you were far too comfy to think now.
he washed you carefully—at least where he could reach without disturbing you too much—giggling softly at your every little murmur and pleased sigh at his touches, your words sometimes being complete nonsense. when yeonjun tried to move you away to wash his body too, you only blinked at him slowly and nodded, taking the shower gel, your movements unhurried and sleepy as you spread it over his chest and shoulders. god, weren’t you cute?.. you were the cutest, and more so, because he didn’t expect you to start washing him too.
you got more active closer to the castle—maybe, cool february air woke you up, maybe doing something except standing under the warm water and getting nice and gentle rubs did, but you both started getting playful again.
yeonjun would stop dead in his tracks suddenly, making you pull and push him, laughing at how weak you were compared to him—even if you kept saying you weren’t even trying. when he finally moved and you tried to do the same, he didn’t think twice before scooping you bridal style, your arms immediately around his neck as you squealed, threatening to hex his pretty face and hot hair if he dropped you. ‘ah, so my face is pretty and my hair is hot?’—he got the pinch on the back of his neck that made him squeal too.
if you both had to admit it, neither of you gave a single shit about entering hogwarts and the great hall like this. there were already enough rumors going around, and one more wouldn’t make a difference. sometimes you even liked discovering them—the most unhinged one was about you being pregnant, while there was absolutely nothing that could hint at this. you laughed it off, saying you two should find the one who started it and name your ‘baby’ after them, regardless genders of both.
but yeonjun put you down before you stumbled upon more students, and when you tried to tease him for being so weak, he just huffed and promised to carry you on his shoulder next time—especially when you were wearing a skirt, because he’d cover your ass with his jacket, but would obviously have to hold it there with his palm so it didn’t slide down. wasn’t he a generous man? you rolled your eyes and tugged his ear, saying that nothing screamed generosity louder than touching someone’s ass in public, your smile wide despite your act.
the dinner went as usual. it was loud, full of laughter, banter. and mcgonagall didn’t even look at you six in disapproval anymore—she was, probably, already far past the ‘judging’ stage. you stayed after it again too, doing your homework together, little chatters and snack breaks filling any moment free from studying—and sometimes not free from it, but it was exactly the reason why you didn’t go to the library to do your homework. the amount of times you’d gotten scolded…
the night patrol went pretty fast too. yeonjun didn’t really slip into his head again—maybe still a little high on the past-practice events, maybe you were just a little louder than usual, catching his attention without even trying, or maybe he was already tired of constantly overthinking. it’d been almost two weeks, and even he had his limits of spiraling. nothing had changed much, had it? yeah, you became clingier, but in general…
in general, yeonjun was simply exhausted because of his own brain. whenever you did something, sometimes even just looked at him in a certain way, let alone being such a cute brat, bothering him to get his attention, he couldn’t stop thinking that it meant something. how could he not?.. but his brain kept stopping him before it could get too far—what if you’re just reading it wrong? what if it just doesn’t mean anything? what if it'll just break your heart? and it will. he’d survive if it did, but he was sure it’d make you leave him, and that…
fuck! no, he was overthinking. and his heart ached in this annoying way he’d started getting used to when you fell on his bed, arms spread all over it, as if you didn’t have your own bed in the room. yeonjun never wanted it to change, but he was so scared of deceiving himself and believing it meant that you were looking for comfort his things were bringing to you, that you needed him not only for sex, but simply couldn’t show—or didn’t even know you did. because he was the same, wasn’t he? needing you, but not allowing himself to show it.
but what if it wasn’t? what if it was just for… convenience? that was how you both called everything happening between you—convenient. it was easier to sleep in his bed to have sex in the morning, right? or in the middle of the night, or before sleep—anytime. yeonjun knew you loved his touches, enjoyed the feeling of his hand on your thigh or ass when you were asleep, so maybe you were simply looking for this? but was it much different from looking for comfort in being surrounded by him that he dreamed of you having?...
yeonjun groaned, running his fingers through his hair, and glanced at you. “gonna take a shower again. wash my hair, they’re greasy,” he scrunched his nose in disgust and tilted his head, when you replied with a hum and ‘kay’, not lifting your head off the pillow. “don’t wanna join?” he asked, not entirely certain if he wanted you to accept the offer or decline it—both were good and bad at the same time, and he was too tired to think about which one was lesser evil.
you shook your head, stretching on the mattress before sitting up with a groan. “nah. will finish the herbology project,” you said, accio-ing your bag. you would join him, but if you managed to finish everything now, he’d only have to go to sleep once he’s back from the shower. earlier sleep meant less overthinking. easy? yes. genius? undoubtedly. “there’s like half an hour left, not more,” you muttered, digging through your bag.
he hummed, nodding and disappearing in the bathroom. yeah, he wasn’t sure if he liked your answer or not. it gave him an opportunity to think, but did he want to? did you say no because you didn’t want to spend time with him now and while finishing the project, preferring to do it on your own instead of doing it together? no, of course he knew everyone needed space and alone time—he needed them too!—and it never made him feel… forsaken. but he couldn’t stop overthinking when it was about you.
and what was worse? yeonjun couldn’t get your words in the changing room out of his head no matter how much he tried. this teasing about ‘a man so beautiful…’ was undeniably top-tier, and he hated and loved how he didn’t doubt your sincerity even for a second—maybe it was a little theatrical but… but not an act at the root. he hoped so at least.
but what came next… he still could hear ‘a half-blood that didn’t resist falling’ in his head in your voice and feel your gentle touch on his earring—something you’d never done before. you hadn’t realized the subtext—yeonjun was hundred percent sure. maybe your words about angels falling for him did have this pun intended, but the next thing was said too fast, too automatic, almost as if coming from the surface of your mind.
it was usual for the two of you to indulge in flirty banter, throwing pick-up lines back and forth—it was almost a game, a competition sometimes, who would cringe first or how ridiculous you could go—and they were half-mindless most of the time. but it was the first time yeonjun truly thought about where all of this was coming from. his ones were sincere—that was obvious now—but yours?...
you spent so much time together, basically twenty-four-seven some days, and he wasn’t sure if you flirted to the same extent with the boys or was it just for him. you could annoy them by a few pick-up lines when they bothered you too much, but they backed out fast, so it never went as far as with him. would it if they could keep up?... would it go as far as ‘i didn’t resist falling for you’, said mindlessly but softly, without making a disgusted face after it?
fuck, he was pathetic, wasn’t he? yeonjun groaned and leaned forward for the stream to hit his face, trying to stop thinking about… anything. he rubbed his face—he wasn’t sure how much time he’d wasted already, but probably not less than ten minutes, fifteen maybe, and he still hadn’t even looked at the shampoo bottle. he shook his head, grabbing it almost aggressively, the thought about you still lingering in the back of his mind—he hadn’t been able to get rid of it for a really long time already.
and you were trying not to think about yeonjun too—you hoped he wasn’t spiralling over this thing right now, whatever it was, because you certainly weren’t going to burst into the bathroom. what were you going to say? ‘made a mess. cleaning spell?.. what’s that?’ or ‘got bored suddenly’? yeah, no, absolutely not suspicious. you sighed, returning your attention to the notes, a little frustrated with… everything. stupid everything.
you inhaled deeply and scrunched your nose, groaning and rolling your eyes—the room had been smelling weirdly recently, and you’d been ignoring it since you noticed it a week ago, but today the smell seemed stronger and more annoying than usual. not even the smell itself, probably, but its presence—you needed to find it and get rid of it. or you’d go absolutely insane.
the notebook was thrown on the bed mindlessly, when you were already on your feet, sniffing the air and surely looking pretty weird—you didn’t give a shit, though. it didn’t take you too long to find a box under the desk yeonjun barely sat at recently, and you crouched down to drag it out, your eyebrows rising when you saw what it was—the valentine box. full of cards and little trinkets and notes, and all the things yeonjun had been receiving two weeks ago. and on top of everything…
you groaned the moment you took the chocolate box into your hands—it was definitely from the girl that approached you when you were dealing with the magical birds, and it smelled so freaking weird. who in the world would make chocolate—the door to the bathroom opened, making you jerk and look over your shoulder as if you were in the middle of some crime and not just looking for the source of a disturbing smell.
yeonjun frowned, glancing at the box on your lap, and mentally slapped himself—he had two weeks to get rid of all of it, but each time he thought about it, there was something that needed his attention more than a pile of white-pink-red papers, and now… now his crush—well, yeah, more than just ‘crush’—was sitting with the box full of valentine’s cards and gifts from a dozen of other people that he hadn’t thrown away in two weeks. way to fucking go, choi yeonjun.
he opened his mouth to say something, but before he could even try—as if there was anything he could say—you got up with the chocolate box in your hands, and nearly stomped towards him. oh, yeah, he fucked up. on the other hand… you clearly hadn’t tasted it—you would be crazily in love with him right now otherwise. and if it was going to be a jealous tantrum… would it be this bad? yeonjun slapped himself mentally again, begging his stupid mind to finally shut up with this bullshit.
you came up to him, staring him in the eyes as deadly as you could—a truly tough task given he was wearing a black tank top and his hair was wet and he looked really, really good—and basically hit him with the chocolate box in the chest holding it there, until he lifted his hands to take it from you, full of confusion. “the girl is a damn freak. you really should question what vibe you give off because if you attract people who make chocolate that smells like this—” you sighed dramatically. “something’s clearly wrong with you, man.”
yeonjun felt his heart drop into his stomach. smell like… he swallowed and licked his lips that suddenly went dry. he wanted to know what it smelled like for you and wanted to snatch the box before you could recognize the smell, before you could connect it to anyone. wanted to just throw it away and distract you—push you into the wall, fuck you until you forgot the damn box ever existed. he felt like his whole world started slowly crashing down, because he didn’t want to share you, to lose you. “smell like what?” left his lips before he could stop it.
you scrunched your nose and leaned in, taking a small sniff of the chocolate in his hands before straightening, making a face. “no, listen, i know mint choco is a weird, but common combination. in anything but ice cream, though?.. but well, okay,” you rolled your eyes and took a piece of chocolate to show him. “but beer?! does she know it's not beer that's used in liquor chocolates?!” you exclaimed, discarding the piece back where it was. “clearly for you. and salt. i swear to god—” you sighed.
it was like everything around yeonjun shrank to the little piece of chocolate you’d thrown back into the box. you said so many things, so many words. mint choco, beer, and… salt? yeonjun listened to your frustrated monologue, more watching than actually getting what you were saying, your words passing over his head because there was only one thing on his mind—mint choco, beer, salt. mint, beer, salt. mint, beer, sal—ocean?...
but you only continued your playfully annoyed speech without noticing that it, probably, went too far. “oh no, don't tell me you're into beer chocolate because beer is your favourite alcohol…” you closed your eyes as if it was the worst discovery of your life. “it’s already disgusting but with mint and salt?! never kiss me before brushing your teeth at least twice!” you paused before pointing your finger at him. “thrice!”
yeonjun blinked at you, unable to say anything, so many little moments going through his head at the same time. your little nose scrunch at the beer bottle in his hand, and a soft ‘disgusting. getting used to it, though’ breathed into his lips later; your giggle at the mint toothpaste and the question if he was ever planning to try a new one, as he’d been using exactly this one since you were babies; your sleepy mumbles about him smelling like an ocean shore and teasing him for smelling like he’d just crawled out of the sea. was it…
← to chapter 14 | ♡ you're here ♡ | to chapter 16 →
𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻: 최연준 x fem! reader ☆ friends with benefit relationship explicit mature content college/university au munch! yeonjun pussy eating+slapping fingering yeonjun’s kinda mean here ): yeonjun wear glasses here implied fwb to lovers aftercare soft ending yeonjun takes a picture one word of 'daddy' creampie dirty talk begging crying overstimulation ✿ overstimulation usage of petnames begging ᐢ..ᐢ wc: 3.2k lmk if i miss anything else
𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬: this was supposed to be a birthday fic for him but i can't wait until his birthday to post this (and because a certain someone can't wait either coughs /lh) so consider this as a early happy birthday to the loml <3 also thanks juni for helping me with some parts heh
You knew you shouldn't be here. Heck, you shouldn't even have texted him in the first place. You had told yourself and your friends that you'll put a stop to this. That you will stop showing up at Yeonjun's doorstep. That you'll stop sleeping with him. But with the rate you were going, you're already making a fool of yourself. Examinations were finally over and normally, you would be celebrating and having the time of your life at a party, getting drunk on whatever horrible drinks the party host had to offer.
"Ngh, s-stop," you whimpered, hands blindly finding something, anything to grip onto. Only for you to end up grabbing a fistful of Yeonjun's pitch-black hair while your free hand grasped onto the pillow beneath your head for dear life.
You could literally feel the way your pussy continuously pulsating around his skillful tongue, making you nearly see the white pearly gates of heaven. You could hear the faint sounds of heavy-boosted music playing downstairs—a reminder of that you're supposed to be enjoying the party with your friends. And not laying on the sheets with your legs spread as Yeonjun have you for breakfast, lunch, dinner and even dessert.
Goosebumps formed on your skin when you feel the cold frames of his glasses firmly pressed against your inner thighs, with how he was trying to bury his face in your dripping pussy. The rings Yeonjun wore didn't helped either—the cold metal circles with different designs hovering over it had left imprints behind, with how hard he dug his fingers into your thighs. The rings were covered in a thin layer of your slick—solid evidence of how you reaching your high a few minutes ago the moment your back hit the sheets.
Your ears turn red with embarrassment at the sound of Yeonjun greedily slurping your slick, like there was no tomorrow. You would have thought he was about to die, with how needy he was.
"Fuck, you taste divine. Could stay here forever," he whined, mind spinning with how addictive you taste on the tip of his tongue. To him, nothing could taste as good as you. If he could, he would rather spend the rest of his life living between your legs, worshiping you like you deserve it.
It's insane with the fact that he was able to make you come undone twice in the span of thirty minutes—a sign he knows your body well. Even better than you. You should be pushing him away, your poor, overstimulated pussy crying and screaming for help. But you couldn't. Not when Yeonjun gave a light, sharp nip to your puffy lips, causing you to cry out his name. You mewled when he chuckled against your pussy—the vibrations making your legs twitched.
"Shh, we don't want them to hear you now, do we? Unless that's something you're into," he shushed you, eyes flickering up to your face for a split second.
Your lips dropped, forming a silent 'O' shape at the feeling of him pushing two fingers into your stretched-out pussy. Yeonjun swore under his breath at how your gummy walls let him in with ease, feeling no form of resistance. He pushed them in until he was knuckles-deep, his cold metal rings brushing against your pussy causing you to let out soft whines here and there.
"Look at you, already fucked out before I get to fuck you," he sneered, words dripping with disdain as he pushed himself up so he could get a clear, unobstructed view of your state.
Your eyes were glazed over with lust. Swollen, bruised lips parted as you panted, trying to catch your breath. Your hair was a mess, spread out beneath you. The sad excuse of the tank top you wore was pushed up, along with the straps of both your top and bra pushed down to your shoulders. Your neck was covered in hickeys and bite marks, thanks to Yeonjun who had purposely left them higher than what your shirts can conceal from the public's curious eyes.
He coos when you whimpered, eyes rolling up to the back of your head as he curled his long, slender fingers in just the right angle, enough for you to see stars exploding in your vision. Stretching himself, he ducked his head so he could whisper into your left ear.
"Aw, what's wrong? Can't speak properly now? What happened to the (Name) that was telling me she wanna end this, hm?" He taunts, his hot breath grazing against your skin with every word he spoke. He smirked when he felt you tighten around his fingers.
Yeonjun rested his thumb on your clit, pressing down on it before rubbing it in slow circles. His action made your legs kicked out but he was quick to hold you down, locking you in place.
He moved back down, returning to his previous and rightful position. This time, he paid special attention to your clit, licking at it only with the tip of his tongue. He could see how your pussy flutters, with more slick dripping.
The filthy sight sends heat down to his cock, that was restrained in his pants. As much as he wants to pound into you with no mercy, he wants you to know that no matter what you say, you'll always come back to him. Because he's the only one who knows how to please you.
With newfound determination, Yeonjun buried his face deep in your pussy, until the tip of his nose brushed against your clit. It's like he wants to die with him being suffocated by your pussy. This drew a moan from you, followed by your weak protests.
"Wait, t-too much—hah," you moaned, smacking his broad, sturdy shoulders but he was unfazed.
Slap!
You jumped when he landed a light, fleeting slap right on your core. The way your pussy reacted—fluttering at the mere contact didn't went unnoticed by him. And of course, he took this chance to tease you.
"Oh? Does this turns you on? I can feel you clenching on my fingers," he purred, running his ring finger along your folds.
"Wonder how your friends will react if they see how much of a whore you are. Getting fucked by someone who you claimed you have had enough," he barked out a laugh.
He didn't give you time to breathe. To speak or to react. Yeonjun switched between licking and sucking on your clit until you were being tipped over the edge. He didn't slow down or let up, greedily swallowing your creamy slick like a man on a mission while slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you.
Eventually, he gently slide his stained, dirtied fingers out of your leaking hole with an embarrassingly loud squelch sound. You felt boneless, your limbs growing as heavy as steel as you struggle to breathe.
Slap!
You let out a started yelp when Yeonjun slapped your stimulated pussy for the second time. You glared at him, about to tell him off but you paused at how his glasses were drenched with your slick. It's clear he didn't bothered removing or cleaning it. You weren't sure why but seeing your body fluids dripping from his glasses made you want to rub your thighs together.
It's like he belongs to you. But deep down, you knew that won't happen. The two of you had agreed that this was only a friends with benefit relationship, with no strings attached. But as time past, the lines were starting to be blurry. You weren't blind with the way Yeonjun was treating you—like you're his partner. His girlfriend. And the thought would have made your heart flutter, if you haven't seen him shoving his tongue down some random girl's throat at a party.
That was what made you decided to pull your big girl pants up, to confront him—to tell him that you were done with this. But all it takes was for Yeonjun to cock his head to the side, pull you in by your waist and crash his lips against yours for you to forget everything else, bringing you to your current situation.
You let out a muffled whine against his lips as he rocked his hips against your core. You could feel the outline of his cock, thick and hanging between his legs and in the restraints of his jeans.
"Look at you, leaking all over me. Want me to fuck you, baby?" He chuckled, breaking the kiss. His eyes flickered down, watching how you were soaking the thick fabric of his jeans with you grinding against him. The slightly rough surface made your pussy throbbed, the need to be filled rising.
You nodded your head, unable to find it in yourself to speak. But Yeonjun wasn't pleased. He reached down to give a mean pinch of your clit, watching how you flinched from it.
"Nuh uh, use your words, baby. I can't read your mind," he clicked his tongue.
And because this is Yeonjun, he pushes two fingers back into your stretched pussy, easily finding that one spongy spot and wasted no time in abusing it, reducing you to a whining mess as you couldn't speak. You wildly thrashed about on the soiled sheets, letting out a series of moans and whines along with the chanting of his name. Although, you weren't sure if you want him to stop or to keep going.
"I'm waiting," he drawled. Unlike you, who was already fucked out and in a mess, Yeonjun was still fully clothed and relaxed, like he has all the time in the world. The contrast of your appearances show the dynamic of your relationship. Of who's sitting on the throne while who obeys who.
"J-Junie," you mewled, accidentally using his nickname instead of his real name but he didn't point it out. His eyes were focused on your face, admiring how responsive you are to every single, little touch. Something possessive dark came to life at the thought of how no one else was able to see you like this. About how he was the reason why and how you had ended up like this.
"Yes, sweetheart? C'mon, use your words. I know you want it," he coax you, as if you're actual lovers when you're far from that.
You whimpered, pawing at the front of his black shirt as you looked at him with teary eyes, lips curling down in a pout. "P-Please, wan' you to touch me.. Wanna feel you.."
"Oh? But I am touching you already. You gotta be specific," he teases, his fingers moving in a scissors-like movement in your pussy, making a series of squelching sounds that sounds like something shot straight out of a pornographic movie.
You sniffled, tear droplets trickling down your cheeks. "M-Mean, so mean," you babbled.
Yeonjun did everything but to give in to your pleas. He furrowed his eyebrows, purposely jutting his lips down to a pout—copying your expression. "Mean? You're saying I'm mean when you're the one laying on my bed and soaking my sheets? Guess you don't want my cock then."
To show that he wasn't lying, he pulled his fingers out, ignoring your pathetic attempts of trying to stop him, to hold him in place. He backed away, ready to get out of bed when you shot up, hand grabbing his wrist.
"No, don't!" You whined.
Yeonjun paused, looking at you over his shoulder and arched an eyebrow. "Don't what?"
"..Don't go," you muttered under your breath, not having the courage to face him.
"And why shouldn't I?"
You internally groaned at how he was playing hard to get. If you were in your right mind, you would've said something snarky but at this point, you were too far gone to care. All you care about was getting his stupid cock in you. And the sooner he does it, the better it is for you. And maybe him, but who knows?
"'Cause I wan' you to.." Your voice trailed off, hesitant and embarrassed.
"To? Go on, I'm listening," he prods you further, lips curling up in a smirk. You were almost tempted to smack it off his stupidly handsome face.
"Want you to fuck me, pretty please?" You begged.
The moment those words left your lips, you were being shoved down into the sheets but this time, onto your arms and knees with your bare ass up in the air. You squeaked, face buried in the pillow—the very same pillow that you had drooled on. Your ears registered the sounds of Yeonjun unbuckling his belt, followed by the unzip of his jeans.
"W-Wait—hngh!" You protested, only for the words to die in your throat as your fluttering cunt were being splitted into half, condom forgotten. The obscene sound of slick spewing out everywhere reverberated against the thin four walls.
Your elbows were trembling while trying to support your body weight. No matter how many times you've done this, you still couldn't get used to the grith and size of his cock. Without the condom, you could feel every ridge against your gummy, velvety walls. Yeonjun, on the other hand, felt like he was in heaven. He sharply inhaled, digging his hands into your waist as he looks down at you from above, desire glimmered in his clouded eyes.
"Shit, you feel so good. So tight for me," he murmured, his right hand tracing the outline of your spine, feeling the way you shivered under his touch. Leaning down so his body engulf yours, shielding you from the ceiling lights, he whispered into your right ear, the hand that was on your spine now moved to tease your hardened right nipple, kneading your breast like it's dough.
"You like this, don't you? Like that you're made for me," he coos.
"Choi Yeonjun, if you don't start moving, I swear to god I'll—"
You couldn't finish your half-empty threat, not when he starts pounding into your swollen pussy at a harsh, unrelenting and unforgiving pace—a breathless but loud moan was ripped from your throat—needy, carnal and erotic. Your pussy was comically stretched wide around his member to accommodate the girthy size. The coil in your stomach enlarges as every second passed by how full you felt as he slides in and out of your soaked center.
Yeonjun lets out a mean, low chuckle. "You'll what? Find someone else to fuck you?" He paused, forcefully pushing you down into the pillow and grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging on it like he's riding a horse.
The sounds you let out could be compared to a professional pornstar, with how you're babbling nonsense and chanting his name like a sacred prayer. You couldn't speak or focus on anything else but on the intoxicating feeling of his cock hitting that one sensitive spot, over and over.
"Think you can find someone else to keep you and this greedy little cunt of yours satisfied?" He sneered, his free hand moving to pinch your poor, sensitive clit. He laughed at how your tighten around him at his action. "They'll never be able to keep up with you, princess. Only I can and you best remember that."
"Ngh, I-I'm so-sorry daddy," you moaned, not even aware that you had slipped up but thankfully, Yeonjun was too far gone to notice.
"Yeah? You're sorry? If you're sorry then you better moan my name so everyone can hear who's making you feel this good," he snarled, tugging your hair backwards.
"F-Fuck! It's y-you, Yeonjun! Oh god, I'm gonna cum," you let out a wanton and high-pitched moan, not caring if the people downstairs were able to hear it or not.
"Then cum," he demanded, delivering one final, sharp and hard thrust that buries himself deep to the hilt as you came with his name spilling from your lips, smooth like water.
Yeonjun was quick to follow suit, spilling deep inside of you as he painted your abused walls white. He groaned, leaning back to get a magnificent view of a creamy, white ring surrounding the base of his cock. He spread you apart, watching while chewing on his bottom lip at how the sticky, thick and white strands are further spread apart.
Snap snap!
The sound of a camera going off made you twitched as you lay on the sheets, body violently twitching from the aftershocks of a mind-blowing orgasm. You wanted to question him but you didn't have the strength in you to push yourself up or even turn your head to his direction. While you remained laying on his bed, body already turned to goo, Yeonjun was still able to move perfectly fine, like he wasn't the cause for your current state.
He got off the bed, running a hand through his ruffled, messed-up black hair as he headed to the joint bathroom. He reappeared shortly, holding two damp towels. One to wipe you down and the other for himself. Yeonjun muttered soft apologies when you flinched from the towel's rough surface against your sensitive pussy. Once he was done, he changed the sheets, replacing them with new ones. He then handed you a plastic bottle of water, even helping to unscrew the tightly sealed lid and you gulped it down without hesitation.
"Here, you can wear this while your clothes are being washed in the washing machine," he murmured, handing you a pile of clean, fresh clothes.
Nodding, you allowed him to aid you in wearing them. You were immediately hit with the scent of his lingering cologne as his clothes completely engulf you. You saw the way Yeonjun's eyes lingered on your frame, drinking in the way you fit in his clothes before he forcefully tear them away. You fiddled with the left sleeve, unsure of what to say. Normally, you would be getting dressed and leave his room but something tells you that just for today, something was different.
"..Do you wanna stay for the night? It's late and it isn't safe for you to go home," he asked, uncertainty laced in his voice.
Gone was the cocky and smug Yeonjun, now replaced with him acting awkward and shy, as if he wasn't the one responsible for blowing your back out a few minutes ago. Your heart softened at how he scratched the back of his neck, fiddling with his now cleaned rings.
"Yea, sure. I'll stay," you murmured, your heart skipping when his face lit up like a lightbulb.
Yeonjun got onto the bed, making himself comfortable and you followed. You ended up resting your head under his chin as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close until you're squashed against his chest. You didn't say anything, didn't mentioned about why he was doing this out of a sudden.
There wasn't any need to. Not when you already knew how he feels when he pressed a soft, loving kiss on your forehead. Not when he draw invisible, random patterns on your elbow lovingly.
"Good night, I'll be here when you wake up," he whispered and if you closed your eyes, you can hear the smile in his words.
And just like that, you fell asleep, entering the land of dreams with him following suit.
── .✦ (🥥) who would've thought that a late night tutoring sesson with the schools biggest nerd, soobin, turned into a night even more exciting. turns out, he has an even bigger surprise than his brain.
pairing: big dick virgin!soobin x fem!reader
word count: 4.8k
"content warning 18+ [ MDNI! ], switch!soobin, fem reader, big dick virgin!soobin, nerdy dirty talk, he researched ab sex, nerd!soobin, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, riding, creampie, aftercare”
you invited him over because you were failing math.
there wasn’t anything romantic or flirtatious about it at first — just a silent cry for help written in red marker across your test papers, the kind of desperate slope only someone like choi soobin could pull you from.
he was quiet in class, but always had the right answers. you’d never seen him speak above a whisper, never seen him look anyone in the eye for more than a second, and yet he always left the lecture room with perfectly annotated notes and the air of someone who carried his self-worth in decimal points and weighted averages.
so you messaged him one night — a simple, “can u tutor me?” — and he agreed with alarming speed.
showed up three days later at your apartment like a boy heading into battle, papers in one hand and a mechanical pencil tucked behind his ear, even though you weren’t going to a classroom.
he barely spoke as he stepped inside, his oversized hoodie swallowing his frame and his backpack clutched so tightly in his hand you worried the strap might snap.
“hi,” he said, voice soft, and then added, “i brought… some topic breakdowns. just what i thought would be most helpful.”
you took the stack of papers from him, letting your fingers brush his as you did — just enough to make him freeze.
“thanks, soobin. you’re a lifesaver.”
“it’s no problem,” he replied, though his voice cracked a little halfway through, and he cleared his throat like it embarrassed him.
he stood awkwardly in the middle of your room until you gestured toward the bed. “we can work there. my desk’s a mess right now.”
he nodded too quickly, walking over with that stiff, careful posture that always made him look like he didn’t know what to do with his limbs.
he perched on the very edge of the mattress, knees pressed together, bag in his lap like a shield.
you were already sprawled out beside him, legs crossed, chin in your hand, flipping lazily through the printouts he brought. he’d highlighted things in different colors — pink for formulas, green for common mistakes, blue for examples — and even used sticky tabs to mark each section.
you smiled a little. “damn. you really prepped for this, huh?”
“i didn’t want to waste your time,” he said, not meeting your eyes. “i mean, you’re busy. i figured i should… y’know. make it count.”
your gaze lingered on his profile for a second — the soft curve of his cheek, the glasses sliding slightly down his nose, the way his lashes caught the light like they didn’t belong on a boy. “you’re cute when you’re nervous,” you said.
his ears flushed pink immediately, and he opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t find the words.
instead, he ducked his head and pulled out a worksheet from his bag, mumbling something about “starting with derivatives.”
for a while, you worked. or at least, you tried to. he was focused, explaining things in his soft, careful voice, gesturing with a pen as he talked.
but the more you listened, the less you heard — your brain slowly replacing the numbers and variables with the warm hum of his voice, the gentle slope of his mouth, the way his fingers tapped the edge of the paper like he needed the rhythm to keep from spiraling.
you weren’t sure when it shifted.
maybe it was when he leaned in to correct your equation, his shoulder brushing yours, and didn’t pull away. maybe it was when your knees touched under the blankets, and neither of you moved. maybe it was the way the air felt heavier now — less like study session, more like waiting for something to happen.
soobin must’ve felt it too. his words started stumbling. he explained one formula three times and still got lost halfway through, cheeks flushed, pupils dilated.
his hand hovered a little too long when he passed you the pen. when your thighs pressed together again, he sucked in a breath and didn’t let it out for four seconds.
you turned slightly to face him, setting your notes aside. the room was quiet now.
just the soft tick of the wall clock and the low buzz of tension coiling between you like a wire being pulled tighter and tighter.
he was looking at your mouth.
you didn’t speak. neither did he. the moment didn’t need narration — it just hung there, charged, inevitable.
and then it snapped.
your lips met his like gravity had pulled them there — sudden, unspoken, too natural to be a mistake. his breath hitched immediately, eyes fluttering shut like a reflex.
he tasted like vanilla and nerves, soft and shaky against your mouth, and when your hand came up to cup his cheek, he made a sound, barely audible, like the beginning of a whimper, and leaned into it like he’d been waiting all night.
you deepened the kiss slowly, letting it unfold, letting him adjust. he responded with this aching softness, fumbling but eager, his fingers curling into the bedsheets like he didn’t trust himself to touch you yet.
he wasn’t practiced, his lips moved like he was still learning. but he kissed you like he meant it. like he felt it.
you pulled back just slightly, breath tangled with his, your foreheads nearly touching.
his eyes stayed shut and he swallowed hard. “is this okay?” he whispered.
you nodded, brushing your thumb over his flushed cheek. “mmhm.”
he opened his eyes then, wide and vulnerable, and you could feel how hard he was trying to stay calm. how the tension in his shoulders hadn’t fully left. like he was waiting for the next step but terrified to ask for it.
but you didn’t rush. you just leaned in again, slower this time, and kissed him like there was nothing else you wanted to do tonight.
and this time, he kissed you back like he believed it.
but the kiss had unraveled something in both him and you.
he was still leaning into you like he hadn’t realized it was over, lips parted, breath catching at the edges, glasses slightly fogged from how close you’d been. you could see the color bleeding up his neck in slow-motion, creeping past his collar like his whole body was flushing from the inside out. he looked dazed. pink. utterly stunned.
you wondered, for a moment, if he’d ever been touched like this before.
but then he blinked, slow and heavy, and something in him cracked open.
he kissed you again, unsure, but full of need. like he’d been holding it back for too long. his hand twitched, then moved up — resting on your waist like he was afraid he’d break something, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt.
you climbed into his lap without thinking. not rushed. not performative. just a natural shift, a quiet surrender to gravity and tension and everything that had been simmering between you all evening.
he made a noise, sharp and startled when your weight settled on him, and his hands flew to your hips like instinct.
you could feel him underneath you already, half-hard and growing fast, and the realization sent a low throb through your stomach.
“fuck,” he whispered before he could stop himself.
you stilled. “hm?”
he looked horrified. “n-no, i mean— i wasn’t— that wasn’t—”
you tilted your head, amusement curling at your lips. “you okay, soobin?”
his throat bobbed. he didn’t answer. just stared at you like you were something holy and terrifying.
then, voice barely a whisper: “i’ve never done this before.”
you blinked. “like… never?”
he shook his head. “n-no. not even close.”
you felt your expression soften, and you leaned in to kiss him again, gentler this time. “you want to stop?”
he hesitated — not with fear, but with something more fragile. like he was trying to trust himself to speak.
“…no. i want to—” he paused, breath shaky. “i want to. just— it’s my first time, not my first time… knowing.”
you blinked again and chuckled slightly. “what?”
he turned bright red. “i… studied.”
you stared.
he flailed. “not in a weird way! i just— i didn’t want to be bad at it. s-so i read stuff. books. forums. diagrams— i even watched videos sometimes but only for like— like educational purposes—”
you blinked again. slowly. “…so you watched porn. like, for science.”
“i wanted to take notes,” he said, sounding genuinely defensive.
you laughed. couldn’t help it. he looked so earnest about it — like he’d genuinely sat down with a browser tab open and a pen in his hand, analyzing thrust angles.
“you’re unreal,” you said softly.
“i just didn’t want to disappoint anyone,” he mumbled, eyes downcast.
you reached down and took his hand, guiding it under your shirt. he froze, mouth open slightly, and his fingertips trembled against the skin of your waist.
“you won’t,” you promised. “you’re already not.”
his breath hitched. he looked up at you like you’d just rewritten the rules of the universe.
you started to grind your hips, slowly, experimentally — not enough to overwhelm, just enough for friction.
just enough for your shorts to tug against his sweats and for the growing heat between you to become unmistakable.
and god, he was big.
you could feel it — not in a vague, flattering way, but in a real, holy-shit-how-are-you-expected-to-fit-inside-me way.
every roll of your hips brought him further into focus, your body reacting before your brain could even catch up. he was so hard already, twitching beneath you, and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet.
“s–shit,” he gasped, eyebrows scrunched. “this— this isn’t in the articles—”
you snorted. “what, grinding?”
“n-no— i mean— yes, but not— not like this—”
you kissed him again, harder this time, swallowing the way his voice caught in his throat. your hands pushed his hoodie up slowly, palms skimming over warm skin, and he shivered when you reached his chest.
he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. like every second of contact was tripping a wire in his system.
you whispered against his lips, “you’re gonna let me ride you, right?”
his eyes rolled back so fast it was almost funny. “god— y-yeah. anything. anything you want.”
you reached between you, slipping your hand under his waistband — and what you found made your breath stutter.
he was thick. heavy. the kind of size that made your thighs clench just imagining it. no wonder he’d studied. no wonder he was scared.
you looked at him, slightly stunned. “jesus christ, soobin.”
he blinked, confused. “w-what? is it— is it weird? i read that some people have curve—”
you cut him off with a kiss, messy and open-mouthed, and his hands clutched at your waist like he was trying not to fall off the earth.
“it’s big,” you muttered. “like… really fucking big.”
he made a sound you couldn’t describe — somewhere between a choke and a moan.
you stripped slow, teasing, sliding your shirt off and watching his eyes widen as more skin revealed itself.
he stared like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to look. like he wanted to memorize it but felt guilty for trying.
you helped him out of his clothes next, pulling his hoodie over his head and tugging his sweats down far enough for him to spring free.
he gasped when the air hit him. flushed deep pink from tip to base. twitching slightly in time with his heartbeat.
and yeah. huge.
he tried to say something, but it came out garbled. you didn’t let him speak — just kissed him again, sweeter this time, pressing your body against his until he was whining into your mouth.
“lie back,” you whispered, and he did.
you climbed on top of him slowly, positioning yourself, and when the tip nudged against you, both of you gasped.
you took your time, letting him feel every inch of you — the stretch, the slide, the warmth — and his jaw dropped like it was all short-circuiting him.
“ohmygod,” he moaned, hands flying to your thighs. “ohmygod, it’s so warm— it’s— fuck—”
you bottomed out and paused, letting him breathe. he was gripping you like he was afraid he’d float away, eyes glassy, hips twitching up just barely.
“you okay?” you whispered, brushing his sweaty hair from his face.
he nodded, but he looked wrecked already.
“i-it’s so much,” he choked out. “i d-didn’t think it’d feel this good— i thought— i thought i’d last longer—”
you started moving, and he whimpered.
“oh— oh fuck—” he cried, head falling back against the pillow. “you’re s-so— it’s too good— oh god— i’m gonna— i’m—”
you weren’t even bouncing yet. just rolling your hips, slow and deep, letting his cock drag against every inch of your walls. his eyes fluttered, his chest heaved, and he let out a sound that didn’t even sound human.
“such a good boy,” you whispered, to which he moaned in response. the prettiest noises leaving his mouth as you praised him.
he couldn’t stop shaking underneath you. soobin was all heat and trembling muscle, wide eyes flickering open only to shut again in dazed desperation.
his chest heaved with every shallow breath, slick with sweat, lips parted in a silent plea as your hips rolled down again — slow, deliberate, like you were memorizing the way he stretched you open.
his hands had settled at your waist, not gripping, not guiding — just holding, fingers splayed across your skin like he didn’t want to forget the shape of you. like he wasn’t sure this was real.
every time your cunt dragged down his cock, his stomach fluttered, tightening like a wire being wound tighter and tighter with no end in sight.
he was deep. impossibly so. every inch of him filled you, pressed inside with this perfect fullness that made your vision blur. the curve of his cock nudged something devastating with each movement, and yet the stretch never dulled — not even as your walls grew slicker, your legs trembling from the slow pace.
you rode him with patience. not because you needed to go slow — but because he looked so wrecked.
his eyes glassy, his thighs twitching, mouth caught in a half-moan that never made it out. his expression was nothing short of reverent. overwhelmed. ruined.
you leaned over him, skin sliding against his as your hands braced at either side of his chest. the shift made your angle deeper, pulled a broken sound from his throat that made your core throb.
he tried to lift his hips, just a little, just to chase the feeling, but he couldn’t get the rhythm right, too stunned, too overstimulated, too caught up in the sheer reality of you.
the head of his cock dragged against your walls again, and your mouth fell open with a gasp — because he filled every inch, every curve, as if he was shaped for you alone. he was pulsing inside you already, and you hadn’t even given him permission to move yet.
his hands twitched, your body ached for more, and so you let him.
you shifted, just barely — lifting your hips until only the thick head remained inside you, holding there for a breathless second, watching his jaw slacken as if he’d lost something vital — and then you dropped down again, full weight, taking him all the way in one smooth thrust.
his back arched.
the sound that broke from him was nothing short of guttural — low and soft and strangled at the edges, like he didn’t know what to do with the sensation.
“mmh, i-it… it feels so good… don’t stop… please”
his fingers finally tightened on your hips, not hard, just grounding — and you felt him thrust up.
it was shaky. clumsy. but the strength behind it was unmistakable. he met your next roll with a sharp buck of his hips, and it landed deep, sudden, deliciously raw. your breath caught. his face contorted, eyes fluttering closed, lips trembling.
he did it again. and again.
beneath you, soobin moved like he didn’t even know he could. the soft whimpering boy who’d watched porn for research was gone — replaced by something unfiltered, frantic.
he thrust up into you with so much need, so much pure instinct, that you nearly collapsed against his chest.
he was so warm. so deep. every time you sank back down on his cock, it filled you to the hilt. every motion sending waves of heat through your spine, your stomach, your lungs.
you clenched around him without meaning to — too full, too sensitive — and he gasped like he’d been punched, arms tightening around your waist. he sounded like he was breaking. like it was too much.
you rolled your hips down hard, once, and he cried out.
not loud. not dramatic. just this fragile, broken sob of pleasure that slipped out past gritted teeth as he tried to keep fucking you through it. tried to keep his pace even as his body started failing him.
he was close. you could feel it. his whole body trembling beneath you, stomach fluttering, cock twitching deep inside like he was aching to let go.
“w-wait… im gonna cum… p-please… don’t stop…”you ground down harder, deeper, faster — and he fell apart.
his hips jolted once, then twice, then lost all rhythm. his cock pulsed violently inside you, and then you felt it — thick, hot, the warmth of him spilling into you as his body seized and shuddered.
he buried his face in your neck, arms clinging to you like a lifeline, thighs shaking uncontrollably beneath yours as he came.
every pulse of his cock pushed his cum deeper, filled you more, the mess gathering between your thighs like he couldn’t help it.
his breath hitched, his mouth opened against your skin, and then the tiniest sob escaped — cracked and soft and overwhelmed.
he was crying again.
you held him through it, rocking your hips just slightly to ease him through the aftershocks. he twitched inside you, whimpering, helpless beneath the weight of it all. his hands gripped you like you’d disappear.
his cock throbbed inside you, overstimulated and soaked in your slick, and he just kept whimpering.
you pulled back to look at him.
his eyes were glassy, unfocused. his cheeks damp. he looked like he’d been cracked open from the inside out.
you leaned in and kissed his forehead, then his cheek, then finally his lips — soft and slow, grounding him.
his voice was barely there. “i— i didn’t mean to—”
you shushed him. “you did perfect.”
his lashes fluttered. his arms loosened. his body finally relaxed beneath you, sinking into the mattress, flushed and tear-streaked and filled to the brim.
he looked at you again, and you held his cheek. “you wanna go again?” you said, brushing your thumb across his face, catching a tear that fell earlier.
he nodded slowly, and he was still inside you when he started to move again.
his cock hadn’t even softened fully—still thick, still flushed a deep pink at the base, still twitching inside you from the overstimulation, but now he was shifting, testing, thinking through the daze. and that was the moment you knew, he wasn’t done.
his breath still caught every time your walls clenched, but he was moving—hips subtly lifting, grinding into you in soft, sticky rolls. the cum from his first release had made everything slick, slippery, messy—your thighs wet, your inner walls coated.
he was still nestled so deep you could feel him twitch against your cervix, and when he pulled back a few inches, a broken gasp slipped from your lips.
he froze, like he didn’t expect that sound. you felt his hands tighten at your waist.
“…i wanna try something,” he whispered.
before you could ask, he pulled out with a soft squelch, and you both moaned at the loss. but he didn’t waste time—didn’t even stop to overthink it—he just reached for you and flipped you, slow but firm, until your cheek was pressed against the pillow and your back arched, hips raised just enough.
you turned to glance over your shoulder, heart thudding.
soobin was flushed all the way down to his chest, hair stuck to his forehead, lips pink and parted—but his eyes had sharpened. still soft. still shy. but there was something new there now.
something focused.
his hand settled on your lower back, then drifted down to your ass, squeezing once like he was testing a theory. when he spoke again, his voice was low. almost dazed. “theoretically… this angle should stimulate the anterior wall more consistently.”
you blinked.
“…are you quoting a textbook right now?”
he pushed back in without warning—one slow, gliding thrust, his cock stretching you open again with a wet slide—and you choked on your own breath.
the stretch burned now, fucked-out and sore, but god, he felt so full. the second his hips pressed flush to yours, you felt your arms go weak.
“yeah,” he whispered. “i read about this. from the back, hips raised… it’s supposed to— oh fuck—”
he started moving before he could finish the sentence.
his thrusts were deeper this time. not rough, not fast—intentional. heavy. every motion angled slightly upward, every roll of his hips hitting that same devastating spot, over and over again.
you realized—somewhere between gasping into the sheets and gripping the pillowcase like it might save you—that he meant to do that.
“feels… right?” he panted, voice breathless. “am i… hitting it right?”
you couldn’t speak. could barely even moan. your body was melting around him, dripping slick and cum with every push, your mind already fraying at the edges from how deep he was.
his cock dragged against your walls with obscene precision—too precise, like he was adjusting his angle mid-thrust to line up with your reactions.
every time your thighs trembled, he leaned in further. every time you gasped, he whispered a frantic, “there—like that?” and did it again.
“fuck,” you managed, voice hoarse. “you— god, you feel so fucking good—”
he moaned behind you, and then his fingers curled around your hips to pull you back onto him harder.
the pace stuttered for a moment, but when he found it again, it was relentless. sloppier now, louder. the wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, each thrust jostling you further up the bed.
“read once,” he gasped, “that the g-spot’s like… five centimeters in… angled toward the belly button—f-fuck, wait—”
he adjusted again, slightly upward, and this time you cried out, legs buckling beneath you.
“there,” he whispered. “t-there it is. fuck.”
your entire body clenched. he felt it, gasped again, and leaned over you. now his chest was against your back, his breath warm and fast against your ear, hips still pistoning into you as he pressed you down with the weight of his body.
“you’re so—tight,” he breathed. “s-so warm— i can’t— i c-can’t stop—”
you weren’t stopping him.
your brain had shut off halfway through his nerdy monologue, somewhere between “g-spot location” and “angle of friction”. all you knew now was the way his cock dragged against your walls, the obscene squelch of your mixed arousal leaking down your thighs, the sound of his voice trembling as he kept going, even as his rhythm began to falter.
you could feel him close again. his thrusts started to stutter—less controlled, more desperate.
every breath came out choked. his grip on your hips turned vice-like, and his weight pressed you harder into the mattress.
“g-gonna cum again,” he whimpered, voice cracking. “inside, please, i can’t— i want— fuck, please—”
you let him. you even tightened around him on purpose. and that broke him.
his hips slammed forward one final time—deep and hard, burying himself to the hilt—and then he snapped, groaning into your shoulder as he came again, harder this time.
hot and messy, cock twitching wildly as his cum spilled out in thick spurts, dripping back down your thighs with every shudder.
he didn’t move for a long moment. just panted against your neck, body trembling, arms around you like a blanket.
still buried deep, still twitching from the aftershocks, still too full of sensation to pull out.
you were shaking too. used. sore. stuffed.
he kissed the back of your shoulder, then your spine. slow, reverent.
“…did i do good?” he asked softly, voice hoarse and breathless.
you turned your head enough to look at him.
he was flushed. swollen. smiling—barely.
you cupped his cheek, pulled him down into a kiss, and let him melt into you again.
you didn’t move for a while.
your body felt… gelatinous. boneless. like you’d been poured out, reshaped, and forgotten on warm sheets.
your thighs were trembling, too slick to close properly, your breath still shallow as you stared blankly at the headboard, brain empty except for the faint memory of being absolutely ruined.
and behind you—still pressed close, still inside—you could feel him twitching softly. Soobin’s arm was curled around your waist, his forehead damp against your shoulder, and his chest rose and fell in uneven waves as he tried to catch his breath.
“…i think i broke you,” he whispered.
his voice was so soft, so tentative, that you let out a shaky laugh despite yourself.
“maybe just… a little,” you mumbled, voice hoarse.
he didn’t respond right away. just let out a breath that was almost a whimper, and very slowly, he pulled out.
the sound was obscene—wet and slow and too much. his cum spilled out in thick, creamy rivulets, already smeared down your inner thighs, soaking the backs of your legs and your sheets.
he groaned under his breath the second he saw it, like even looking was too much for his nervous system to handle.
“oh my god,” he said, eyes wide. “i—fuck, i didn’t mean to—there’s just—so much—”
you flopped onto your back with a wince and watched him sit up on shaky legs, completely naked, flushed red from head to toe, hair a mess. his dick was still red and slightly twitching, glistening at the tip from whatever hadn’t managed to stay inside you.
he scrambled for his hoodie, dragging it on clumsily and then half-tripping as he grabbed his backpack off the floor.
“d-don’t move,” he babbled. “i’ve got—uh—one sec—”
you blinked. “soobin… what are you doing.”
he held up a pack of wet wipes.
“…why do you have those?” you asked.
he looked mortified. “i-it’s for glasses! and, um. keyboard dust.”
but he was already kneeling between your legs, gingerly nudging them apart with the back of his hand.
his face flushed impossibly deeper at the sight—your swollen folds, the sheer amount of cum, the fact that he put it there.
you watched his throat bob as he took a breath and started cleaning you.
gently, carefully.
he touched you like you might break, using slow, soothing strokes, barely applying pressure.
when the wipe brushed over your entrance and another trail of cum spilled out, he made a tiny noise in his throat and mumbled, “oh my god—i’m so sorry—”
you couldn’t stop smiling, too wrecked to be shy, too full of affection to care. “you’re apologizing for fucking me now?”
“i-i just—i should’ve warned you. or slowed down. or—” he paused, looking deeply concerned, “—maybe done a few more warmup exercises—”
you reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping the endless spiral of his thoughts. “soobin.”
he froze. eyes wide.
“you were perfect.”
he blinked, like you’d just told him he aced an exam he forgot to study for.
“…r-really?”
“really.” you tugged him closer. “come here.”
he climbed onto the bed clumsily and wrapped his arms around you.
you let your head rest on his shoulder, body melting into the warmth of him as his fingertips gently traced circles over your spine.
he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. then your cheek. then, with shaky hesitation, to your lips.
“…you feel okay?” he murmured against your mouth.
“sore,” you admitted. “but in a good way.”
his ears went pink. “i didn’t think it’d… i mean, you were so tight, and i thought—i mean, i calculated it before, but actually being inside—”
you laughed again, too tired to tease him. “soobin.”
he looked at you, dazed and flushed and in love with you, probably.
you kissed him again.
and this time, he smiled against your lips. soft. warm. nerdy.
“…can i write about this in my notes?” he asked suddenly, like he couldn’t help it.
"yeonjun flusters, his face turning pink as he blinks rapidly. "n-no, that's not what i'm trying to say. it's just-" he squeezes your waist as he tries to find words, his brain too distracted with the image of you in the lingerie among with other things. "i wanna fuck you in it…" he mumbles, his eyes dropping in embarrassment and his cheeks turning a shade darker."
── synopsis: a request i got for sub!whiny!yeonjun
⋆˚꩜｡ pairing: sub!yeonjun x dom!reader
⋆˚꩜｡ genre & word count: smut || 2k+
⋆˚꩜｡ tags: lingerie, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up!)
⋆˚꩜｡ a/n: first yeonjun request, so i decided to make into a full fic !
"i-is this new,"
it was any other saturday night, you just came back from your weekly dinner with your boyfriend and after a movie you went to shower while yeonjun went to lay in bed. you made sure to be sneaky when grabbing the article of clothing you have been planning to put on all night. you pull an oversized t-shirt over it before leaving the humid room.
yeonjun practically jumps you once you get into bed. tackling you so that you fall back into the comforter with a laugh. he pins your arms above you, raising the hem of the shirt a bit but he doesn't seem to notice that. he leaves pecks all across your face before placing a wet one on your lips.
"i missed you," he whispers against them. you didn't think you were gone that long, but knowing how clingy your boyfriend is, he likely thinks it was a lifetime. one of his hands leave your wrists to hold your face in his hands as he leans in to kiss you tenderly. his lips sliding with yours with ease.
"i wasn't gone that long." you whisper back when he pulls back to look at you with hearts in his eyes. his thumb caresses the skin under your eye as he ignores what you said and goes back in for another kiss, heavier than the other.
you allow him to kiss you into his hand starts to sneak under your shirt, sliding up your thigh and right before he could hit fabric you stop him. "wait- you should shower too." you free your other hand from his grip and place it against his chest, pushing him back.
he resists, pushing against your hand to get closer to you. "yeah, but it's probably too muggy in there right now." he stares at your lips as he talks, hand sliding back under your t-shirt. you don't have time to stop him as his fingertips brush against lace.
yeonjun pauses for a second before he starts to fiddle with the material. he can feel his dick start to fill out as he realizes what it is, swallowing harshly. you sit up, yeonjun falling back and sitting on your thighs, almost in your lap. he slowly starts to lift the shirt, shedding it off completely, and revealing your body and the lingerie that clung tight to your body.
his eyes go wide as he reveals it, it wasn't one that he's seen before. this one was white with pink trim and bows that was much more revealing than the others you've put on. his breathing gets shaky as he traces the thin string that goes across your hip, licking his suddenly dry lips when he comes to conclusion that means there's nothing covering the back.
as he moves up to the tiny bralette that hardly contained your breasts, his cock was reaching full hardness and pushing against his sweats. he had to bring his other hand to between his legs, palming himself with a sigh.
"s-so pretty," he practically moans as he cups one in his hand and at the same time cups himself. you smile as you watch him admire your body. both of hands were on you now as his hips twitched involuntarily against nothing. one roamed your waist and the other was on your chest.
you draw his attention away from your body to look at you, pulling his face up by the chin. his pupils were blown and he looked like he could drool, his lips wet with saliva. "is my body the only thing that's pretty?" you ask.
yeonjun flusters, his face turning pink as he blinks rapidly. "n-no, that's not what i'm trying to say. it's just-" he squeezes your waist as he tries to find words, his brain too distracted with the image of you in the lingerie among with other things. "i wanna fuck you in it…" he mumbles, his eyes dropping in embarrassment and his cheeks turning a shade darker.
"yeah?" you drawl, tapping his chin gently and making his eyes find yours.
"yeah," he whines. his cock was aching at this point, straining against his clothes and he was sure he was also leaking precum. his eyes flutter as you press a hand to his face and drag your thumb along his unblemished skin. he breathes heavily, "can i?"
hooking your finger into yeonjun's shirt, you lean backwards onto the bed and take him with you. he hovers over you, your lips almost touching with how close you were to each other. you could feel every breath he takes fan across your face. his eyes flicker between looking at you desperately and at your lips that he so badly wanted to kiss.
"please," he whines, hands gliding along your sides and occasionally sliding under your bralette. you could feel his dick pressing against your stomach, it was warm and twitched as you teased him. leaning in like you were going to kiss him, but pulling away when your lips would brush.
he lets out an impatient whine with a huff, attempting to lean in himself. he gets denied, your palm coming up to cover his mouth.
"patience," you say, slowly moving your hand out of the way. he starts to complain, but shuts up when you pull him down to bring your lips together. he moans when they connect, eagerly parting his lips to deepen the kiss. he feels tingles go down his body as you lick his bottom lip, asking for access to his mouth. he allows it, sliding his tongue with yours in a sloppy kiss.
yeonjun hadn't even realized that he started grinding against you, slow thrusts that made his cock drag sweetly along your stomach. his breath hitches as he starts to get lost in the pleasure, his lips faltering as he moans into your mouth instead.
"someone's enjoying themselves," you bite his lip and yeonjun moans, his hips stuttering.
"i-i'm sorry, it feels so good…" he drags his words as he doesn't stop moving, his eyes squeezed shut now. he could feel a patch of stickiness in his pants from the precum, making the glide a little smoother.
"how about," you start, reaching a hand down to hold him by the hip and stop him from grinding against you. he whimpers and with weak attempts, tries to keep going. he looks at you with 'sad' eyes, his lips poking out into a pout. "how about, you make me feel good first and i'll think about letting you fuck me." you repeat now that you had his attention.
yeonjun could feel his heart speed up at the thought of being able to do that while you were still wearing the lewd clothing. he nods his head rapidly and makes his way down, settling between your legs. he doesn't need you to say anything for him to understand what you meant, he was always eager to please you anyway.
he massages your thighs, touching everywhere before skimming them over the lace material. he takes his time, kissing the skin around where he wanted to be. leaving small hickeys and bite marks on your thighs and hips, his fingers likely leaving fingerprints with how tight he gripped them in excitement.
he licks his lips before pulling the panties to side and revealing your pussy. he moans and wastes no time diving in, licking a strip between the folds. your back arches off the bed and your fingers slide into his dark hair as his tongue finds your clit, flicking it gently before sucking on it.
"ngh," his moans are muffled as he buries himself between your legs, tongue dipping inside you as he hungrily laps you up. he flips between slowly working you over with his tongue and latching onto your clit with vigor.
you wouldn't complain. your head was thrown back, legs twitching at his sides, fingers planted in his head as you moan praises that only spur him on. you couldn't even catch your breath, yeonjun curling his tongue just right. you could feel your orgasm crash down on you, loudly moaning as you cum into his mouth. yeonjun happily licks it up with a moan, grinding against the bed while doing so.
he rises up from his spot, coming up to be eye level with you. you peek your eyes open and see a smiling yeonjun, lips slick and nose wet. "how was that, worthy enough to let me fuck you?" he asks, pressing his cock against you.
"please?" he pleads, his tone a little whiny.
you reach down between the two of you and cup his cock through his pants. yeonjun gasps, his hips jerking into your touch, his eyes rolling back at the friction. you rub his length slowly, circling a finger around his tip that was outlined by precum.
"show me how bad you wanted it," you whisper into his ear, making him shiver and almost cum. he wouldn't admit that though.
"y-yes, thank you…" he mutters, sitting back to remove his clothing. he bites his lip as he lines himself up with your entrance, breathing harshly through his nose. his hands roam your body as he slowly starts to push inside, he was trembling.
then he starts to move, taking a hold of your hips and snapping forward in one fluid motion. the sound of skin slapping against skin loud as he bottoms out inside of you. both of you moan at the same time, yeonjun's head drops onto your shoulder, panting against your collar.
"fuck," he whines, fingers clawing at your sides as he builds a steady rhythm. he pins you down as he drives his cock into you, deeper with each stroke. "you feel so good, look so good, i love it." he rambles, gasping in between, lost in the pleasure.
he sits up to be able to admire you again, that cursed lingerie that has him losing his mind. he slides a hand under the bralette, squeezing a breast in his warm hand. you tilt your head back, moaning loudly as yeonjun manages to hit every spot that has your body tingling.
you wrap a hand around his neck, pulling him down into a messy kiss. more teeth clashing and saliva swapping than anything as your tongue tangle together. you swallow up each others moans and gasps, as yeonjun slams into you.
"b-baby i-" he chokes out between kisses. his hips start to stutter as he feels his orgasm start to build. he moves slower, not wanting to cum just yet, not without you saying he could. his thrust are still intense as you languidly rocks into you, cock dragging against your walls. "i'm gonna cum-" he whimpers.
"can i cum, please?" he moans, voice cracking as you squeeze around him. you nod, curling your fingers into the hair that resided on the nape of his neck.
he repeats his gratitude, little thank yous as he starts to pick up the pace again. he can't contain his sounds, eyes roaming your body and dropping down to watch the way his cock drives into you. he relishes in the way it punches little gasps from you.
his mouth falls open on a moan, his eyes squeezing shut as he loses words. he can only get out a strained, "cumming." as he stills with a final thrust, shooting ropes of cum deep inside of you. long whines are pulled from him as he rides his high, grip bruising.
as he comes down, he leans down to leave kisses and love bites all over you. some across your stomach, on your chest, a couple on your neck, until he finds your lips and kisses you deeply. he pulls back with a breathy laugh, shaking his head side to side.
"what?" you question, caressing his sweaty and flushed face.
RAIN'S MIC IS ON hehehe choi soobin the man you are.
The air in the small room was unbearably still, broken only by the sharp slap of skin meeting skin and the ragged sound of your breathing as it tangled with his. Your chest rose and fell with frantic rhythm, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs as if desperate to break free. Your palms roamed the broad stretch of your husband’s back, sliding over the taut muscles of his shoulders, clutching at him as if he were the only thing keeping you tethered to earth.
His weight pressed firmly into you, his chest hot against your own, the heat of his bare skin searing into you until there was no space left between your bodies, only breathless clinging and slick flesh. “Soobin—” your voice cracked on his name, your lips brushing against his ear in a trembling whisper, raw with desperation. “Harder.”
His response was a low, amused sound, the kind of cruel tenderness that made your stomach twist. “Harder?” he echoed softly, almost sweetly, though his hips answered first, snapping forward with a sharp, punishing thrust that had you gasping. His hands bracketed your head against the pillow, caging you in as his dark gaze pinned you beneath him. “My baby wants it harder, hmm?” His tone was dripping with mockery, with delight, as he slowed suddenly, rolling his hips in deliberate, languid circles, each drag torturous. He was teasing you, denying you, reveling in the way your body trembled and your voice broke as you tried to chase more.
Tears burned your eyes as you pleaded, your voice fraying with helpless need. “Please…” your whisper came out hoarse, barely more than a broken exhale. “Please fuck me harder.” That earned you a chuckle, low and wicked, vibrating through his chest. It wasn’t kind, no, it was the sound of a man savoring every ounce of your begging. His large hands slid down, fingers digging into your hips with bruising force before he shifted you, angling your body just so, and then drove into you with a merciless rhythm. The first thrust stole the air from your lungs in a single jagged gasp, a squeak tumbling out of your lips as your back arched off the bed. He gave you no reprieve. His pace was brutal, unrelenting, each stroke sending waves of heat crashing through you until your voice dissolved into broken cries. His breathing grew ragged to match yours, his jaw tight, his muscles straining with the sheer intensity of it.
“My pretty baby,” Soobin hissed between clenched teeth, the words tumbling out like a growl. His hips never faltered, his relentless pace only making the bed groan beneath you. “So small, so perfect. I can’t wait until you’re swollen and round with my baby—fuck, you’ll look so beautiful like that.” The words slammed into you as hard as his thrusts, pulling a ragged moan from deep within your chest. Your body arched again, surrendering to him completely, offering yourself up to be filled, to be broken apart beneath the sheer weight of his desire. You couldn’t stop the sounds falling from your lips, couldn’t stop the way your body clung desperately to his, every part of you unraveling as you let him take what he wanted, however he wanted.
His hands clamped back onto your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising force before he yanked himself out in one rough, dizzying motion. You barely had time to gasp, let alone comprehend, before he was flipping you onto your stomach, your body jolting with the suddenness of it all. A sharp cry left your throat, but the sound was cut off as he shoved back into you with unyielding force, burying himself to the hilt as if he had never left. There was no moment to breathe, no chance to adjust, just the relentless fullness of him stretching you again, driving you into the mattress until your lungs burned. “Oh—fuck!” The word tore from your lips, ragged and loud, only to be muffled when his hand pressed firmly against the back of your head, forcing your face into the pillow. You clawed at the sheets, the pressure, the rhythm, everything overwhelming as he drove forward with merciless strength.
“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” Soobin panted against the curve of your spine, his voice low and ragged, dripping with a promise that made your insides clench. His palm cracked sharply against your ass, the sting blooming into heat that made you whimper, your body jolting with the impact. He watched the recoil with a wicked grin tugging at his lips, the sight alone stoking his hunger. “Do you want that, baby? Do you want me to fill you up and put my kids inside you, mama?”
“Yes—yes,” the word broke from you in a desperate slur, muffled by the pillow beneath your mouth. “Fuck, yes, yes, yes.” Your hips weakly rolled back against him, searching for more, some shred of control, some fragment of dignity, but he denied you even that. His hand shoved your hips back down with ruthless force, pinning you to the mattress, holding you exactly where he wanted. His thrusts only grew harsher, faster, each one pounding the air from your lungs until you could do nothing but sob brokenly into the sheets.
“Oh my god—” you cried out, your voice high, trembling, caught somewhere between a plea and a scream.
“Not god, sweetheart.” His laugh was cruel, rough in your ear, full of dark satisfaction. “Me.” His free hand tangled into your hair, yanking your head back until your mouth opened in a helpless gasp, his breath scorching the shell of your ear. “I’m the one making you feel like this.” He hissed, his voice low and commanding, his hips never faltering as they pounded into you with merciless precision. “Say it.” The demand seared against your skin as his grip tightened in your hair. “Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”
“Y-you—” The words broke in pieces from your throat, tears streaking hot down your cheeks in helpless streams. Your fists twisted the sheets beneath you, knuckles white with strain as your body trembled under the weight of his rhythm. “You—”
“What’s my fucking name?” Soobin snarled, the sound sharp as his hand cracked against your ass again, the sting blossoming through your skin.
“S-Soobin—” you gasped, choking on his name, your voice raw with need. “Soobin.” Your chest heaved, your face flushed deep crimson as your core clenched tight around him. He pulled out only to slam back into you with brutal force, the impact stealing the air from your lungs all over again, leaving you whimpering and broken.
“Soobin?” His tone was mocking, cruel in its playfulness, each syllable dragged out like a taunt. His hips slowed just enough to make you shiver with frustration. “Not daddy?”
“Daddy!” The word spilled from you in a desperate sob, your head dropping against the mattress as your body bucked beneath him. “Oh my—daddy.” The title left your lips like a prayer, shaky, needy, unrestrained.
“That’s right, sweetheart…” His voice dropped, softer now, though the fire beneath it still burned. His palms smoothed down your trembling back, drawing lazy, soothing circles against your skin as if he could calm what he had set ablaze. “And soon—” his voice dipped lower, rough with promise, “I’m going to make you a mommy. You hear me? My pretty little mommy.”
Your breath hitched, your body tightening around him as the words pushed you closer to the edge, so close it was unbearable. “Mhm…” you whimpered, your voice breaking apart. “Gonna be… a-a mommy…” Soobin’s breathing grew heavier, each exhale harsher against the back of your neck as his grip on your hips turned vice-like. He drove into you with unrelenting force, dragging you with him toward the precipice, his body claiming yours with every merciless thrust.
Your words were nearly lost beneath the steady rhythm of his thrusts, each one jarring you further, unraveling you more and more until you were nothing but whimpers and broken syllables beneath him. The coil deep inside you wound tighter, unbearably taut, each drag of his cock pulling you closer to the inevitable. Soobin’s grip on your hips tightened, fingers sinking into your skin hard enough to bruise, his panting hot and ragged as it fell over the shell of your ear. “That’s it, baby. Say it again,” he hissed, his voice fraying with need. “Tell me what you’re gonna be for me.”
“A-a mommy—” you cried, the words spilling from you helplessly, muffled by the pillow you buried your face into. “Gonna be a mommy, daddy—” That was all it took. A guttural growl tore from his throat as he fucked into you harder, deeper, with an intensity that left you clawing at the sheets, your nails tearing into the fabric. The air left your lungs in broken gasps as every stroke dragged your body closer to the edge, your vision blurring with tears as pleasure clawed through you.
Your climax hit you like a wave crashing against rock, shattering through every nerve in your body. You cried out, your voice cracking, your body convulsing beneath him as your walls fluttered and clenched desperately around his cock. Your vision went white-hot, your mind blank but for the sensation of him, stretching you, filling you, consuming you. “So fucking tight—” Soobin snarled, his thrusts growing reckless as he chased his own release, your spasming body only spurring him on. “Take it, baby. Take it all.” His voice dropped to a broken groan, his pace frantic as he buried himself deep one final time.
You felt it then, his release flooding into you, hot and overwhelming, spilling deep inside until it was all you could feel. His hips stuttered against you as his body trembled with the force of it, his chest pressing hard against your back, his breath ragged and harsh in your ear. “Mine,” he groaned, his teeth grazing your skin as he held you flush against him, refusing to let you go. “My baby, my sweet fucking girl, gonna make you round and full of me.”
Your body trembled violently, still reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your walls fluttering weakly around him as you gasped for air. You collapsed into the mattress, boneless and shaking, his weight a heavy, grounding presence on top of you. And still, even as the haze of release lingered, he soothed his palms along your trembling spine, slow circles pressed into your damp skin, whispering low promises into your ear. “So good for me, sweetheart… so perfect. You’re mine. Always mine.”
hiiiii beautiful people <3
i´m back with a part 13 of the enha texts :p
my masterlist is down below if you wanna check the other parts out :)
send me an ask if you want to be added to a taglist for this text series thing lol :))
hope you enjoy them :p (brace yourselves bc this is a thick one lolz)
prev. | m.list. | next.
based on this ask
pairings: ot7!enhypen x 8th member f!reader
summary: who gave them unrestricted access to the internet? that's the real question,.,,,. it all boils down to fanfics. bickering. chaos.
tags: fake texts, crack, humor (or at least an attempt lmfao), strong language, enha being down BAD for y/n, jealous enha, they’re all very dramatic men, loser!enha, lots and lots of talking about fanfics i invented out of my ass ok lmaooo (if they do resemble a real-life one, I swear it was purely coincidental lol), small sunsun moment, ao3 lingo, they're all unhinged atp, mentions of dicks lol, mentions of smut, so many fanfic clichés mentioned lol, 1 use of the word pregnant lol, 18+ (i think that's it, if not lmk pls lol)
disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. i am not claiming that this depicts enhypen or anyone involved in real life.
♡ my requests are open if anyone wants me to make a specific scenario :p ♡
༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻
༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻
༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻
༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻ ༺♡༻
a/n: i hope u guys enjoyed this part 13. i might've gotten a bit carried away with it,,. it's my longest one yet lmfao. the request was tEWW good ok, not my fault :( for anon, not sure if i pulled it off the way you imagined, but i gave it my best shot LMAOO. thanks for the inspo love <3 hope it wasn’t trash lol
as always, thank you, thank you, thank you. the support for this series has been absolutely wild, and I’m so lucky to have you here. it really means the world 💗 a thousand thank you's >.<
if you want more of these lmk, my requests are open heheh :) or if i should stop pls lmk too lmaoooooo
genre: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, superhero au
synopsis: you never thought you’d meet spiderman. hell, you didn’t even like him. but thanks to a very unfortunate web malfunction, you’re now stuck—literally tethered—to him for three whole days. surely it can’t get worse… right?
warnings: kissing obviously, making out, mentions of blood and blasts, reader is lowkey mean, cursing, not proofread
note: hi so i wrote this in like 2 days because all i could think of was the upside down spider-man kiss everytime i listened to upside down kiss. so here's a kind of rushed?yeonjun version, enjoyy!
word count: 5.6k
i made the yeonjun gif out of a tiktok video by user yeonjun_fp, so credits to them for the art!
if you liked this please comment or reblog to give me your feedback! <3
you were dead on your feet.
after back to back lectures, a surprise quiz, and a final group project meeting where no one did their assigned slides, all you wanted was to go home, kick off your shoes, and disintegrate into your bed for the long weekend. you had no intentions of making any plans or attending parties, you just wanted sleep, junk food, and whatever show netflix decided to shove in your face.
you put on your headphones the moment you stepped onto the subway platform, letting the music drown out the evening rush. when the train arrived, you shuffled in, found a seat by the window, and slumped into it like a corpse, your limbs aching in that warm, heavy way that begged for rest.
you were half-dozing by the time the train screeched into the next station. but then—everything jolted violently.
the brakes screamed louder than your music. your body lurched forward. the lights overhead flickered and died. people gasped. someone screamed. and then, before you could even register what was happening, a deafening boom tore through the air. the floor shook, making the train car tilt slightly to one side. your heart jumped into your throat.
“everyone out! get out!” someone shouted.
panic swallowed the crowd like wildfire. passengers shoved, tripped, yelled over each other. in the blur of limbs and chaos, you were pushed out of your seat and jostled toward the open subway doors.
your headphones were ripped from your ears. you barely heard your own gasp as you stumbled out onto the platform, trying to get your bearings, when another explosion rocked the tunnel, stronger this time. dust and smoke poured through the gaps in the ceiling.
you saw it before you could react. a massive chunk of cement was hurtling straight toward you, fast and unstoppable. your legs refused to move. time stalled, every second stretching thin with the awful realisation that this was it. this was how it ended—for no reason, on a thursday, because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
but just before it hit, something yanked you backward, hard.
you cried out as the world blurred around you, a blur of wind and sound and pressure crushing into your chest. you were flying.
your brain screamed that it wasn’t possible, that none of this made sense, but your body was already curled tight against something solid and warm. it took a second to understand that it was a person. no—not just any person.
the red and blue suit. the stupid mask. the goddamn glowing web.
spider-man.
your stomach flipped violently as the city skyline whipped past, your legs dangling uselessly. his arm was locked around your waist, firm and annoyingly confident. a glowing thread of web tech was attached to your wrist, pulsing faintly as it connected you to his suit like a leash. below you, the chaos on the street was a distant noise. above you, the clouds were streaked orange from the setting sun. around you, the wind roared.
and you hated all of it. you had always hated spiderman. he was a self-righteous, cocky, reckless menace. always showing up to destroy half the street in the name of “saving” it. and now here you were, clutched to his chest like some helpless civilian in a comic book.
“put me down!” you screamed over the wind, squirming against his grip. “what the fuck are you doing? put me down, you freak!”
“you’re welcome,” he yelled back, voice muffled through the mask.
“i didn’t ask you to save me!”
“i noticed!” he shot back, and the smirk in his voice made your blood boil.
you struggled the entire way up—clawing at his suit, kicking your legs, swearing every curse you knew under your breath—until finally, he landed with a smooth, practised thud on the rooftop of some high-rise building. your feet hit solid ground again, but your balance didn’t catch up in time. your knees wobbled, and you stumbled forward, dizzy from the whiplash and adrenaline.
“i’m going to throw up,” you groaned, doubling over.
“do it away from the suit, thanks,” he muttered.
but before you could stagger farther, a sharp tug pulled you back—your wrist yanked mid-step until your body collided with his chest again. his arm caught you instinctively, steadying you, but you immediately shoved him away, heart still racing from the fall. that’s when you noticed it.
the thread was still glowing and your wrist was still tethered to it.
“what the hell is this?” you shrieked, holding it up.
the web stretched and shimmered faintly in the light, a sickly silverish glow like it was straight out of some alien movie. it wasn’t even sticky anymore, just fused into your, skin buzzing faintly where it made contact.
“why is this still on me?! get it off!”
“working on it!” he snapped, kneeling to inspect where it fused into his own suit. “it wasn’t supposed to... uh... attach like that.”
“attach like what?” you cried, tugging violently at it. it didn’t budge. “is this a leash? did you just fucking leash me like a dog?”
“you think i wanted this?” he shot up again, exasperated. “i was in the middle of stopping a building from collapsing when you ran into the line of fire!”
“i was just trying to take the subway!”
“and i was trying to stop a criminal from levelling the station! sue me!”
the shouting echoed across the rooftop, both of you standing there like idiots with a literal glowing string binding your bodies together. your breath came out in shaky huffs. your heart was still racing—not just from fear now, but fury, embarrassment, complete disbelief that this was actually happening.
he let out a long sigh, suddenly sheepish. “look... it’s an experimental prototype. a bio-thread. reacts to certain electrical signals. and, apparently, to heartbeats.”
you blinked. “you’re kidding.”
“wish i was.”
your eyes widened as the realisation sank in. “you mean this thing is connected to—”
“your heartbeat, yeah,” he said grimly, arms crossed now.
you stared down at your wrist, horrified. “that’s disgusting.”
“that’s science,” he corrected.
you gave the web another tug, desperate and annoyed. “so how do i get it off?”
he hesitated.
“no,” you said, already dreading it. “no, don’t tell me—”
“we wait,” he muttered. “should dissolve naturally in... seventy-two hours.”
“seventy—?” you choked. “seventy-two HOURS?!”
he raised both hands in defence. “give or take. the tech’s a little moody.”
“you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“i’m really not.”
you groaned so loudly it echoed. then you slumped down onto the edge of the rooftop, cradling your head in your hands, trying not to scream into the skyline.
this couldn’t be real. it was some fever dream. you were probably still on the subway, passed out from exhaustion, hallucinating everything. because there was no way you were actually tethered to the city’s most annoying masked menace for the next three days. you refused to believe it.
but the soft glow from your wrist said otherwise.
“take me home.”
he groaned the second you said it, but you didn’t care. you crossed your arms and tilted your chin up, staring at him stubbornly as the wind from the rooftop whipped around the both of you, the glowing thread still tethering your wrist to his suit like some ridiculous sci-fi leash.
“no way,” he snapped. “i still have to go after that guy. he bombed the train platform—he’s probably already halfway across the city.”
you gaped at him. “are you dumb? you're gonna go fight a criminal—with me attached to you?”
he made a guilty little noise and glanced at the still pulsing thread between you. “...i mean. maybe.”
“maybe?” you hissed. “the police can handle him! you’re not dragging me into some vigilante war zone.”
he hesitated, shoulders slumping, and finally, with a sigh of defeat, muttered, “fine. but where the hell are we gonna live for the next three days?”
you blinked. “we?”
“we,” he said firmly, pointing between the two of you. “we’re literally bonded now. unless you wanna cuddle on a fire escape all weekend, we need somewhere to stay.”
you narrowed your eyes. “there’s no way i’m going wherever you stay. i don’t even know you. you could live in a sewer or like… some creepy underground lair.”
he looked genuinely offended as his mask scrunched up. “i don’t live in a sewer. and it’s not a lair. it’s a… small apartment. cozy, even.”
“yeah, no,” you said flatly. “you’re coming to my place.”
his shoulders sagged even further. “ugh fine. but we’re walking. i’m not swinging again with you screaming in my ear.”
and that’s how you found yourself dragging spider-man—spider-freaking-man—down the street by your wrist like some weird, reluctant pet. you ignored the way people looked. it was late, and luckily, his suit was mostly covered by the hoodie you’d given him. though he kept trying to duck into shadows, mumbling under his breath like a sulking child. the glowing thread shimmered faintly between you, pulling taut every time one of you stepped too far away.
when you finally reached your apartment building, he stared up at it with a kind of wary awe. “damn. you got a high paying job or something?”
you snorted as you opened the door. “i’m a uni student. my parents are just rich.”
he tilted his head at you as you stepped into the elevator. “what uni?”
you told him your school name without much thought, and immediately, his whole body stiffened.
“...wait,” he blurted. “me too.”
you turned to look at him slowly. “what?”
his eyes widened behind the mask. he cursed under his breath and looked away, like he’d just admitted state secrets. “shit. i didn’t mean to say that. ignore that.”
you were about to push him further when the elevator doors opened. just then, your phone buzzed. “takeout’s here.”
he startled like you’d just hit him. “you ordered food?”
“yeah,” you said, tossing your keys onto the counter as you entered the apartment. “i was starving and figured you’d eat too, unless you’re part spider and eat bugs.”
he didn’t dignify that with a response.
you handed him a pair of clean sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt you figured would fit—he disappeared into the bathroom and returned a few minutes later, looking annoyingly good in your clothes. he was tall, broad-shouldered, sleeves pushed up his forearms as he sat across from you at your dining table.
you opened the takeout boxes and passed him one. “pad thai. extra spicy.”
he didn’t move.
“uh, you’re gonna have a hard time eating that with your mask on.”
his arms crossed defensively. “i don’t take off my mask in front of people. especially not people who hate spider-man.”
you scoffed, twirling a noodle around with your chopsticks. “i don’t hate you. i just think you're an annoying menace who causes more problems than he solves.”
“...that’s literally what hating me is,” he muttered.
you rolled your eyes. “look, i don’t care. you saved my life, remember? i won’t tell anyone. just… do it. you won’t survive three whole days eating through the mask.”
he was quiet for a second too long, but then hesitantly spoke up.
“...you won’t tell anyone?”
“swear on my meal,” you said solemnly.
he hesitated one last time, and then with a reluctant sigh, his gloved fingers reached up. you watched as he peeled the mask off in one smooth motion—and everything inside you short-circuited.
because holy. shit.
his face was devastatingly pretty. sharp cheekbones, soft pouty lips, golden skin that caught the light in all the right places. his hair was ruffled and messy, sticking out a little from the mask, and his eyes—big, brown, framed by thick lashes—blinked at you nervously.
“i… did not expect you to be that hot,” you blurted, mouth full of noodles.
he choked on air. “what—”
“no like—i was expecting some weird nerdy guy with maybe a beard.”
he blinked. “wow. thanks.”
you pointed at him with your chopsticks, narrowing your eyes. “wait. i know you.”
he froze at that.
“you’re… that guy from my discrete math lecture. choi yeonjun. you’re always sitting in the front row. you literally answer every question like a damn TA.”
his mouth parted slightly. “you’re the girl who sits in the column next to me. with the giant water bottle and all the highlighters.”
you paused. “...so you’ve noticed me.”
he blinked fast. “uh. yeah. i mean—you stand out. not in a bad way. just—pretty. you’re pretty. not that i notice or anything. well obviously i noticed because i just said it but—”
you snorted. “you’re really awkward without the suit.”
“i’m not—” he groaned, face turning pink. “okay maybe a little. it just gives me a different type of confidence you know?”
you grinned down at your food, heart ticking slightly faster. you didn’t know what was more surreal—sitting across from spider-man, or discovering spider-man was the hot math nerd who sat fifteen feet from you every tuesday and thursday. either way, it was going to be a very long seventy two hours.
you had come to terms with the fact that you were never going to get any real sleep. not when you were forced to lie right at the edge of your own bed, arm dangling pathetically over the side like some kind of human offering.
the glowing web tether was still stuck to your wrist, stretching toward the air mattress yeonjun had flopped onto with a dramatic sigh of exhaustion. you could barely move without yanking his entire body with you, so the only position you could settle in was an awkward sideways curl, with one arm constantly pulled down like gravity itself was trying to remind you of your very stupid, very spider-shaped problem.
you tried to sleep. really. but around three in the morning, right as your eyes were finally starting to blur at the edges, you felt a sudden hard tug on your wrist and then you were falling.
you yelped as your body was jerked right off the mattress, falling with a startled oof directly onto the unsuspecting man on the floor. yeonjun barely even stirred. he let out a sleepy little grunt and instinctively wrapped his stupid, warm, surprisingly toned arms around you like you were some oversized body pillow.
you struggled, wriggling against his grip like a bug under a glass, but it was useless. his arms were locked around your waist, one of his hands now tangled in your shirt, and you could feel the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing against your neck.
you hissed his name, trying to peel his fingers off you, but all you got in return was a sleepy pout and a grumbled, “five more minutes.” it would’ve been cute if it wasn’t so infuriating.
and okay, maybe it was a little warm. and his chest was kind of…comfortable. his stupid heartbeat was strong and slow under your ear, and you were so damn tired from the chaotic whirlwind of your spiderweb-tethered day that you just…gave in. your body melted into the warmth of his, cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his borrowed hoodie, and for the first time in hours, your eyes slipped shut. surprisingly, it felt safe and grounding. like being held together by something solid in the middle of all the mess.
the next morning though, was...less cute.
“you pulled me off my bed,” you deadpanned as you sat up, pushing off his chest with an elbow. your wrist still glowed faintly, the web tether warm between your skins.
yeonjun blinked up at you, hair sticking in every direction, a blanket half-kicked off the mattress.
“huh?” he said groggily, then sat up fast as memory caught up with him. “wait—shit, did i yank you down?”
you narrowed your eyes. “yes. and then you cuddled me.”
his entire face flushed red. “i did not cuddle you.”
you crossed your arms. “you were purring.”
“that’s slander.” but he looked horrified.
the next twenty four hours were a disaster.
you tripped over the tether so many times that you started to wonder if it had a personal vendetta against your toes. brushing your teeth was like a weirdly synchronised dance of tangled arms and accidental elbow jabs. showering was even worse.
he stood frozen outside the bathroom door, your glowing lifeline stretched taut through the crack, his voice drifting through like a very flustered ghost. “i’m not peeking, okay?!”
“you better not be!” you snapped as you held up a towel like a makeshift curtain while trying to lather shampoo one-handed. “don’t test me, spiderboy, i will kill you.”
“this is humiliating for me too!” he yelled back. “i’m an icon of justice!”
“you’re an icon of annoying!”
you fought like bickering siblings who had never met before yesterday and yet were somehow stuck together for life. every time you tried to do anything, you’d hear him mutter something under his breath like, “why couldn’t i have been bonded to someone normal?” and you’d throw a couch pillow at him.
it was exactly at the point of your worst argument—over whether or not he could eat directly out of the peanut butter jar—that his watch beeped. he glanced down, cursed under his breath, and without any warning, leapt off the couch.
“wait—what the fuck—!” you screamed as your body was yanked clean off the floor.
“shit, sorry!” yeonjun called back mid-air, swinging out the open balcony door like it was a tuesday stroll. “emergency call!”
“emergency call your ass, PUT ME DOWN!”
“can’t! you’re tethered! my bad!”
you flailed helplessly as you were flung through the air, wind screaming in your ears, the skyline of the city blurring past. each time he swung, your body would arc toward him, face practically slamming against his as you bumped into him with every motion. your nose brushed his chin, your cheek scraped his jaw, and one time—one time—your lips accidentally brushed the side of his mask.
you shrieked. “stop swinging like a lunatic and hold me!”
“oh? now you care about being close to me?” he teased, voice gleeful, mask slightly lopsided.
you scowled. “if i throw up, it’s going straight into your face.”
he just laughed, and then like a showoff on steroids he flipped mid-air, feet planting against the side of a glass building, body upside down. the web between you tightened instantly, pulling you forward until your face hovered just inches from his. he didn’t move. neither did you. the air thinned between you, your breath catching as your eyes flicked to his masked face.
your lips were right there.
he grinned.
then dropped you very unceremoniously onto a nearby rooftop with a thud.
“careful, pretty,” he drawled, voice smug. “you almost kissed me.”
you gaped at him. “what the hell?”
“what?” he said innocently, crouching on the edge of the roof like the cockiest bastard alive. “don’t blame me. you’re the one who’s all over me lately.”
“you pulled me into the sky like a rag doll!”
he tilted his head. “and yet, you’re still clinging to me. hmm.”
you chucked a loose brick at him, but he dodged it and just laughed again, sunlight catching his suit as he rose higher on the building’s edge. the way he stood, so confident and self-assured, was almost unrecognisable from the shy, stammering boy who slept in your apartment and accidentally blurted compliments with red cheeks and soft eyes.
because here, like this, in the suit, yeonjun wasn’t flustered. he wasn’t awkward. he was bold and flirtatious and impossible to pin down. and it was beginning to drive you crazy.
“god,” you muttered under your breath, trying to smooth your wind-tangled hair. “your split personality is insane.”
“you like it,” he said with a wink and leapt off the rooftop again, dragging you behind him with a scream echoing into the morning air.
he was heavy in your arms—well, technically you were mostly dragging him, but still, he made a pretty pathetic sight with one arm slung over your shoulder and his mask balled up in your fist.
yeonjun winced with every step as you practically hauled him down the hallway to your bathroom, grumbling under your breath about superhero idiocy and your web-chained fate. his face was pale but smug, which made it hard to feel too bad for him, even with the deep gash on his side bleeding through the slick fabric of his suit.
“could’ve just let me bleed out on the roof,” he joked weakly, slumping down onto the toilet seat. you shot him a look and flicked the bathroom light on.
“how could i? we’re attached to each other because of your stupid web.”
he groaned dramatically as you rifled through the cabinet for your tiny first aid kit. “god, i forget how mean you can get.”
“you’ve known me for two days.”
“and i’ve never known peace since,” he mumbled, hissing when you unzipped the top of his suit. it peeled down like a second skin, sticking slightly to the dried blood at his side, and then it was suddenly just there—his torso, sculpted and gleaming faintly with sweat, all defined lines and soft curves where his skin dipped between muscle. he was flushed down to his chest, breaths short and laboured, and you hated yourself for noticing. your eyes stuttered somewhere between his collarbone and the trail of blood slashed across his ribs. he was stupidly attractive, in that way people weren’t supposed to be when they were bruised and bleeding and shirtless in your bathroom.
you blinked hard to cover it up. “you’re disgusting.”
he grinned. “you’re staring.”
“i’m assessing the wound,” you snapped, even though your voice cracked embarrassingly halfway through.
you knelt beside him, pulling out antiseptic and gauze, trying very hard not to notice the way his thigh brushed your knee. he was warm and so very there, and the web tether between you pulsed quietly, glowing with soft light that gradually brightened as your hands made contact with his skin.
you swore under your breath as the tether suddenly shortened, dragging you even closer until you were practically perched on his leg, trying to clean the gash with shaking fingers.
“stop moving,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.
“you’re literally sitting on me.”
“and you’re literally whining like a baby,” you shot back.
“sorry, i didn’t realise getting stabbed meant i had to also deal with you sitting on me and insulting me,” he grumbled, but there was no bite to it. his voice had dipped lower and softer, with a strange edge of tension beneath the banter, which curled around your lungs and squeezed.
you froze when he tilted his head to look at you, eyes dark and voice barely above a murmur.
“you gonna kiss me or just keep staring?”
you froze at that, heartbeat thudding louder making the web glow brighter. you stared at him, caught between the heat of his skin under your hands and the dare in his voice.
but then your hand shot up and smacked his chest, hard enough to jolt him, and you scrambled off his lap, trying to hide your flaming face behind pure rage.
“get dressed, freak!”
he laughed as you stormed out of the bathroom, muttering something about how you were the weirdest civilian he’d ever met. you didn’t respond with youe usual snarky response as you were too busy pressing your hands to your face and praying the floor would open up and swallow you whole.
later, the both of you ended up back in your bed this time, lying stiffly on either end like two strangers forced to share a lifeboat. the air mattress plan was abandoned mutually, after both of you admitted it had been a disaster the night before. this was... better. except for the thing between you. the glowing thread, taut and warm, stretched like some cursed lifeline from your wrist to his. you turned to your side, glaring at the ceiling.
“this is insane,” you muttered.
“you think?” he sighed. “i was testing a prototype, not... roping myself to a civilian.”
you glanced over at him. his face was turned toward the ceiling too, dark in the low light, jaw sharp and brows furrowed in thought. then he spoke again, voice quiet and strange.
“it’s supposed to sync with biological emotion markers. that’s what the tech does. it connects based on stimulus—heartbeat, adrenaline, whatever.”
he then paused as both of you looked down at the web connecting your wrists. it was glowing again.
brighter.
“is it—” you swallowed, suddenly aware of how fast your heart was beating. “—is it reacting to me… or to you?”
his eyes flicked toward you. something unreadable settled into his expression as he shifted, leaning slightly closer. the tether pulsed, light blooming a little brighter between your wrists. you felt your skin heat where it touched the sheets, the air between your bodies shimmering with something you didn’t want to name.
his hand moved, slow and hesitant, fingers brushing your cheek like he was afraid of scaring you off. it was the first time he touched you that gently. like he wanted to. like this was something he wasn’t allowed to want.
your breath hitched.
but then he blinked, the moment cracking in half as he leaned away quickly and gave a sheepish laugh.
“sorry, i’m being so weird,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “goodnight.”
you stared at him as he rolled to his side, facing away, shoulders tense.
your hand drifted to the tether between you which was glowing faintly now. like it, too, was pretending none of that happened.
the next morning, you woke with a heavy feeling in your chest, the warmth of yeonjun's body pressed against your back where he'd somehow started spooning you during the night.
the cursed bio-web glowed faintly between your wrists, its light weaker now but still stubbornly connecting you to the sleeping superhero whose arm was currently crushing your diaphragm. you tried to shift away, but the movement yanked yeonjun's wrist sharply toward you, jolting him awake with a grunt.
"mmph—w'shappening?" he slurred, blinking sleepily as his free hand came up to rub his eyes. then he froze, suddenly very aware of how his body was molded against yours, his nose buried in your hair.
"oh. uh. morning."
"morning," you muttered, refusing to acknowledge how nice his sleep-rough voice sounded this close to your ear. the web pulsed between you, responding to your elevated heartbeat like the traitor it was.
yeonjun cleared his throat and attempted to roll away, only for the tether to snap taut, dragging you both into an awkward mid-air collision of limbs.
"right. forgot about that," he mumbled, his cheeks pink as he untangled himself. "three days can't end fast enough."
the words shouldn't have stung, but they did.
the day passed in strange pockets of silence and unexpected intimacy. making breakfast was, again a clumsy dance of coordinated movements—you cracking eggs onehanded while he reached across you for the spatula, his chest brushing your back in a way that made the web flare brighter.
by afternoon, you'd developed an unspoken rhythm. studying on the couch meant yeonjun's legs thrown over your lap, his toes occasionally flexing against your thigh. you told him about your classes, the professors you loved and hated, the little things that made you feel like home. he told you about his family, his friends’ relentless teasing, and how sometimes being spider-man meant missing out on the simplest moments. you laughed more than you expected, but the heavy feeling in your heart didn’t go away.
as sunset painted your balcony in gold, you stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the web's glow grow fainter.
"think it'll hurt when it breaks?" you asked, trying to sound casual.
yeonjun flexed his wrist. "dunno. never stuck myself to a pretty girl before."
"shut up," you said without heat, your traitorous pulse making the thread brighten.
right as you said that, without any ceremony it suddenly dissolved. one moment the connection was there, thrumming with energy. the next, there was nothing. your wrist felt strangely light, the skin unmarked as if the tether had never existed. the sudden freedom was more disorienting than the fall from the subway platform three days ago.
yeonjun cleared his throat, rocking back on his heels. "so. uh. guess i should..." he gestured vaguely toward the skyline.
"yeah," you agreed too quickly. "crime to fight. people to save. all that."
an awkward beat passed before he suddenly pulled you into a stiff hug, his hands patting your back like he was unsure of what he was doing. "see you in class," he mumbled into your hair before releasing you like you'd burned him.
you nodded, a little breathless. “yeah.”
you watched quietly as he slipped the mask back up, eyes meeting yours one last time before he waved goodbye and launched himself into the air with a graceful swing. the sight left a hollow ache in your chest, the cool evening breeze whispering around you as you leaned on the balcony railing and closed your eyes.
just as you were wondering how the hell you were going to say hi to him on campus, a shadow suddenly blocked the fading sunlight in front of you. you opened your eyes and smiled. there he was—spider-man, hanging upside down right before you. the mask’s white eyes blinked slowly, hesitating.
"miss me?"
you let out a startled yelp which turned into a punch that sent him swinging backward with a laugh.
"you absolute asshole!" you hissed, heart hammering. "what the hell are you—"
"forgot something," he interrupted, catching himself on the railing. his voice was oddly nervous as the white lenses of his mask stared at you. "the web's gone but... my chest still feels kinda tight? like there's still a tether there. that's... not normal, right?"
you blinked. "your... chest?"
"yeah." his gloved hand came up to rub at the black spider emblem. "right here. it's weird. hurts a little. think i need you to check—"
"you're such a terrible liar," you breathed, but your hands were already reaching for his mask. this time, you pulled it all the way off.
yeonjun's face was flushed, his lips slightly parted as he stared at you with an expression so open it made your knees weak. there was no smugness behind it, just nervous hope.
"so?" he whispered. "you gonna check or what?"
your fingers curled around his jaw. "shut up and kiss me, spider-boy."
he didn't need to be told twice.
the first kiss was messy—yeonjun still upside down, your hands fumbling with his hair as he gripped your waist to keep you both from toppling over. your upper lip brushed against his lower one first, that plush swell of his mouth impossibly soft against yours, and then he was kissing you back properly, his lips moving with a desperate hunger that made your head spin. the contrast was intoxicating—the way your upper lip caught slightly on the perfect curve of his lower one before he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that had you clutching at his shoulders for balance. when you bit his lower lip, he actually whimpered, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.
"fuck," he panted when you broke apart, his pupils blown wide. his lower lip glistened where you'd nipped it, that perfect pout even more swollen now. "was that—are we—"
"if you don't kiss me again in the next three seconds, i'm pushing you off this balcony."
he grinned, wild and bright, before surging forward. this time, he flipped mid-kiss, his body twisting until he was pressing you back against the railing, his thigh slotting between yours. your upper lip caught on his again in that delicious way, the sensitive skin tingling where it dragged against the fuller curve of his lower lip before his tongue swept into your mouth.
the heat of him was everywhere, his hands roaming your back with none of the hesitation he'd had while tethered. when you moaned into his mouth, he swallowed the sound greedily, his lower lip catching on yours as he pulled back just enough to tease before diving in again.
"still think i'm a nuisance?" he murmured against your lips, his teeth scraping your jaw, his lips brushing yours with each word.
"shut up," you gasped, arching into him. your lips dragged against his as you spoke, the fleeting contact making him shudder. "just because i want to make out with you doesn't mean i approve of your reckless vigilantism."
yeonjun laughed, the vibration travelling straight through your chest as he lifted you effortlessly onto the railing. your legs locked around his waist on instinct, his hands gripping your thighs as he kissed you again, deeper this time. his lower lip slotted perfectly between yours, that plush softness yielding to your teeth when you bit down gently, and the groan it tore from him was better than any sound you'd heard in your life.
"good thing i don't need your approval," he teased between kisses, each brush of his lips against yours more deliberate now, his upper lip catching on yours in ways that made your toes curl. "just your mouth. and your hands. and maybe—"
you cut him off with another kiss, your fingers tightening in his hair. the city stretched out below you, endless and bright, but all you could focus on was the way yeonjun shuddered when you tugged him closer, the way his heart pounded against yours —no web needed this time to prove you were connected.
WE FOUND LOVE ON... HINGE? ⋆˚࿔ ♡ 🤳 ˎˊ˗ [s. jaeyun]
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pairings ⟢ down bad! jake x fem! reader
contains ⟢ profanity, crack/humour, fluff, kind of suggestive, use of dating apps, one shot!
୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ this is a behind of like a tattoo! jake (my ongoing heeseung smau) and also part of my lat! behind series, you can read sunghoon's here! <3
⟢ IN WHICH you come across a cute guy's odd hinge prompt, who seemingly has no clue what it actually means.
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author's note: so before working on tattoodaddyhoon69 and frankoceanfan123’s love story again, i wanted to put this out first LOL! if u wanna see more of this jake, click here! to read my ongoing smau series that he’s featured in! (i just can’t seem to let these characters go) 😇
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