synopsis: the guy of your dreams finally asks you on a date. the problem? you've barely had your first kiss—and he looks like he definitely knows what he's doing. panicking, you ask the campus resident playboy, choi yeonjun, for lessons. strictly practical. no feelings. no strings. except yeonjun isn't as experienced as everyone thinks.
✧ pairing: playboy student!choi yeonjun x student!reader
✧ genre/warnings: explicit sexual content (smut with plot, 18+ mdni), rom-com, college au, sexual exploration, coming of age, fwb, teaching trope, sexual themes & sexting, clumsy intimacy, love triangle-ish, smoking, alcohol/party settings, in chapter warnings to apply
✧ total word count: est. 35k~
✧ status: completed
✧ playlist | main masterlist
⊹ ࣪ ˖ index
teaser
lesson one
lesson two
lesson three
epilogue
read on wattpad
review your experience, thoughts, or unhinged feelings here
If you started listing every single positive thing about dating an idol like Choi Yeonjun, the list would probably be endless.
Working at his company didn't just mean proximity. It gave you the perfect excuse for little getaways together in different cities. Mini holidays tucked between schedules.
The tour kept expanding, city after city, and Yeonjun had a talent — or perhaps a flaw — for pushing himself past his limits just to give his absolute best on stage.
On the other hand, your role was more about presence than anything else, which meant you had as much free time as you wanted. And what better way to spend it than scrolling through tumblr? You'd been addicted long before you'd even dared to fantasise about dating your bias.
And although you'd never really had any serious arguments — nothing beyond who'd eaten the last slice of pizza or why he kept stealing a few of your clothes to complete his outfits — you hadn't expected something so... small to turn into a problem.
One that would lead to a solution you never saw coming.
You came back from the kitchen with a mug of coffee for him and a hot chocolate for yourself, but your smile faltered the moment you caught the look he threw at you as you stepped into the room again.
Your phone in his hand.
“Is something wrong?” You asked, genuinely confused, setting both mugs down on the bedside table before turning your head back to him.
You've never been the type to hide things from each other and, although Yeonjun has never been the sort of boyfriend to snoop through phones, your pin is his birthday — and he knows it, uses it whenever he wants to send himself the photos you've taken of him or put some music on from your mobile.
Even so, he doesn't need to answer.
He simply turns your phone around, holding it up in front of your face, and there it is — your Tumblr account glowing back at you from the screen.
“I opened a notification by accident,” he explains, though the tightness in his voice, the way his whole body has gone rigid, tells you he's forcing himself to stay composed because the other members are just a few hotel rooms away. “It's... sweet that you read stories about me, yn, won't deny that.”
The use of your actual name is enough to make your stomach drop.
Yeonjun is hopelessly addicted to sickeningly cute pet names. And when he stops using them — that's when something is wrong.
“Baby, I don't understand–”
“Oh, you don't understand?” He scoffs, humourless, glancing away for a second as if you've just lied to his face. You haven't.
You genuinely don't know what's upsetting him.
“A story where i'm a university playboy who turns out to be a virgin? Yeah, I can wrap my head around you fantasising about that...” He looks back at you, then down at the phone, scrolling until he reaches the part that clearly matters.
And when your eyes catch Distraction – Choi Soobin, reblogged on your profile — you swallow.
“'Needed something like this in my life,'” he quotes, disbelief laced through every syllable. “Is this a joke?”
Your comment clearly doesn't amuse him. Your phone slips from his hand onto the bed as he stands abruptly.
“Baby, it's not what you think. I was just reading it and liked the narrative, it's not like—”
“Like what?” He cuts in. “Like you read erotic stories about my bandmate?”
His voice threatens to rise, but he forces it down. He refuses to even consider shouting at you. Still, the vein standing out against his bare forehead gives him away.
He's right at his limit.
“I'm not fantasising about soobin, baby, please.” You step closer, hoping your words will be enough to steady him.
Your hands brush over his forearms — a silent question, asking for permission before you hold him.
“I promise it's not like that. I only read it because I've probably already read every single fanfic about you.”
Yeonjun watches you for a few seconds, jaw tight — then it slowly eases. His shoulders drop with a measured breath, and you take the chance to wrap your arms around his waist.
“They're called fanfics?”
You can't help but smile at the shift in his voice — softer now, threaded with faint curiosity.
Yeonjun is so not chronically online it borders on impressive. He genuinely has no idea what his fans create about him.
And you thought the conversation would end there — that it wouldn't come up again.
Until a couple of nights later.
After a hot shower, waiting for him to come back from practice, you pick out the comfiest pyjamas you own for the night.
When he appears at the bedroom door, you smile and step close enough to kiss him in greeting, but the sheer intensity of him catches you off guard.
"Ngh—" slips from your throat against his mouth. His hands cradle your head as if he needs to make sure you won't pull away and, god, it's Choi Yeonjun — it's impossible not to feel your knees weaken when he kisses you like that.
“Missed you— so fucking much—” he murmurs between kisses that grow messier, less restrained. his teeth catch your bottom lip and another soft, helpless whimper spills from your throat.
His hands find your hips and he lifts you as if you weigh nothing at all. He carries you to the bed, lets your body fall back against the mattress.
Before you can even catch your breath, his teeth sink into the inside of your thighs, sharp and deliberate, while his fingers push the fabric of your shorts aside — your panties along with them.
Your hips lift instinctively when you feel his breath ghost over your cunt, warm and teasing.
“Babe—“ you whimper, and that alone makes him grin. He knows where you want him. He always knows.
His tongue teases your clit at first — slow. Your legs tremble, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging without meaning to.
Yeonjun has always been good at eating you out. he knows how to start, where to lick, which movements make your breath hitch, how to take his time until you're shaking for him.
You squeeze your eyes shut. His name slips from your lips before you can stop it, and your hips chase friction at the maddening slowness of his movements. But you already know him, and he knows you.
So his hands grip your thighs to keep you exactly where he wants you, his mouth devouring you like he's been thinking about this all day.
And if there's one thing Yeonjun is even better at than eating you out, it's using his fingers.
“Fuck— yes!” your back arches when you feel two fingers push inside without warning, sliding in slick and effortless.
It's ridiculous how wet you get just for him — how your body gives you away every single time. But you can't help it, can you?
His lips close around your clit, sucking gently while his tongue keeps a steady rhythm. He's always been addicted to your taste, your scent — the way you unravel for him does something to his head.
His fingers stay buried inside you, curling in that come here motion that hits exactly where you need it most.
You moan loud, embarrassingly loud. Your skin prickles every time his fingertips brush that sweet, devastating spot, the tension in your stomach tightening and loosening in waves, pulling you closer and closer to the edge.
But when you open your eyes — almost like your body's bracing for the orgasm about to wreck you — your heart lurches violently in your chest.
Soobin is standing in the doorway.
Arms crossed.
Watching you both.
“What the—!” You jolt, legs instinctively trying to snap shut as you push yourself up, but Yeonjun stops you.
“Stay.” He growls against you, the vibration of his voice sending a sharp shiver through your body.
“Soobin is—”
He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes darker than they were seconds ago. “Lie back, yn. Now.”
You know that voice.
God, you do.
Your body lowers back onto the mattress, obedient despite the chaos in your head. His fingers keep striking that spot again and again, precise, but you force yourself to stay composed. You can't look away from Soobin, still standing in the doorway like this is nothing. Like this is normal.
“What is going on?” You manage, breath thin, eyes flicking back to your boyfriend as he shifts to get comfortable.
He settles at your side on the bed, propped slightly on one elbow, never once stopping the steady rhythm of his fingers inside you. He finds your g spot effortlessly — he always does — but your hips are stiff now, your muscles tense. You don't let the pleasure take you. Not while Soobin is watching.
Yeonjun and Soobin share a look, and the third presence between you begins to move with calm steps towards the bed. The eye contact between you is intense, charged, even though Soobin's demeanour remains what it always is — outwardly relaxed, almost shy, if you didn't know him well enough to see past it.
He kneels beside the bed, his face level with yours.
But you turn to your boyfriend instead, frowning.
“Yeonjun, this isn't—”your voice breaks off, swallowed by your own whimper when his fingers suddenly pick up speed inside you.
“Were you saying something?” he arches a brow, holding your gaze — almost. Because your eyes are fighting to stay on him instead of rolling back at the forced pleasure coiling tight in your stomach.
“I– I—” You can barely form words without dissolving into a mess of broken moans. You're tense — so tense your body has nowhere to send the pressure except into the pleasure Yeonjun keeps dragging out of you, mercilessly pressing against that spot while he watches your face.
His jaw is tight, eyes dark — almost black. You can feel his erection against your leg, hard, insistent, pulsing with every shallow breath he takes.
“You know our safeword,” he says, tone measured, almost clinical — like this is a test. “You'll say it if you need to. Won't you? Say it, yn. Go on.”
It's an order. You recognise it.
But your mind won't cooperate. Not when your orgasm is cresting, seconds away from tearing through you — not with your boyfriend's fingers inside you and his bandmate kneeling right there, watching you fall apart.
Yeonjun knows your body so well — like the back of his hand — that at the very first sign of your release, the way your walls tighten around his fingers, he stops without warning.
You cry out, the tension draining from you all at once as frustration replaces it. Your eyes look wrecked, desperate — almost as if you're being punished.
“I was going to c—”
“Quiet.” His voice is firm. It makes you feel small.
“She's so pretty.”
The voice beside you makes you turn, heat rushing to your face. You can't hold Soobin's gaze for more than half a second. Your body throbs in response to the praise, and beside you, Yeonjun's jaw tightens even further.
You look back at your boyfriend, your eyes silently asking what this is — why Soobin is here. No warning. No explanation.
Without a word, his fingers start moving inside you again, slower this time — but now his thumb joins in, tracing tight circles over your clit. You swallow a moan; It's almost too much, the stimulation sharp and overwhelming.
“Didn't you like the story about you and Soobin having sex in his room?” Yeonjun asks.
Your cheeks burn. You've never felt so exposed.
“I didn't—”
“You're going to tell him every detail, yn,” Yeonjun orders — nearly a threat — as his fingers pick up pace again, the double attention between your legs dragging you helplessly back towards pleasure. “Every. Single. Detail.”
“I don't want to.” you murmur, trying to make it sound steady instead of like another broken moan slipping out of you.
“And what's the word for that?” He raises his brows.
You part your lips to answer — but Soobin steals your attention again.
“You can tell me, yn,” he says softly. “You know I wouldn't judge you, right?”
You glance at him for only a second before looking back at Yeonjun. Your walls tighten around his fingers — not from release this time, but from the weight of being watched. From the way Soobin's calm voice does something to you. It's inevitable. It's your body reacting.
“Come on, yn,” Yeonjun urges. “Tell him.”
You turn to Soobin, properly meeting his eyes, and your lips fall open. A soft whine slips out when your boyfriend suddenly increases the pace again.
“I was only reading it because—”
“Yn.” Yeonjun's voice brushes your ear in warning, his fingers pressing a little deeper.
Soobin lifts his brows slightly, silently urging you to continue.
“It's about a girl who's your best friend and s-she likes you—” You manage, words trembling as the knot in your stomach pulls tight again.
Soobin nods, his hand lifting to cup your cheek gently. “You're doing so well. Keep going.”
The knot tightens, sharper now, and Yeonjun takes advantage of it — his fingers moving faster, more deliberate. His thumb knows the exact rhythm to keep you hovering right at the edge without letting you fall.
“And then y-you offer to calm her down, you start to—”
Your legs try to close, instinctively, but they don't let you. You glance at Yeonjun, and he's looking at you like you're the most intoxicating thing he's ever seen.
“You're going to keep those pretty eyes on soobin, alright?” He murmurs. You nod, not daring to disobey. “If you look at me again, i'll stop. And you don't want that, do you?”
You love when he does that — speaks to you like he knows exactly what you need.
Because he does.
Your head turns back to Soobin, and the wrongness of it all only makes it more intoxicating.
“Look at you,” Soobin murmurs, “so pretty and so desperate at the same time.” His thumb drags lightly over your lower lip. “Go on. I want to hear the rest.”
“Y-you go down on her—”
“No.” Yeonjun corrects now, his voice firm against your ear. “He goes down on you.”
You swallow, hips lifting instinctively to chase more friction.
“You go down on me— while I'm looking at the mirror on the ceiling—” your back arches; Soobin's mouth curves faintly at that. “Then you make her— make me cum a few times and—”
Soobin catches the shift in your expression before you even warn. his eyes darken.
“I’m gonna cum,” you breathe out, the words torn from you in a desperate whisper. Your hips lift, your legs trembling uncontrollably. “Shit— 'm going to cum.”
Soobin glances at Yeonjun, then back at you.
You don't want to. Not like this. Not while looking at your boyfriend's bandmate.
“Baby, please—” You turn, almost pleading and instantly regret it when you feel the sudden emptiness as his fingers slide out of you. “Yeonjun!”
“I warned you.” He says simply, shifting to switch places with Soobin. “Hands above your head. Eyes closed.”
You look at both of them before obeying. You feel your legs being parted by warm hands, though you can't quite tell whose they are.
“She's soaked.” Soobin murmurs under his breath, sounding almost surprised.
“Such a pathetic mess,” your boyfriend replies, almost mockingly. “She's always like this. Sometimes I don't even have to touch her for her to get that wet.”
Your cheeks burn. They're talking about you like you're not even there — or like it doesn't matter that you are.
“You should see her after shows,” yeonjun adds, his voice brushing across your face. “Her panties are ruined every time I perform Talk to you, my needy little whore.”
Yeonjun's perfume fills your lungs, makes your stomach twist — but while he keeps talking, warmth spreads between your legs.
You jolt — first because it's Soobin, and second because his tongue is warm, slow, and he knows exactly where to lick without you having to guide him— just like Yeonjun.
“F-fuck, yes,” you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut as your hips tense. “Mm— right there.”
“Told you,” your boyfriend mutters, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head back with that familiar, controlled firmness. “She goes stupid if you know how to eat her.”
His thumb brushes along your jaw as he leans closer.
“And that's nothing,” he adds, voice low against your ear, “you've no idea what she's like when you start playing with her nipples.”
Your lips part when you feel the tip of Yeonjun brush against them, and he begins to move his hips — slow at first. His grip in your hair is firm, guiding the rhythm of your mouth taking him.
“And her mouth is so...” He exhales heavily, almost a growl, “so easy to use. It’s a fucktoy you're going to love.”
Soobin only answers with low, muffled "mhm" sounds between your thighs, eating you like a starving man. The only things filling the room alongside Yeonjun's voice are your choked, uncontrollable moans — and the wet sounds of Soobin's tongue against you.
His chin is slick with you, your arousal coating him even though you haven't come yet.
And just when you think you couldn't possibly be any more overstimulated, you feel two hands travelling up your body until they reach your nipples.
But no — It’s not Yeonjun.
Soobin's fingers squeeze them gently at first, drawing a sharp arch from your back. Then his touch turns precise, deliberate — thumbs circling the hardened peaks, rolling them in a way that pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
Yeonjun uses your mouth, thrusting steadily, his length sliding deep into your throat. Tears spill down your cheeks, but your eyes stay shut, your hands remain above your head — just like he told you.
One of the things he's always loved about you is the way your throat tightens around him, how you can take him so deep without faltering. You barely gag anymore — almost used to it from the countless times you've done this for him.
Yeonjun knows how much you love doing this — how soaked you get for him, tasting every inch of him in your mouth.
Soobin's tongue on your clit becomes unbearable, and your nipples burn with overstimulation, so you let yourself fall into the pleasure completely.
Your moan vibrates against Yeonjun's skin, your hips lifting instinctively, while Soobin grows even more desperate to taste every drop you spill across him.
The climax hits so hard that your thighs clamp around him without meaning to, the intensity stretching the pleasure far beyond what you're used to.
You twist on the bed, drawing your legs together, arching your back, trying to ride out the orgasm as it rolls through you.
“I’m not done with you yet,” you hear your boyfriend growl, tugging your hair to pull you back. You moan, tilting your head up to look at him. His knees press into the edge of the bed, eyes dark and amused as he watches you like the toy he's playing with. “Look at you — so easy to ruin.”
It's true. You're a mess, and this is only the beginning. Tears blur your vision, your chest struggles for normal breaths, and your legs tremble uncontrollably.
Soobin wipes the remnants of you with his hand and glances at his friend. “Can i?”
You notice immediately that Soobin's cock is bigger than Yeonjun's — just by looking — but everything happens so fast that you barely register it.
Your head falls back over the edge of the bed, mouth open, while soobin thrusts slowly into your throat — taking his time just to see the way your gag tightens around him as you choke out muffled moans.
Yeonjun gives you no chance to recover. His hands clamp onto your hips after pulling off your clothes, and with a hard, precise thrust, he hits your g spot again, sending sharp, delicious jolts of overstimulation through you.
The sound of him thrusting roughly echoes through your room, fingers digging into your skin as if he's afraid you might vanish.
And you? You're just a small, overstimulated thing caught between two friends, a mess of saliva around Soobin's cock.
He slips from your mouth with just the right softness. A heavy groan escapes him, and even though you can breathe again, it's impossible to do it properly. Not with the raw, relentless way your boyfriend is fucking you.
You glance toward the end of the bed — Yeonjun's forehead slick with sweat, hair pushed back. The sight is hypnotic, as it always is. Effortlessly beautiful. Eyes locked on your bouncing breasts.
“Look at him,” he says, breath ragged, lifting his piercing gaze to yours while thrusting his hips with even more brutal force. “Don't you dare look at me.”
You do it — because Yeonjun's voice always leaves you weak, and by now you're far too exhausted to think logically.
Soobin watches you, his thumb brushing against your lower lip, sliding inside for you to suck. You do. The skin at the back of his neck ripples.
“She's really enjoying this.” He murmurs to yeonjun, almost mockingly.
Your eyes stay locked on his, his finger pressing against your tongue, and you open your mouth obediently. He brings his cock closer again, and you lean forward to lick the tip. A low, amused laugh escapes him.
Desperate. so pathetic.
Yeonjun guides your legs onto his shoulders, lifting your hips. Stars flare behind your eyelids as the tip of his cock finds exactly where you need it.
“Mm— gonna cum.” You barely warn him, voice high and whiny, already trembling with need.
Soobin exhales heavily, glancing back at his friend. “She’s always like this?”
Yeonjun grips you harder, thrusting into you with a brutal force that borders on painful — and you love every second of it.
“Yeah,” he pants, barely looking at Soobin, eyes fixed on you. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you take Soobin in your mouth. “She's always this cockdrunk.”
Just hearing the word is enough to let your body release all the built-up tension, flooding Yeonjun's cock with your fluids. You moan loudly against Soobin, the vibration tickling the tip of him.
“Fuck, Yeonjun, i’m gonna cum.” Soobin warns, tilting his head back as you try to catch your breath, still sucking on him.
“No, don't—” your boyfriend says, shifting his attention to him with a sharp glance, pulling out of you to give you a moment to recover.
A moment so short you barely manage it.
In movements that felt almost torturous, Yeonjun guided Soobin until he was positioned over you. His instructions to you were clear. “On your back,” “look at him,” “hands up”
And you did, because by now you were fully wrapped up in everything happening.
Soobin slides into you carefully, giving you time to adjust to his size. He isn’t as thick as Yeonjun, but noticeably longer. His eyes stay on you the entire time, as if silently asking whether you’re alright, whether you’re sure about this.
And you are — you always are.
The dynamic with your boyfriend has been like this since the beginning of your relationship. He orders, you obey. Yeonjun has a thing for control, and it goes beyond sex. In the middle of the street, in everyday life, even at work — he likes to give instructions, likes everyone to see that if there’s anyone who knows how to handle you properly, who knows exactly what you need, it’s him.
Your eyes search for him because you can’t help it. Even though Soobin knows how to move and it feels fucking good, your pleasure answers to only one person in that room.
His gaze is locked on you, his hand wrapped around his hard cock. He barely moves it, almost as if he’s enjoying watching you more than touching himself.
You can see in his eyes that he’s enjoying this far more than he wants to admit.
“Look at him.” He mouths the words — no sound needed. This is a punishment, one you’re both enjoying. A punishment for daring to think about someone else intimately.
And Soobin? Soobin gives you a raw thrust that drags you back to the present. So rough your eyes water.
Because, yes. It feels soo good.
Your back arches, your eyes roll, and a broken whine echoes through the room. Your legs tremble — a confusing mix of ache and desire that you can’t translate into words, only into incoherent sounds.
Soobin leans down just enough to keep thrusting into you in a way that feels impossibly deep, so deep your stomach tightens almost instantly. You glance down — a subtle bulge appearing in your abdomen with each snap of his hips. The sight is nearly as hypnotic as the movement itself.
Finally, he kisses you. At first his lips only brush yours, almost as if he’s asking before pressing them fully against you. They’re full — like your boyfriend’s — but different, and for a second your mind blanks.
Soobin kisses well. too well.
His thrusts pick up. Faster. Harder. Relentless. The kiss that began slow and deep turns messy, urgent. One of his hands moves to your nipple, playing with it in a way that makes your back arch sharply, breaking the kiss with breathless moans.
But that doesn’t stop him.
“S’ tight,” he groans against your lips as his hips pick up more speed, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re s’fucking tight.”
He says it like it’s a compliment you should be proud of, and your walls clench instinctively around his width in response.
“S-soobin— s’good—!” Your voice comes out ridiculously high, exhausted but desperate. The sound of skin slapping skin is obscene, filthy — loud enough that the rest of the hotel floor could probably hear. You don’t care.
None of you do.
When you feel that internal tightening that tells you you’re close, you instinctively turn your head towards Yeonjun — but Soobin catches your jaw, guiding your face back to him. It isn’t rough. It’s surprisingly gentle for someone who feels seconds away from losing control.
His eyes are almost black, fixed on you with a hunger and a kind of desperation you’ve never seen in his usual calm composure.
You lift your hips just slightly, chasing your own release — adjusting the angle with deliberate precision. It tips you over the edge without warning. The orgasm hits hard, sudden, stealing the air from your lungs and blurring your vision.
“Fuck, Soobin—!” You cry out helplessly, right at the peak, while he keeps thrusting instead of slowing down. It’s overwhelming. Delicious. Almost too much.
“Stay like that— just like that.” It sounds like an order and a plea at the same time. Your eyes are hazy with pleasure, but you catch the exact moment he loses himself too — his brows knitting together, eyes squeezing shut as a broken, uncharacteristically raw groan tears from his throat.
His hips gradually slow after you feel him spill inside you — warm, sticky, intimate. You let your body fall back against the mattress, and he braces himself with one hand beside your head, keeping his weight from crushing you.
Both of you are breathless. Both of you wrecked.
The hand still resting on your chest gives a few lazy squeezes, like he’s trying to come back down from whatever just overtook him.
When you finally look at each other, you realise you look the same — wide, disbelieving eyes. Flushed cheeks. Swollen lips. Shy, almost embarrassed little laughs slipping out under your breath.
And then, together, you turn to look at Yeonjun.
His hand is still wrapped around his thick erection. His abdomen is tight, muscles drawn sharp beneath his skin. The veins in his arms stand out — and the ones along his length are even more pronounced.
He takes a few steps closer and, even though you feel like you’ve already given everything, you know this is where the real punishment begins.
Soobin is still hard. Still inside you. The only difference now is that you’re on top of him, the new position letting him reach even deeper. His hands cup your breasts, squeezing, thumbs circling your nipples in slow, deliberate motions.
But he isn’t the reason those shameless whimpers tear from your throat, nearly turning into cries.
It’s Yeonjun.
The merciless thrusts he drives into you, fingers digging into your hips to hold you still as he pushes into your other hole — each movement sharp, controlled, unrelenting.
His other hand wraps around your throat — firm, precise — pressing in just the right places, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your head feel light, your pulse throb beneath his fingers.
“Is this what you wanted?” He breathes against your ear, raw and unsteady. It sounds like a reprimand, jealousy tangled up with hunger. “To have us both inside you?”
Soobin lifts his hips to meet you, driving deeper, faster. Your sweet spot doesn’t get a second to recover — It’s struck again and again without mercy.
Yeonjun’s skin slams against you, harsh and relentless. Tears spill from your eyes. It hurts. But it feels so, so good.
The head of Yeonjun’s cock hits exactly where it needs to — over and over again — rough, relentless, not once pausing to ask whether it hurts, whether you like it. You can feel his jealousy working itself out through every thrust, his grip on your hips unyielding, possessive. A reminder.
His words at your ear are clear. “Don’t you— fucking dare to forget who you belong to.”
Your eyes are on Soobin — on the way he’s losing himself, the way he enjoys every drop of your weight onto his oversensitive length — but all your awareness is centred on Yeonjun. On his hand at your throat. His voice. The punishing rhythm of his hips.
“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry,” you whimper, turning your face just enough to catch his gaze. “‘M–‘m shit—! ’m yours—ah!”
They both pick up the pace at the same time, like some unspoken agreement you’re not part of. Your body is so overstimulated, so worn down, that your next orgasm climbs frighteningly fast.
Third? Fourth? You’ve lost count.
All you know is the knot tightening deep inside you — but this time it spreads. Not just in your cunt. It coils through parts of you didn’t even know could feel like this, building into something bigger, sharper, overwhelming.
The first thing you grab onto are Soobin’s forearms. Your nails dig into them, and the sting only makes his thrusts turn faster, rougher. You can feel it building again, that sharp, desperate need to cum. It’s different this time. Stronger. Fuller. Almost unbearable.
“Mmm— pleasse—! I–I need—” you babble, because that’s all you are right now. A toy. Something for them to use. You’re a wreck of incoherent, pathetic little sounds. “C–cum—! ’M going— i—!”
Yeonjun’s mouth is at your neck, biting down, leaving possessive marks along the spots that make you tremble hardest. Your cunt aches with pleasure, clenching tight around Soobin as his fingers keep teasing your sensitive nipples, pushing you closer and closer.
At the same time, you feel yourself tighten around Yeonjun too — your other hole fluttering helplessly as he groans low against your skin, his own release right on the brink of breaking.
“Look at what you made me do,” he mutters against your skin, almost venomous. “Attention whore — Is that what you are?”
Your nails dig deeper into Soobin’s skin. You hear him groan at the sting, but you can’t stop. You’re too far gone.
Yeonjun leans back to your ear, lips brushing the shell of it as he delivers the final words that split you open completely.
“So fucking mine.”
“Yes—!” Your voice comes out high, broken, shrill — right as your orgasm crashes into you at the same time as theirs. The three of you unravel together, bodies locking, tension snapping all at once. Heat floods you, overwhelming, intimate, leaving you shaking through the aftershock.
Your body and Yeonjun’s both slump to the side of Soobin, your boyfriend immediately wrapping his arms around your waist. Even the softness of his touch makes you hypersensitive now — your whole body trembling, nerves misfiring like tiny electric shocks beneath your skin. You can’t even open your eyes properly.
“You did so well,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, his voice returning to that gentle, honeyed tone that always undoes you. “You’re so beautiful like this.”
Another kiss — this time to your cheek.
Soobin props his head on his hand, still catching his breath, watching the two of you quietly.
All three of you know this isn’t going to be a one night thing.
i could drown myself in someone like you, i could dive so deep i never come out
/// nothing but thieves, impossible
pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader
summary: sometimes love and hate exist on opposite ends of the map. other times, on separate floors of the same building.
genre: ex!yeonjun / enemies to lovers au / neighbour au
warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, strong language, LOTS of flirting and teasing and quiet yearning, little shit!jjun is back, fluff (!), some lotr spoilers
words: 11.7k
[ ! ] this is a sequel to equilibrium
masterlist / read from the beginning
✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 7, 2026. 4 PM
The next week returned to normal, and you were forced to admit that, these days, normal meant finding Yeonjun loitering in the lobby every time you came home from university.
His excuse on Monday was a delivery. He claimed to be waiting for a very important parcel, and the courier, the bloody idiot, was running late.
Nodding sympathetically, you dropped your bag onto the small table beneath the noticeboard. The surface was carved through with initials and obscene drawings that did not look particularly anatomically correct.
“Well, in that case,” you said, “I’ll wait with you.”
Yeonjun pressed his lips together the moment he felt the corners trying to betray him.
“Thank you,” he said gravely. “I appreciate your support in my time of need.”
“You’re welcome. What’d you order?”
He launched into a wholly incomprehensible explanation about online shopping: the misleading product photos, the contradictory reviews, the fictional delivery windows. He spoke with such determination and at such speed that there wasn’t a gap wide enough to interrupt. By the time he began a passionate indictment of courier companies on the whole, you’d almost forgotten what you’d asked.
Several of your neighbours passed through in the time you’d been standing there, checked their letterboxes, and headed upstairs—notably, all of them avoided the lift. A few older ladies shot the two of you curious glances as they went. You smiled politely while Yeonjun continued to state his case.
Half an hour later, the courier still hadn’t come.
“Think he’s just lost track of time,” Yeonjun insisted, glancing at his phone. “I say we wait another half an hour, just to be on the safe side.”
Sighing, you jerked your head towards the stairs. “Come on.”
“But what about my parcel?”
“You’ll get another call.” You gathered your backpack. “We’ve got a film to watch.”
His expression finally surrendered to a smile as he pushed himself off the wall.
The lobby had been perfectly nice—although there had, of course, never been any parcel to begin with—but Yeonjun was far more thrilled by the prospect of a few more hours with you upstairs.
Today was the day of your Lord of the Rings marathon.
As it turned out, building the pillow fort exactly as described in his childhood bucket list wasn’t difficult. Yeonjun didn’t own a single table or much furniture at all, but, for some reason, he had enough mattresses to furnish a small hotel. He brought them in from the storage room, his wardrobe, from behind doors, and even from the balcony.
The pizzas arrived somewhere in the middle of this operation, and all you could do was hold the boxes and stare at him. “Yeonjun.”
He glanced up. “Hm?”
“How—how many of those have you got?”
Grinning, he dropped another mattress onto the growing pile. “Well, a few.”
“Mhmm.”
You left the boxes on the kitchen island and grabbed one end of the nearest mattress, pulling it upright to form a wall.
An odd scent lingered in the flat under the tomato sauce and melting mozzarella—buttery and sweet, faintly caramel-like. It wafted through the room whenever the breeze stirred the curtains hanging over the cracked balcony door.
You sniffed the air distractedly.
Yeonjun paused on his way back to the storage room.
“Baked earlier,” he explained. “Strawberry tart.”
You looked up from the mattresses.
It still made your brain stall a little, hearing him mention baking. It seemed like a hobby for patient people. Slow-living people. People who, perhaps, did not hoard mattresses.
“How’d you start baking, then?” you asked, stepping carefully over Violet, who had arranged herself in the middle of the floor as the Head Supervisor. No one crossed the room without obtaining a permit first.
Yeonjun lugged another mattress inside, blowing a loose strand of hair out of his eyes.
“Just happened, sort of,” he said. “Usually haven’t got time to cook, but baking is—s’ten minutes of chucking everything together, and then you just wait forty-five minutes for it to finish. S’easy. And soothing, I guess. Bit like meditation.”
He caught the mattress against his knee when it slipped. His arms were beginning to complain.
You crouched beside him, catching the opposite corner.
“Thanks,” he huffed.
Together, you manoeuvred the mattress into place in front of the projector, which was balanced on an upturned cardboard box, its lens aimed at the blank white wall of his living room.
“Must’ve had a lot of practice,” you said, “if you can get everything measured and mixed in ten minutes.”
A grin spread across his face. “Natural talent.”
Then he disappeared onto the balcony again and returned with yet another mattress.
You were becoming increasingly reluctant to ask why he owned so many. The last time you’d been here to find a place for his fern—which was still alive, against all odds—you hadn’t paid enough attention to notice any of them. Now you were worried they were breeding somewhere just out of sight.
Yeonjun adjusted the mattress against his shoulder.
“I used to do my homework in the kitchen,” he said, letting the latest addition fall with a soft thump against the floor. Then he heaved it upright to shape the opposite wall. “Nina, our chef back then, always baked desserts in the afternoons. I watched her a lot. Didn’t think much about it again until about a year ago, when I couldn’t shut my brain off.”
Your gaze drifted to the floor, where Violet was inspecting the mattresses.
You were thinking about all the rituals you had built over the past year: losing yourself in books, in research, in work. You supposed you’d come close to picking up baking, too.
“Alcohol didn’t help anymore,” Yeonjun went on, “and I still had that plan not to become an alcoholic before m’thirty.”
The corners of your lips twitched. “Right.”
You squatted beside Violet and nudged the mattress at the back a few inches to the left until the walls resting against it stopped wobbling.
“So I tried baking instead,” Yeonjun said. “Started with a pound cake, I remember. Tasted like sandpaper because I’d left it in too long. Kept sticking toothpicks in it, and they kept coming out damp. I don’t know.”
You smiled, bringing a hand over Violet’s chin before you stood again. “That happens. The edges get burnt, but the middle stays soft.”
“Exactly, yeah.” He dragged the mattress upright to brace the back wall, then stepped away to assess the angle. “But—anyway. I kept going and got the hang of it eventually. Turns out my old oven was rubbish. Then I moved here and the oven’s brilliant. Turns out it’s my whisking that’s shit now.”
You looked up at him. “You’re doing alright, though. The cobbler was great last time. And the biscuits.”
Yeonjun looked at you over the top of the mattress. Something softened almost imperceptibly in his gaze—you’d have missed it if you hadn’t been looking.
You’d been looking.
“Yeah?” A small smile tugged at his mouth before he glanced away. “I’m glad. Let’s put a roof on this.”
The two of you threw the largest blanket—thick and grey with faded white stripes—over the standing mattresses. It billowed for a moment, caught in the draft, then settled across the top, dipping slightly in the middle and casting the inside of the fort into shade.
The arrangement looked very respectable.
Yeonjun thought that thirteen-year-old him would’ve been very proud.
He switched on the projector. The fan whirred softly before a pale rectangle appeared across the opposite wall, filling the flat with flickering light. Dust drifted lazily through the beam.
Tilting your head, you surveyed the fort. “Have you got any pillows? Or did they not make it into the mattress budget?”
Snorting, Yeonjun raised a finger and disappeared down the corridor. You heard cupboard doors banging open in his bedroom, then something heavy dropping, followed shortly by a muffled ow, shit.
“Y’alright?” you called out.
“Perfect, love! The rolling pin—forgot I’d left it here.”
He reappeared a second later with his face barely visible behind an armful of pillows. One slipped free. He made an attempt to catch it with his foot and nearly demolished the western wall of the fort in the process.
“Shit.” He straightened. You reached out to grab the top few pillows from him. “Thanks.”
“Right, then.” You tossed them onto the mattresses on the floor. “Reckon you’ve got enough stuff to furnish three bedrooms with all this. Opening up a B&B in the future, or what?”
He laughed and, impressively, still didn’t explain. Instead, he dumped the remaining pillows into the fort and leaned down to arrange them.
Violet, understandably, climbed aboard to test it out first. After several thorough sniffs, she declared the fort structurally sound and returned to the kitchen to investigate the pizza boxes as well, hopeful that one might open up if she was just persistent enough.
Yeonjun intercepted before she succeeded, carrying the boxes and the cans of cola over to the fort. You followed with two slices of strawberry tart. The crust was still warm when you pressed a fingertip against it to stop the slice from sliding across the plate.
The living room looked ridiculous now with the mattresses covering most of the floor. The blanket on the roof nearly grazed the ceiling. It smelled of something distinctly comforting, though: fresh laundry, warm pizza, strawberries, and beneath it all—faint enough that you only noticed when Yeonjun leaned past you to set the boxes down—apricot, for some reason.
It felt lived in now, the flat. Cosy.
Without quite realising it, you smiled as you settled beside him under the blankets.
The first film started quietly.
The two of you talked in low voices, instinctively leaning closer as though there was someone else in the fort you might disturb.
Violet was the only other occupant of the fort, and she was not disturbed. She stretched luxuriously across the pillow between you, indifferent to the hobbits but inexplicably riveted by Gollum’s brief appearances. Her whiskers were faintly pink from the strawberry she’d stolen off Yeonjun’s plate.
She looked very satisfied with her evening.
You propped yourself up on your elbows and reached for your second slice of pizza. It came out painted green by the projector light.
“Have you got a favourite character?” Yeonjun asked about half an hour into the film.
“Aragorn.”
That made him look over. “Wow—just off the top of your head, then?”
Shrugging, you took a bite. Cheese stretched between the slice and your teeth before finally snapping. It tasted spectacular, just acidic enough from the tomato sauce.
“Didn’t like The Fellowship the first time I saw it,” you admitted once you’d swallowed. “My cousins made me watch it. Aragorn was the only reason I stuck with it.”
Yeonjun hummed in understanding. He’d fallen asleep during his own first attempt at the trilogy, too.
“Not Legolas, then?” he asked, picking up another slice while gently steering Violet’s investigating nose away from the box with his wrist.
You brushed a few crumbs onto your joggers.
“No,” you said. “Always thought something’s off about hair that pretty. Never trusted him.”
Yeonjun snorted into his pizza.
Then he straightened.
“Hang on.” He lowered the slice. “Is my hair not pretty?”
Your gaze drifted to his neatly parted fringe—save for the single rebellious strand that tumbled over his forehead every few minutes, testing your self-control each time.
You turned back to the film. “I’ve always found you suspicious too, to be fair.”
His laughter bounced off the blanket roof, bright enough to fill the fort. Your own smile spread despite Frodo’s increasingly worried face on the wall ahead.
“Have you got a favourite, then?” you asked.
Yeonjun watched the screen for several thoughtful seconds.
“Pippin, I think,” he decided.
“Yeah? Not Merry?”
“Merry’s too serious.” He smiled when you snorted. “Always preferred Pippin’s whimsy.”
“Alright, yeah.” You nodded, reaching for another slice. “Pippin’s great.”
As the Fellowship set off from Rivendell on the screen, Yeonjun launched into an explanation of the complete evolution of his favourite characters – from Gandalf when he’d been six, because his nanny, Leigh, always put on fantasy films and had a soft spot for the wizard, to Sam briefly in secondary school, and finally to Pippin around his mid-twenties.
“I did briefly dabble in Aragorn,” he admitted. “But he’s too cool for me, I feel. Too collected.”
“Gandalf isn’t?”
“No, he’s got crazy eyes.”
You laughed and, somewhere during the conversation, stopped paying attention to the film altogether. It didn’t feel like much of a loss.
The first pizza box emptied not long afterwards.
“Have you got a favourite film in the series?” you asked, lifting your can of cola while distant mountains lingered on the screen, throwing dark, faintly indigo shadows over Yeonjun’s face.
He drained the last mouthful from his own can and clicked his lips thoughtfully.
“The first one, I think.” He folded the empty can into his palm. “Mostly because I’ve seen it most times.”
“Hmm.”
“What about you?”
“Definitely not the first one.”
His eyebrows rose. “Why not?”
“Boromir dies.”
His eyebrows fell again. “Ah, shit. Yeah.”
“I was eleven the first time I watched it,” you recalled, “and I refused to watch the other two films for months.”
He smiled faintly. “Yeah, s’fair. That one hurt.”
You took a sip from the can. The cola prickled lightly against your tongue, sharper than you were used to. You’d been too responsible lately—too much water, not enough joy. You’d missed fizzy drinks.
“Think Return of the King’s my favourite,” you decided finally. “I like happy endings.”
Yeonjun looked at you for a second longer than he’d planned to before speaking.
“Aragorn gets married, though,” he said.
You nodded, smiling again.
“That used to be my favourite part,” you said. “Always rooted for him and Arwen.”
He considered that for a moment before returning his attention to the screen. Aragorn, as though summoned, strode across the projection.
“Really?” he said. “I figured, with him as your favourite, you’d have wanted to be the one to marry him.”
You shook your head. “I was a very self-aware child. Knew I couldn’t marry a fictional character.”
“Ah.”
“Yes. So I planned to marry Zayn from One Direction instead.”
Yeonjun laughed so suddenly that his elbow slipped on the mattress. He caught himself by throwing a leg over the edge.
“Yeah, that—” The mattress dipped beneath him anyway, and he rolled down into the pile of pillows and blankets with a muffled yelp.
Your burst of laughter prompted Violet to lift her head.
As Yeonjun fought his way back to the surface, he felt her cold paws pressing into his ankles, not quite helpful, possibly even vindictive. He suspected she wanted him to suffer a while longer for denying her the pleasure of a second strawberry.
“You need help?” you asked, leaning closer.
Something unintelligible emerged from beneath the blankets. A moment later, he made his way back onto the mattress, shoving a pillow off his face. Bored, Violet abandoned him to sniff at your ankles instead.
“M’great.” He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and returned to roughly his original position. “S’a very nice fort we’ve got. Very nice.”
You devoted your best efforts to not laughing again.
“Anyway.” He pointed at you. “Yes. One Direction’s obviously a lot more realistic.”
“Yes. I thought so, too.”
He breathed out a wistful sigh and eased his head back onto the pillows. Above him, the blanket roof rippled whenever the breeze drifted in through the balcony door. The projector painted forests and distant mountains across the fabric. It felt a bit like a portal into Middle-earth.
“I wasn’t that self-aware as a kid,” he said.
“No?”
He shook his head.
“Which character did you want to marry?” you asked.
“The female robber from the third Home Alone film.”
It took you a few moments to place the film: the remote-controlled toy, the hopeless 911 calls.
Watching your eyebrows climb in recognition, Yeonjun grinned.
“Why her?” you asked.
“Well,” he scratched thoughtfully at his jaw, “first of all, eight-year-old me thought she was really fit.” He glanced over to watch you snicker. “And she actually knew what she was doing. I’m convinced if it hadn’t been for the idiots with her, she’d have pulled the whole thing off.”
You pressed your lips together and nodded a few times, trying to keep your expression neutral.
“Mhmm. Right.” You took a long breath. “I can see the appeal.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Wasn’t she a bit mean, though?”
Yeonjun clicked his tongue. “Have I not made it clear by now that that’s very much my type?”
You turned back to the film before you could laugh again.
“My bad,” you said. “Definitely makes sense.”
Smiling to himself, he folded one arm beneath his head.
“Why Lord of the Rings, then?” you asked, nodding towards the projection. “And not Home Alone? You could’ve updated your list.”
Yeonjun shrugged. “Watching films just because I’ve got a crush on one of the characters isn’t very cool.”
You tsked. “Clearly, you’ve never known what’s cool.”
He looked across to you. “Yeah? So, did you agree to watch Lord of the Rings just for Aragorn, then?”
“No.” You met his eyes. “I did it for you.”
He opened his mouth automatically, then discovered he’d lost his voice. Warmth climbed his neck before he had any chance of stopping it.
He turned back to the film with sudden, renewed interest, watching the raging blizzard while he tried to school his expression back into something dignified.
“I see,” he managed. “That’s gr—good.”
One corner of your lips lifted into a smirk. Yeonjun watched it through his peripheral vision and thought that he was having, by all means, the best night of his entire year.
Soon, the first film blurred into the second one. With Yeonjun’s blackout curtains drawn across the windows, it was difficult to tell the time. You had no idea where you’d left your phone; it didn’t even occur to you to look for it.
By then, the two of you were talking too much to pay attention to the screen.
“Are you sick of being back at uni yet?” Yeonjun asked, brushing tart crumbs from his palms.
You watched the changing landscape wash across the blanket roof.
“Honestly, a bit.” You exhaled. “The other doctoral students are all about ten years older than me, and surprisingly conceited, too. I wasn’t expecting that, after our lot.”
His lips stretched into a soft smile. “Yeah. We got lucky with our year.”
You hummed in agreement.
It was lonely, sitting through seminars without someone beside you to exchange glances with whenever the professors drifted into a topic they’d already covered half a dozen times that month. No Beomgyu nudging your shoulder to borrow chewing gum. No Soobin coughing politely whenever you and Reina started giggling too loudly. No Yeonjun, either.
Taehyun and Kai were your only reprieve whenever you happened to cross paths in the corridors nowadays.
“Speaking of our year, though.” You shifted slightly against the pillows to face him. “Have you decided what you’re doing for your birthday?”
Yeonjun sighed so deeply that the blanket overhead stirred with the force of it.
“Suppose I’ll round everyone up over the weekend and pass drinks around as always.” He picked absentmindedly at the edge of his cola can label until it peeled away in thin silver strips. “Some music on. You know.”
“The usual, then.”
He shifted on the mattress. The back of his hand brushed yours where it rested between you on the pillow. Neither of you moved.
“Probably.” His eyes flicked to your fingers before he settled back and returned his attention to the projection, careful not to move too far away from you. “Definitely not organising a dinner, that’s more Nara’s thing. We’ll go to a bar, I guess. Or a club. There’s this place not too far from here, said they rent private rooms.”
You nodded, watching Aragorn and Legolas cross the plains of Rohan, shades of green and grey flickering across the room.
It was almost comfortable how easily his birthday party had become part of your schedule, too.
“Oh.” Yeonjun glanced over again. “Amy’ll probably come as well.”
You looked back at him. You hadn’t heard anything about Amy in so long that, for a moment, you weren’t sure what to make of that at all.
“Yeah?” you said. “You’re still in touch?”
“Sort of.” He ran his fingers over the seam on the pillowcase between you. His left hand remained pressed against the side of yours. “Less now that I don’t really speak to my parents. She’s engaged now, by the way—don’t think I told you.”
Your eyebrows lifted. “Really?”
“Yeah, to the bloke she’d been seeing in grad school.”
“I thought they’d split up.”
“They had, yeah.” He nodded. “Got back together last summer. Engaged this June.”
You let out a quiet breath. “Wow.”
It brought a strange sort of familiarity, this news. Amy almost felt like a distant acquaintance at this point; a small part of your life without ever directly being in your life.
“Yeah,” Yeonjun said, a crooked smile on his lips. “My parents were devastated. Amy said they’d even stopped by her parents’ place to ask if they were certain their daughter’s making the right choice.”
Humming, you nudged your empty plate farther from Violet. She lingered between you and Yeonjun, waiting for just one lapse in concentration. The smell of pizza was testing the limits of her polite restraint.
“Right,” you said, stroking Violet’s back as she brushed past you. “Some things never change, I guess.”
“Hmm. Hopefully some others do, though.”
The projector washed Yeonjun’s face in shifting bands of blue when you glanced at him. His eyes lingered somewhere beyond the film. He combed his fingers through his hair, only for the same strand to fall back across his forehead again.
You turned away.
“You don’t sound very excited about your birthday,” you pointed out.
He sighed again. “Yeah. I don’t know. Been thinking there are better ways to spend it.”
“The mead again?”
He snorted.
“Yeah. Maybe. But also—” He lifted his hands to gesture at the pillows, the projector. Violet, sitting at the edge of your mattress. You. “This.”
You followed the direction of his hands. “Watching Lord of the Rings?”
His hands dropped back into his lap. “Just talking to you.”
You looked at him for a second, just long enough to feel each beat of your heart echo around your ribcage, as though it had briefly lost its way home.
Yeonjun looked back at you, feeling as though the lost beats of your heart were responsible for the extra ones crowding into his own.
Then your gaze drifted to the pizza boxes scattered between the mattresses and the crumbs littering the floor.
“We can talk at your birthday, too,” you said, tucking your feet under the blanket. “Doesn’t have to be constant drinking.”
“Yeah.”
The word came out quieter. He didn’t quite know what else to add after it.
Perhaps it was the novelty of this—spending time with you in this easy, unhurried way—that had made him start having these thoughts.
Then again, he suspected that even years ago—especially years ago—if given the choice between a crowded room where he could drink until his thoughts dissolved into static, and a dimly lit flat where the two of you discussed Legolas’ hair, he’d have picked you every time.
That wasn’t very friendly of him, he realised.
He cleared his throat and straightened, one shoulder nudging the mattress at the back.
“D’you remember Professor Javez’s class in undergrad?” he asked eventually.
You tore your attention away from the projection and glanced down at Violet, now sprawled on her side with one paw stretched imperiously across the mattress.
“Which one?” you asked. Then realised. “Oh, watching films every class?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “This kind of reminds me of it. Still my favourite elective I’ve ever taken.”
You smiled, turning back ahead.
“I thought it was a waste of time,” you admitted. “Waking up at seven just to watch films for an hour and a half.”
He laughed. That was fair, admittedly; he’d wanted to drop the class every time he heard his alarm. But he’d still loved every minute of it. He could even remember exactly where you’d sat: right by the door, so you could always be the first to leave (and you usually were).
“I remember you slept on your desk most of the time,” he said, his grin widening. “I sat right behind you. It was the best part of my week.”
You gave him a look. “Was your life that boring?”
He smirked.
“It was actually very stressful.” He sank deeper into the pillow. “That class was the only time I could relax and just watch the films. And the way you were drooling onto your desk.”
You scoffed with enough indignation to startle Violet again. “I did not drool.”
Laughing again, Yeonjun brought his hand over the cat’s back until she settled again.
“M’not accusing you of anything, love,” he said. “Merely recalling historical events.”
“Slander isn’t a historical event.”
He snickered. “You were asleep, how would you know if you’d drooled or not?”
“I’d feel drool on my face.”
“It was on your desk.”
You snorted despite yourself, but shook your head anyway. Truthfully, you hardly remembered the class anymore. Perhaps you really had slept through most of it.
Unexpectedly, you found yourself remembering the look on Yeonjun’s face, back in his car, after your first night at his house, when you’d told him he snored. He’d protested with exactly the same wounded determination you imagined you were using now.
Come to think of it, lying across these mattresses felt strangely similar to his old guest bedroom, too.
It’d been cold in his house, you remembered; you’d set the thermostat in the room to a temperature that finally let you stop shivering. Then you’d woken up with his arm slung over your waist.
Yeonjun’s current flat, by contrast, was very warm.
“I can open another balcony door,” he said.
Only then did you realise you’d lifted a hand to fan yourself.
You dropped it a touch too quickly. “No, it’s alright.”
His smile softened. He wondered if he’d been any part of whatever thought had put that faraway look in your eyes.
“You sure?” he asked.
“Yeah.” You cleared your throat and shifted upright, pressing your palm into the pillow beside you. “Tell me something instead.”
“What?”
“What’s with all the mattresses? Honestly.”
Yeonjun laughed.
“Well.” He pushed himself up a little straighter, too. “When Bin and I moved out, someone had to take them. We’d bought all the furniture ourselves, and we ended up leaving most of it there. But Soobin insisted on saving the mattresses. Said new owners usually throw them out anyway, and mattresses are expensive.”
He picked a loose thread on the blanket draped over his knees.
“Fair enough, I figured. But the house had five bedrooms.” He shook his head, a smile already spreading on his lips. “Some of them had single mattresses on the beds, stacked on top of each other.”
You frowned. “Four per bed?”
He nodded.
“Soobin took two,” he said. “That already tested Reina’s patience, considering their flat has one bed with one mattress right now. So I had to take all the rest.”
Your gaze travelled slowly around the fort: the mattresses reinforcing the walls, the ones lining the floor. It looked like a proper padded cell.
So much for joking about psychiatric wards.
“Mhmm.” You gave a contemplative nod. “So, now you’ve got one bed and about fifteen mattresses.”
He laughed, gathering a loose pillow onto his lap.
“Yeah, give or take.” He glanced towards his bedroom, forgetting momentarily that he couldn’t see through the mattress wall. “I keep most in the corridor outside my room, but bring them all out whenever Soobin comes over. Just—” He gestured around with both hands. “—spread them out. He’s the one who insisted we keep them, so he should be pleased to see them thriving here.”
Soobin had mentioned once that he couldn’t stand spending too much time at Yeonjun’s flat. You’d sympathised back then; you hadn’t had much patience for Yeonjun, either.
Really, he must’ve meant the mattresses.
“And is he pleased, then?” you asked, lips twitching.
“No, never.”
You both laughed. The projector fan seemed to hum louder, as though joining in.
“He said my flat looks like a wealthy pig furnished its own pigsty,” Yeonjun said, pausing while you laughed harder. “Said it gives him the creeps. S’why I make sure the mattresses are out every single time he’s here.”
You covered your mouth, still snickering, and Yeonjun found himself absurdly fond of the mattresses all of a sudden. For the first time, he was grateful Soobin had been so stubborn.
“But, hey.” You nodded towards the blanket roof above you. “They’ve found a purpose, after all.”
Yeonjun looked up, too. “Yeah. Happy for them.”
When he looked back down, you were already watching him. It sent you both straight into a fresh fit of laughter.
It made sense, you realised, to think about his old house, then. These were the same mattresses.
The soundtrack filled the flat, strings swelling beneath the occasional crackle of the projector, while Yeonjun searched for the right words to bring up something he’d been thinking about all morning.
He’d got distracted by the imaginary parcel back in the lobby. Had to do it now.
“By the way, um…” He rubbed his thumb across his lower lip, his gaze lingering on the screen even after you’d looked over. “Remember the race I mentioned the other day? S’this Thursday.”
You nodded. “Okay. In the evening?”
“Yes,” he said and looked at you with enough hope in his eyes to make you pause.
You thought you’d already agreed to come with him the last time he’d mentioned it. But looking at him now, you wondered whether this invitation meant something more than just watching cars drive around in circles.
Your eyes drifted briefly to the suit jacket he’d left hanging from the balcony door handle. The edges of the sleeves were painted blue from the projector.
You wanted to go regardless of what the invitation meant.
“Alright, then,” you said. “I’d like to see this alleged work you do.”
He scoffed, though excitement robbed him of any proper comeback.
“Right, mhmm.” He fought a grin that refused to stay hidden. “I’ll text you the details later after I’ve checked.”
“Okay.”
The plan lingered quietly between you, almost tangible now. Oddly, it didn’t pull either of you out of the moment. It was remarkably easy to stay in the present when the present already felt like something you’d been looking forward to.
The film went on.
Somewhere near the beginning of The Return of the King, Yeonjun shifted in search of a more comfortable position. His left ankle had gone completely numb. His arm brushed yours and, after only the briefest hesitation, he let his head drop to your shoulder.
You didn’t move, aware, suddenly, of every breath. Aware, too, of the comforting weight of him beside you.
For once, the two of you watched the film in silence.
By the middle of the film, he’d gradually slid lower until his head rested across your thighs instead, one arm folded loosely over his stomach.
This time, you couldn’t resist smiling.
“Comfortable?” you asked.
He only grinned.
You adjusted your legs slightly beneath him so he wasn’t lying against the sharp edge of your knee. The projector painted midnight blue forests across his face; he was almost part of the film now.
Before you’d consciously decided on it, your fingers drifted to his hair, sliding the strand off his forehead, away from his eyes. Your other hand came to rest lightly over his collarbone.
Already half asleep, Yeonjun registered only the warmth. His hand lifted slowly until it covered yours, heavy enough for you to feel the steady rhythm in his chest.
Sleep had been avoiding him for months. He wished it’d been slower now that he found it.
“Thank you,” he murmured, squeezing your hand gently, “for this.”
Your throat tightened. For several seconds, you sat without moving, feeling your pulse respond to the steady rhythm beneath your palm.
Then you swallowed. “Happy to.”
He squeezed your hand one more time, making sure it was still there.
✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 8, 2026. 4 PM
Yeonjun’s excuse for waiting in the lobby on Tuesday was that he was stretching his legs.
“Been sitting in front of my screen too long,” he explained, rubbing the small of his back. “I’m moulding into the shape of my chair.”
You looked him up and down. “Hm. Perhaps a quick jog would help?”
“I tried. Didn’t work. I’m already too chair-shaped.”
You snorted. He grinned.
“Walking around in circles down here seems to do the trick, though,” he said.
“Interesting.”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes, quite.”
“Can you manage the climb upstairs, then?” you asked. “Or would you rather walk some more?”
He glanced around the lobby, pondering. You watched the pale pink of his T-shirt catch the feeble light from the lobby windows.
“Would you walk with me?” he replied. “Just in case I have a back-related emergency and need help?”
“I would not.”
“I can manage the climb upstairs.”
Snickering, you made your way to the stairwell.
By now, this had become part of your routine as well. Even on days when university left you so exhausted that every step felt twice as steep, you realised you were almost looking forward to the pointless arguments. Today, it was about the exact number of steps in each flight of stairs (Yeonjun counted out loud, determined to prove you wrong—he didn’t; he’d been off by two steps).
Violet was waiting on the doorstep when you unlocked your stubborn door. She twined her tail around your ankles before moving to Yeonjun.
She’d been exploring your wardrobe again, you noticed; there was a trail of blue-and-white socks leading all the way from your bedroom to the front door.
“Have you been up to no good again, love?” Yeonjun asked, bending to scoop her into his arms.
Violet meowed in response.
Yeonjun gasped. “You have? What’d you do?”
Another meow.
“Violet,” he said sternly, “you’ll have to apologise.”
He turned her in his arms until she faced you. You were already smiling.
Looking mildly perplexed by the proceedings—she’d have liked a lawyer—Violet meowed once more.
“You’re good, sweets,” you said, reaching out to scratch under her chin.
Purring softly, Violet arched into your touch.
“That’s better.” Yeonjun leaned down to press a kiss between her ears before looking up at you. “See you tomorrow, then?”
“Yeah.” Your smile lingered. “Tomorrow.”
Left alone as the two of them headed down the stairs, you slipped into your flat, closed the door, and dropped your backpack beside the sofa.
It was quiet here. Calm. Your original plan to spend the rest of the afternoon mindlessly scrolling through your phone seemed considerably less appealing all of a sudden.
You wanted to sleep. You haven’t had a chance to get much of it lately; Professor Lee needed you in at eight every morning.
Exhaling, you slipped out of your shoes, gathered the scattered socks, and stretched out across the sofa for a quick nap before dinner.
About an hour later, you woke to music.
For several sleepy seconds, you couldn’t work out where it was coming from. The living room had grown noticeably darker, the setting sun striping the floor tiles with long bands of golden light. Your phone didn’t seem to be vibrating, yet the melody kept drifting through the flat.
You sat up.
It was a piano.
The notes blurred into each other, softened by the building before they reached you. They were coming, undeniably, from downstairs.
You remembered the piano in Yeonjun’s flat and remembered, too, him saying that these days he could only bear playing when he was in a good mood. Pissed him off otherwise, he’d said.
You wondered what made him play today.
Digging your phone from between the sofa cushions, you unlocked it and opened your messages. Then paused. Asking him, or even mentioning the music at all, you suspected, might make him stop playing.
The melody wandered on around you, unfamiliar; it faltered in places, then found itself again like he was remembering it in real time.
You didn’t want him to stop.
Yawning, you climbed off the sofa. The kitchen stool scraped softly across the floor as you pulled it away from the island and sat down. The music sounded clearer here, somehow, the floor carrying the vibrations more cleanly than the sofa had.
Your laptop still sat abandoned on the worktop; you’d been too tired to carry it back to your desk after finishing your reading the night before.
The cursor blinked patiently on the Google search bar.
You’d been meaning to find something for Yeonjun’s birthday. You suspected that the chewing gum he’d mentioned, with the tattoo stickers, would make an objectively funny present. Meaningful, too, in a ridiculous way.
As the search results began filling the screen, you remembered something else.
Once, back in grad school, on the morning he’d insisted you wear his scarf before walking you home to pick it up, Yeonjun had joked that he’d happily wear one of yours in return. You’d rummaged through your drawer for the most embarrassing scarf you owned and realised that none were nearly terrible enough.
You’d promised, you remembered, to get him one for his birthday.
Perhaps this was the birthday.
By the time the piano fell silent nearly half an hour later, you’d found a white-and-pink Hello Kitty scarf that ought to do nicely.
The chewing gum, on the other hand, proved much harder to track down. Most of the websites that still stocked it either didn’t deliver to your area or charged so much for postage that you almost expected the Prime Minister to hand-deliver it himself.
You’d reached the third page of Google, a hopeless place by any measure. None of the results had anything to do with what you were looking for.
You were just about ready to surrender when a familiar shop name caught your eye among the stockists listed on another website.
You sat up straighter.
It was the little sweet shop on the ground floor of Reina’s office building. You and Reina sometimes stopped there after your Friday lunches for some chocolate; you remembered the bright pink logo with cheerful yellow lettering.
They had the chewing gum; they just didn’t deliver.
Suddenly hopeful, you copied the link, sent it to Reina, and added a message underneath.
YOU [6:20 PM]
could you get this for me please? venmoing the money rn
The transaction had barely gone through before your phone buzzed.
REINA [6:22 PM]
sure
ran out of orbit?
Biting gently into the tip of your tongue, you texted her back and quickly set your phone beside the laptop again—as though the mention of Yeonjun would start burning your fingers if you held onto your phone longer.
YOU [6:23 PM]
it’s for yeonjun
birthday gift
Without the piano, the flat suddenly felt much quieter. You hadn’t realised how comfortably the music had settled into the background before.
You filled the kettle and switched it on, letting its hiss fill the room instead, then reached into the cupboard for a saucepan and a dark blue packet of penne.
Your phone vibrated against the worktop behind you.
REINA [6:27 PM]
should i ask why gum
You picked up the phone to answer.
YOU [6:27 PM]
no
thank you!!
Her reply came a minute later.
REINA [6:28 PM]
right
be careful you little freaks
You paused with the packet of pasta half open.
The defensive part of your brain began generating explanations of the ‘it’s really not what you think’ kind, but the increasingly troublesome part—the one that had been laughing far more easily than usual lately—interrupted before it got very far.
It’d genuinely been entertaining, finding the present for him. You didn’t want to defend it.
You set your phone back down and poured the penne into the saucepan.
✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 9, 2026. 4 PM
On Wednesday, Yeonjun claimed he was in the lobby because he was just returning home from the shops. To his credit, he really did look the part: black cap, dark blue denim jacket, matching jeans, and a faint flush across his cheeks.
Before you had the chance to ask what he’d bought (he wasn’t carrying any bags, nor did his pockets look remotely full—details he’d hoped you’d miss), he held up his phone. “Have you seen this?”
You stepped closer. On the screen was Reina’s mother’s Facebook profile, opened to a newly uploaded photo album from Reina and Soobin’s engagement party.
“I haven’t.”
You lowered your backpack beside the noticeboard and fished your own phone from your jacket pocket. Yeonjun stepped a little closer until your shoulders were almost touching as the two of you looked down at the screen.
The photographs loaded one by one.
You smiled at the very first one. In it, Reina was laughing so hard she’d folded almost in half, one hand pressed to her stomach. The pink dress she’d worn looked just as stunning as it had beneath the changing-room lights earlier, perhaps even more so. Beside her, Soobin already had tears in his eyes.
Then there were several shots of Nara waving her champagne flute, her eyes bright. Taehyun dancing with Reina’s mother, looking flustered, yet oddly proud. Beomgyu smiling solemnly in the background while Reina and Soobin drank champagne from each other’s glasses.
Soon, you reached a photo of yourself. You were standing in front of Kai, clearly mid-conversation, lips parted, hands raised in a quiet gesture. Yeonjun stood beside you, his head tipped slightly back, his gaze focused on you.
The lobby faded for a second.
Yeonjun realised he’d forgotten how striking your blue dress had been. Seeing it again made him briefly wonder whether he’d forgotten how to breathe, too. He took a careful breath, just in case.
“You looked nice in that suit,” you said. “Shame you’d been wasted all night.”
Remembering very well some of the other things that had happened that night, he turned to look at you.
“Yeah?” he said. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t been?”
You looked up from your phone, unamused. “I would’ve told you you looked nice earlier.”
“Mm.” Still smirking, he glanced back down. The blue of your dress still filled the screen. “Shame.”
You scrolled on.
The final photos in the album were Reina’s mother’s attempts at group selfies—all of them came out blurry, but you could still make out Soobin’s parents in the background, glasses raised, looking progressively more relaxed from one picture to the next.
You were there, too, Yeonjun saw. A blur of blue.
He found himself thinking about all the salmon facts he’d kept in his mind that night, in case he needed help prolonging conversations with you.
“Nice night,” you said eventually, unable to help the smile on your face.
“It was,” he said, unable to help his wandering gaze. “Very.”
You slipped your phone back into your pocket. The silver charms on your bracelet caught briefly on the zipper.
“We still on for today, then?” you asked.
Yeonjun took a polite step away from you. He was a little dizzy.
“Yeah.” He glanced towards the stairs. “Let me just get Violet home first, or she’ll forget where she lives.”
Together, you started upstairs.
As usual, your door resisted. Yeonjun had already slowed, expecting the familiar battle. You leaned your shoulder into it and rattled the handle until the lock finally surrendered with its usual begrudging click.
The noise summoned Violet. She peered around the edge of the door with patient, blue eyes.
“Sorry, little one.” You crouched to scratch behind her ears. “Dreadful noise, wasn’t it?”
She answered with a single meow and padded over to Yeonjun. He gathered her into his arms, still distracted by the winds in his thoughts. He was going to go home, he knew, and look through the Facebook photo album another dozen times.
In the meantime, the two of you exchanged nods and agreed to meet back in the lobby in a couple of hours.
The plan for the evening was the arcade.
Strictly speaking, the item on Yeonjun’s Coolest List specified winning the biggest toy at a fair. Unfortunately, there weren’t any fairs nearby. You decided the claw machines at the retro arcade downtown were close enough.
Before leaving your flat, you’d raided every drawer and jacket pocket for loose change. By the time you reached the lobby, you were jingling like an overly enthusiastic elf at Christmas.
Yeonjun laughed before patting his own jacket. Coins clinked in reply, equally as unserious.
The arcade was only ten minutes away, standing beside a café that had already closed for the evening, its neon blue coffee cup still glowing softly in the window.
The noise, once you stepped inside, took a few minutes to get used to.
Electronic music blasted from every direction. Buttons clicked. Victory fanfares erupted every few seconds, interrupted by the high-pitched jingles of other machines and even higher-pitched screams of children. One machine blasted a horrid nightcore version of I-I-I, I’m Your Little Butterfly. It was stuck in your head for the rest of the night.
To your surprise, you and Yeonjun weren’t the oldest people there. A grey-haired couple were locked in a ferocious game of air hockey nearby (the woman in a gorgeous bright pink dress was demolishing her husband). A little further along, a middle-aged man threw both fists into the air after winning a racing simulator, then high-fived his colleagues.
You liked it here immediately.
You saw Yeonjun glance at the racing simulators once, twice, as you walked past, an almost palpable longing in his eyes. Before you could mention it, he gently nudged your shoulder and pointed ahead.
The claw machines lined the back wall, glowing pink and blue from afar. Not one of them was taken.
The two of you headed there.
The machines charged more per attempt than either of you had expected. Still, after the trash-talk you’d exchanged on the drive over, Yeonjun thought that a handful of extra coins felt like a reasonable price for the privilege of beating you and claiming the biggest toy—at first glance, that appeared to be the enormous pink bears wedged into the bottom corner of every machine.
“I’m beginning to think we were very optimistic,” you said, rolling your sleeves to your elbows before taking up position at the claw machine opposite his. “We’re assuming we’ll actually win enough toys to compare sizes.”
“Aw.” He slipped a coin into the slot. The machine swallowed it with an enthusiastic beep. “Losing faith in your skills already?”
You scoffed, one hand settling around the joystick. “No. Just questioning how long we’re about to imprison ourselves here.”
You nudged the controls. The claw drifted over the mountain of plush animals with no sense of urgency whatsoever.
“Should we set a time limit?” you asked. Neon blue flashed rhythmically across your face as you lined the claw up above an upside-down pig with tiny legs. “I’ve got a lecture tomorrow morning.”
“Right.” Yeonjun leaned closer to his own machine. “And then we’ve got my race in the evening. Hope you didn’t forget.”
“I didn’t.”
You pressed the button. The claw descended, closed around nothing, and floated back up again.
The machine let out an electronic neigh loud enough to make you jump.
“Oh, for fuck’s—” You blinked at it. “This thing’s obnoxious.”
Yeonjun snorted, veering his joystick forward. “Off to a great start, yeah?”
“Hmm.” You checked the time on your phone. “Let’s say 11 PM is the deadline, alright? Gives us about three hours.”
Beside you, he completely missed the thirty-second timer. His claw barely brushed the toy he’d been aiming for before it leapt up again.
Another triumphant neigh echoed around the arcade.
Yeonjun recoiled. “Jesus.”
You looked over, grinning. “Nice, wasn’t it? It vibrates when you lose, too.”
“Right, yeah.” He glanced back at you. “Wait—so you want to do this for three hours? I love being here with you, love, but m’afraid we’ll both go deaf by then.”
“I’m saying three hours is the limit.” You pointed at him with another coin. “If you still haven’t beaten me by then, there’s no hope for you. We’ll go home.”
A grin spread across his face. “Confident.”
“Of course.”
“Alright.” He fed another coin into the slot and cracked his knuckles. “11 PM it is. Doubt I’ll need that long, but sure.”
You glanced sideways without letting go of the joystick. “Confident.”
“Mhmm.” He nudged his joystick into position. “Birthday week and all. Has to be my lucky streak.”
Your machine screamed again.
With a frown, you reached for another coin. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because your birthday’s coming up.”
He leaned around the side of his machine, cheeks stretching. “Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because of your concerning skills.”
Ignoring that, you guided the claw towards the giraffe waiting in the opposite corner, its sides painted blue from the lights.
Yeonjun, in the meantime, overshot. He realised too late that he’d been watching your machine instead of his own. It shuddered, rewarding his failure with another neigh.
Cursing, he inserted another coin, pointedly ignoring your laughter as he wrapped his hand around the joystick. The claw seemed to be living its own independent life. He’d have to learn its moods.
The first half an hour passed surprisingly quickly.
All the two of you had managed was concluding that the claw machines were financial scams, likely someone’s preferred method of laundering money.
Your pockets were growing noticeably lighter.
You stepped back after the fifteenth attempt—or sixteenth; you’d lost count shortly after Yeonjun gasped so dramatically that you briefly thought he might need an ambulance.
“Right, then,” you said. “Going to the loo. Have to reconsider my financial choices.”
“Come back soon.” Yeonjun kept his eyes fixed on the claw. “Let’s see if I don’t break this while you’re gone.”
“Let’s see if it doesn’t break you while I’m gone.”
“Love—” The machine screeched. He groaned. “Please. I need you to be on my side a little bit. This thing’s cursed.”
“It is.” You patted his shoulder as you walked past. “Stay strong. Don’t win.”
Snickering at the wounded sigh behind you, you cast one last longing glance at the pink bear before turning the corner towards the restroom.
When you returned, Yeonjun was leaning casually against his machine. There was a grin on his face that immediately made you suspicious.
You slowed. “What?”
Without a word, he reached behind his back and produced a small grey rabbit.
Your face fell. You stepped closer and grabbed it from him, turning it over in your hands. It was ridiculously soft; nothing like the cheap toys you remembered winning in your childhood.
“How’d—” You looked up. “You didn’t bring this from home, did you?”
Yeonjun frowned. “Of course not. Who do you take me for?”
“A cheater.”
He scoffed. “I won it fair and square.”
You handed it back to him, not entirely convinced.
“It’s tiny,” you said.
“Yes.” He carefully placed the toy on top of his control panel—for luck. “But it’s still one more than you’ve got, so I’m winning.”
Huffing, you returned to your own machine. The neon lights seemed brighter as you approached, almost threatening.
“Leave you alone,” you muttered, dropping another coin into the slot, “and apparently you discover how this thing works.”
Yeonjun’s grin returned. “S’what happens when you abandon me.”
“I was gone for two minutes.”
“And if you leave me again,” he said, “I might actually win the pink bear.”
Your grip tightened around the joystick. The bear continued smiling smugly from the corner of the machine.
“Not a chance.” The familiar jingle began again. “Never leaving you alone again.”
Yeonjun’s hand stalled. He hoped that you wouldn’t notice what you’d just said and immediately take it back.
You didn’t. Your gaze was already locked on the claw.
Satisfied, Yeonjun proceeded to lose another dozen times in a row.
Beside him, you came very close to winning, and he swore he felt his heart fall through his stomach as he watched the giraffe’s head thud against the edge of the prize chute. Then it dropped back into the pile of toys.
For a second, your groan—and his subsequent laughter—drowned out the arcade noise.
Another half an hour later, the two of you called a temporary truce. Your wrists ached, and the toys were starting to cost far more than they were worth. Neither of you had won anything worth boasting too much about anyway (you said as much to Yeonjun after he dramatically stuffed the rabbit into his jacket pocket).
There was a café in the corner of the arcade, beside the racing simulators and the entrance to the neighbouring PC gaming room. It seemed as good a place to recover as any.
You ordered brownies (with extra chocolate) and milkshakes (with extra ice cream), and carried your trays to a small table beside the low partition separating the two spaces.
It wasn’t much quieter here. The machines continued to chime every few seconds, people laughed, basketballs kept bouncing somewhere nearby. A girl walked right past your table with something in her bag that looked like a golden Chihuahua; its eyes blue from the neon lights.
It felt a little magical.
The brownies were still warm enough for the chocolate filling inside to stretch in glossy ribbons each time you lifted your fork.
“This is better than a fair, m’thinking,” Yeonjun said, glancing around. “My list might’ve been wrong.”
You smiled. “Yeah?”
“Mhmm.” He took another bite from his plate. “Glad I’ve waited this long to complete it.”
Your heart lifted at that, guileless.
“I’ve been thinking about that, actually,” you said, gathering the crumbs on your plate into a little pile.
He leaned forward instinctively. “You have?”
“Yeah. I’m planning to go home soon,” you said. “To see my grandparents.”
He paused. “Right.”
“Next week, probably.” Your fingers wrapped around the milkshake glass. The straw tapped against the side. “And I thought—uh, would you like to come with me?”
“I—” Yeonjun sat upright so quickly that his chair edged backwards on the carpet. “With you?”
You nodded. “Yeah. We’ve still got the lawnmowers and the picnic on your list. Got enough grass for both back at the farm, I reckon.”
His mind had suddenly forgotten the list altogether. It had caught, instead, on come with me.
“Right, yes,” he said. “Tw—two birds, one stone.”
“Yeah.”
His eyes stayed on you, bright yet strangely unfocused.
You shifted in your chair.
Perhaps it had been a strange thing to ask. Going to the arcade was fine, but your village might’ve been too much.
You almost explained that you’d bought every one of your friends home at some point—even Taehyun had sneezed his way through a weekend there, allergic to half of your grandparents’ garden. But the explanation caught somewhere in your throat.
If he didn’t want to come, he shouldn’t have to.
Yeonjun, meanwhile, was dealing with the sudden suspicion that he’d gone deaf. He couldn’t hear the music or the machines, the basketballs or the chatter.
After a few bewildered seconds, he realised that the dull rushing in his ears was only his own heartbeat.
“I would—I’d really like that,” he said, and then repeated it, for no reason other than his inability to stop himself, “I’d really like that.”
Your shoulders loosened.
Yeonjun noticed and frowned.
Surely, he thought, you weren’t worried about him refusing. Surely, you knew that if you’d asked him to follow you across the country—or straight into hell, for that matter—he’d have already been looking for his car keys.
Where were his car keys, actually?
Discreetly, he patted his pockets.
“Yeah?” you said. “That sounds alright?”
“Of course, yeah.” He leaned back into the table, cut off another piece of his brownie, then forgot to eat it. “As long as your grandparents don’t mind me.”
You dismissed the concern with a wave of your hand so immediate that Yeonjun finally felt himself smile again.
“Not at all,” you said. “My gran will talk your ear off if you let her, though. Be mindful of how many follow-up questions you ask.”
“Okay,” he said, knowing very well that he was going to sit and listen to everything your grandmother had to say, and perhaps take notes.
“You sure you’d like to come, though?” you asked. “You looked—a bit doubtful, I guess.”
“Oh—I—no.” With an embarrassed laugh, he slapped both palms lightly against his thighs. “Guess I’m just realising I’ll meet your Violet. S’a big deal.”
“Oh, yeah!” You laughed. “And Britney! She’s been limping this past week because she’d stepped on a bee. But Grandad says she’s getting better now.”
Yeonjun remembered Britney, the cat, supposedly Violet’s best friend. The lightness inside him expanded.
“Britney, too, then,” he said. “Quite a lot of pressure.”
You smiled.
“Don’t worry.” You took another sip of your milkshake. It was cold enough to make your temples announce themselves. “They’ll love you.”
Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You sound awfully sure, considering the first impression I’d made on you.”
You leaned back in the chair.
“Well,” you said, “don’t try to prove my cows will fall in love with you in two weeks, and you’ll be alright.”
He pursed his lips. “Right, right. You don’t think I’d succeed?”
“Think you’d struggle finding the time to date all of them while you’ve still got to complete the list with me.”
“Ah.” He grinned again. “Well, you’ve got nothing to worry about, then. You’ll always be my first priority, love.”
You scoffed, turning back to your plate.
“Mhmm.” Your lips were determined to curve; you poked your tongue into your cheek to keep them straight. “Thank you ever so much. Big honour.”
“You’re very welcome.”
You returned to your brownie. Finally, Yeonjun remembered his own.
“So, then.” You nodded back towards the arcade. “What would you do with the big toy if you won it?”
“The pink bear?”
“Yeah.”
“Sell it,” he said, still chewing. “And use the money to go on holiday. To the sea, m’thinking.”
“Nice, nice.” Your smile finally won against your restraint. “The bear’s obviously worth a fortune.”
“Obviously, yeah.” He took another bite. “I’d take you with me. To the sea.”
You raised your eyes from your plate. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said, a fresh grin spreading across his face. “Out of pity that you lost.”
An affronted noise escaped you. Yeonjun laughed hard enough to inhale a brownie crumb and had to cough into his fist, still laughing through it.
“We’ll see about that.” You pushed your empty plate aside and wrapped both hands around your milkshake. “Still got another few hours left.”
“What would you do with the pink bear, then?” he asked.
You considered it as you sipped from the straw. The paper was already soft around the edges; you could taste cardboard more than strawberry.
“Hm.” You pushed the glass back. “I’d keep it on my doorstep. To remind you I’d won every time you came over.”
Yeonjun nodded with enthusiastic approval. He very much enjoyed the thought of becoming part of your doorstep.
“Reckon Violet would love it,” he said.
“Yeah, I think she would.” You could already picture Violet abandoning the monstera pot in favour of the bear. “One of us has to win it for her.”
“Well.” Yeonjun stirred the melting ice cream in his glass with his straw before taking another sip. “Not me, then, ‘cause I’m selling it.”
“Got to be me, then. To show Violet who actually loves her.”
“Hey—no.” He pulled back from the table, his lips shifting into an impressive pout. “S’not fair. Don’t bring love into this now.”
You scoffed, leaning forwards in your seat—the two of you looked absurdly like two ends of a seesaw now.
“You’re the one who brought it into it,” you said. “Said she’d love the bear.”
“I meant she’d love having it on your doorstep.”
“Which means I’ve got to win it,” you countered, “to get it on said doorstep.”
“It doesn’t mean I love her less if there’s no bear at all.”
“Yes, it does, actually.”
“No, it—”
A deafening pop cut him off.
You both jumped. For one second, you were convinced one of the machines had exploded. Instead, a shower of balloons burst across the ceiling. Triumphant music erupted from somewhere near the racing simulators. A cluster of teenagers shrieked in delight.
Apparently, someone had just broken the arcade’s high score.
Balloons drifted lazily through the room. Children abandoned their games halfway through, and even the adults joined in—one man sprinted after a balloon skimming across the floor as though it was a lucky lottery ticket.
Smiling, you turned back and finished the last of your milkshake.
Across from you, Yeonjun bent under the table.
You leaned sideways to glance down. “What’re you doing?”
“Hang on.” His voice came muffled. “Just—”
A second later, he resurfaced holding a bright red, heart-shaped balloon by its ribbon. He examined it for a second. Then pressed it to his chest.
You watched him, your eyebrows rising. His expression remained perfectly solemn. A second later, he bumped the balloon softly against his chest, then once more.
“Think I’ve got tachycardia,” he said.
Your lips twitched. He thumped the balloon against his chest until you finally snorted, shaking your head.
He grinned, extending it towards you. “For you, love.”
You leaned closer to inspect the balloon. “You’re giving me your tachycardia?”
“Yes. I’ll cope without it.”
“Keep it.”
“No.” He pushed the balloon towards you again. “Take it, or I’ll pop it.”
Snorting again, you accepted it. The rubber creaked softly beneath your fingers.
“Popping your own heart would probably hurt,” you said, turning it over in your hands. It smelled of latex.
“Probably.” He grinned. “So I’m trusting it to you.”
The words were ridiculous. Your own heart, somehow, even more so. You thought he really had given you tachycardia.
Determined not to look at him, you busied yourself with winding the ribbon once around your wrist. The balloon bobbed against your jacket sleeve.
“Alright.” You gave it an experimental tug. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to it.”
“Good.”
You finally glanced up. Yeonjun was still smiling. The corners of his eyes had relaxed, his lashes appearing darker in the dim light of the arcade.
Your composure lasted for two seconds. Snickering quietly, you dropped your gaze again.
Yeonjun leaned back in his chair. He felt so light that he might as well have drifted away with the rest of the balloons.
When the two of you returned to your designated claw machines another ten minutes later, the arcade had mostly been cleaned. Tiny flecks of red, blue and silver rubber still glittered across the dark carpet whenever the neon lights caught them.
You and Yeonjun started the second round.
The machine reminded you why you hated it at once: every time you pushed the joystick left, the claw lurched slightly right first. You pushed it forwards; it seemed to contemplate the suggestion, wasting precious seconds before it crept half an inch forward and stopped.
The machine neighed.
You groaned.
Competing here had been an appalling idea. Unfortunately, you’d already invested too much money, too many hours, and far too much pride to admit defeat now.
You fed in another coin.
Another attempt, another failure. And another, and another.
Your concentration was beginning to fray under the monotony. Only once did you manage to lift the leg of a frog plushie; it slipped free almost instantly.
Soon, your attention wandered to the balloon tied loosely around your wrist, the red heart bobbing gently against the machine whenever you moved. Then you looked up at Yeonjun beside you.
The neon from your machine washed him blue, his own painted the other side of his face pink. Every so often, another cabinet flashed gold behind him, briefly outlining his jaw.
It was terribly distracting. You almost wanted to—
A dreadful miracle occurred.
Yeonjun’s claw machine broke. He moved the joystick, and for the first time all evening, it actually obeyed.
“What—” He hardly managed the word.
The timer expired, but the claw kept moving regardless.
You looked at him just as his mouth slowly spread into a grin. He guided the claw over the pink bear.
“Yeonjun,” you warned.
“Think I’ve frightened it,” he said.
“It just glitched, use a diff—”
“Oh, wait, wait—” He inhaled in theatrical anticipation while the claw descended.
It missed the bear.
Yeonjun squinted; he’d been off the bear’s ear by half an inch.
You cleared your throat and turned back to your own machine.
“Can’t even win with a broken claw,” you murmured. “Sounds about right—”
Yeonjun’s claw jumped to the top. The machine continued jingling in support. He nudged the joystick without inserting a new coin; the claw moved again.
You turned back to him, eyes narrowing. His claw finally managed to catch the bear by the ear and, most horribly, lift it. You held your breath.
The bear wobbled. It dropped before Yeonjun was ready to let go.
He cursed. You exhaled.
The bear caught against the edge. Bounced off another toy. Then, with one final clunk, it dropped straight into the prize chute.
You weren’t breathing.
The machine erupted into a triumphant tune that made you momentarily consider smashing it to pieces. The fucking Little Butterfly played even louder somewhere behind you.
You stared in complete silence while Yeonjun bent and lifted the enormous bear from the compartment. It barely fit past the little doors.
“This—that doesn’t count,” you said. “The machine broke.”
He looked from the bear to you.
“I’ve won the bear,” he said.
“The machine—”
“I’ve won the bear.”
His delight echoed loudly enough for a couple by the Pac-Man machines to glance over.
You lowered your voice. “It doesn’t count.”
“The bear,” he announced, lifting it triumphantly above his head, “belongs to me.”
“It wasn’t supposed to—”
“Listen, love, I’ll make you a deal.” His grin turned positively threatening as he stuffed the toy under his arm. “I’ll give you the bear. You can put it on your doorstep or give it to Violet—but on one condition.”
You didn’t trust this for a second.
“What condition?”
“You admit defeat.”
You stared at him. “But you didn’t even—”
“You admit defeat,” he spoke over you, hoisting the bear again, “and you admit that I’m much better at claw machines than you will ever be—”
“No.”
“—and that it has been the greatest honour of your life to compete against me.”
“No.”
“You may also compliment my technique, though, of course, that’s voluntary.”
You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest.
“You had no technique,” you said. “The machine broke. And even then, you couldn’t get it on your first—”
“Don’t be a sore loser, love.” He wiggled the bear in his arms; it nearly slipped in his excitement. Laughing, he caught it again. “Come on.”
You turned away to gather your coins from the control panel. As annoyed as you were, it was good not to have to waste more money.
“I don’t care about the bear,” you said.
“Not even a little?”
“No.”
Yeonjun laughed again.
You heard his footsteps before you felt him. One of his arms settled lightly across your shoulders as he wedged the bear between your arms and your chest.
He caught the familiar roses of your perfume and realised he couldn’t reasonably force himself to pull back. His chin hovered beside your shoulder, his cheek brushing yours for the briefest moment—warm enough to send your pulse stumbling out of rhythm.
“You didn’t even want the bear,” you mumbled, relaxing your arms to take hold of the toy.
“I know.” He made no move to step away, his chest solid against your back. “I’m excellent at getting things out of spite. What else do you want while I’m on a winning streak? The frog looks—”
You turned around and pressed the bear back into his arms.
“Alright,” you said. “Keep your stupid, illegal bear. M’perfectly content knowing that you’d never win a toy in a fair fight.”
He snorted.
“All due respect, love…” He balanced the bear under one arm and reached into his jacket pocket for the grey rabbit. “I got two stupid toys today. How many have you got?”
You clicked your tongue, then deliberately raised your balloon. It dipped under your wrist.
“Well, I’ve got this,” you said before nodding towards him, “and I’ve got you. So that brings us to the same number of stupid things we’ve got.”
He was glowing. Being included in your list of possessions delighted him far more than the bear had.
Trying to suppress the twitching at the corners of your mouth as Yeonjun laughed beside you, you zipped your pockets and turned towards the exit.
He caught up within a few strides, still chuckling, and draped an arm across your shoulders. You leaned into him automatically so the two of you—and the absurd bear between you—could squeeze through the doors.
It was dark outside, but the air felt cleaner away from the stale warmth of the arcade. It was lovely not to have your ears assaulted by the noise, too.
All you could smell now was Yeonjun’s cologne. All you could hear was his attempts to stop laughing.
The bear, yours, really, just like every other stupid thing he owned, was entirely beside the point now.
⋆·˚ ༘ * Casual hookups transcend into more when Yeonjun can’t keep his feelings at bay anymore. With praise on his tongue and dirty words a testament of his devotion to you, he’s determined to show you what he’s been holding back.
✦ Love Language: Words of Affirmation
pairing: yeonjun x reader ✮⋆˙✐ 2.4k
warnings: smut, f!reader, fwb to lovers, dirty talk, praise, reassurance, a lot of dialogue, dry humping, no protection
🗂️ click here to access all txt member’s files
˚₊ · »-♡→ main masterlist
Choi Yeonjun could coax an orgasm out of you like no other.
Powerful, blinding, earth-shattering climaxes that left your sensitive body trembling and your mind floating, all while the silver chain around his neck swung low and draped over your skin, marking you as his.
The bite of his bottom lip between his teeth and the scrunch of his forehead, taut with lust. The kiss of his lips to your cheek as your eyes flutter open, drawing light and reality back in. And finally, the slow drag of his hips as he exits your body.
Then he stands up from the bed and puts his clothes back on, already facing the door.
"So I'll text you tomorrow?" Always Yeonjun's last words, barely giving you time to come back to yourself before he's out of your bedroom.
This was the unfortunate nature of your friendship with Yeonjun. Or whatever a sane person might call the predicament you'd found yourselves in. A situationship. A fuckship. A please-don’t-let-me-be-the-only-one-feeling-like-this-ship.
The next day drags on like usual, but this time, you find yourself dreading it—dreading the moment you’ll have to feign a smile for Yeonjun again. He’s already waiting for you at the end of the street like always, ready to walk into your friend’s apartment by your side with another late night ahead.
His arm is naturally slung over your shoulder, keeping you to him, as you greet everyone inside. The proximity never fails to mess with your head. He was always like this around everyone. Touching you, teasing you, making flirtatious remarks that would leave your cheeks rosy. And somehow, more nights than not, it ends with you folded in half beneath him.
You know all too well how it goes. He’d say and do all the right things, painting a picture so perfect it almost felt real. For a moment, it would make sense. Like he wanted you the way you wanted him. Then he’d zip up his pants and leave.
But everyone saw it tonight.
The way Yeonjun stands just a little extra close to you. How your drinks were always shared. His fingers sometimes finding your leg under the table like the flesh of your thigh was calling to him, inviting him to stake his claim.
You hear someone—probably Beomgyu—joke in your direction. “Just fuck already.”
While you choke on your drink, Yeonjun doesn't even blink. “Who says we haven’t?”
The group howled. You laughed too. But you didn’t look at him, not really anyway, afraid he'd catch the frown evident on your face.
There was always a line neither of you dared cross. In public, you let the world think it was just a little playful recklessness.
Behind closed doors, it was different.
He touched you like worship. Fucked you like he was starved—afraid you’d vanish the moment he stopped. He’d murmur things against your skin you weren’t supposed to remember, call you his, tell you how good you were, how only you made him feel like this. You’d cling to his shoulders like you believed it, too.
Lately, after those doors closed, Yeonjun had been acting off. Sex was still intense. Mind-numbing, even.
Yet something would shift the moment he came. How he'd untangled himself from your limbs like it hurt. The way he whispered a soft “Later,” like he was trying not to say something else.
He never used to leave so fast. You never used to care. Not until the cold, empty space next to you began begging to be filled with his warmth again. You wish you'd known what changed.
So when Yeonjun asks if you want to go upstairs, just the two of you, you don’t even question it. The apartment is too crowded, too warm, the buzz in your chest a little too strong to ignore. You nod, letting him lead the way, even though you already know how it’s going to end.
It only takes mere minutes before you're both stripped down to your undergarments, with you face down in the bed as he traces your skin like a canvas.
Yeonjun is straddling your thighs, admiring every inch of your body lying on your stomach before him. His fingers begin just behind your ear, tucking some hair away. Slowly they drag further down your skin—neck, shoulder, spine cascading with goosebumps, waist, hips, the plump skin of your ass and the lacey material that hugged it.
He finally grips you with both his hands, squeezing tightly before bending over your body and biting ever so softly on your earlobe. Your thighs press together, desire pooling in your thin panties already.
Then his voice is whispy and needy against your cheek. “You feel like home to me. I could look at you like this forever.”
It’s unclear what about this that makes you snap. But you’ve had enough being misled, enough of the unkept promises.
“You always say things like that when we're like this. It doesn’t mean anything.” You call him out, only half joking, mostly defensive.
Yeonjun stills—his gaze heavy on only your face. His response pulls the air straight from your lungs.
“It means everything. You just don’t listen.”
It’s then that you realize your eyes have begun filling with tears, which you refuse to let spill. The weight of the situation comes to a head
"Hey," Yeonjun coos. His hands are on your shoulders, forcing you to turn onto your back so he can see you properly. His eyes widen at your red eyes looking back at him, noticing the way you suddenly closed off. He slides next to you on his side.
"Yeonjun, what is this?" You huff, tears gone and replaced with anger. "Because I do listen. That's the problem. I listen to you and I believe what you say. And then you're gone."
He thinly smiles, but there's a layer of shame behind it. “There’s a reason I had to stop hanging around after. If I stayed any longer I might’ve scared you away.”
"Why would you scare me away?" You're nose to nose with him now. You don't know if it was you or he who scooted closer.
"Because I’d stop pretending. I'd ask you to stop seeing anyone else. I'd want to be enough for you. And if I wasn’t, I don’t think I could take it."
You freeze, finally seeing Yeonjun for all that he is now.
He speaks again when you can't find the words. “You think I tell just anyone they’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me while they’re falling apart under me?”
Your voice is quiet, but sure. "Then stop pretending. Yeonjun… I want more. I just didn’t think you did." Your hand drifts up his chest, resting over his heart. "You're more than enough.”
Yeonjun’s breath stutters. “Then let me show you what I’ve been holding back.”
He surges forward, capturing your mouth with his. He finally lets himself feel everything he’s been holding back.
Your legs tangle instinctively as you both remain on your sides, facing each other, bodies pressed close. His hand is on your hip, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the hard line of him, twitching through both your underwear, pressing right where you need him.
His forehead rests against yours as he begins to move—subtle rolls of his hips that grind his cock against your center, dragging friction with each pass.
“Feel that?” he breathes dreamily. “That’s what you do to me. Every damn time.”
You gasp, your own hips moving now, chasing the pressure, the closeness, the heat. Your fingers clutch at his flexed bicep, needing something to hold onto.
A broken moan catches in your throat. “You think I don’t feel the same?” You whisper, your tone shaky. Your hips roll to meet his, earning a low groan from his lips. “You leave and I lie in that bed wishing you’d just… stay. I don’t want anyone else, Yeonjun. Just you.”
He lets out an uneven breath like he’s been waiting to hear that for months. His hand slides down to your ass, splaying wide across the flesh to drag you even closer, like he could mold your bodies together.
“Say it again,” he begs, grinding harder now, lips brushing your jaw, your cheek, your temple. “Say it while I make you cum like this.”
You’re already gasping, forehead pressed to his, needing more and loving that this finally means something.
Every slow grind of his clothed cock against your soaked panties sends shocks through your core. You cling to him, overwhelmed by how good it feels.
“O-only you, Yeonjun.”
The second the words leave your mouth, he lights up like a match to gasoline. He groans and grips your ass even tighter, rutting against you now with less restraint. This sends pleasure coiling through your gut.
“Fuck,” he breathes against you, panting now, almost angry with need. “You’re always so perfect for me.”
His hand slips between your bodies, cupping your pussy over your panties and pressing down just enough to make the pressure unbearable. Your head falls back, body shaking as he rocks against you harder, dragging your panties across your swollen clit.
“You sound so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “Every moan—fuck—it’s going straight to my cock. Wanna fuck you slow after this. Real slow. Wanna feel you pulse around me ‘til you’re crying.”
"Please keep going. I need you." You whimper.
“You gonna cum for me like this? Just from grinding? Look how fucking needy you are. I know your body better than anyone, don’t I?”
You nod frantically, already there. The build-up has been burning in your gut since the moment he touched you, and now it’s crashing down in waves—your orgasm slamming into you so hard your knees buckle.
“Yeonjun—” you cry, nails digging into his arm, your hips jerking helplessly against his cock as you cum.
He holds you through it, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other still cupping your cunt, letting you ride the high out on his palm. You’re soaked, panties ruined, your whole body trembling as he whispers filth against your ear.
“That’s it, baby. Just like that. You cum so good for me.”
And then you feel it, how soaked he is.
The front of his boxers is soaked with pre-cum, the evidence of how hard he’s been holding back nearly obscene. He doesn’t even ask. He pushes his boxers down and tosses them aside, freeing himself. You’re still recovering, but the second his fingers hook into the sides of your panties and peel them off, the heat returns.
You don’t even think—your body moves on instinct. When he comes back down beside you, you grind against his thigh this time, and his jaw clenches at the feel of your bare, soaked folds dragging against his skin, leaving a trail of arousal in your wake.
“Holy shit,” he bites back a moans, watching you with heavy eyes. “Greedy girl. Get on your stomach again.”
You obey, letting him guide you down. He straddles your thighs like before, but this time, everything is different. This time, he knows you’re his. You know it, too.
“Ruin me, baby,” you whisper into the sheets.
He strokes himself slowly behind you, lined up and leaking, watching the way you lie flat before him. He lowers himself, chest and stomach pressed to your back, the weight of him trapping you.
“I meant every word I’ve ever said to you in bed,” he says softly before proceeding, brushing your hair to one side. “Every.” A kiss to your temple. "Single." To your neck. “One.” To the corner of your mouth.
Then he pushes in, sliding into your sensitive heat inch by inch until he’s fully buried. You choke on a moan.
“God, you’re so tight,” he whispers. “Still clenching from that last orgasm, huh? You’re gonna give me another, aren’t you? Such a good girl.”
He starts to move slowly at first, grinding into your sweet spot with every stroke. Your body reacts on its own, already building again. He keeps you flat against the bed, one arm cradling your waist, the other laced with your fingers when you reach back for him. He intertwines your fingers without question.
You’re gasping now, high-pitched whines escaping your lips, babbling about how good it feels, how full you are, how close you are again.
“Don’t stop, please, fuck—Yeonjun—gonna cum again.”
“Shit, baby, you’re so good,” he grits out, rutting into you harder now, hips slapping against your ass, the sound filthy and wet. “So fucking perfect. So tight around me I can barely think.”
You sob into the mattress, your whole body vibrating with pleasure. His cock taps that perfect spot again and again, and you can feel his rhythm falter, his breath hitch. He’s close, so close.
“So sexy like this. Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Where do you want me, baby?”
“On my ass,” you whimper. “Wanna feel you.”
That’s all he needs. His hand slides into your hair, gripping tight, pressing your cheek to the mattress. His thrusts grow frantic, your clit grinding against the sheets, the pressure sending sparks down your spine.
“I love you,” he gasps, voice raw. “I love you so fucking much—”
And then you’re both coming.
You first, spasming around him, thighs shaking uncontrollably as the friction sends you over the edge a second time. He pulls out quickly, stroking himself fast as thick, hot ropes spill across your ass and lower back, his body trembling above you.
Neither of you moves. Your face is still buried in the sheets, breathing hard. He leans down, kissing your spine, your shoulders, your cheek. He's extra tender now.
But the fire in both your bodies hasn’t gone out. Not even close. Yeonjun knows it, too. Not when you two are finally on the same page.
His lips brush your ear. “I think we’re gonna need a bed we can ruin properly.”
You smile, still breathless. “Then let's get out of here. I want more of you."
"Come on," he chuckles, rolling off the bed. He extends a hand to you, gently tugging you up with him. "Yours or mine?"
You hesitate to say yours, and he senses it. His hands cup your face on each side, lowering his head to meet your eye line. "It's okay. You’re not sleeping alone tonight. I won't make that mistake ever again."
You don’t say another word. There’s no need to.
Clothes are slipped back on in silence, the air still thick with everything that just passed between you. When you head back downstairs, hand in hand, you don’t miss the wide eyes and gaping mouths staring after you. Yeonjun tosses a few half-hearted goodbyes over his shoulder without slowing down. You stay close behind him, face tucked shyly into his back as he guides you out the door.
But behind your flustered smile, pride, giddiness, and relief are all wrapped in one. Because finally, Choi Yeonjun was yours.
៹ 01 synopsis 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 after a long day from work, taehyun found a pink panty hanging by the sink which is owned by the neighbor next door. and in his demise, his roommates refuse to admit how it ended up in their bathroom. [series masterlist]
៹ pairings 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 ot5 x afab!reader
៹ genre 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 smau >< mostly crack tee-hee. slice of life <3
៹ warnings 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 heavily inspired by the big bang theory !! tons of cussing. use of yn. yj is a bit of a perv. suggestive jokes thrown out every now and then.
wawi's notes: FIRST SMAU EVER ?!?!? who else cheered aside from me ??? >< well, i didn't expect that i would pull this off given the fact that i do not have a phone... but here we are !! watching tbbt has taken up most of time this vacay and then i wondered why not combine these best worlds ?!?? i would love to make this a series, but i am still working on my commitment issues /j. lovelots, dearest. <3333
TXT ♡ when their girlfriend has a really bad period [reactions]
pairing: txt x f!reader
tags: established relationship, slice of life, caretaking, domestic fluff.
summary: how the tomorrow by together members would take care of you during your period (requested).
warnings: period symptoms (migraine, nausea, cramps, back pain), blood leak.
YEONJUN
The sharp, rhythmic throbbing in your lower abdomen is what wakes you up. But the real panic sets in when you feel that familiar dampness. With a heavy sigh, you reach over to click on the bedside lamp. As you hesitantly pull back the duvet, you freeze—the light revealing exactly what you feared: a dark stain spreading across the cream-colored sheets.
Before you can even mutter a curse under your breath, you feel a shift in the mattress. Yeonjun stirs, his hair messy and eyes half-closed from sleep, but he notices your rigid posture immediately.
"Baby?" he mumbles, his voice raspy and deep. He follows your panicked gaze down to the sheets. You start to apologize, your voice trembling from the pain and the sheer frustration of it all, but he’s already moving.
He doesn't flinch. He doesn't make a face or act awkward. Instead, he reaches out and gently brushes a stray hair from your forehead. "Hey, stop. Don't you dare apologize," he says firmly "It’s not a crime, honey. Look at me."
He waits until you meet his eyes, his expression full of nothing but tenderness. "Go take a hot shower. I’ll handle the sheets. Take your time, okay? Don't rush."
While you’re in the shower, Yeonjun is a whirlwind of quiet productivity. He strips the bed, carries the laundry to start the wash, and carefully fits the fresh, clean linens onto the mattress.
When you emerge, he’s already waiting. He gently guides you back to the bed and tucks you into the fresh sheets, pulling the duvet right up to your chin.
"My poor girl," he whispers, sliding in beside you. With a soft kiss to the top of your head, he holds you close, pulling you back against his chest and letting his hand rest on top of your belly.
SOOBIN
The world feels far too loud and far too bright today. The hormonal migraine that always accompanies your period has reached its peak, making even the sound of the wind outside makes your head throb with a sharp pain. You’re curled into a tight ball, burying your face in a pillow to escape the light.
When Soobin enters the room, he doesn’t have to ask what’s wrong. He notices the way you’re shielding your eyes. He moves through the room like a ghost, his large frame surprisingly graceful as he draws the heavy curtains completely shut, plunging the room into a soothing darkness.
"I’m here, baby," he whispers, his voice barely a breath. He reaches out, gently moving the pillow away from your face so you can breathe properly, and leans down to press a soft kiss to your temple.
He stays there for a moment, his long fingers starting a slow, rhythmic massage against your temples. His touch is incredibly light, barely there, but the steady pressure helps to ground you against the pulsing pain in your head. He doesn't say another word, knowing that even his soft voice might be too much right now.
After a while, he carefully slides into bed behind you. He’s so tall and warm that he covers your entire back, acting like a human shield against the rest of the world. He stays perfectly still, his presence steady and grounding, letting you finally drift into a much-needed sleep.
BEOMGYU
You’re curled up on the sofa, clutching a pillow to your stomach as a particularly nasty cramp makes you hiss through your teeth. You feel irritable, bloated, and honestly, like you might burst into tears if someone even looks at you the wrong way.
Beomgyu walks into the living room, a joke already on the tip of his tongue, but he freezes the second he sees your expression. He doesn't skip a beat. The chaotic energy vanishes, replaced by a soft, knowing look.
"Ah, the monthly visitor is being a bully again, isn't he?" he says softly.
He knows that when you're like this, you need two things: comfort and a total mental escape. First, he gets to work on the "comfort." He disappears into the kitchen, returning with a tray of your favorite snacks—the ones he knows you only crave during this specific week. He also brings a hot water bottle, gently tucking it against your stomach so you can hug it close.
Then, he settles on the floor right by the sofa. He picks up his guitar and starts strumming a few low, melodic chords.
He begins telling you the most ridiculous, exaggerated stories about his day—half-truths and funny observations—just to see that tiny flicker of a smile on your face. He keeps his voice low and soothing, letting the music and his rambling act as a shield against the pain, staying there until he sees your tense shoulders finally relax.
TAEHYUN
When Taehyun finds you curled up in bed, your face pale from a mix of sharp cramps and a wave of nausea, he immediately gets to work with a calm, focused efficiency.
"I made you some ginger and peppermint tea," he says quietly, setting a steaming mug on the nightstand. “The ginger is for the nausea, and the peppermint should help relax your muscles. Drink it slowly, okay?”
Once you finish drinking, he notices you shifting uncomfortably, trying to find a position that doesn't make your lower back ache. Without a word, he sits behind you, prompting you to lean forward against a pile of pillows. His hands are warm and steady as he begins to apply firm, expert pressure to the small of your back.
"Is this spot okay?" he asks, his thumbs finding the exact knots of tension created by the cramps. He doesn't just rub aimlessly; he uses a technique he probably researched just for you, his movements slow and rhythmic to help the muscles relax.
HUENINGKAI
You’re walking down a busy street, the sun a bit too bright and the crowd a bit too loud, when that sudden, sinking feeling hits you. You stop in your tracks, a wave of pure panic washing over you as you realize you’ve leaked through your trousers. You lean in and whisper it to Kai, your voice trembling with embarrassment.
He doesn’t miss a beat. There’s no awkwardness, no hesitation; he immediately steps behind you, using his tall frame to shield you from the view of passersby. "Don’t worry, I’ve got you," he murmurs, his voice a calm anchor in the middle of your panic.
He’s wearing an oversized flannel shirt open over a simple T-shirt, and in one fluid motion, he slips it off his shoulders. He steps even closer, wrapping the warm fabric around your waist. "Here, let me," he says softly, his fingers brushing against you as he carefully ties the sleeves in a secure knot at the front. The long hem of the plaid shirt falls perfectly, covering everything and making it look like just a stylish, layered outfit.
But he doesn’t just stop there. He notices how you’re still looking at the ground, your cheeks flushed with shame. He gently hooks his arm through yours, pulling you close to his side. "Hey, look at me. It’s just biology, baby—and I promise you, no one saw a thing."
He keeps you tucked under his arm the whole way back, distracting you by pointing out every cute dog he sees and making silly jokes until he finally hears you giggle.
note: I hope you enjoyed it! feedback and reblogs are always appreciated <3
𝓲𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓬𝓱: yeonjun choi is a well-known playboy on campus, everyone knows his deal, he doesn't do feelings.
Pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader
Words: 13.1k
Genre: smut, angst
Warnings: nsfw, angst, pwp, dom!yeonjun, one night stands, non idol!yeonjun, college au, dacryphilia, choking, a lot of hair pulling, jake pops us?
NOTES; the ending feels to sudden idek how to fix it i give up. no beta reader, sorry in advance for any mistakes, english isn't my first language. first upload kinda nervous. [this was originally a fanfic i wrote a year ago for a haikyuu character but didn't finish, so this is a revamp and has been cross posted on ao3]
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You met Yeonjun Choi at a college party.
Yeonjun was pretty popular on campus, people called him names ranging from "dream screw" to "hit and run".
Nobody had positive feedback on this man. He was known for his charm and the way he was always able to get people to sleep with him, then leave on his tippy toes.
Yeonjun didn't do relationships. He didn't do connections. The only way he could be found was if you looked for him through his friends or if he wanted to get 'some'.
He carried himself with an effortless kind of confidence, the type that made him seem uninterested and completely in control at the same time.
↭
He was leaning against a wall with a half-full drink in his hand, a cigarette lazily resting between his lips. He had been watching you for quite a while, his sharp eyes followed your figure every time it shifted through the crammed space.
The bass thumped through the walls, rattling the half-empty beer cans on the sticky countertops. Bodies swayed under the flashing lights, but throughout all this chaos, Yeonjun's gaze remained on you.
"I think you need to get laid tonight, and this is your chance." Your friend teased you about it, having noticed that the gray haired boy had taken an interest in you. She tried talking you into approaching him, but you weren't in for trouble tonight.
Or were you?
Soon, you were left alone in the kitchen, your friend drunkenly made her way toward the living room which was the party's dance floor, probably throwing herself on some guy. That's why she was there after all.
You weren’t one to judge though, your state was similar to hers. Alcohol ran through your veins and your head buzzed as the blood made its way to your cheeks.
You stood near the kitchen holding a classic red plastic cup in hand, pretending to be oblivious to the way his gaze traced the curve of your mouth every time you took a sip or how his orbs dragged down body painfully slow and noticeable. He leaned against the doorway, watching, observing your every move.
You were making your best effort to dodge this awkward encounter by scrolling on your phone, trying to look as busy as possible. That, however, didn't mean you didn't exchange glances with him. You practically eye fucked him the entire time he wasn't looking. The way his slender hands ran through his hair, the silver ring that hugged his thumb, the occasional chuckling when his four friends joked around and his slightly hunched posture.
He was so effortlessly attractive, you felt so drawn to him but refused to let yourself fall into the trap that you were so well aware of.
It's not like you were desperate.
You were slightly different from the usual people at these parties, you weren't throwing yourself around for attention or giggling in a way that begged to be noticed.
That made you a challenge, and Yeonjun was always down for one.
With a lazy push off the doorframe, he swiftly moved through the crowd toward you, his tall figure loomed over you before you even noticed.
"What's a pretty girl like you doing all alone in a party like this?" he murmured.
When you looked up, your eyes met his. "Let me guess, got dragged here by a friend and now she dumped you?" You looked down in your cup, but as much as you wanted to deny what he said, it was the sad truth.
Fuck, he had that half smirk plastered on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing and it was pissing you off.
You exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking your head but Yeonjun took that as an invitation. His fingers tapped on the counter behind you as he leaned in, close enough for you to catch the faint scent of cologne mixed with alcohol.
"Wanna get out of here? I'll keep you company." he asked, direct and unbothered by the slim chance of rejection.
You knew exactly what that meant and what he wanted, didn’t you see this in a movie or read it in a novel? Same old.
Your lips parted, hesitating for only a second too long. You were obviously drunk but tried to hide it, making your best effort to not to seem vulnerable. But your slurred speech betrayed you.
"Why would I tag along with you, I don't even know you." You pouted trying to look tough, putting up an unphased act.
"It's Yeonjun Choi, but Yeonjun is fine." He gave you a sly look as you introduced yourself, almost as if he already knew what the next word that'd leave your mouth would be.
The place was so crowded that it forced the two of you to be extremely close. Dangerously close. So close you could feel his hot breath on your skin and his chest on your back.
If there was one thing that was undeniable, it was that you were deadly attracted to him, you didn't know if it was the alcohol or the party lights but you had to get something from him that night. Anything. Even if it was just stealing a kiss.
"So what'll it be? Wanna go somewhere else?" He repeated his question once again, this time in your ear. Heat coiled in your core at the sound of his voice as his lips softly brushed the shell of your ear.
Seems like he too, wanted something from you. Not that it was a surprise, you could tell by the way he was watching you that he was undressing you in his mind.
You followed him as he led you down a dimly lit hallway in search of an empty room.
His hand curled around your wrist, pulling the both of you in a dark room and shutting the door behind him. Muffled music could still be heard from downstairs. Your head was still spinning from the alcohol, but all you could focus on was the man in front of you. His black t-shirt hugged his chest in all the right places.
Yeonjun closed the distance between the two of you, his hands settled on your waist and he started stepping closer to you, making you take several steps back toward the bed. You could smell his breath, the smell of vodka mixed with the faint smell of cigarettes, it was, almost, intoxicating.
The heat between your thighs grew and curled in your gut.
But he didn't kiss you.
Not on the lips. No.
His lips were everywhere but your face, leaving open mouth kisses that trailed from your neck to your collarbone. His mouth was still on you as he tugged at the hem of your dress urging you to take it off. You let your hand travel to the back of his head, softly tugging on his silver hair as you let out a quiet moan of approval. His hands slipped under your dress, fingers splaying over your thighs, gripping like he's memorizing your shape.
Everything was so rushed, before you could register what was going on you were already sitting on the bed, your dress thrown into some dark corner of the unfamiliar room. You watched as he approached the bed, removing his own shirt and pants, tossing them on the floor, leaving him in just his boxers. That's how you found yourself right in front of him, in nothing but your panties, You took in the sight before you, his toned chest and arms, the way his collarbones and abs were so defined, this view was enough to make you want him more. Your face was awfully close to his crotch as he stood in front of you. You could clearly make out the outline of his erection through his underwear, your face flushed. You ran your hand over it, feeling him up.
A groan escaped his lips as soon as he felt your touch, his gaze shifted down to you in impatience. "You gonna do something 'bout this or will you keep teasing?"
You didn't give him an answer. Instead, you curled your fingers around the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down to reveal his throbbing erection.
Wasting no time, you took him in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the tip, softly sucking it as you let your hand work up and down his length. You sunk your face closer, taking in another inch, before he pulled your wrist off him and tangled his hand in your hair. He bobbed your head in a steady rhythm, soft moans escaped your mouth sending vibrations up his cock that made his entire body shiver.
"Fuck," He groaned and with a hard tug on your hair as he pushed your head all the way down his length. You gagged at the feeling of him pressed against the back of your throat.
Your makeup had already been ruined and he was so smug about it, smirking as he pushed your head even further just to get the satisfaction of seeing you look up at him with teary eyes. Your mascara ran down your cheeks with each one of his thrusts, Yeonjun was lazily looking down at you with half lidded eyes and plump lips parted in bliss.
"Look at you." He said slyly with a smirk smeared across his face. Your eyes locked with his and your nails dug into his thigh, desperately trying to hold on to something to ground yourself.
"No touching, pretty." His teasing tone was replaced by a soft groan as you moved your hand away, and dragged your tongue on the underside of his cock. You hollowed your cheeks and he let out an, almost, pathetic whimper.
He definitely didn't mean to do that.
"F- Fuck." His head fell back in satisfaction and his breathing became heavy and loud, huffing with each movement of your tongue. Yeonjun's grip on your hair tightened as he continued pushing your head, urging you to take as much of him as you could. You felt him twitch in your mouth until-
"That's enough." He said in a hoarse voice. He removed your head from him, he slipped out of your mouth with a wet pop, a trail of saliva still connected your lips with the tip.
His fingers laced with your hair once again, a firm tug led you away from him until your hands hit the bed's surface beneath you. You gasped as he pushed you onto all fours, your body instinctively obeyed. Your breath caught when you realized the position he'd so effortlessly forced you into.
Your panties were already soaked from your arousal and the position gave him a full view of your slightly spread legs. He hooked two fingers in your panties and pushed them to the side. One digit ran through your slick folds before he pumped it inside you, adding a second one soon after. You moaned softly at the feeling of his fingers curling.
"So wet just by sucking me off? What a slut." He let out a cold laugh as he removed your panties and tossed them onto the floor.
Yeonjun spread your legs even further apart, you shivered at the feeling of cold air as it hit your core.
He teased your entrance and clit with the tip of his cock. You couldn't help the needy whimper that escaped your lips. "Jjun-"
"It's Yeonjun." He cut you off and your breath stuttered as he pulled your hips backwards. Finally, thrusting into you with one deep stroke.
"Yeonjun, Fuck." You let out something between a gasp and a cry at the feeling of him stretching you out, filling you up to the hilt, his tip grinding against your cervix.
"You’re fucking tight." He grunt with a shaky breath. His grip on your hips tightened, but he didn't give you a second to adjust. He pulled back, and slammed back in. The sound of skin slapping against skin drowned out the pounding music outside, ragged moans spilled from both of your lips.
Your thighs and ass jiggled with every rough snap of his hips colliding with yours constantly. "Fuck, look at that." He said gripping your ass, fingers digging into your soft flesh.
Your arms gave out as he kept on pounding into you, each thrust was deeper, rougher, faster. Your head fell forward. You buried your face into the pillow in an attempt to silence your ragged moans as waves of pleasure washed over your body.
Yeonjun noticed.
And he didn't like that.
His hand traced up your spine reaching for your hair, pulling it into a loose ponytail. He tugged hard on it causing your body to lift from the bed. You arched your back and your head snapped backwards as he tugged harder.
Moans involuntarily ripped from your throat as he guided your entire body with the use of your hair, pulling you towards him, as he thrusted in sync. Desperate cries left your lips as his cock dragged against all the right spots.
"Fuck- Feels so good.."
"You're really that needy, huh? Can't even stay quiet?" His voice was low, lazy, but with some edge to it. "Keep it down. Unless you want them to hear how desperate you are."
You tried your best to stay quiet, however, pleasure got the best of you, you were able to stop your moans but unable to silence your whimpers.
"If you can't be quiet, I'll have to shut that pretty mouth myself." Yeonjun said, pulling your body flush against his chest. His breath ghosted over your ear as his grip on your hair tightened just slightly. His free hand covered your mouth, shushing your noises.
He picked up the pace, he was relentless, thrusting harder, deeper, each move made your body ache in ways you didn't know you needed. Gasps still escaped your throat as your hot tears soaked his fingertips that smelt of tobacco.
He smirked, his hand left your mouth only to be wrapped around your throat tightly. Not tight enough to cut off air, but enough to meddle with the blood flow in your brain. His thumb pressed against your pulse, feeling how wildly it raced beneath his touch. A big rush of adrenaline washed over you, his pace didn't falter and hips snapped forward with precision, his cock dragged against your most sensitive spots, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.
"Yeonjun, I'm so close. Fuck."
Your orgasm built up like waves crashing over you, your vision whitened out, your body tensed so hard you could hardly breathe. Your walls fluttered around him, your entire body shook with the force of it, legs trembling on the bed as your palms tightened on the ivory sheets beneath you.
Yeonjun let go of your throat, leaving you to softly fall into the pillow. His palms moved to your hips as he chased his own high. He panted, watching the way your body trembled beneath him.
"Fuck, you feel so good around me." He groaned getting close to his own orgasm. "Where do you want it pretty?" He asked, burying himself deep.
"Inside. Pill." You say, in between moans. Your brain was putty, these were the only words you were able to make out.
His body tensed as he came inside you, filling you up. His grip unrelenting as he rode out his high.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was your combined ragged breathing.
Then Yeonjun let out a satisfied chuckle as he slowly pulled out, watching his release leak out of you.
"You're unreal." You said laying on the unfamiliar bed, now finally facing him.
Beads of sweat covered his body. His chest rose up and down in an unsteady rhythm. Yeonjun smirked, giving you a look of satisfaction as he made his way toward the bathroom looking for a towel. He quickly threw his clothes back on, tossing you the towel and your dress from the floor.
You were still trying to catch your breath as you dressed yourself. Your head was still spinning, trying to grasp what had just happened.
"You're a mess, fix your makeup." Yeonjun coldly said as he scribbled something on a piece of paper. You checked your reflection on your turned off phone screen only to notice your mascara had run all the way down to your chin. You hurried to fix it looking for some concealer in your purse.
Before you knew it, Yeonjun had placed the piece of paper next to you on the mattress, firmly patting his hand on it so you knew it was there. You brushed off his actions and he exited the room in an instant without saying a word. He closed the door behind him leaving you alone.
Once you fixed your makeup and got up from the bed you remembered the piece of paper, glancing over the mattress, your eyes scanned the entire surface in an attempt to find it.
And there it was, in shaky handwriting.
His phone number.
↭
You didn't call him.
You tried to brush off what happened that night, it was a moment of weakness, you were drunk, it was what it was, the best sex of your life.
You enjoyed yourself, that was for sure, but you didn't want a repetition of what happened.
When you mentioned it to your friend, she was stunned. Not stunned by the fact that you guys screwed, but by the fact he gave you his number.
Apparently, Yeonjun never gave his number to people. So that made you, in some way, special. Maybe he had too much fun after all.
You were intrigued by that, you found yourself typing in his number, your finger hovered over the green circular button. You typed in texts just to delete them before hitting send.
You knew you'd be fucking yourself over if you got involved with him.
So.
You didn't call.
Running into him wasn't out of the ordinary, seeing him on campus was a usual thing since you attended the same college. Different majors, same building. Obviously you'd catch a glimpse of him once in a while.
But then, out of the blue, you saw him again, except it wasn’t in college.
Your favorite café, the one you'd spend your evenings studying in, sipping on your usual coffee order. It was your hidden gem. So why was he there?
Your gaze was fixed onto your laptop's screen when you heard an all too familiar voice, coming from approximately two tables away from yours. Your eyes snapped toward it only to spot... Yeonjun, of course.
He wore a black sweater and had an iced coffee in hand. The little amount of sunlight that shone through the windows illuminated his sharp features. He was on his phone with a tense expression, his brows furrowed. You wondered if he'd noticed you.
Until you were sure he did.
His brown eyes met yours and he softly nodded, acknowledging your presence.
And just like that, you went back to studying. That didn't mean that you couldn't feel his gaze pinned on you without even looking at him. It's like his eyes pierced right through your body like bullets.
↭
That day was only the beginning. Since then, you run into him almost every single day.
In the park by your house, in the convenience store, in your favorite bookstore. Everywhere, you name it. It didn't feel intentional but it was constant. Your decision to ignore and forget what happened at the party didn't feel so easy all of a sudden. Not when you had a constant reminder of it.
One particular night however, you were out clubbing with your friends. The familiar neon lights shone on drunken bodies as they danced to the loud beats. The music was too loud and you were drunk. Too drunk. Drunk to the point that, a repeat of that night didn't seem too bad.
Yeonjun was, as per usual, coincidence or not, in the same space as you. You couldn't quite put your finger on why just yet.
This time though, you were the one eye fucking him. Your eyes grazed down his toned figure, how his hands delicately wrapped around the glass of alcohol he held, how his grey locks slightly fell in his eyes and the way his fingers tapped on the small table rhythmically.
And of course you weren't about to throw yourself on some guy or worse, him. Sure, you wanted to get laid but you weren't desperate. So you were just staring.
And so was he.
Yeonjun's sharp eyes followed your every step. You watched as his lips pressed on the glass he held in his hand. He was returning the same energy you had been giving him the entire night.
Long story short. You both ended up in the club bathrooms, panting and sweating. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, you could feel his hot breath against your skin as you came down from your high. Slowly, he pulled away, wiping sweat on his forehead with the back of his forearm, his chest still rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath.
He looked at you with those half lidded eyes as he zipped up his pants, watching as you fixed your clothes.
"You didn't call." Yeonjun said, a cold look on his face.
"Didn't want to." You said, exiting the stall as you made your way towards the huge mirror, pulling out some makeup from your purse to retouch.
“Doesn’t look like it.” His face said it all. His eyebrows were raised and his lips were curled into a smirk.
Liar - He thought to himself.
"Well, make sure you call instead of staring next time."
Sure, that was easier said than done though. Sitting in the afterglow of it all, everything started to sink in. What you did. How you repeated what you told yourself was an unrepeatable mistake.
Why the fuck would you call him?
"Why should I?" You barked at him, your speech slightly slurred.
"Watch that attitude doll face." He sighed "You're the one who was on me all night." he scoffed and turned his back to you, making his way out.
"You've been on me the entire week and when I do it for a night it's a crime?" You teased him, he turned his head to look back at you, unable to prevent his eyes from drifting back to your pretty face.
"Never said it was a crime, just don't go denying it," You had no response for that.
"You know the number." He said as he finally exited the club bathroom.
And just like that, you were alone. Staring at your reflection in the dirty club mirror.
Shame creeped up your head. You were so ashamed of what you did, again. You let someone use you for your body, the same body you pretty much spent your entire life despising.
This was definitely the alcohol messing with your emotions, you knew that. You couldn't let yourself spiral further down, so you did what you could.
Gathered your things and left.
It was a quiet night, the cool breeze rustled your hair. You walked, and walked...and... walked? Your body was on autopilot, so many thoughts were rushing through your head that you didn't have time to think about your actions.
With each step you drifted further away from your apartment and the crammed club. Your eardrums still hadn't recovered from the loud music and your head was spinning from the alcohol.
You wanted to get everything off your chest. You reached for your phone, your finger hovered over your friends' contacts. They were all in the club, they wouldn't pick up. That's when you realized.
You had no one to call.
You sighed heavily as you kept on walking. Gazing at the beautiful night sky, the full moon shone a path for you. You found comfort in what you saw, millions of stars in the sky, it all made you feel so small, like your problems didn't really matter.
You came across a 24-hour convenience store, you thought it was a good idea to make a stop for some post-club-snack, maybe eat your feelings away. You browsed through the isles of the small short staffed place, pondering on what to drink Coffee? An energy drink? More alcohol? This was a tough decision. Grunting, you picked up some cookies and a soda beverage and slowly made your way outside to sit on the tables that accessorized the little shop.
A man with brown hair wearing a hoodie, around your age occupied one of the tables and an old woman sat on another one. Thankfully, leaving one more empty table for you.
"What are you looking at?" The man yelled, waving his arm around with a drink of some sort in his hand. The elderly woman gave him a look of concern and took off, leaving just the two of you alone.
"Has no one ever told you that you need to respect your elders?" You called out to him, pretty bad decision but it couldn't be worse than the previous one.
He shuffled, turning his head towards you, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. His brown eyes were welled up with tears, the sclera of his eyes was bloodshot. "She deserved it!"
"The fuck?" Your face scrunched up in confusion.
"She’s been staring at me for the past hour." The brunette said, sipping on what seemed to be peach flavored soju. Of course he was drunk. Not that you could judge, you weren't in the best shape yourself.
"No wonder why she was staring! You're putting up a show right here." You said giggling.
"Hey, it's not funny!" He tried his best to defend himself but to no avail, he was just giving you more things to laugh at.
You rolled your eyes and directed your attention to your phone, scrolling through your social media.
"I can't believe I got dumped!" The guy kept on talking, you couldn't distinguish if he was talking to you or to himself. So you ignored him.
"Can you believe it? How could I get dumped?" He sipped on his drink, gaze fixed on you. You still weren't paying attention.
"Stop ignoring me!" He plopped down to your table, sitting across from you.
"Okay what now?" You rubbed your face in defeat.
"She dumped me!" He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which at that point, it was, he'd repeated himself plenty of times.
"Okay, I'm all ears." You sighed and gave him a couple of your cookies, sipping on your soda as the guy kept on talking non stop.
"Yeah and then she said 'No, why would I go on a date with an asshole like you?'. It's so crazy! Like, I'm hot and like, I'm a good guy! Don't I seem like a good guy?" You tried so hard to contain your laughter, he wouldn't shut up and was in that state all because of...this? Because a girl wasn't into him?
"Sounds to me like she rejected you, not dumped you." At that point you were about to erupt into laughter.
"Ye-" You cut him off.
"No you don't seem like a good guy at all, you yell at old people, are you serious? Of course she would reject you!" You started hysterically laughing at how stupid this whole situation was, this was obviously the first time someone had told this guy no.
"Shut up! You’re no better than me!" He was fuming.
"Okay but jokes aside, do you not know the difference between rejection and someone dumping you? Dumping is when someone breaks up with you." You asked in a serious tone now.
"Of course I know the difference!" He pouted like a little kid.
"Then why did you tell me you got dumped?" You shot him a look of confusion.
"Because in my head we were already dating! I'd built an entire future for us in my head! And now I'm here!" He sighed, obviously being serious about the whole thing. You burst out laughing at his statement. The only thing you could tell him was to get his shit together. After you'd composed yourself from whatever nonsense he was talking about, awkward silence settled between the two of you.
"What's up with you? You seem just as drunk as me." The guy said chewing on one of your cookies, you only shrugged your shoulders in response.
"C'mon I already told you the shit I'm going though, give me a little something."
"I'm fine." You coldly replied.
"Liaaaar. I'm not buying it. If you were fine you'd be sleeping by now, it's 4:46 A.M. and you're alone in a convenience store." He was right, you weren't fine, but hearing him ramble about his nonsense issues was helping you forget your original problem.
"I'm not telling you shit." You nodded in disapproval.
"Come on, you’re killing me!" He pleaded, making fake puppy eyes.
"Nope."
"Okay." A sharp sigh escaped his pinkish velvet lips full of cookie crumbs.
"Wanna make out?" He was awfully close to you, obviously teasing you. Your face was flushed from anger.
"No! What the hell is wrong with you?" You said pushing his face away with your palm.
"Fine I'll tell you" You placed your elbows on the table and began talking.
"Alright so. I fucked this guy the other day and you know, it was good. He gave me his number but apparently, he doesn't give anyone his number, which is fucking weird. Like, why me?" You took a pause as he continued munching on your cookies. "I wasn't planning on contacting him but then I started to see him everywhere, so you know I couldn't ignore what happened that night anymore, not when he was everywhere I went, magically!"
"So you fucked him again." He finished your statement for you with a smirk smeared across his face.
"I didn't say it, you did. Fast forward to tonight we fucked again and he actually asked me to call him, sort of. But that's not even the issue here, I don't feel like shit because of this-"
He cut you off "You got your answer right there cutie pie, he wants you."
You briefly explained to him what Yeonjun was like as a person and what you knew about him.
"'Kay so he just wants to fuck you more often. So why'd you feel bad" He pouted, placing one of his palms on his chin, acting like he was deep in thought. His cheeks still flushed from the alcohol.
"Because, I don't know if I want to do that. I don't want to be used for my body." Your eyes drifted.
"So why don’t you use him as well? If it's mutual it's not ‘using’. You could be fuck buddies." He explained flailing his hands around like he came up with the perfect idea.
"You got a point." He shrugged his shoulders giving you the 'told you so' look.
"The issue is, I feel bad for another reason." You rolled your eyes at him for not listening to you close enough.
"Huh? Then stop beating around the bush and tell me. I can't guess what's goin' on in your stupid head." Cookie crumbs flew out of his mouth as he got more and more frustrated with you.
"I just feel like shit with myself, self image wise. I'm not satisfied with my looks and haven't been in a while. So, someone being attracted to me like that is new to me. The bigger problem here is that in the action of everything he makes me forget how disgusted I am with myself. He looks at me with lust, I forget who I am, I finally feel wanted, desirable."
The brown haired man didn't cut you off this time, instead he kept on listening until you were done. "So even if it's just sex, I'm not sure I want to be caught up with him in any way. He has multiple options. From what I know I could be dumped in no time. I know what kind of person he is, and I can vouch that I will for sure get hurt." It felt weird to take this off your chest to a complete stranger, you blurted out the words without thinking.
"First of all, you’re gorgeous." He pointed to your face. "Take what you can sweetheart, even if it's temporary, this is life. Satisfaction is satisfaction. He gets what he wants, you get what you want and you feel better. And you’re set. He gets one, you get one plus one free. I don't see why you wouldn't wanna do this."
At that point, the sun had begun to rise back up. Blue, purple and orange smudged together in the sky. What a night.
You relaxed your tensed up shoulders and thought about what he said. Maybe he was right. Why would you push away something so soon? Something is better than nothing, and even if you lose it, life goes on. If you don't take the risk you'll never know, you can't be guarded forever.
"Call him." He said placing a hand on your shoulder as he made his way back into the convenience store.
You sat alone thinking about his words. Was he really right or were you just spiraling into a bad decision because he gaslit you into it?
The man walked back out with two cereal bars in hand, tossing one on the table for you.
"Thanks." You muttered.
"It’s the least I can do for eating all your cookies." He smiled and you stood up from your seat.
"You're right. I can't run away from this forever." You almost, confidently said. The brunette shot you a brighter smile this time, cheeks still flushed. And as you were about to take off,
"Didn't catch your name sweetheart."
"It's Y/N, L/N !" You returned the energy with a grin you could've sworn reached all the way to your ears.
"Sim Jaeyun, Jake is fine though." You waved him your goodbyes, asking if he needed any help getting back to his house as you called yourself an Uber. He reassured you that he'd be fine.
And you were off.
Maybe I should call him next time.
↭
The next couple of days were a blur. You had a really bad hangover yet were able to recover pretty soon.
Every time you found yourself being disappointed or feeling bad you thought of calling him but convinced yourself it was too soon to do so.
Days passed and when it had been almost a week since the club incident you decided,
Fuck it.
You called him and asked to meet up. He instantly got the sign and texted you the details to a motel nearby. You met him there at 11P.M. at night, room 786.
Let's not sugarcoat it, it was a crazy night. Most fun you'd had in a while.
This was only the first time you called. It became a usual thing after that.
He'd call or text more often than you did. Every single time was worth it. It always ended the same way, you or him leaving as soon as it was over. This went on for months, he knew your body by heart and you knew his.
Once in a while you'd spend the entire night at the motel or hotel, having conversations over cigarettes and cheap alcohol.
“He never brought me tulips even though he knew it was my favourite flower.” He just nodded along to whatever you said.
“Jackass.” He said in the most flat uninterested tone. But you kept going, you always did. You didn’t even know why.
“Yeah it’s literally one of the cheapest flowers. Pink ones are so common too. It’s not like I ever asked for the blue ones.”
Yeonjun was an excellent listener but not a big talker. He’d listened to you ramble about past experiences multiple times but never did he fully participate in the conversation.
You realized that no matter how well you knew his body, if someone asked you the slightest about him, even if it was just his favorite color, you wouldn't know how to answer them.
You figured soon enough that this man was simply an enigma, one that didn't want to be solved. He kept his distance, his cold demeanor never changed towards you.
But you signed up for this.
Didn't you?
You put yourself in this situation in the first place, wanting nothing more than pleasure and sex. So why were you so bothered by his silence and the distance he put between the two of you?
As a psychology student, the amount of studying you did was nothing compared to the amount you should be getting done. Not when Yeonjun was all you could think of. This time it wasn't just his body, the question you kept repeating in your head was 'Why?'. You couldn't figure out why you were so bothered by his distant character.
Soon enough, you figured it was something called feelings. Feelings that you were supposed to brush off. Feelings that you did in fact brush off. Because let's be honest here, he would never want anything serious to do with you. It was obvious. He had already made that clear. If you believed he would ever want a relationship or something more than fucking you'd be a fool.
You set yourself up for this. You knew what you were getting yourself into. You knew there were other women in his life. Yet, you were still so bothered by the fact that those feelings could not be returned.
Every time you walked away from him in the middle of the night, it hurt like hell. Pacing in the middle of the night back to your apartment with ruined makeup full of guilt. Cursing yourself for getting involved with him.
You were back where you started.
So you hid those feelings, buried them and tried to forget about them.
↭
A couple of months passed and you had almost forgotten about your silly feelings for him. It was hard to shake off. Especially when you had to see him at least 3 times a week. But you grounded yourself, letting the fact that he didn't see you as anything other than a body sink in, you cried it out, so eventually, it stopped hurting. And then they were almost gone. Swallowed by the back of your brain.
This particular day felt like nothing special, you received a text from Yeonjun at night telling you to meet at a certain place, he sent a pin of the address and to your surprise, it was none of your usual spots, not a motel and definitely not a hotel.
You stood outside the tall building that seemed to be an apartment complex. Yeonjun was nowhere to be seen. That was weird.
The cold night breeze made your legs shiver as you shot him a text asking where he was. He shortly responded that you should ring the bell and that he was on floor 6. You browsed for the last name "Choi" in the mess of different others until you found it, your finger lingered over it a little longer than it should have. You hesitated slightly before finally pressing on it.
The response was almost instant, the door clicked open. You shuffled in the elevator, this was the first time you'd ever been to his place.
Never in the past 7 months had he invited you over.
As the door into his apartment cracked open, you took a quiet moment to take in all the information around you. The way the place was accessorised neatly, really minimalistic and simple, it reflected his personality, or at least what his vibe gave off.
He briefly greeted you. Yeonjun felt out of the ordinary, his usual calm and composed behavior that he usually kept up seemed forced, like he was slipping in and out of an act. His brows were furrowed and frustration was written all over his face.
"Bad day?" You murmured, even though you already knew the answer. It was visible.
"Don't." He snapped, shaking his head a sigh leaving his lips as he shut the door behind you.
You took a couple steps inside and as soon as the door clicked behind you, his hands were on you, finding your waist, his body pressed you back against - god knows what, a wall most likely.
His lips crashed against your skin, hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh. You didn't question the sudden contact or the way Yeonjun wouldn't look you in the eyes, he was like that sometimes, nothing new.
He led you to his bedroom, you had no time to observe the environment since you got pushed onto a bed almost immediately. You found yourself beneath him. His fingers were already tracing the waistband of your leggings.
He rushed to remove his shirt, it was easy to read the room so you followed along, removing yours as well, tossing it somewhere on the floor.
The dim light of his nightstand cast shadows on his body and face. His plump lips, his silver hair brushing his eyes, he looked ethereal.
You reached your hands up to feel his toned chest before redirecting your grasp to his shoulders to pull him closer to you, in need of any sort of contact and friction. Your nails softly grazed his back as you kissed down his neck. You moved one of your hands to interlock your fingers in the hair on the back of his head.
He only smirked in response before tugging down your leggings and removing them in one swift motion. He was already breathing heavily at the feeling of your lips on his skin.
Yeonjun pulled away, putting one of his hands between your thighs in an attempt to spread them. You didn't oblige, instead, you pressed your thighs tighter together in arousal.
"Open up." He muttered, voice low and demanding, hot against the shell of your ear. This time you listened, spreading your legs apart for him.
His hand skimmed down, sliding your panties down, pulling them over your legs only to reveal your dripping core. The air was cool against your skin, the sudden switch of temperature sent shivers down your spine.
He was all over you, leaving open mouthed kisses along your neck down to your chest. As his mouth traced your skin, his hands reached back to finally unclasp your bra before continuing to kiss down your collarbone and all the way to your stomach. His fingers wandered lower and lower, parting your folds. You were already soaked and he'd barely touched you. "Fuck," he muttered, more to himself than to you.
"Jesus," he murmurs. "Such a pretty mess." You arched your back, pushing your hips towards him, in need of more. You could tell he was hard by the way he pressed himself against you, making you feel it, even if it was still trapped behind his sweats.
But Yeonjun is mean when he's frustrated.
He wouldn't give you what you wanted. Not just yet.
He let his fingers tease you, let them slide up and down your folds, coating them in your slick before finally sliding them inside you, curling them up just right to hit that perfect spot over and over again. His thumb rubbed lazy circles on your clit.
He let the anticipation build until you were squirming, whimpering, pushing back against him, wordlessly begging him for more. He suddenly pulled his fingers out, making you whine at the loss. He chuckled darkly as he brought his fingers to your lips.
"C'mon, suck." He shoved them into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, making you taste yourself. His eyes were locked onto yours for the first time this night, his pupils blown wide with lust and control. You swirled your tongue around his fingers, sucking obediently, and licking them clean. His breath stuttered for just a moment."You’re so good for me," The filthy praise that left his lips turned you on even more. Yeonjun didn't do that often, he would occasionally talk dirty when he wasn't silent but praise wasn't his usual option. He removed his digits from your mouth with a wet pop.
He flipped you over on all fours. Your cheeks pressed against the soft fabric of the mattress, your breath came out in a shaky gasp.
He yanked his sweatpants down to free himself, his hard cock slapped against his stomach. Yeonjun's hands were scorching as he palmed your ass, kneading the flesh before landing a sharp, stinging slap. He teased your entrance with the tip of his cock, swiping it on your clit and coating himself with your slick. He slammed into you with one thrust, filling you up to the hilt. Your moan came out broken, cut off by the sheer force of the way he stretched you open, filling you in one sharp snap of his hips. The burn was perfect, blurring the line between pain and pleasure, and you loved it.
"Fuck," Yeonjun grit out, his voice was tight, his hands flexed against your hips. "You always take me so well." His frustration bled into every thrust, slow and rough at first, then, fast and hard. His hips slapped against your ass with force making it jiggle at the collision, filthy sounds of your bodies colliding filled the room.
"Damn," he hissed. His hands slid up your back finding your neck and locking around it, restricting your breath just slightly. "You're so fuckin' easy." His grip tightened.
The degradation made you shudder, your walls clenched around him.
"Shit," he groaned, his hips stuttering for the first time since he started. "Yeah? You like that? Like when I fuck you stupid?"
You moaned desperately, breath ragged from the choking as you gasped for air. "Always letting me fuck you like this," he growled, voice almost angry. "Always letting me use you however I like."
But you do.
You always let him.
Because that's the only thing you can get from him, the only thing he gives you. So you accept it without asking for more. The only thing that makes you feel better and helps you forget about your struggles. You're not proud of it. God, if anything it's humiliating, knowing that you're being used, and still deciding to stick around.
Tears pricked at your eyes as he kept on slamming into you. Was it self-pity? Was it the way he was treating you? Not that you didn't like it, it was just the fact that nobody had treated you that way, ever. Even if it was just sex. You hated to admit that he actually meant something to you.
And then, he pulled out. He removed his hands from your neck but tears were still welling up your eyes, threatening to fall.
You barely had time to register the loss before he grabbed you, bringing you face to face with him. His movements were hurried, frantic like he needed this, needed to see you, needed to watch your face. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, lined himself up, and slammed back inside you.
And, for what felt like the first time that night.
He looked at you.
Not your body.
Just you.
He observed your face, watching as your tears slid down your cheeks. You turned away from him, your eyes searched for something to focus on in an attempt to hide your pathetic face.
Yeonjun didn't let that slide. His hands reached for your face, forcing you to lock eyes with him. "Fuck, look at me." You tried to resist him but you finally gave into his touch.
Your gaze met his sharp brown intense irises, full of lust. "You look so fucking good when you're crying for me like this." A grunt ripped from his throat. Your head fell back, a choked sob escaping your lips as he buried himself in you, deeper than before, hitting that spot that made your whole body shake uncontrollably.
He whimpered needily, his forehead now pressing against yours.
"God, you feel so fuckin' good," His pace turned erratic, his control slipping. The anger, the frustration, it all melted away, replaced with something else, something you couldn't quite place just yet. Something that almost felt like passion.
You clenched around him, reaching for his back, leaving long scratches on it. His hand reached down and his fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles on it.
"Come for me baby." Your body obeyed without question.
A strangled moan tore from your lips as your orgasm crashed over you, your walls clenched violently around him, your entire body shook. He dropped your legs from his shoulders and you wrapped them around his waist softly tugging on his grey locks as you slowly came down from your high, him still chasing his own.
And then, it happened.
Right as he was teetering on the edge, right as his body shuddered coming close to his release, his lips crashed against yours.
It was not just a kiss.
It was desperate.
Sloppy, messy, needy.
His hips jerked, his cock pulsing as he broke inside you, spilling himself deep. His breath shaky as he moaned into your mouth.
His body trembled, fingers gripping you like a lifeline, like he never wanted to let go.
And for a second, for just a moment, he didn't let go.
He stayed inside you, forehead still pressed to yours, lips still connected, his breathing was ragged, and his body was shuddering with the aftershocks. You pulled him closer, melting into the kiss as he swiped his thumb over your cheek, wiping away your almost dried up tears.
This was the first time he had ever kissed you.
The only time he'd ever fucked you like you were his.
The only time he'd ever touched you like you meant something.
It was almost, intimate.
But then, he pulled away.
Slowly. Carefully. Like he was forcing himself to move.
His gaze never left yours.
He sat back, raking a hand through his damp hair, his eyes now pinned on your body that was still trembling, still stretched out beneath him, still not his.
He didn't say anything. Instead, he just grabbed a towel and cleaned you up. Offering you your clothes as he put on his own.
"You can stay over if you want." Yeonjun offered. You were still shaken up, trying your best to put your clothes back on.
"Oh, I'm okay! I'll just go home, don't wanna be a burden." You half joked.
"No, not a burden at all. Feel free to stick around for as long as you'd like, you're welcome here." He gave you a warm smile.
That was new.
"Thanks, Jjun but I should really head home." Your shoelaces were now tied and you stood up from his bed heading toward the front door. You had too much on your head to stay over, this was all too intimate.
"Want me to drive you back? It's really late."
"Oh, no I'll be okay. I enjoy the walk back anyway."
What got into him?
He briefly greeted you as you stepped outside his apartment.
His eyes were full of worry. "Text me when you get home, so I know you got there safely." You nodded, promising to do so.
On your way back home, you found yourself replaying everything that happened in your mind. The kiss, the look in his eyes, the way he held you. It blurred the line between lust and passion. You didn't feel used, you felt wanted, even if it was just for a split second.
In this case, this was a scary thing. Because you didn't sign up for this. He made himself clear and so did you. No strings attached. Right?
So what was this?
Why was he treating you like more?
That night helped you make up your mind. You pulled away from him.
You never texted him. You just passed out in your bed wishing he hadn't kissed you, wishing he hadn't touched you.
For once again, you were filled with regret. Because even when you pushed your feelings aside and tried to hold yourself together in one piece, he did something to crack you, making everything you'd bottled up for so long resurface.
In the morning, you groggily opened your tired eyes as you made your way to the kitchen scrambling for your coffee cup. It was a peaceful morning after the intensity of the previous night, the daylight effortlessly filled your small apartment, a warm feeling of accomplishment settled in your chest. You felt like you were making a good start with your new decision.
Until you took a look at your notifications.
Yeonjun: you home safe?Yeonjun: sorry about tonight.
Delivered 5:03 A.M.
Yeonjun had texted you last night when you were probably asleep.
What the hell was he apologizing for?
You ignored the texts swiping the notifications off of your phone screen.
He never did this before. He was always distant with you. Too distant. Always keeping you at arms length.
But now, Yeonjun was treating you like a human being. Instead of just sex, he made an effort to check up on you, expressing his worry.
But you couldn't see this as something pleasant.
Because you knew it couldn't be true, he was still, as far as you knew, openly meeting up with other women.
Of course you liked being treated like a human being, but the sudden shift in his demeanor was off-putting. Your body acknowledged it as danger, triggering your fight or flight response in an instant.
A heavy feeling settled in your gut.
This couldn't be true.
He was only treating you the way he was because you were a means to an end. He wanted something from you. He wanted more from you. He was giving you more of himself in hopes he would receive more in return. Giving you affection so you'd give some back to him, just because he wanted you to chase after him. He wanted to feel wanted and needed.
Right?
Because that's what men like him do.
Give you everything only to rip it away from you soon after. Leaving you stranded.
You weren't going to fall into his trap. Absolutely not. You fucked yourself over once when you started seeing him, you weren’t about to do it a second time.
Even if it meant finally getting what you wanted from him you were not trusting this situation.
Especially when you know he's still seeing other women.
Ironic.
You wanted to answer his texts right then and there 'do you check up on the other girls you screw too or what?' but you bit your tongue.
No matter how good he made you feel sometimes, it was nowhere near enough to make you stay. The times you felt bad outnumbered the times you felt good with him.
It was over.
That's what you told yourself. That the previous night was the last you'd ever spend with him, and you stood by your decision.
And as if that wasn't enough, you were barely passing the subjects at college. Failing 2 of them. Which meant you had to retake 2 tests.
Fuck Yeonjun Choi for being so distracting. Literally.
Suddenly every single time you weren't paying attention in college started coming to mind. How you skipped lectures with no second thought just to meet him or how he was all you could think of when you were actually in the lecture.
You hadn't just let him fuck you, you had let him fuck up your head as well.
Yeonjun was ruining you not just mentally but academically too.
You were so pissed at yourself for letting him affect you so much to the point it tampered with your daily life.
And he thought he could play with your feelings now?
You sighed heavily and turned your phone off, looking around for your books and poorly written notes. The severity of the situation finally sunk in. A whine escaped your lips as you began studying. You took breaks to eat and go to the bathroom once in a while. You kept your phone turned off until late evening. A missed call from Yeonjun.
You didn’t call him back.
You isolated yourself completely, even from your own friends. It’d been a week and a half when your friend worriedly called you again to ask why you were declining their plans. Your only excuse was, of course, studying. You buried yourself in it, your room was a mess of sticky notes and notebooks. You had barely seen the light of day, you only went out of your house to buy groceries and that, you only did in extremely early mornings, when there was no chance of running into anyone. You didn’t touch your social media, didn’t even bother.
Once you hit the two week mark, your best friend called you. Not to go out, not to check on you, she had crucial information that you just HAD to know. Apparently some guys approached her asking for you, what happened to you, where you’d been. She asked why you were involved with them. You instantly realized this was most likely, or definitely, Yeonjun’s friend group. You lied telling her you didn’t know why they were looking for you, but she too suspected it had to do with Yeonjun.
Thankfully, she let them know you weren’t online or outside due to your studies for final exams.
Once you got back on social media, you came across various message requests from various accounts, kaikamal_ , you.th, page.soobin, bamgyuuuu . Some tried initiating a conversation by saying hello, another one straight up asked why you weren’t replying to Yeonjun while the latest request practically begged you to reply because he was worried. You recognized all their faces from their profile pictures. It was his entire friend group.
Why was he so persistent? He could get any girl he wanted at a snap of his fingertips.
You ignored these messages. Buried yourself into studying more and more.
-
The past couple of months had been tough for Yeonjun.
Yeonjun Choi took pride in himself. He had the confidence you only saw once in a lifetime, and funny enough, it wasn’t an act at all, he truly was as confident as he showed to the outside world.
Until you came around.
The first thing Yeonjun noticed about you was that you didn’t budge. Most women would come up throwing themselves at him, but you didn’t even seem interested, that’s what got him so hooked into trying to sleep with you. Of course, he succeeded, but that wasn’t the end of the story.
When Yeonjun noticed you never called him, even when you knew his number, it bugged him. He was repeatedly asking himself why. He always had things the easy way, never had to try to be liked or desired. It had reached a point where he’d started to doubt himself.
When things became stable between the two of you, meaning you slept with each other regularly, his problem was momentarily solved.
But only momentarily.
Because when Yeonjun realized you had no romantic interest in him, he was annoyed.
That didn’t make sense, because wasn’t he only looking for short term fun?
That was the truth.
‘Choi Yeonjun doesn’t do relationships.’
‘Choi Yeonjun doesn’t do feelings.’
The honest truth.
Why did it bother him so much then?
Simple. The answer to that is the root cause of Yeonjun’s confidence.
What fed Yeonjun’s confidence was the chase, the attention, the feeling of being needed. The reason why it ate Yeonjun alive was the fact that you didn’t chase after him. You didn’t call. You didn’t beg. You weren’t desperate. You were just, you.
You didn’t treat him like a toy that you get to have once in a while, you didn’t treat him as a boyfriend either. You treated him like a human being. Your completely casual behavior intrigued him further. You lazily talked about your day and complained about slight inconveniences in hotel rooms as the sun had begun to rise. He only got to have this with his friend. But you weren’t his friend, you couldn’t be. Not when he knew every inch of your body like the back of his hand.
He caught himself wondering what the two of you were. He tried his best to brush it off but every late night conversation, every time you shared something about you, it was like he was getting hooked more and more.
Yeonjun never kissed any of the women he slept with, he didn’t want them to catch feelings. Not that it ever worked, but this was his idea of ‘no strings attached’. But as time went by, every time he found himself face to face with you, he had to fight the urge to kiss you. And that night, he did. He broke his own cardinal rule.
He hadn’t just kissed you; he had memorized the way you tasted, the way your breath caught against his neck, the way you looked at him like he was just a man, not some prize to be won.
And then, you just stopped.
No "im home" text. No "are you free this weekend?" Nothing. Just a clean, sudden radio silence that felt like a slap to his pristine face.
For the first week, Yeonjun was just pissed off. He’d sit at VIP tables in the clubs he frequented, surrounded by people practically begging for a sliver of his attention, and he’d buy rounds of drinks just to prove a point to the empty air. ‘See? I’ve still got it. I’m Choi Yeonjun.’ He’d think to himself as he ordered drink after drink, hoping to wash the taste of you out of his mouth.
It didn’t work. It felt cheap. It felt easy. And Yeonjun hated easy now, because there was no satisfaction in having something so easily anymore.
By week two, his anger changed into something pathetic, something he would rather die than admit out loud. He found himself staring at his phone, opening your chat thread just to see if you were online. He’d scroll through your social media, looking for any sign that you were miserable without him. But there were no sad songs on your story, no posts. You were just inactive, probably living your life, entirely unbothered by the absence of the man half the city wanted.
‘Did I lose my charm?’ He’d stare at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, tracking the sharp line of his jaw, the perfect mess of his hair. Thinking maybe his appearance was off. ‘Nah she’s just playing with me.’
But you weren't playing anything. You had genuinely just walked away to save yourself.
Now, three weeks in, with the exam period being almost over. He was lying on his back in his king-sized bed, the sheets felt too cold. His mind kept drifting back to that one late night when you complained about your coffee being cold that morning, your hair was messy, wearing nothing but your oversized tee. He hadn't cared about the coffee then, but right now, he would give anything to buy you the perfect cup just to hear your voice again.
He rolled over, burying his face in the pillow, cursing your name into the dark. He didn't do feelings. He didn't.
So why was he drowning in a spoonful of water ?
He told himself it was nothing, that it was normal. But was it really? Because every time he said his coffee order to the barista, he was memorizing yours, every time he looked at flowers, he looked for tulips. He was looking for you in other people and spaces. It took him so long to realize that.
And yet he still didn’t get it. Because Yeonjun didn’t do feelings. So how could this be?
Only when his friends kicked some sense into him did he realize his true feelings.
That’s when he accepted it. He couldn’t deny anything any longer. You’d broken this man into a million pieces, ripped him off of his confidence that he built brick by brick, even made him doubt his appearance. He was drowning in his own thoughts, and every time he tried contacting you he was faced with a brick wall. He didn’t see you anywhere, no matter how many times he visited your favourite cafe, or your favourite bookstore, you were just gone. It was like you only existed in his mind. A ghost. An entity.
He didn’t know why he was looking for you, there was no purpose. He just had to see you. The desperation in him grew day after day that you were apart. That’s when he made a decision. He was determined. He had to tell you, even if it meant nothing to you, even if the outcome was bad, even if it was just a brick wall again.
-
You passed all of your exams with no worries at all, walked out of the last one feeling refreshed, free. The air felt lighter. The sun hung high up in the sky, a beautiful summer morning.
Your friends invited you to celebrate, nothing fancy, not at all, just a chill hangout, drinking coffee over sharing your results. Of course, you had no reason to say no. There was no studying keeping you back anymore.
You walked in the coffee store with your friends and classmates inhaling the sweet smell of espresso shots and freshly baked pastries. You made your way to an empty table and had your normal conversations until you heard footsteps coming from behind you. You felt a hand on your shoulder and looked behind you only to be met with Yeonjun and his friends. He hadn’t changed one bit but something felt different about him. He sat across from you on the table, you exchanged glances but not a single word.
Some on the table knew, some didn’t. That alone made it more awkward.
“Yeonjun, what’s up with you? How come you’re here? Last year you’d be with a girl at some motel already.” Some guy teased and the entire table erupted with laughter, except you and him, you only faked an awkward laugh.
“I’m a new man.” He said, raising his eyebrows, only half joking. Everyone started laughing as if this was the best joke they’d ever heard.
Well, it was.
Choi Yeonjun? A ‘new man’ what sort of half-assed excuse is that?
You kept a stiff smile on your face, staring intensely at the foam of your latte to avoid his eyes. But you could feel them. Across the wooden table, Yeonjun’s gaze was burning a hole right through you. He wasn’t laughing.
You managed to endure exactly fifteen minutes of this suffocating, awkward atmosphere. While the conversation around the table drifted into loud complaints about the professors, you quietly checked your phone and pretended to read a text.
"Hey guys, I actually have to head out," you murmured, sliding out of your seat. "My new roommate needs me home for some help with carrying boxes and stuff." A lie, there was no new roommate.
"Already, I thought she’d come at the start of next year?" one of your classmates groaned, but you were already grabbing your bag.
"Yeah, she’s not living with me yet, just dropping stuff off. Sorry. See you guys later!"
You practically bolted out of the café, the bell above the door chiming your escape. The cool afternoon air hit your face, and you let out a shaky breath, walking quickly down the sidewalk toward the subway station. You just needed to get home, lock your door, and find a way to disappear from the face of earth.
The bell chimed behind you.
"Wait up."
Your stomach dropped. You didn't even have to turn around to know that voice. You quickened your pace, but within seconds, Yeonjun was walking right alongside you, his long strides easily matched yours.
"I'll drive you." he said, pulling a keychain from his pocket.
"Thanks but I'm taking the subway," you replied, keeping your eyes locked straight ahead.
"Have fun taking an hour to arrive by subway then." Yeonjun countered, smoothly stepping in front of you and forcing you to halt. He pointed his car keys toward a sleek black car parked at the curb. "It’s just a ride, I don't bite."
"Yeonjun, seriously, I can take care of myself."
"I know," he interrupted. “but it’ll only be 30 minutes with my car. That’s half the time. Just accept the offer.”
Recognizing the stubborn glint in his eyes, you realized arguing would only make this interaction last longer. With a defeated sigh, you hurried over to his car, yanked the passenger door open, and climbed in. He got into the driver's side a second later, a heavy silence settled in the car, you had no intentions of initiating a conversation with him.
You reached out and typed your address into his GPS. Then, you leaned your head against the window, staring out at the passing buildings, making it explicitly clear that you were not open for conversation.
He didn't push it. He just drove. But ten minutes into the ride, the car suddenly took a turn off the main road and pulled into a parking lot.
You blinked, turning your head. "What are we doing here? This isn't the place."
"I'll be right back." he said, giving you no explanation before hopping out of the car.
You watched other cars drive by through the glass. A few minutes later, Yeonjun walked back toward the car holding a carefully wrapped bouquet. Your breath caught in your throat.
Pink and blue tulips.
He opened the car door and slid back into the driver's seat, gently placing the bouquet onto your lap. The vibrant petals stood out against your jeans.
"You mentioned them once," Yeonjun said quietly, his hands resting on the steering wheel, though the car was still in the parking lot. "Months ago. We were in that motel. You said that that guy never bought you your favourite flowers."
Your throat felt incredibly tight. You stared down at the bouquet, your heart hammering against your ribs. "Yeonjun..."
"Three weeks." He turned in his seat to face you fully. "You've been ghosting me for three weeks using exams as a shield. What did I do?"
“It wasn’t an excuse, I was actually studying.”
“Then why didn’t you say a single thing. Not even a single text. And why are you still avoiding me then? ” You couldn’t meet his eyes. “Why won’t you even look at me?”
"You didn't do anything, Yeonjun," you lied, your voice trembling as you gripped the flower wrapping. "You’re just you and I realized I wanted to focus on studying."
"I’m just me?" Yeonjun let out a sharp, breathless laugh, but there was no humor in it. It sounded like frustration. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
"You know what I mean, you have options, other girls. I figured it wouldn’t make a difference for you." The words burst out of you before you could stop them.
Yeonjun froze, his eyebrows knit together. "What makes you think that?"
“What is there to prove me different, Yeonjun?”
“Well, things aren’t always as they seem, Y/N.”
“Well, it’s none of my business. Not when you were looking at me like I mattered when in reality you had ten backups.” Yeonjun looked at you dumbfounded, his lips parted in an attempt to say something but you cut him off before he could.
“Yeonjun, listen. I don’t want anything to do with your fuck buddy thing anymore. I’m not gonna sit around and let you play with me anymore, I’m tired of feeling used every time I walk away from a motel in the middle of the night. And as if that wasn’t enough you tried to play with my feelings as well.”
“What?” He couldn’t believe his ears.
"You heard me," you said, a hot tear finally slipping down your cheek.
"You started doing all those things that night at your place. You were acting like you cared about me, and no matter how much I wanted it to be real I knew it wasn't. I wasn't going to sit around and let you use me to play house until you got bored. I didn’t want to get hurt."
The interior of the car went completely silent, except from the faint hum of the engine.
"Y/N..." he breathed. He reached out, his fingers hovering over your cheek for a fraction of a second before gently brushing away your tear. His touch was so soft it ached. "You think I was acting?"
“Weren't you?” you loudly exclaimed, your voice cracking. You got no answer from him.
He started driving again.
His jaw clenched, and he let out a bitter laugh that vibrated through the small space of the car. He gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.
“Acting?” he repeated himself. He turned his head to look at you, briefly. “Are you serious right now, Y/N? You really think I was acting?”
You flinched slightly against the passenger door, but you didn't look away. “Yeonjun-”
“No, don't ‘Yeonjun’ me. You don't get to ghost me for a month, lie to my face about being too busy with exams, and then drop that on me like I'm the one who screwed up,” he fired back, his chest heaving. "Do you have any idea how exhausting you’ve been? I spent three weeks racking my brain, trying to figure out what the hell I did wrong. I thought I overstepped. I thought I made you uncomfortable because I couldn't keep my hands to myself. But it turns out you just decided, all on your own, that I'm some sociopath who plays with people's feelings for fun?"
“You had a reputation after all.” You barked back, the frustration finally boiled over on your side, too. “What was I supposed to think? You’re known for one thing and one thing only.”
“And you think that means that I don’t have feelings? That I’m not a human too? That I’m untouchable and I can’t ever get hurt?” He shouted, tears pricked at his eyes, his vision blurred as he tried to keep his eyes on the road.
The silence that followed was deafening. The only sound was his heavy, ragged breathing. He looked furious, but underneath all the anger, he just looked incredibly hurt.
He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, and ran his free hand down his face, dragging his palm over his mouth. When he spoke again, the shouting stopped.
"I wasn't acting" he muttered, shaking his head as his eyes stayed pinned in the road. "I was trying to show you. Because I’m a coward and I can’t use my words. And for your information, I haven’t met up with another woman for the past 4 months. It’s only been you." A singular tear ran down his cheek.
You’d just reached your place. But the doors were locked and the conversation wasn’t over yet.
You stared at him, your voice completely gone, the bouquet of tulips suddenly felt very heavy in your lap. "Yeonjun..."
“I don't memorize details like that for just anyone, Y/N. I don't change my entire life for just anyone. Because I fell for you, and I didn't know how to tell you."
A tear slipped down his cheek, and he angrily brushed it away with the back of his hand, clearly hating how vulnerable he was being.
“Don’t act like you didn’t feel it too.”
You paused. “I was scared.”
“Scared of what?” He finally looked over at you, his eyes locked onto yours, wide and searching.
“Scared that it was real? Scared that for once, someone actually wanted all of you, not just the parts we agreed to share behind closed doors?”
The truth of his words hit you like a physical blow. You gripped the stems of the tulips tighter, the plastic wrapping crinkling loudly.
“Yes.” you confessed, your voice finally breaking. “Yes, Yeonjun. I was terrified. Look at you. You were the guy who never stayed, the guy who left before sunrise. And suddenly you were looking at me like I was your whole world and holding me like you never wanted to let go. How was I supposed to just trust that? I thought you were playing a part because it was beneficial for you, and the second I actually admitted I was falling for you, you’d just disappear.”
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the car again. You looked down at your lap, a hot tear landing right on a bright pink petal.
Yeonjun didn’t say anything for a long time. The click-click-click of the car’s engine cooling down was the only sound between you. Then, you heard the faint rustle of leather as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
You expected him to tell you to get out. Instead, he shifted in his seat, leaning across the center console. He reached out, his large, warm hand covering your trembling ones where they were still gripping the flowers.
“Y/N, look at me,” he pleaded, his voice entirely stripped of the anger now. He just sounded exhausted and incredibly gentle.
Slowly, you lifted your head.
“I was like that. I dug my own grave with piling mistakes.” he murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand. “I gave you every reason to doubt me based on who I used to be.” He leaned a little closer, his forehead almost touching yours, you could see the exact shade of dark brown in his eyes.
“Just give me a chance to prove myself. I promise.”
"Okay" you whisper against his lips.
Yeonjun’s hand slid up from your fingers to cup the side of your face, his thumb wiped away any remnant tears. He pulled you into a desperate kiss. You let go of the tulips, your hands found the lapels of his jacket and you pulled him closer into the narrow space between the seats as if you could fuse the distance that had kept you apart for weeks.
When he finally pulled back for just a fraction, his forehead remained rested against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, the scent of the flowers and his cologne filled the warm car. He let out a shaky, relieved laugh, his lips brushed against yours one more time, but you could feel him smiling against them this once.
ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: As princess on an tropical island with expectations, there’s little in the world you love or that loves you, until a seafaring pirate is the one to show you how to be set free
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: mature in nature, suggestive (there are moments that allude to nudity and sex), smut (it’s not too explicit but I’ve marked this fic as smut just to safe), implied virginity loss(reader), implied creampie, implied cockwarming, implied somnophilia?, kidnapping, kinda switching perspectives, ‘princess’ used as a pet name, soobin and taehyun cameo, parental abuse (nothing explicit), misogyny based on the piracy period, reader called a ‘whore’ and ‘harlot’ (not by yeonjun), arranged marriage mentioned, pregnancy
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 12.4K
𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ⚠︎
𝙆𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙨…⋆˚࿔ help I cant stop writing fantasy it has my whole heart, although every time I write it I make them too dark I think so this is *slightly* more positive, there’s still some angst tho 𓏲ּ𝄢
The name chapter temptation has some of my favourite concept photos txt has ever done I yearn for this era with my whole heart I could talk about her forever and pirate jjun has been on my mind ever since i first saw the farewell concept pics so this is a fic a long time in the making. Btw i imagine him wearing all of his stage outfits for sugar rush ride in this so if you need a visual they are perfect hehe𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐
The ropes had dug into your wrists and made seat there, creating crescent grooves in the skin, you had given up wrestling with them a few hours ago; though, you begin to think you should have saved your energy for this present moment, a perfect moment for escape, that being the guards had left and it was seemingly still after the ruckus the ruffians had started earlier. The stench of heavy liquor still clung heavy in the air, smoke from pipes occasionally assaulting your senses. It had to be past midnight at this point you gathered, the occasional snore from the drunkards outside was the only thing to crush the silence.
With a heavy sigh, limbs already ached, you begun to rest your eyes, head uncomfortably pressed against the wooden post you are tied to. It most definitely wasn't smart to let your guard down in such a position, but you found it increasingly difficult to care with how weighted your lids felt. Despite your compromising situation, you could feel the oncoming sleep to be rather peaceful under the dimmed lantern glow below deck, and regardless of all of the above your body begged you to let itself slip under the veil of consciousness and into the dreamland of tranquility. It would have been so harmonious, if not for the sudden feeling of your restraints loosening.
Your hands pulled back to your side, trying to rub away the sores they had created against your skin, flinching away as long fingers reach out towards you.
"Well? You wanna go home or not?" A hushed whisper forced your head to snap up to see who the figure was, quickly finding yourself stunned. A man, no older than yourself stood peering down, a neutral expression graced his boyish features, eyes slender with a soft sloping nose, he looked almost too pretty to be in the place he was. The Pirate Prince, you remembered him being called out to when the other pirates had dragged you onto the ship, eyebrows furrows as he locked eyes with you. Now, those same eyes held none of the same distain, only beckoning you further with his hand closing the distance between them.
Somewhat reluctantly, you took his hand, feeling his calloused palm grip yours tightly in order to stand, leading you quietly past the holding cell that had been your home for a few hours. Guiding you through the below deck area, you pull back once his first foot hit the step to the upper deck, where you knew your captors would be. Sensing your unwillingness to move, he glanced back, bringing a finger to his lips, hushing, silently letting you know that it would be safe as long as you followed his lead. You weren't all sure whether to trust the man or not, but what choice did you really have? Stay a captive in the seedy cell, or the small chance he would really let you go. Suddenly it wasn't such a difficult choice for your feet to pad forward to meet his on the steps.
He holted at the final step, doing a take of the deck to check it was clear before further guiding you round the side of the ship, away from the glimmer of lights that meant land.
"Hey, where are you taking me, the dock is that way-" trying your best to keep your voice down but still let him know you are less than pleased, you turn back to him signalling you onto the railing of the ship. Stunned, you glance between him and where he wanted you to climb up. Oh no, there is simply no way he wanted you to go that way.
"They'll see us if we take the docks, this is the only way" his voice is unusually calm considering he is practically committing treason against his pirate crew, no less the Pirate King himself and the most feared being on the seas, his father. You wondered what kind of lunatic would actually do such a thing, you are no fool, you knew the political battle the royal family had against the pirates, the increasing laws threatening their trade and livelihoods, laws your own father was creating, and ultimately the reason why you were captured in the first place, so the question arises, why would he risk his neck to save yours?
Despite the multitude of thoughts swirling your head, you take his hand once more, carefully climbing the decking. His spare hand connected to your waist, securing you as he helped you up, the small gesture not going unnoticed in your lack of proper attire. That mattered little to you in the moment though.
"Hold on tight" he gently guides your arms over his shoulders, causing a wild bloom of fuchsia to spread across your face, turning inwards in hopes he doesn’t notice, and if he did, he didn't make it known. A curt nod was the only warning he gave before hurling his body overboard and in turn pulling you with. The cool water of the night was enough to cool your cheeks down but even after only a few moments of being submerged it felt as though the water was only warming you back up. You couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes and feel the sting of the salty water, nor untie your arms from around him, trusting him to pull the two of you upwards to break surface. A brief rush of panic floods you, he hardly looked strong enough to lift both of you through the current. All your doubts suddenly ceased as you felt the break of the water line, inhaling a deep breath, trying not to sputter too much water in his face.
Wiping the salt from your eyes, his soft gaze meets yours, raven locks clinging to his forehead, chilled breaths passing plump peach lips but they feel warm so close to your skin, suddenly you're reminded of how close you are. His slender gaze flickers up and down, checking you over. It feels too intense, too intimate, the way he looks at you. To be studied under his watchful eyes without knowing what he is thinking. Your attempt to pull away is futile, he pulls you back instinctively.
"Keep close, princess, I still gotta get you to shore" that's what they had called you when they took you, it was your status after all, you guessed they didn't know your name, supposed it didn't matter. If so, then why did the nickname sound so sweet coming from his lips.
He hadn't even given you the chance to retort by the time he was swimming forward, your back to his man-made current unknowingly pushed you further into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. Almost loosing his breath at the unexpected contact, he hoped it had looked like exhaustion, a shaky exhale leaving him as he felt you grip tightly to him. Not having much room to stretch, your face rests in the crook of his neck, so close he could feel the plush coolness of your lips graze him occasionally, making him shiver, but not from the chill.
As soon as his feet planted in the sand leading up the shore, he could feel your weight slip from his grasp, surprising himself when his arms landed around your waist to pull you up in his arms instead of letting you steady yourself on the ground. The approach out of the water felt harder with each step, not just carrying the weight of you but both your soaked through clothes, yet still, he only sets you down once you are fully out.
Like previously, he takes a few moments to visually check you over, and like before you pull away from his gaze, except now you are physically shielding yourself from him, arms crossing over your chest as you shook slightly from the chill of the breeze against your wet form. His brows slightly knitted until he notices the way your white nightgown clung to you, now transparent and allowing the golden glow of your skin to blossom through. Instantly it becomes obvious why you hid from him, struggling to fully cover your breasts with sleeveless arms.
He choked out a breath he didn't realise he was holding, thinking quickly as he rips the coal black dripping jacket from his shoulders and drapes it over you, turning his back to allow you the grace of adjusting it without him watching. He took the opportunity to peer around to the dock, quietly observing who had passed out along the planks, who you would have to evade in your escape.
You hadn't thought it possible to blush any more than you previously had in front of him, but the vulnerability of you being in such an indecent state in front of a man, one you didn't know no less, your skin was alight with mortification until he had draped his own jacked over to protect you. It was shocking to you that a pirate, the most fearfully revered men on the island, could be so considerate, so gentle with you. As his back was turned, you took the opportunity to peak at the mysterious boy, any thoughts of him not being strong enough bubbled away. His soaked through ivory dress shirt allowed the taunt lines of muscles of his upper back and arms visibility. The more you thought upon it, it made sense that a man of his profession had a physic as such, he would be constantly hauling and carting either the stern of the ship or cargo, not that it made the juxtaposition of his delicate features any less intriguing.
Once he was sure you had adjusted yourself accordingly, he turned back, lacing his hand once again in your own, crouching to gesture you to follow suit in order to be stealthy. Once you had passed the beach, you noted that he was taking you through the back alleys of the town, they were much quieter in the dead of moonlight as apposed to the bustling daytime, but perhaps it was simply because you had never been out this late, usually safely tucked up in the same four walls of your room. That in itself, was its own prison.
The slow ascent up the hill to the royal mansion felt longer than when you would sneak off by yourself, you had concluded that was partly due to the fact you were dripping wet, yet mostly the fact he hadn't let your hand go even slightly the whole time. You hadn't made any attempt to pull away anymore, instead gripping him tighter. It felt nice to be close to someone, after all you couldn't remember the last time anyone had even spoken to you with affection. Your own mother was not one for touches, far more concerned with duty rather than tenderness. After so many years of neglect in that sense, the feeling was all but foreign. So then why with him did it feel so natural?
That was ultimately the reason you noticed the absence of his warm digits between yours, almost stumbling into him at the abrupt stop.
"You can go the rest of the way?" A small lilt in his voice, gesturing with a nod towards the mansion. You look at him stunned, you supposed it made sense that he couldn't take you all the way, he knew there were guards patrolling 24/7, even if he had brought you around the back where the darkness of night swallowed most light.
"Wait- how do I thank you? I don't even know your name…" surely he wanted some form of compensation for his hassle of breaking you free, although it didn't seem that way with how he had turned away, starting to venture back the way you came.
"Don't need a thank you, princess" his reply is casual, flinging a hand up in a curt signal. Suddenly, he stops in his tracks, head turned to the side to speak. "It's Yeonjun" disappearing into the night as if he was never there.
You can only stand still, stunned at the strange interaction with the mysterious boy, who never did ever state just why he had helped.
"Yeonjun" repeating the name, testing the sound on your tongue. It suited him. Clutching onto the still wet jacket, you had been so flustered you hadn't the chance to give it back. The opportunity to give it back would probably never arise, you knew that much, but it didn't stop you from wondering, hoping for a chance to somehow repay him.
You were no stranger to sneaking out from the mansion, your own room had a balcony with flowing vines that aided as a ladder, albeit you found it was much harder while still riddled with sea water. Dripping straight onto the balcony and the floor of your room, that would be a problem for tomorrow, for now, all you wanted was the warm, dry comfort of your bed, where you could contemplate the days events. After all was said and done, much more interesting than usual.
── .✦
Five days pass since your capture and the meeting with Yeonjun, not that your mind had let you forget any details. Even as the hand maidens tightened the lace on your overbearing corset, they noticed their lady was away in spirit, even more so than usual.
"Are you okay, miss?" The youngest of your handmaidens, perhaps a few years older than yourself had asked softly, pulling you from your thoughts.
"Yes, just... preoccupied is all" your reply is as sweet as you could muster, finally breaking gaze from the balcony doors, overlooking the whole town, even down to the port. The ship had been stationed for a few hours, it wouldn't be long before it departs for the day once more though, if your observations were correct. Whether you had noticed it subconsciously or not, the past few days had found you glancing down to the port, noting the ships absence or presence. You didn't know whether to be thankful the distance was too far to see people. The Pirates. That might make your longing to see him grow naively.
"I do hope so, miss. It has only been a few days since your kidnapping. Even your father has relieved you of your duties" she notes, the whole ordeal had shaken the royal family and the mansion staff alike. It seemed everyone but you.
"Yes, he is protecting his political security" your scoff was not unnoticed, it was well known around the mansion staff how observant and sharp eyed the princess was, your quips were a common occurrence, your royal education did little to tame your wild manner. Half were impressed, the others distained. A few of your suitors had turned you down for reasons as such, unbefitting of a lady, let alone a princess. Of course, that was all kept hush by the king himself, he would not allow it to deter future suitors, one's hopefully with more wealth and status than the last.
"Be that as it may, your father is still worried for you, miss" you could only roll your eyes, clothing finally well adjusted and ready for royal breakfast.
It was a drag, as it was every day, curt smiles and 'yes, mother' spoken over the lavish dining table, exhausting you to the core. Enough time had passed where you could excuse yourself without raising suspicion, glancing nods to the staff that passed you as you made the ascent to your chambers once more.
One good thing that had come from the incident, was that no one, not even your father objected to you wanting to spend time in your chambers, albeit two guards stationed outside your door, but otherwise unaccompanied. It gave you time to take off the suffocating over dress, stripping only to the corset and bloomers, much easier to slip out unnoticed. You glanced at the jacket you had successfully stuffed under the bed, your reputation would be all but soiled if anyone had found a man's jacket in your quarters. It was a quick decision, wrapping it over your clothes, dismantling the ladylike look you detested so. Unwrapping your hair in the same fashion, letting it flow down wild, tiny curls framing your face. Smudging some powder left on the dresser onto your cheeks, you glanced over your reflection, it was now much less obvious of your social standing, ready to chameleon into the bustle of the market.
Climbing down the vines of the balcony as you had many times before, you took no more thought to your royal life, becoming one with the townsfolk.
The market was as full of life as it ever was, trades people hollering for sales of their goods, the sizzling sound and succulent smells of grilled meats surrounded each crowded street, inhaling the scent of the booze filled taverns, you never felt more alive.
No one to recognise you, tell you what superficial duties you had to fulfil next, nobody paid any attention despite you being in the middle of the street unless it was to hustle past. Fundamentally invisible, you wouldn't have it any other way. You had paid your local stalls a visit, the ones with the decadent displays of fruits, all colours and sizes and flavours, offering small conversations to the stall owners. If only you had been more invisible.
Yeonjun had managed to slip away from the ship unnoticed during deck duty in the early hours of the morning. Now while it was true he loved his life on the open sea, it remained that he needed time away from his crew, more so the demands of his father. Time that was just his, whatever plans were up to him and only him. He'd often find himself frequenting the stalls where the freshest fruit was sold. He had come into acquaintance with the stall owner, would give him discounts not because he was the Pirate Prince, but because he would help collect the fruit on occasions. Came to discover he enjoyed escaping his title, free from responsibility.
That's why this was the last place he expected to see you.
One second your hand had reached for a ripe peach and in another your wrist was gripped tightly, the force alone pulling you along with whoever the assailant was. A wave of terror washes through you, reminiscent of when you were taken only days ago pulsing through your veins, so much it hadn't occurred to you to take note of who was guiding you down a tight, quieter alleyway.
"What the hell are you doing here, princess. You got any idea how dangerous it is?" He spits out his question, that voice is all too recognisable, the delicate graininess that only belonged to him, Yeonjun.
"Y-Yeonjun?" You ask almost timidly, gaining courage to look up at him. It shouldn't be possible for him to look any more exquisite than he did bathed in moonlight, but now you could see his features, really examine them. Brows furred made his eyes even more cat like, a small beauty mark sits just below, a kiss from whatever celestial being had created him. Lips downturned and so full they looked pillowy, a work of art.
He found himself holding up no better, he could feel his frustration faltering looking upon your confused features, big round eyes staring into his own while your plush lips trembled slightly. Why did you have to make it so difficult when you stared at him as such?
"You hear a word I just say?" His harsh words betray him, a defence mechanism to ensure you wouldn't pick up on the way he ogles at said plush lips too long, how soft they would feel against-
"I heard, I just doubt it's any of your concern" it wasn't the first time you had been addressed in such a hostile manner, it was only instinct to retaliate the energy.
"It kinda is since I risked my neck breakin' you out. My whole crews been going crazy tryna figure out how you escaped" you noticed he spoke more plainly than most people you had ever interacted with did, a slight accented tone to his words he no doubt picked up living life on the seas.
"I never asked for your help, I'm not some damsel in distress. I don't need rescuing" your whole life you had been sheltered, treated like a porcelain doll sat on the highest shelf, the last thing you needed was him treating you the same. The more he glanced down at your smaller frame below him, the less your words made sense, you practically trembled under his gaze. He figured the last thing you'd want would be to admit as such, he promptly releases your wrist that he only just realised he was holding onto the entire time.
"You're right, it's not my concern" backing up in such a small alleyway wasn't much of an option, taking his cue to turn on his heels and attempt at leaving. This time, he felt your hand wrap around his arm, halting him from going further.
"Wait I- I'm sorry. I mean, you did help me" words begin tumbling from your mouth, his head cocks to show he's listening.
"I have your jacket, thank you for lending it to me when I was- wet" you almost blush again from the memory itself. Unknowingly a smiliar flush creeps up his neck at the realisation you were wearing his jacket still, a strange feeling of pride settling somewhere deep down.
"That's okay, uh- you can keep it" Hesitating for just a second, you lift the jacket back over your shoulders.
"You have anywhere you need to be, princess?" Confused by his question, you glance to him, a small smirk finding its place upon his lips. He looked rather handsome when a frown wasn't hung on his features.
"-no, I mean I'm not suppose to be away from the mansion, I sneak out sometimes-" words keep tumbling from you in the heat of your embarrassment.
"Then follow me, princess" his smile looks softer now, holding his hand out beckoning you to follow his gesture, mirroring when you had first met.
"_" you simply state, taking up his offer, lacing your fingers around his palm. You detest your birth given name, only a representation of a long line of mothers as cold as your own, instead you'll give him a nickname gifted to you by the one person who cared enough to notice your recoil upon the utter of your name, a handmaiden of years long gone. She was discharged for the same consideration she showed to you, of course there is not a place for that in the palace of ice.
"My name, it's _, just incase 'princess' gets old" your giggle illuminates his insides, feeling the fluttering flush through his stomach.
"I happen to like 'princess'" he smirks. "_ is nice too, pretty" he presses forward to save himself the embarrassment of facing the repercussions of the compliment that he let slip. You were thankful nonetheless, his lead saved you from him seeing the deep crimson flush on your cheeks.
Like before, he led you through the crowds gathered in the square, past every single soul in sight and out onto the open fields on the hills, trudging through the long grass just before the tree line, the ones further inland from all the palm trees scattered near the coast. An array of colours flooded your eyes, decorating the tall trees were fruits you could only dream of, the juiciest and ripest looking you had ever seen. He lets go of your hand, turning back to see your concentration glued to the peaches hanging.
"I come here sometimes to collect the fruit for the old woman who runs the stall at the market, it's harder for her to get up the trees these days" he states, starting to climb the tree with practiced ease, perching himself on one of the lower branches and reaching for the lower hanging fruit.
"I thought you pirates all had sea legs, how come you've found yourself work on land?" Your question causes a laugh to escape him, stabilising himself with a hand on the trunk.
"We do, mostly. I love the open sea more than anything. Sometimes it's just nice to stay...grounded, for once" he opens up for the first time in- well, forever. He doesn't exactly have the kind of relationship with his father where they can talk about anything and everything. It's all raids and spoils and treasure, it's nice to talk about anything else.
"What's it like out there? I always look out from my balcony and imagine how the salt air feels" you plant yourself along the blades of grass under him, fingers dancing with the lace trimming of your bloomers.
"It's like... freedom. Even when the crew are barking orders at one another, it's like it's just you and the endless blue. It listens. It doesn't need to respond, ask it any questions and you'll only get the roar of the waves in response, but you don't need anything else" he pours out and you listen, really listen. Like the sea, you hadn't even responded yet and he already felt heard.
"You make it sound so beautiful" you're envious he gets to feel that freedom every day of his life.
"What's that palace like? Bet those fancy dinners are really something, huh?" he asks not out of curtesy, but because he truly cares about how you respond, sensing the tint of sadness in your tone.
"Suffocating. I mean- I know I'm beyond privileged, I have so much more than a warm bed and hot meals every day. I have decadence, everything in that place is made of silver or gold" you pause, almost unsure if you should continue and sound like the typical spoiled princess.
"-But?" Coaxing you for more.
"-But I hate it. It's lonely. My handmaiden has shown me more affection than my mother ever has in my entire life, and she's only permitted to touch me to lace my corsets. I'm just a pawn to my father, I'm sure he'll ship me off to the first prince rich enough with the highest status soon. My whole childhood I was scolded for anything less than 'ladylike'. I'm not aloud to slouch, eat more than I'm suppose to, speak when I'm not spoken to, laugh, cry, scream. I'm nothing more than a bird in a gilded cage" the silence after is deafening, not because he is regretting asking and opening up something he cared not for, but because now he was really listening. It was true you had more than him in riches, but in spirit he wasn't so sure.
"Sorry, that was...too much, you didn't want to hear me complain about any of that" a sudden rush of embarrassment hits you, spilling your life story to a boy you had just met.
"I can be what the sea is for you" he simply says, leaving you stunned as to exactly what he meant.
"I can listen without judgment, I can be here when you're lonely. When you want to laugh, cry, scream, or be 'unladylike'. I can be your freedom" he speaks honestly, you can tell he's being authentic by the soft way his features lighten.
"If you'd like..." he adds causing a sudden giggle to spew. Pride took him over that you were already allowing him to be your escape.
"I'd like that, Yeonjun" his name had never sounded so sweet than it did coming from your lexicon, natural and warm and full of everything his orders lack.
You lay in the meadow for hours, the sun is passing its peak in the sky that signals midday has come and gone but you have barely noticed, for your attention is elsewhere, your conversations with Yeonjun flow as freely as the wind whirls, open in ways you have not been honest with anyone before in your life. Even if you were to never see him again, you could rest contented in the knowledge you were candid with someone at least once. Neither he noticed or cared for the passing time, lounging leisurely with you until he sits with sudden haste, the towing of the bell by the harbour is distant but not indistinguishable.
"Shit! That's my call, Princess. They're probably pissed I skipped duties again" he stands at once, dusting the flecks of dried grass from his trousers before reaching a hand to help you up, leaving the meadow as cordial as you found it.
The market is still buzzing, it will be for the rest of the afternoon until patrons move to the taverns to continue their commotions well into the night. You understand it's far too dangerous to get close to the docks where his ship lays in waiting, from the clearing in the stalls where Yeonjun stops, you can see the crew loading gear and weaponry on board, preparing for another venture.
"When can I see you again?" You look to him with longing, wondering when you can glance upon the cinnamon swirling his murky irises framed by his loose locks again.
"You'll see me soon, we aren't travelling far this time, should only be a few days. Why, you gonna miss me?" The smug grin he sports makes you roll your eyes, swatting him away towards the docks. "You'd like that wouldn't you, pirate" He walks away with reluctance in his step, but not before you remark the softer smile at your quip.
You watch from afar as a couple of his crewmen goad him for his absence, ruffling his hair in a bantering headlock, their bellowing snickers and similar age tell you they must be well acquainted, perhaps even friends, whatever it meant to have them. His life growing up around such violence and plunder must have been rough, from the few stories he told you and your own assumptions but the brotherhood you catch even a glimpse of, you think might just be worth it. In that way you feel envious, though when you spot him glancing back to your direction, searching for you, you might even dream to call him that. A friend.
── .✦
That habit you gained of glancing to the docks from your room has come back to curse you, a pit in your stomach every day you look and his ship is nowhere in sight. The harbour is plentiful of ships coming and going in constant streams but it feels vacant without Yeonjun's vessel. With each passing day you wander further in spirit away from conversations your mother and father make, to them, your distance is fuel on the fire, forging ammunition in their minds against any and all pirates but you find you can't care less, all you know is to wait.
You awaken earlier than you usually do that morning, the amber glow of the sun spilling its rays paints the sky a pastel orange, the promise of another beautiful day on the island. You peel the covers back from your legs, walking over to your window with a yawn and stretch, your eyes must deceive you. There, lying in waiting is the largest ship in the harbour once more, appearing to be hunkering down the anchor, renewing your spirit with it. You struggle to contain your excitement of finally having worthwhile conversation while your corset is laced, it's a waste when you will be fiddling to undo it the moment your handmaiden leaves you be.
You clamber down from your tower and make your way to through the market once more, you hope to catch him where he left you last at the mouth of the harbour where dirt path turns to boardwalk, he hadn't given you a meeting spot, only the promise of return. You use his jacket to cloak yourself from prying eyes when you spot him disembarking, a bag slung from his shoulder that sways with his step, waving off the same men who he jested with and observant enough for his eyes to place you just past the dock, jogging to reach you.
"Hello, princess, so you were waiting for me" he puffs out a breath, the same beaming smile you remember. "Perhaps I was" there's little in you to care that your joking defences are laid down, perhaps what they say is true, that distance does make the heart grow fonder.
"Tell me all, where did you travel to this time?" There's wonder in your voice that makes him swell, so intrigued by his adventures and whereabouts with more rejoice in your spirit than he left you with. He's thankful that he only has tales of camp arrangements and trading to tell you off this time, you know him a pirate but to save you of the gruesome details some of his trips entail is a blessing. Perhaps he doesn't deserve what he has with you, whatever this is, if you knew some of the things he's done to get by you might run for the hills, taking the fondness you hold for him with you. He would risk it all to protect that.
Before he forgets, he slings the bag down and digs in to produce all sorts of gifts and trinkets from the neighbouring island for you, gold coins no longer in circulation but ornate in detail, a compact mirror he had traded for and bracelets made of native shells that he told you was handmade. You're giddy with gratitude, the way you accept his gifts makes him want to rip the sun and the moon down from the sky to gift you, for you are too precious to choose which one he will pluck, he'll give you both.
You spend the day strolling around the market, his venture meant fresh funds that he could spend on you, more trinkets for your collection and the meat skewers that had infiltrated your scents and rumbled your stomachs. The way you tease him by dangling the food in-front of him and pull away before his jaw can snatch it from your grasp, your laugh ringing in his ears will stamp itself in his memories.
Graced with a rest day that goes by quicker than he kept track of regrets him by the end, the setting sun is mocking of places he still wanted to take you, things he wanted to show you. He would have to steal those moments for you for the next week he'll be stationed at the port, and in turn you will steal them too from your time at the palace.
Sunlight is replaced with lantern light along the docks and people gradually vacating the market space. "Thank you for today, it was the most fun I've had in... well, ever I suppose" you chuckle, for it's not a sorrowful confession, as much as it sounds, it's enlightening, he feels pride that he can give that to you.
"I'm glad I was of service to you" he bows in imitation of the interactions you face daily, standing again to see your sorrowful fixation. At first he thinks he's triggered a regression from you, crossing the line of mocking what you have told him only makes you feel trapped, but looking into your eyes it's something else, something that looks like you don't want the day he's given you to end.
So he makes a quick decision, gathering your cheeks in his palms and pressing a tender kiss to your lips, one long enough to feel his heart kick against his chest and to give you something to long for when he parts. Your eyes are dazed when he looks at you once more, stroking your cheek briefly as he pulls away with a smile "meet me this time tomorrow, there's something I want you to see"
He thinks the sight of you stood there, fingers brushing over your lips where his just were might be the most alluring sight he's ever been blessed with, and he's been witness to to jewels and riches of all degrees, locations you can only dream up. You're radiant, if he could see only one sight at deaths door, he'd choose you every time. It burns to stop staring, but eventually he must, ensuring you haven't bewitched his feet straight through the floorboard and into the cold rush of sea water. Thankfully most of the crew would be in the tavern in town this time of night, a straight path should lead him right to his cabin. It's never so easy for peace and quiet on the ship though.
"And who would that fair maiden be then, Yeonjun?" His heart drops to the soul of his feet, ceasing in his tracks like a man accused. Spinning on his heels, preparing to lie his heart out, his breath exhales relieved to see Soobin lounging on his bed and Taehyun reading through papers on his desk. His brother's not by blood but by a bond stronger than that, his closest confidants.
"You scared the shit outta me!" Yeonjun hisses, pushing his door shut in an instant, now his worry is to eliminate anyone overhearing the conversation he knows is inevitable, not a chance they'd let this go.
"You'd better start talking" there's a mischievous glint to Soobin as he tauntingly kicks his legs up behind his sprawled out body like school girl mockery, stomach to the bed. Taehyun is quieter, leaned against his desk yet he can tell he is just as curious.
"What do you want me to say?" Yeonjun flings his hand up in defeat, willing the ship to swallow him whole and drag him under the riptide, anything to avoid this.
"Hmm, I don't know, how about you start with telling us about the girl we saw you locking lips with there? That'd be a good start" Soobin sardonically answers, sitting up properly now his point is across, purely curious. "Really, Jun, it's like you wanted to be caught" Taehyun adds unhelpfully.
Yeonjun can only whine, burying his face in his hands, much to the two boys dismay. He throws himself on the bed next to Soobin and prays to a higher power he won't have to admit this to them.
"She's...she's... yeah..." they don't feel the need to verbally push more, this is more serious than they originally thought. Like a lovesick boy he's struggling to articulate his feelings and it's a look they've never seen on him before. Almost sickeningly sweet.
"She's amazing. She's like this little ball of light and she's better than me in every way" all the words he wants to describe you with escape him and become rudimentary, yet everything he could say has already been picked up by the observant boys. These are not the words of a boy fooling around, they're the words of a man in love.
"And ravishing" Soobin adds with a giggle, earning himself an elbow from Yeonjun for his crudeness and audacity. "Calm, I'm only fooling"
"She sounds good for you. It's about time you found a life for yourself that's yours and not your fathers" Taehyun, ever the voice of reason offers insight Yeonjun already knew in his heart, but put in words turns everything a little more grounded. For once something was only his, what should make him vulnerable only makes him soar. Perhaps that's why the next words spew from his throat before he can stop them.
"She's the princess" instant regret upon witnessing the wide stares of his friends, choked up in pure shock.
"Oh you're in some deep shit!" Soobin stutters a laugh in disbelief. "I sincerely hope you know what you're doing" Taehyun can only puff, crossing his arms with imperious attitude.
"I know. But I'm in too deep now" the thought of never seeing your face at the end of those docks waiting for him sickens him to places unimaginable, agony stricken the thought of never having the chance to kiss you once more. They both see it, there's no use in talking him out of it, lord knows he wouldn't listen if they tried.
"Just be smart, you know we're behind you as much as we can be, but there are things not even we can save you from" Taehyun's words echo as they both take their leave, saying all they can and leaving Yeonjun with all those thoughts ruminating. Somehow, you push through all that doubt in his mind and embrace him in his minds eye as you lull him to sleep.
── .✦
Like Rapunzel climbing her tower, you reach your balcony with the finesse only gained from experience, although you don't find it dark as you had left it or expected it, instead, your handmaiden sits on your bed with a worried expression, oil lamp in hand and standing to attention as soon as she spots you.
"Miss! Where on earth have you been? I've been worried sick, I almost alerted parents to call on a search party for you!" She proclaims in haste, too loudly for your liking to draw in any more unnecessary attention. You hush her instantly.
"There's no need for that, I'm perfectly fine!"
"Honestly, Miss, you look a mess, your hair is tattered and-wait, is this a man's overcoat?" Curse your choice to throw this over your undergarments, now it's gotten you somewhere difficult to dig up from.
"It is- but you mustn't say a word, promise me you won't!" You attempt to subdue, pleading with her as she tries to pat down your appearance like it absolves you.
"I really shouldn't keep secrets like this-" she begins, though unsure as you appeal to her better nature. "-then don't even think of it as a secret, think of it as helping me, that's your duty as my hand maiden, correct? You understand how suffocating this place is, he's just a friend who helps me escape that for a little while. Please"
Somehow that manages to quell her, reluctantly agreeable with how distraught the whole situation seems to make you. You count all your lucky stars that nothing more comes from this, managing to settle her enough for her to take leave for the night and promising to be careful. When your head hits the pillow, you can't help but feel those trinkets Yeonjun had brought for you acted as talismans of protection, stuffed deep in the pockets of his coat, you fall asleep with dreams of him.
── .✦
You meet with him again under the cover of night and he leads you to the place he promised, along the jagged rock line of where the coast bridges the mountainous landscape, lays a cavernous rock pool bathed in moonlight, the waves only crashing enough to sweep through the entrance to the ocean. He leads you with lamplight, carefully placing his steps so you can follow safely. At the opening, he sets the lamp down, jumping only a short distance to the sand-bedded ground, but for a stature of yours, he's not willing to risk injury, securing his hands to your waist as he lifts you down. All it takes is one wrong footing and you stumble forward further into his arms with force that almost knocks you both backwards. He watches the way the moon kisses your skin at this angle, bouncing off and crowning your hair iridescent. Jewel tones emanate off you, a pearl the ocean has bestowed upon him.
Your hands grip his upper bicep, firm muscles in support as you feel them ripple under your touch, ever reactive to you. You both hold your positions a moment too long, too caught up in the feel of each other to care for little else. It's too taxing to let go of you completely, now he knows the warmth of you under his palm he'll chase it until his last breath, so even as he guides you through the cave an arm is still stuck to your side. Eventually you reach an optimal opening to lay together on the cream grains of sand, nothing exists here but the whoosh of whisking waves greeting the shore. He lays above you peering down, propped up on an elbow and brushing each singular strand of your hair like a mantra. You need not say it in words, but something was born here, something so all consuming and rapturous hells fire would snuff before this. When your lips meet again in sensual cadence, exploring the taste of honey liquor on his tongue, you know love true.
You cannot bare to part with each other that night, so you lead him up the ivy to your tower. Like a thorn among the roses in your room, hair and clothes as black as obsidian and simple in creation, he contradicts the soft, muted colours that paint your walls, baroque design missing not a singular detail. He looks as though he's here to ruin you; strip you of every shred of dignity and purity and do it with a maniacal grin but theres devotion in his fox eyes that spills tenfold at the holy sight of you slipping your garments to a pool by your feet, the only witness is him and the moon. You'll shred yourself of that purity before he would ever feel the guilt of it, that virtue was already lost to you years before you ever met, when the mother who told you blood is thicker than water let that blood rot and curdle, lost when you accepted that, for the water runs deeper and cleaner. You'd let him ruin you every time.
His fingers touch you like that thought never enters his mind, only to devote himself to you is his wish, gracing your skin with the slight of his hand. Exploration of every inch of your body and his leaves you privy to the scars that litter across him like constellations, he's reminded of the pain of each one, purified in the process as you trace them over. Nothing is left untouched by his lips, filtering between unbridled passion and pliable worship, your thighs are the gates his hips find home in, reaching depths inside you undiscovered before him, body and soul, threading his fingers through yours. He’s present; it grounds you to know that he is only a breath away.
Lean muscles constrict and contort chasing that pleasure, pulling you closer so that you lay chest to chest with each other, close enough you can see his eyes roll but never lost far enough to forget you. His focus is back to you with every little sound you make, learning what makes your body reactive to him. You think it’s the sensation of everything, holding him so close, having him buried so deeply you don’t know where you end and he begins - but he can see the tiny inflictions, the way he stutters his hips just slow enough to make you chase him. The lips he presses under your jaw, messily leaving his mark as you leave yours across his back, nails scratching to combat the intensity of his searing touch. Panting, he’s desperately devoted to you.
He hushes your own whines to soft whimpers, he's not willing to risk being caught and having you ripped from him, instead he plummets further inside you resistant to leave, remaining right there as he reaches the peak of his ecstasy and even long into the early hours of morning.
He never allows himself to fall asleep, as much as his spent body begs him for the rest, you had given him sensations that simultaneously wore him down to the his last tether and that he now had an unquenchable thirst for. Watching you breathe softly with your legs tangled in his, he would give all the treasures in the world to remain this way with you. Eventually your eyes flutter open to his, bangs falling in place as his head rested on the pillow like an angel had placed him there just for you. You can still feel him everywhere, where his hands rest on the small of your back and still inside you. You both know you have to part before the sun has fully pushed its way above the oceans distant horizon, before the palace is alive with activity, so he'll bask in your warmth for as long as he can.
"One day I'll gift you freedom as the seas once did for me. Now my heart only feels complete with you" he murmurs into your hair while placing a hundred tiny kisses, breathing in the salt whipped strands. You wonder what he means, had he not already given that to you? Surrendering himself over to you had proven that freedom lies beyond your four gilded walls. You wondered if he meant to break you free of your cage, let your spirit run untamed as it's meant to, like his does, and you know you'd allow it in a heartbeat.
Eventually, when you tether away from each other and watch him disembark to his ship, his words feel like an oath.
── .✦
Days turn to weeks and weeks to months of more stolen moments between lovers, your back hitting bed springs at least a dozen more times, enough to subdue his insatiable desire to have you underneath him. Strolls through meadows and costal swimming in the blazing afternoon sun. Bare feet stagger across the rocks like scorched needles jabbing you as you explore the shallow rock pools and the life below the surface. Yeonjun delicately peels starfish from the sea bed of every vibrant hue your eyes can capture for you to see, fingers dipping into cool water to provide you with ornate shells. They serve as mementos while he's sea bound, passing the time by stringing them up into beautiful necklaces to then adorn around his neck with glee when he returns to you.
You spend lifetimes strolling hand in hand and yearning to see his ship in the cove again. Even as waves of sickness float through you, leaving you incapable of leaving your room, your mind is elsewhere, in dreams with him. There you and him are both free to do as you please, fill each other with love to your hearts content. Enough for the lack of time you can spend with one another in waking life. It might just be enough to pull you through another day unable to reunite.
"It's too tight! I feel like I can't breathe" you exclaim, the constriction of the corset like a vice, erupting a wave a sickness to bubble up to your throat. Thankfully, the maid halts her movement, immediately loosening the material to place it on the side.
"Miss, may I?" The handmaiden gestures to your undergarments vaguely and somewhat cautiously, earning a confused nod of acceptance. Carefully she lifts the lace of the dress over your thighs, uncovering more of your skin. Eventually, she exposes the entirety of your stomach, using the pads of her fingers to prod and feel, earning a hiss to click past your teeth. When you flinch at the intimate contact your maid makes, the hands probing your lower belly quickly retreated, a shocked expression plastered on her face.
"Miss, how have you been feeling, any sickness?" The sudden concern was nothing new, in fact it was part of her job to ensure the Princess was in healthy condition, but something felt off with the way her eyes went wide shot.
"A little, nothing overly concerning" you confirm to the immediate stunned face of your maid.
"Miss, y-you're with child!" the response is quick, aghast. You can only choke, stumble over any words trying to form in your throat, coaxing her to continue.
"I thought something might be wrong when I noticed that you hadn't bled through your sheets the past two months, but it can happen without copulation. But now I can't fit you into your regular corset, you're starting to show, miss!"
All thoughts collide and crash inside your mind, little makes sense and somehow... everything does all at once. Something bloomed, here inside the very room where flowers on the window sills wilt and dreaming comes to die. Something that's only yours that can never belong to the claws of the vultures inside this palace.
"You cannot speak a word of this, not to any other staff, my mother or father, promise me!" That you are certain of.
"The father...it's the boy you have been sneaking off to see?" Ignorant of your plea and prodding "No one can know, do you understand me?" It's unnerving to you that she hasn't conceded your command.
After a pause filled with something not too dissimilar to distain, she answers "This boy will not be able to provide for you and your child, miss, and your father will certainly not approve, let me take care of it, if we tell them together we can-"
"You will do no such thing, not a word of this will leave you" patience wares thin and you spit your words, the venom of it clearly injects her, sprinting toward the door and with a slam shes running through the halls. You never did have much faith in her. She kept your promise of sneaking out for a brief while but that was mostly due to your adept skills of never allowing her to see when you had slipped out. Just another body in this prison you could not rely on.
Past everything, you don't want to be present to see the explosion once the palace is aware of your escapades, at least delay it a little while so hastily you tear your balcony door open. You are only a few feet away from escape when gangly fingers grip your arm and pull you back with enough force to bruise.
"Where do you think you are going, little madam?" Your mother, spiteful and vindictive as ever spews in your face in outrage, her frenzy is unmatched as she continues her verbal assault on you. Every malicious word in her lexicon is ammunition against you, uncaring for anything past the family name that you have now soiled. This hate is nothing new to you, you've never been able to reach your mother's unattainable expectations, even when you tried with all your might. Eventually, you let slip how apathetic you felt towards your duties, and you caught the backlash tenfold, more lessons and more studies and it never corrected your mind where it mattered. It only made you distain it more.
She reminds you of all of it now, how your harlot ways would be the death of everything your bloodline had strived so hard for, and when your father finally learned of the disturbance you had it retorted right back. While his words were not so audibly deafening they were painful in ways your mothers could not. He spoke of plans non negotiable that would be enacted on the morrow, trust the diplomat to already have a suitor waiting for you. He was not the richest nor the most affluential candidate in their roster but he was the last resort for you now, the last saving grace for your wretched soul, as your father's words echo. You would marry this unknown suitor as soon as your father's words caught wind and his ships convoy arrived, as early as tomorrow. Then, you would be another's man's property to do as he pleased.
Now your prison was literal, after your mother and father's loathing finally ran dry, they locked all doors and windows in your room, you would sit and think upon your sins before your repentance. You won't let your tears spill and have them the satisfaction of knowing your turmoil, they would misinterpret it anyway- because instead of atonement you think only of Yeonjun, how his essence alone could calm the raging storm inside you and it's the only thing your body craves, especially now with a piece of him nestled inside you.
You bide your time, waiting until theres all but silence outside your door, picking up one of the rocks you had collected along the shore and smash your way through the glass balcony doors. The shards cut at your feet as you climb over the balcony and down the vines you use as ladders, but the grass under your toes is a bandage. You don't even think, your body takes you the distance to the docks, to where you spot him on the way back to his ship.
"Yeonjun?" You wearily call out, observing the way he glances back with shock in his features, fear rising where his senses lock onto you and the look of absolute devastation that wracks you.
"Princess? You can't be here, it's dangerous!" You knew that much, knew that he was the one to empty the barrels for his ship daily, though not too far behind him would be the rest of his crew. None of that mattered.
"I need you, Yeonjun" fresh hot tears stream down your face, breaking every string in his heart. Instinctively pulling you into him, holding tightly to his chest, his arms supported under your thighs to lift you with ease. You felt so frail, so broken he was surprised your legs had managed to bring you to him. Shuffling onto the cool sand just below the empty dock and away from prying eyes, resting you on the slope so he could crouch in front of you, eyes searching to find you.
"Tell me what's wrong" the anticipation of every second passing killing him more.
"Marry me, Yeonjun" he almost sputters at your request. It was something you had both dreamed up before, when tensions had been high, caught up in the heat of intimacy. But the topic had never come to fruition as anything more than that. A dream. Despite his primal urge to make you his by name in holy matrimony, he knew what it meant for you to give up, the only life you have ever known, for his. A life cruel and dangerous, one that something as pure as you should never touch. He couldn't let his selfishness ruin you.
"Where is this coming from?" Against every fibre of being begging him to oblige, take your hand and run in that very moment, he questions further.
"You don't want to marry me?" You sound as though you believed the answer as no, the thought leaving a nasty taste in his mouth as he vehemently disagrees.
"Princess, there's nothing in this godforsaken life I want more than to make you my wife, I'm already yours heart and soul. But when you come around cryin' like this I know it ain't just cause you're proposing to me" fingertips gently stroke away the tears tracks, cupping your cheek you could see it was no lie, he was holding his world in his hands.
"My father and mother, they're- making me marry tomorrow. I can't marry him, I can't be auctioned off like a piece of meat to that man. I'd sooner drown myself than be tied to him for the rest of my life, to any man that isn't you-" your words fall flat in the comforting embrace of his lips as he kisses you, despite the softness, it feels all encompassing, the hand that had snaked into your hair helped gravitate you together. The way he parts from your lips is slow, dedicating every ounce of his attention to boring his stare into your eyes before closing them to speak.
"You'll never see your mother or father again. By pirate law you'd be my wife, but I don't doubt that your father will know someway to annul it if you ever went back. You'll be leaving the only life you've ever known behind. You'd be giving up being a princess, you'll be seen as nothing more than a pirate's wife. I'm no more than a criminal in your fathers eyes and that's what you'll be" a shaky sigh leaves him as he rests his forehead to yours, he can't muster the courage to open his eyes and see the possibility of disgust in your glance and voice.
"I don't care for that, I don't care for any of it, I just need to be your wife" if he didn't know any better he would think that you hadn't thought this through with how quickly you respond, but he did, knew you like the lines on his palm.
"Okay. I'll pull some strings, i know a vicar who can do it. I can have us married by dawn. I need you to go back to the palace, play along and let 'em think you'll marry him, we can't raise suspicion otherwise it'll go to shit and-" his plan is solid and well thought out, perhaps his previous daydreams of you becoming his wife had prepared him for this very moment, but it all sounded impossible to you.
"Yeonjun, I can't go back there, please don't make me go back, please-!" More hot tears spill but this time into the fabric of his shirt where he pulled you tightly to his chest at the outburst.
"Shhh, you're okay. You're gonna be okay. Listen to me carefully, be their perfect princess for one more night. Let them believe you're compliant, let their guards down. By tomorrow, you'll be with me. That man will never own you. I will kill before I let any man own you, so much as touch you. Your body, your soul are mine, as I am yours. Soon, my name will be yours too, but until then, I need you to pretend, can you do that for me?" His request is so gentle, so patient while his thumb strokes comforting circles into your palms.
A deep sigh runs from your mouth, a slight hiccup as you prepare to bare everything.
"I'm with child, Yeonjun" for a moment the words fall flat into the open space around you. It feels like he's been winded, like an actual punch in the gut from shock alone. "I was coming to tell you when mother caught me sneaking out. One of my hand maidens had noticed that I hadn't bled the past two months. When she couldn't fit me into my corset she saw that I was showing, I didn't think she would tell mother so soon, i-I had no idea what to do, that's why I was coming here, to you" despite the storm of thoughts circling his head, he listens intently to every word.
"She called me every name there is, a harlot, whore, but the thing that hurt most was when she said that I was carrying the devils spawn. How can that be true when you gave this to me?" You could see his jaw clenching, becoming restless the more you spoke, probably debating whether to march to the mansion himself and unleash his wrath. But the glossy look in your eyes brings him right back.
"By the time father knew he had already arranged the wedding. Said that this was the only way to save me, the family reputation would never recover if people knew. He said that it would be the only choice if I want it plausible for the child to be his...that I had no choice, a pirate would never care for me or the child, you'd never be able to provide for us, that you would discard us like the trash we are" it's impossible for you to stop the tears flowing, like stating it out loud somehow makes your fathers words echo true. But when Yeonjuns face nuzzles deep into your stomach, arms wrapped so tightly around you the words are the last thing you can think of.
"They speak venomous words to you because they know nothing of me, they think me as cruel as they are. Discard you? You're the only thing in this goddamn world worth protecting. You...and now our child" his palm rests above where a piece of him lays beneath, a surge of fealty courses through his bones to shelter you "Come here" he's all so tender, pulling your head to his shoulder where you let a final wave of tears erupt. In a few short words, he's shown you more love than you knew existed in the universe, something so raw no other soul had ever given you. So you let those tears grieve for the child who feared she would walk alone until the day she died, reborn from them into a woman liberated from those shackles.
"I'm going to take you somewhere safe while I gather what we need, can you stand?" He stands and although he asked, he ignores his own words and assists you vertical anyways, palm never leaving yours as he steers you towards the tavern. Your fingers twitch against his, feeling your resistance not from him but the nature of the establishment you were about to enter. Reinforcing the bond your hands hold, you grip him tighter with faith. "Keep close and your head down"
It's nowhere close to being ideal, if he could keep you free from this place it would already be done, yet the safety that lies beyond the bed of thorns to get there is the only option. You do as he says, you dare not look anyone in the eye as you slip past drunkards and into the backend of the tavern to the lodging, hastily knocking on one of the doors before entering, shielding you in the process.
"Are you with me now as we have always said?" Yeonjun asks out to Soobin and Taehyun who occupy the table centre of the room, cards in hand and clearly unassuming.
"You know we are, what's going on, yeonjun?" They can see the silhouette of you stood behind him, yet to see you in entirety until he tugs you to his side. In other circumstance you're sure you would not cower so from the only other people Yeonjun keeps close, though now you use him as your shield from any other potential threat.
"I need you to keep her safe until I can gather funds and a ship. We are leaving by the morning and we won't be returning" it feels bittersweet, to ask one final request of his closest brethren to part for the rest of their days, the dispiriting feeling only lasts until Taehyun speaks up. "Fool. You'll need us if you want that ship to even sail. We're leaving with you" a spark in his souls ignition, revived optimism lining the curt nod he gives, grateful in ways he might not ever be able to repay.
He turns to you, leaning down to gather the base of your head with his hands in attention, he needs you to see the commitment that he will return "trust no others but them, I will be back to you before you know" he cannot leave before he's observed the confirmation in your features, so once you gift him that he places a fond kiss to your lips, a brief farewell.
As soon as the door is shut and you are alone in the company of Soobin and Taehyun, they tend to you with immediacy, letting you sit with nothing to offer you but alcohol and company and you are beyond grateful for just that alone. You sense why Yeonjun holds them so dear, even from the stories he's told you of their adventures and escapades they are nothing short of brothers in arms, they keep you and your mind occupied with conversation and pleasantries, more than you expect from the rest of the pirate crew just outside the lodging doors.
Hours pass while you all await on Yeonjun, Taehyun had offered his bed when your replies shortened and eyelids grew heavy, only allowing yourself to rest with the promise of his return at the forefront of your mind. And he does, once the clock passes midnight he's walking through the threshold once more, eyes only searching for you. He finds you at the edge of the bed, the sheets haphazardly laid over you no doubt by one of the boys, your body is scrunched in a position that cannot be all too comfortable but on your face is only content. Your body must be so exhausted that he'll leave you sleeping just a little longer while he runs through the plan with Soobin and Taehyun, but eventually comes the time to wake you.
"Wake up, darlin', I'm about to finally make you my wife" you awaken with fingers combing through your hair and his voice soothing you, taking no time to force yourself up to embrace him, that sea salt scent wrapped up in something inexplicably him enveloping you.
Escaping the tavern is easier at this hour, though not fully emptied, the only patrons left are those far too intoxicated to care or even notice, the boys whisk you out with ease. You expect to be led to the deck where Soobin and Taehyun branch off towards a ship humbler than the grandiose of theirs yet lacks no beauty, the sails are of ivory and pearl and not yet sun bleached with wear, refracting sapphire and moon bathed. Instead, there's a rowboat waiting for you beneath the boardwalk, structural posts of oak mimic the trees they once were to hide you. It's darker under here apart from a singular oil lamp centre of the boat when Yeonjun bares his hand for you to take.
"Climb on, love" he's yet to explicitly tell you this is the last time you will ever set eyes upon your birth land, at least from this close. There's a chance in your future to pass by and be witness to the rolling hills and sloping rock pools you once played in, but never to observe the ugliness up close. Never to see that damned palace of wickedness and false dignity. You take his hand with the feeling of absolute in your heart, for this alone is the freedom he once promised.
Pushing the boat along the sand, it rudders until it meets the still of water beneath, climbing up with grace. The sea appears to be on your side, mellow waves rock the boat with steadiness, aiding Yeonjun as he rows just past the risk of ragged rocks of the coast. There's nothing compelling you to glance over your shoulder, a corner of the world you are leaving behind, your eyes hold his, his smile your driving force.
You row for a little while on the bobbing current, passing a few islands of small until a house on stilts appears, tide-worn and weathered but charming all the same. Yeonjun ties the boat alongside a similar one to the post, lifting you upon the walkway and up the railing to the building. He knocks thrice sharply, an older man of small stature, hair streaked white answers after you heard the shuffling on floorboards behind the door. It's apparent the man had not expected visitors, a grumble in his voice that's quickly dissipated once Yeonjun produces a small velvet purse, rattling with coin. He feels the weight in palm, enough to satisfy as the ramshackle door opens for you both.
It's a church not of grandiosity but stark austere, no stained glass like the one you left behind and certainly no gold wear scattered around so frequent it bleeds it. In fact, the only treasure you see is the golden chalice at heart of the altar, so stunningly set it gleams in candlelight. The pews are worn down and sparse, you suppose not many frequent this church and you are the lucky few.
Trained your whole life for a wedding of ostentatious design, meticulously crafted and structured so that not a hair on your head would be allowed out of place; you stand here now, not in a majestic gown but the loose garments that fit under corset and dress, irony for the wicked that its milk white in colour like the one you would have worn. You allow yourself the breath you would not have been permitted, it's not the wedding you envisioned yourself in and you could not be more thankful for that. With Yeonjun facing you, devotion overflows as he pulls the rings from his trouser pocket, they're neither heirlooms for either of you, a scarce amount of love in your bloodlines ensured that. Instead they are hand forged with amity and your own initials, commissioned by him only a few weeks prior by a distant lands blacksmith. The legacy you two have created like the life inside you.
Exchanging words of oath and vow, your names and life are tied as one under wooden roof and moon. He kisses you as deeply as the first time, under the same promise to love you until he is nothing but dust in the ground.
The vicar retreats into a back room once your ceremony is complete. There's no rush anymore, time on your side like the wind in your sails, all worries of a life past flotsam in the undercurrent. You hear the anchor of a vessel cast down just outside, the very ship you had seen in the harbour now stationed and manned by all of two men awaiting on your embarkment, Soobin and Taehyun. Yeonjun doesn't seem to care much for the signal, so you too will reserve your haste.
"My wife. My love. My life. You and our child will know only how abundantly I cherish you both. That, I promise you" He rests his forehead to yours, eyes closed and content enough in holding you as a new dawn spills through the church glass windows, with the knowledge that this is not the end of hardships for you both, there will be times to bend and snap you into different form. He will labour gruelling with Taehyun and Soobin to acquire and trade a whole crews worth to provide enough for your new family, starting from scratch upon familiar and undiscovered tides, a conclusion he would reach every time.
Because if he has nothing but a small ship and a bag of coin to his name, he had you and his child beneath his palm, clung to him like the stars in the night sky.
