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sunshineyuyu · 6 months ago

Text

chained (c. jh)

★ summary: jongho wears a silver chain that you’re obsessed with, and you finally get his attention after some calculated flirting with yunho and some beer pong. ★ pairing: jongho x f!reader (ft. yunho) ★ genre: friends to lovers, college, smut (mdni!) ★ word count: 5.4k ★ tags/warnings: alcohol consumption, vaginal fingering, jongho calls reader babygirl and yunho calls reader princess, features friend!san and previous hookup!yunho, some jealousy/tension, reader also kinda uses yunho… but he’s okay with it, lowercase ★ notes: beta’d by the bestie @starhwas-bunny. there may or may not be a yunho prequel coming soon hehehehe. also please let me know if i’ve missed any warnings! ★ masterlist | read on ao3 | part 2

you feel your eyelids droop, heavy from the burden of attempting to stay away in this godforsaken class. it doesn’t help that the seats in this lecture hall are so damn comfortable: plush and tall enough for full back and neck support and a slight give that lets you lean back. you’re one lecture slide away from calling it a day—even though class started just ten minutes ago—when you feel something at your left shoulder.

it’s choi jongho, leaning closer towards you over the armrest dividing your seats.

hot, attractive choi jongho, with broad shoulders and strong arms and thick thighs.

you stare adamantly at your laptop screen, at the blank google doc open, at the blinking cursor teasing you for almost falling asleep. you focus on literally anything except jongho’s overwhelming presence at your side–the subtle scent of his musky shampoo, his hot breath fanning over your shoulder.

the silver chain that he normally hides behind the collar of his shirt hangs out, dangling in a way that has you imagining a different scenario: your string lights illuminating the outline of his body while he presses you into the mattress with his weight, one hand gripping your waist and the other on the headboard, that goddamn silver chain swinging above you while he—

“late night last night?” jongho says, voice low because you’re in class, and deliciously deep. it’s unintentionally sultry, and you find yourself squeezing your thighs together.

“shut up,” you say. “i was finishing an essay.”

jongho hums, and you start to aimlessly copy down the words of the lecture slide. you know that jongho sees right through you; the slides will be posted online later, so there’s no point regurgitating the content.

but you cannot let yourself look at jongho, because you’d probably try to kiss him right then and there.

“weren’t you with yunho?” he says.

“not like that,” you grit out. “we’re just in the same class so he was helping me.”

jongho hums, and he finally returns to the confines of his own seat. you let out a breath of relief. you continue copying down words from the powerpoint, even letting yourself tune into the professor’s voice; at least you’re wide awake now, a nagging feeling of want coursing through you.

you feel a nudge at your other elbow. this presence is comfortable, familiar. it’s san, your first friend at university who is conveniently the same major as you. even though he’s just as big and built as jongho, he’s less intimidating. he’s soft and nice, and he’s showing you a topical meme on his phone from some computer science joke twitter account.

unfortunately, jongho notices san’s phone turned towards you and leans over again, except this time he’s closer, his shoulder brushing against yours as he tries to make sure he’s also included in the joke.

“i don’t get it,” he says.

“it’s because you’re not actually a computer science major,” you say, rolling your eyes and pushing jongho back into his seat—you exert more effort than you anticipated because of how solid jongho is.

“tsk,” jongho says. “at least i actually understand what’s going on in this class.”

this shuts you up, and you go back to glaring at your laptop and reformatting your bullets because you’ve already lost track of the lecture.

you last another fifteen minutes of attempting to pay attention, before you resign yourself to scrolling through instagram and mentally planning how you can coerce jongho into sharing his immaculately organized notes.

in the final minute of class, the whole class begins unceremoniously packing up, even though the professor is still droning on about greedy algorithms. everyone shuffles out of their row and through the doors at the back of the lecture hall, and jongho falls into step with san, talking about working on the homework tonight. you walk a step behind them, because your legs are shorter and because you want plausible deniability while admiring the shear breadth of jongho’s shoulders.

you leave the lecture hall, and san heads to the academic quad for his next class.

“see you later,” you say to him and jongho, who usually has to work at the library after class, but you notice him following you to the coffeehouse.

“don’t you have work?” you say.

“i changed my schedule,” jongho says. “are you gonna go work at the cafe?”

you nod, and he follows you to the campus coffeehouse where you stand in a fifteen minute line. jongho only gets drip coffee, so you end up ordering something frivolous to make the wait worth it. the two of you squeeze into a small table in the corner, your knees constantly brushing against each other as you read over the essay you wrote last night in a red bull induced haze.

most of it is thankfully salvageable, and the hit of caffeine helps you.

every once in a while, you find yourself glancing over the top of your laptop at jongho. at the lines of concentration etched into his handsome, tanned face. how his hair is getting scruffy and how he pouts when he’s deep in thought.

you’re so hopelessly in love with choi jongho.

at some point, he gets up to get a napkin, and when he returns, he doesn’t sit back down in his own seat. no—instead he hovers behind you, invading your space with one hand on the back of your chair and the other stretched onto the table to keep himself stable.

and that chain—that goddamn silver chain dances over your shoulder again.

“what do you want?” you mumble, skin prickling at the sensation of his proximity.

“this is not bad,” jongho says, eyes skimming over your essay.

“what’s with the tone of surprise?” you retort.

jongho shrugs. “just thought you would’ve been distracted last night.”

you finally chance a look at him, if only to stare at him puzzled until it finally clicks. you shove him off—subconsciously admiring, once again, just how solid he feels.

“for the last time,” you say. “it’s not like that. yunho’s just a friend.”

jongho sits back down, patting the napkin on a part of his laptop.

“good.”

you stop typing and gape at jongho, who’s returned to focusing on his own work. did he- did he just—? your brain works at miles a minute, offering bold assumptions and then instantly refuting them and then rebutting those and then raising new anxieties and then being hopeful and then—

you spend the rest of the time at the coffeehouse overanalyzing one word you’re not even sure you heard.

⋆⋆⋆

the three of you are sat around the coffee table in the living room of jongho and san’s apartment on the west side of campus. their apartment has become the haven for your discrete math class, where jongho blesses you and san with his knowledge in a class he’s taking pass/fail that isn’t even a major requirement for him. their apartment also has plenty of alcohol for when the nights get particularly rough and a good stash of unhealthy stacks.

it’s 1 am now, and the three of you have finished three out of five of the homework questions, eaten five packets of ramen, two sleeves of strawberry pocky, downed six bottles of yakult, and watched an eighteen minute youtube video theorizing that bakugou might become the second user of one for all.

you’d consider this a productive night.

now, you’re perched on the couch, san leaning against your legs while you play with his hair. it’s softer than yours, which frustrates you to no end because you know for a fact that he uses 5-in-1—how are there even five things to incorporate into one bottle?

jongho’s in the kitchen, contemplating a late night—or early morning—beer.

“seonghwa’s throwing a party this weekend,” jongho says, when he returns with another bottle of yakult instead of the beer. the bottle is already small, but it’s positively dwarfed by the size of his hands.

“if seonghwa’s hosting, then yunho will be there,” jongho continues. he looks pointedly at you.

“i thought,” you say, tugging a little on san’s hair and earning a sharp shout of pain, “we established that i don’t. like. yunho.””

“but didn’t you hook up with him?” san says, removing himself from your vindictive fingers and rubbing his scalp. as he sits up to look at you, he instantly regrets bringing up this point as you glare daggers at him. he’s not wrong; you and yunho had hooked up once, at the birthday party of an acquaintance, after seeing jongho chatting up some other pretty girl.

“you guys hooked up?” jongho says, breaking the stare-off you’re having with san for betraying your trust like that.

“it didn’t mean anything,” you say quickly, glancing up at jongho and double-taking at the shadow that’s fallen over his expression. how his jaw looks tensed and his eyes narrowed.

“but you guys hooked up,” he repeats.

“just the one time,” you say, not quite understanding why it feels like you’re being accused of something far worse than a hookup between two consenting and single adults. “we were high and he was just there and it happened.”

“when?” jongho says, continuing the interrogation and maintaining eye contact with you while san switches his attention between the two of you, the instigator but certainly not the mediator of this conversation.

“at yeji’s birthday party,” you say.

“so that’s why we had to pick you up from the burger place on 8th,” jongho says. “because you were at his place.”

“yeah,” you say. “but it literally does not matter because i don’t like him. we’re just friends, and i’m not gonna hook up with him again.”

jongho stares at you.

“good.”

there it is again. that word, said under his breath. barely there, but enough that you feel a mix of doubt and hope.

you hate it.

“hey!” san says, forcefully cheerful in a way that means he’s trying to change the subject to diffuse the situation. “i found another my hero theory video. the one has 100k views!”

you drop jongho’s gaze first, letting your attention shift to the video san has pulled up on his laptop. “i just don’t think my hero is that deep,” you sigh, trying to ignore the way you can still feel jongho’s eyes on you.

“well, 100 thousand people do,” san sniffs. “including me.”

finally, jongho takes the bait. “how long is it?” he asks.

“thirty minutes!” san says cheerfully.

you and jongho both groan, but dutifully allow san to press play.

over the next thirty minutes, you tune in and out of the overdramatic video as you turn over the previous conversation in your head. you can’t help but read into the situation: clearly jongho is bothered that you’re close with yunho and hooked up with him once. in fact, he’s so bothered that you could even interpret it as being… jealous.

but if he is, why doesn’t he do anything about it?

you’re half asleep by the time the video ends. san nudges you and gives you an sheepish, apologetic smile.

“it’s late,” he says. “do you want us to drive you home?”

“nah,” you say. “can i just stay over? i’m too tired to move.”

it’s not your first time staying over. your apartment is on the other side of campus, so after most long nights of working you sleep on the couch. san lets you borrow the same old high school volleyball shirt every time, and you slip into it and pull off your jeans. the shirt is thankfully long enough to cover your butt, and the no-pants thing has never been a problem.

until now, when you step out of the bathroom, and jongho’s just entering his bedroom, and he looks at you. you clearly see his eyes roam down your legs before springing back up to meet yours.

“let me get you a pillow and blanket,” he says, voice gruff and deep.

“san’s getting—”

“let me get you a pillow and blanket,” he repeats.

it feels like an olive branch, and you fall asleep surrounded by jongho’s scent. distinctly masculine and musky and oddly soothing.

⋆⋆⋆

when you wake up the next morning, it’s to the sound of whirring from the kitchen. from your spot on the couch, you can vaguely make out the blurry shape of someone in the kitchen. your hand flails around the coffee table, blindly slapping until you find your glasses and shove them onto your face.

it’s jongho, wearing gray sweats and no shirt, leaning against the counter while making coffee. you take the time to admire his back, feeling your cheeks warm as you do. in all honesty, you’re surprised that this is the first time you’ve ever seen him shirtless, and you’d be dumb not to take advantage of it.

you run your eyes over the contours of the muscles in his back, the way they flex and ripple as he crosses and uncrosses his arms.

you yawn and wipe at the sleep still in your eyes. this noise gets to jongho, and he turns around. this action draws a sound out of you, something that comes from the back of your throat, somewhere between a gasp and a groan. because jongho—

jongho’s shirtless, and he’s facing you, his naked torso completely exposed to you. you stare at that goddamn silver chain, nestled against his substantial chest. at the miles and miles of smooth, tanned skin and his fucking arms.

you clap a hand over your mouth and pretend to yawn again.

“you want coffee?” jongho calls.

“yeah,” you manage to say, while laying back onto your back and averting your eyes to the ceiling.

a little while later, you hear jongho pad towards you and you sit back up again. he gives you a mug of coffee and sits down at the opposite end of the couch, leaning back and stretching out his offensively nice upper body. the light from outside peeks in from the blinds of the large balcony windows and bathes his skin in golden stripes.

“is san—?”

“he’s at his 8 am,” jongho says. “when’s your first class again?”

“not until 10:45,” you say. “i’m gonna go home and shower and stuff first.”

“i’ll give you a ride,” jongho says.

you protest politely, mostly because you don’t know if you’ll be able to stand being in such a small space with him, especially when he drives a sleek black mercedes with silky black leather that’s just begging for someone to ruin with some steamy car sex.

but jongho manages to convince you that he needs to drop by the convenience store on the east side of campus anyway, so you find yourself following him down to the apartment parking lot, wearing yesterday’s clothes and hair tied up in a bun to disguise how oily it is.

when he backs out of his spot, he does that thing: wraps his arm around the back of your seat and backs out with one hand. it’s disgustingly attractive.

you sink lower into the heated seat, staring out the window to avoid daydreaming about car sex with jongho.

⋆⋆⋆

you do end up going to seonghwa’s party that friday, after your girlfriends unceremoniously invite themselves into your apartment carrying a huge case of peach soju and a twelve pack of beer.

after a beer and two shots of soju, you’ve changed into a crop top, a silky leopard print skirt, and cute black boots.

thankfully, seonghwa’s place is only a block away from your apartment, but you and your friends still find a way to get lost on the way there. it takes ten minutes longer than necessary, but you’re finally crashing into the living room of seonghwa’s townhouse.

it’s already packed, but roomy enough that you can move freely without having to slide against other sweaty and drunk people. you break off from your friends to seek out san (and jongho). as you pass the kitchen, you swipe a red solo and a meager amount of whatever mixed drink atrocity they’ve made for the night that you immediately water down. you’re man enough to acknowledge that you’re a lightweight, and you’ll be damned if you end the night puking into a toilet rather than flirting with jongho.

you find san first. he’s lurking near the beer pong table, leaning against the wall and talking to wooyoung. you sneak up on him and he jumps when you give his side a big poke.

“san!” you say, wrapping him a big hug. you’re known to be more affectionate with alcohol in your system. after san clumsily returns your hug to avoid spilling his drink on you, you release him and give wooyoung a similar hug.

“where’s jongho?” you ask, standing on your toes to speak directly into san’s ear.

san points to the other side of the pong table, where you see jongho huddled in a corner with some blonde girl who looks suspiciously like the one from yeji’s birthday party. your reaction is immediate, something joining the alcohol to course through your veins—something fiery and prickling. jealousy, you think numbly.

“we’re playing next,” san says. “me and jongho. you should stay to watch.”

you hum noncommittally, peering at the ids lined up on the pong table and seeing only jongho’s. an idea strikes you, and you give san a peck on the cheek and some excuse about using the bathroom.

you wander back through the crowd of people, occasionally saying hi to people you know as you seek out one individual in particular. you find him on the couch, arm hung lazily on the back, hovering behind some girl. he’s clearly chatting her up, leaning close to her ear and hooded eyes making generous peeks at her cleavage.

you down the rest of your diluted mixed drink and throw yourself at him.

“yunho!” you cry, squeezing into the small space between him and the arm of the couch, meaning you’re basically sitting on him. “thank you so much for helping me with the essay! i definitely would’ve failed without you.” you flutter your eyelashes at him and simper.

the girl scowls visibly, crossing her arms in a way that makes her tits swell, but yunho barely notices—you know he has a sweet spot for you ever since that one night stand, and besides, he could get any girl he wants.

“y/n,” yunho says, shifting his body so that his back is to the girl now. she scoffs and leaves. “you good?”

“i’m great,” you giggle.

“you look good,” yunho says, shamelessly running his eyes over your figure.

“let’s play beer pong,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“you think you’re good for pong?” he says, a little dubiously as you let out a hiccup.

“yeah, because i know you’ll carry,” you say.

“alright, princess,” he says. “let’s go.”

you tumble off of him and pretend to be wobbly on your feet to let him steady you as you walk towards the beer pong table. yunho slips his wallet out of his pocket and slides his id onto the table to get in line to play the winner.

when he notices jongho, yunho lets out a chuckle.

“ah, y/n,” he says, catching your wrist and pulling you into him. “i see what’s happening.”

your cheeks heat up at being caught so quickly. “i’m sorry,” you say sincerely. “he keeps bringing you up and being weird, but now, he’s got that girl with him…”

“don’t worry, princess,” yunho says. “i know how to put on a show.”

jongho and san are playing now, and it looks like they’re winning. that same chick from before is hanging off of his arm, acting like a cheerleader. you catch jongho’s gaze, and the cheery smile he’s wearing slips off immediately when he notices yunho behind you, hands on either side of your waist.

you shiver as jongho gives you a salacious up-down that has you convinced you’ve pressed the right buttons to make something happen tonight. you giggle, tugging your lower lip in between your teeth and leaning a little closer to yunho.

something must snap inside jongho, because he and san end the game with three cups in quick succession. the losers slink off, as you and yunho take their place. yunho reracks the cups and refills them with a thin layer of beer. jongho rolls a ping pong ball towards you.

“eyes,” he says.

when yours lock onto his, you smirk. he grimaces.

to decide who gets to start, you have to hold eye contact with each other and try to make a cup. whoever makes one first gets to start the actual game. jongho misses, but you don’t, so you and yunho get to go first.

you and yunho go toe to toe with jongho and san, which is surprising considering how little beer pong you play. by the fourth turn, the blonde girl has left, unsatisfied with the lack of attention she’s received from jongho. by the seventh turn, you and yunho have two cups left, and jongho and san have three.

yunho goes, and makes the first. you cheer and jump up to plant a wet kiss on his cheek. he steps behind you, massaging your shoulders theatrically. you close your left eye, lining up your shot. just as you’re about to let go of the ball, you turn around and pull yunho down to your height.

“give me a good luck kiss!”

he smiles into the kiss, which turns out to have a lot more tongue than you’d expected, but yunho is a good kisser so you don’t mind.

“let’s go, princess,” yunho says, slapping your ass as you turn back to the pong table.

jongho’s positively glowering at this point, and you smirk at him as you map out your shot again.

you miss.

you’re not entirely surprised.

yunho’s not even mad, and begins grossly comforting you with arms wrapped around your shoulders and kisses to the crown of your head.

jongho and san make the last two cups easily.

“too bad, princess,” yunho says into your hair. “you were doing so well.”

you pull yourself out of his grasp. “bathroom,” you explain sheepishly. yunho gives you a knowing look and a wink.

you’ve been to seonghwa’s house enough to know about the secret bathroom on the second floor that he doesn’t allow partygoers to use, so you slink up the stairs when million dollar baby starts playing and the crowd swells with renewed enthusiasm.

just as you’re closing the door behind you, a shoe shoots out to stop the action. someone pushes the door back open, and who else but—

jongho.

“i thought you said you didn’t like yunho,” he hisses down at you.

“i need to pee,” you reply, cocking your head to one side and widening your eyes at him.

he considers you for a second before stepping inside the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

“alright,” he says. “pee.”

“i don’t- are you going to watch me?” you say.

“didn’t seem like you minded people seeing you and yunho all wrapped up downstairs,” jongho says, crossing his arms over his chest, and you hate the way his biceps bulge when he does.

“that’s different from- from peeing,” you mumble.

“fine,” jongho says, and he turns around to stare at the bathroom door.

you’re not entirely satisfied, but you really do need to pee, so you pull down your underwear and sit on the toilet.

it’s awkward, but at least the music and noise downstairs mask the sound. you end up peeing for a surprisingly long time, and even jongho feels the need to break the tension with a poorly timed,

“damn, you’re like a waterfall.”

“i’ve had a lot to drink tonight,” you snap.

“you’re that drunk?”

“no—i’m drinking water, too, you bastard,” you say, finally finished. “don’t want to be hungover tomorrow.”

you flush and wash your hands, and then you’re leaning against the sink and saying, “okay, you can turn around.”

he does. “so. yunho?” he prompts again.

“i told you,” you say, staring directly above jongho’s shoulder. “i don’t like him.”

“then why were you all over him?”

“why do you care?” you sneer.

“just answer the question, y/n,” jongho says.

“why are you so obsessed with yunho?” you say. “if you want to fuck him, be my guest! i won’t get in the way.”

this hits a sore spot, because jongho moves quickly, crowding you into the sink in one step.

“it’s not him i want to fuck,” he breathes.

your breath hitches in your throat. you feel your heartbeat in your mouth.

“what do you mean,” you say, mouth unbelievably dry.

“c’mon, y/n,” jongho says, voice husky. he’s looking at you, eyes darting to your lips. “you can figure this out.”

it’s the same phrase he always uses when you’re struggling through a discrete math problem that he’s already solved, but normally he’s nice, barely teasing.

right now, he sounds downright condescending.

so, you snap. you grab him by his chain and tug him down to your height, slot your lips over his and kiss him.

his lips are nice. soft. he tastes like minty chapstick and bitter beer. his tongue slips into your mouth, and suddenly the kiss takes a turn from intense to lewd.

his hands find your waist, his palms burning into the exposed skin between your crop top and your skirt. his thick thigh pushes apart your legs, and your skirt rucks up above your hips. you gasp and break away to tug at the hem, but jongho stops you.

“that’s counter productive,” he whispers.

“okay,” you say. “i’ll be productive then.” and you pull off your crop top to reveal a lacy black bra and pull up your skirt all the way to reveal a matching lacy black thong. you hear jongho inhale, and then a deep chuckle.

“fuck,” he says, drawing out the word. he meets your eyes again. “you’re so fucking hot.”

“that’s you,” you say.

he dives back in to mouth at your pulse point, as his hands slip down to your ass, palming the flesh and leading you to grind against his thigh. he’s flexing, and the fabric of your underwear is thin and you can already feel a wet patch spreading, and the combination along with the friction of the movement has you moaning.

“that’s what i like to hear.”

you hear the muted opening strums of mr.brightside just as jongho’s thumb begins circling your clit over your underwear. you moan into his shoulder and buck against his hand. he continues to work you until the crotch of your panties is practically soaked, and you’re a whining mess.

“p- please,” you whisper, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

“since you asked so nicely,” he murmurs, and he’s drawing aside the lace and pushing two fingers into you. you throw your head back at the feeling of being filled and stretched; his fingers are long and thick, nothing like your own or any of your previous hook-ups.

“shit, you’re so wet,” he says, pulling back to watch his fingers fucking you. the sound it makes is positively vulgar, and you pant with every motion. at some point, he starts curling his fingers so that they hit that perfect spot in the back and rubbing his thumb across your clit, and you can feel your high building.

“fuck, jongho,” you whine.

“shit, babygirl, you’re gonna make me cum in my pants if you keep talking like that,” jongho says, smiling into your neck.

“don’t,” you say. “you can- you can- please, fuck me. you can- cum in me.”

jongho stops, only the tips of his fingers teasing at your entrance, and you whimper as your pussy clenches around nothing.

“are you serious?” he asks, as you circle your hips in an attempt at some relief.

“yes,” you hiss.

“fuck, babygirl,” jongho says, taking a step back and a new glint in his eyes.

but just as he puts his hand on the button of his jeans, there’s a sharp rap on the door that makes both of you jump.

“oi! this bathroom is off-limits!” it’s seonghwa, and to be fair, he’s right.

“give us a second!” jongho calls, wincing at the subtext. you jump off of the bathroom sink, swaying a little with how jittery your legs are. jongho stabilizes you with a hand on your hip and hands you your shirt.

“jongho? is that you?” seonghwa says. “little shit. this is the third time—”

your head snaps up to look at jongho, who’s unlocking the door and pushing it open, effectively interrupting seonghwa’s rant. he nudges you out first, standing behind you, and you suspect it’s to hide the very visible tent in his pants that’s currently pressed against your ass.

“oh,” seonghwa says, as his eyes fall onto you. he takes a second, glancing back and forth between the two of you, running over your mussed hair and flushed cheeks, jongho’s screwed up face and his right hand still grasping your hip, the wrinkles in your skirt and finally—

“oh,” seonghwa repeats. “oh, shit. okay, well congrats and all that—” and here he punches jongho in the shoulder “—but that doesn’t mean you can fuck in my bathroom!” he finishes cheerfully. he steps behind jongho and begins ushering the two of you back down the stairs and through the living room until you’re on his front porch.

“if you’re going to be doing the nasty, i’d rather you do that at home!” seonghwa says, wagging a finger in your face. “make sure you use protection! love you both!” and he shuts the door.

he leaves you and jongho in a stunned silence, both staring at the closed door.

“uh—” jongho tries.

“what did he mean third time?” you say.

“oh,” jongho says, and his big dick energy dissipates as a sheepish expression takes over. “well, i- i might’ve… y’know… a couple times in seonghwa’s bathroom.” he rubs the back of his neck and offers you an apologetic, gummy smile.

“and you got mad at me for fucking yunho once in his own apartment?” you demand, actually stopping your foot to emphasize the clear double standard at play. “while you were off playing merry-go-fuck-around in seonghwa’s private bathroom?”

“i wasn’t mad at you,” jongho says. “i was just—”

“just what?” you say. “slut-shaming me for having consensual sex?”

“no!” jongho says quickly. “i was jealous.”

“oh,” you say. so, you’d been right. he has been jealous of you and yunho. but somehow, you don’t feel vindicated in the slightest. “i mean—that doesn’t make it any better. i’m not some object—”

“i know that,” jongho says, exasperated. “but i just wanted to be… with you.”

“with me?” you say, wrinkling your nose. “you wanted to fuck me, too? like those other girls you had up in seonghwa’s bathroom?”

“no! with you, like—” jongho’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip “—like as your boyfriend.”

oh.

well, you hadn’t been expecting that. you blink at him once, then twice. you open your mouth and close it again, gaping like a goldfish.

“do you- do you like me?” you ask, voice hoarse.

“well, yeah,” jongho says. “do… you like me?”

“yes!” you nearly shout the word. “yes—i’ve been in lo- i’ve liked you for at least a whole semester!”

“oh,” jongho says, looking as dumbfounded as you feel. “well, me too.”

you look at each other, and then start laughing. you hiccup, and jongho moves closer to you, wrapping his substantial arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his firm, warm chest. your cheek presses against that goddamn silver chain, but it’s no longer a source of stress for you. he peppers the crown of your forehead with kisses, until you finally look up at him and he kisses your lips softly.

“so,” he says, “can i?”

you raise your eyebrows. “can you what?”

“be your boyfriend?”

you pretend to contemplate the question, and when it takes you longer than a few seconds to respond, he knocks his chin against your temple affectionately.

“yeah,” you say, grinning. “yeah, you can be my boyfriend.”

“so then, what do you say about going back to my place and finishing what we started?” he asks.

“yes, please.”

continued in part 2!

#jongho #jongho x reader #choi jongho #jongho smut #jongho fic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #[sunsh writes]#ateez smut #sunshineyuyu fic

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littlebluebird2000 · 21 days ago

Text

Twirling Hearts- part 5

pairing: yeon si-eun x reader (female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: romance, smut

warnings: overprotective sieun, school bullying, discussion about food and weight, violence, harassment, smut, mature language, sexual harassment/assault, slow-burn, jealousy, baku always being at the scene of the crime...

summary: Who would've thought that a ballerina and the school's most feared nerd would complete each other so well? Being the new student was never easy-especially not when you were the only girl transferring into an all-boys school. To make matters worse, Eunjang High has a reputation for having its fair share of troublemakers. Some of the rumors were enough to make anyone second-guess stepping through those front gates...

author's note: this chapter contains sexual content. if you are not comfortable with that, it's okay, i'll see you in the next story. it’s the finally so i went all out.

word count: 8k+

follow #bluebirdyeonsieun for updates on the story. for some reason, my tags aren't working :

part: 1., 2., 3., 4., 5.

Your apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of your laptop. You sat on the couch, finishing the last bit of your online class, while Sieun leaned beside you, lazily flipping through your math assignment.

“You missed this step.” He murmured, pointing to the page. “You distributed wrong here.”

You leaned in, your arm brushing his. “Oh—right. I forgot the negative.”

He nodded, calm and unbothered. He wasn’t teasing or judging, just stating the facts. There was a quiet concentration in him, but something gentler beneath it. Something lighter, as if the weight he usually carried had eased, if only for a moment.

Once the assignment was finished, the rest of the day passed without urgency. You reheated some leftovers and shared them cross-legged on the floor, talking about small, unimportant things. Every so often, your phone buzzed with a message. The boys were checked in to make sure you were doing okay. When Baku sent a ridiculous meme, you showed the messages to Sieun, who rolled his eyes and muttered. “Idiot.” There was no real bite to it. Just something that almost sounded like affection. The kind he didn’t quite know how to express out loud.

By evening, the sunlight had faded into a gentle glow, filling the room with a quiet calm. The TV flickered with some show neither of you cared about, the volume low and easy to ignore. You were curled up in the corner of the couch, nestled into Sieun’s side, his arm resting around you. His fingers moved slowly through your hair, gentle and absentminded, like it was second nature. He was quiet, but not in a distant way. This silence felt warm. Familiar. Safe.

“Hey.” His voice came softer than usual, hesitant. “Do you wanna come with me? To the hospital?”

You turned slightly, just enough to catch his face, his eyes fixed on the ceiling while his fingers continued to drift gently through your hair.

“To see my friend…” He said. “The one I told you about. He’s still not awake. But I sometimes go after school.”

There was something raw in his tone. Not fragile, but exposed. It didn’t feel like a casual question. It felt more like an invitation into a space he kept hidden, a quiet part of him that lived in silence.

You looked at him, eyes soft. “I’d really like to meet him.” You said quietly. “If he’s someone important to you… then he matters to me too.”

Something shifted in Sieun’s expression, quiet but clear. His gaze lingered on you, steady and unspoken. There was a softness there, something hard to name. Maybe it was trust. Or maybe a quiet kind of gratitude.

He didn’t smile, but his hand paused in your hair for a moment. He held your gaze, quiet and steady, then gave a small nod. It wasn’t much, but it felt like thanks. Genuine and wordless.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The bus hummed beneath you, the city passing by in quiet blurs of motion and light. You sat beside Sieun, close enough that your shoulder brushed his. His phone buzzed in his hand, and he glanced down, eyes scanning the screen. A soft sigh left him.

“It’s Gotak.” He said. “Baku challenged Baekjin. Wants to settle things this weekend.”

You turned slightly toward him. “Seriously?”

He nodded, already typing a response. “Yeah. Other student from the school are probably going to join the fight. I told them I’d help figure something out.”

He said it so evenly, so calmly, that it caught you off guard. No panic. No frustration. Just quiet focus. You watched him for a moment, wondering how he could stay so composed with something like that looming, but that was who he was. He was always planning ahead.

When the bus came to a stop, you both stepped off together into the cool air. The hospital stood a few blocks ahead, pale and still under the fading light. Inside, the air was sharp with disinfectant. The receptionist handed over a clipboard without a word, and Sieun filled in both your names. You followed him down a long hallway, past rooms and nurses and the faint, steady beep of machines.

At last, you reached the door.

He stopped in front of it, his hand hovering just near the handle.

“I haven’t been inside for a long time.” He said, not looking at you. “I usually sit out here. On that bench.” He nodded towards it. “I text his phone. Tell him stuff about my day. School. Random things. Pretend he’s reading it.”

You stayed quiet, letting him speak.

His fingers twitched slightly at his side. “But I think… I want to go in today.”

You gave a small nod, just enough for him to notice. You didn’t need to say anything. You were here, and that was enough.

After a moment, Sieun reached for the handle. His shoulders rose with a breath, then lowered as he slowly pushed the door open.

The room was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the gentle hiss of the oxygen machine. Sieun’s friend lay completely still beneath the pale hospital sheets, an oxygen mask covering his face. Thin wires and IV lines ran from his arms to a nearby machine.

Sieun lingered at the side of the bed, unmoving, eyes fixed on his friend. After a moment, he stepped forward and eased into the chair beside him. His shoulders slumped slightly, and for once, he didn’t try to hold himself so tightly together

“Hey, Suho.” He said, his voice soft. “It’s been a while.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees, eyes locked on the boy lying in front of him. You stayed quiet, listening and letting him have the space he needed.

“I brought someone with me today.” He continued quietly. “It’s Y/N. The girl I’ve been texting you about.”

His voice caught slightly, just for a second, but he didn’t stop.

“She’s the one who always looks at me like I’m more than I am. You’d probably roll your eyes and say I’ve gone soft.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He looked down then, fingers lacing together in his lap.

“I really wish you’d wake up now.” He said, and this time his voice was lower. More raw. “It’s been so long. I keep thinking… maybe tomorrow. But it’s never tomorrow...”

He leaned back slightly, looking at Suho’s face. His eyes were tired, but open in a way that didn’t happen often. Honest. Unshielded.

“I don’t know what else to say.” He admitted. “But I thought you should meet her. Even like this.”

His voice trailed off, and he sat there, quiet, looking at the boy who used to sit beside him in class. The boy who used to make him feel like he wasn’t alone.

You stepped forward without a word and gently placed your hand on Sieun’s shoulder. He didn’t look up, but you felt the way he leaned ever so slightly into your touch, as if grounding himself in the moment.

“Hi, Suho. It’s nice to meet you.” You said, voice calm, steady despite the tightness in your chest. “Don’t worry about Sieun. I’ll keep an eye on him while we wait for you to come back.”

For a few seconds, the room was quiet again.

Then you noticed the tears trailing silently down Sieun’s cheeks. He stayed where he was, unmoving, eyes steady on Suho. The tears came slowly, tracing quiet paths down his cheeks. He let them fall. There was no outburst, only the quiet ache of someone who had been holding everything in for far too long.

He looked at Suho like he wanted to speak, like the words were there but just out of reach. His jaw tightened, and his hands curled slightly in his lap. The silence around him was not empty. It was filled with everything he could not bring himself to say. Grief. Frustration. Longing.

And in that quiet, it became clear. The hope inside him was still alive, small and aching. It sat heavy in his chest, steady and painful. The kind of hope that hurts just to carry.

You stayed beside him, your hand resting gently on his shoulder and you knew that just being there was all he needed.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You stepped out of the hospital side by side, the automatic doors closing behind you with a hush that felt too final. The sky had darkened while you were inside. Sieun walked close to you, quiet, his hand brushing against yours before he gently took it. He didn’t squeeze. He just held on, like he needed the contact to remind himself he was still here, still allowed to feel something.

You glanced at him. His face was tired, unreadable, but there was something fragile in eyes.

“If you want, you can come to my place.” You said softly. “But if you need time alone, or to go home… I’ll understand.”

He didn’t look at you. He just walked beside you, his eyes fixed ahead. Then he said, softly. “I’ll stay. As long as you’ll have me.”

That hurt, the way he said it. Like he was asking permission just to exist. “You’re always welcome at my place.”

And you meant it. Every word.

But he slowed his steps a little, eyes dropping to the pavement.

“I should stop by my apartment first.” He murmured. “Just to grab some clothes. A few things.”

When you reached his building, you felt something in him shift. His steps slowed just slightly, his grip on your hand tightened before he lets go to unlock the door.

His apartment felt colder than you expected. Not physically, but in the way it seemed to carry no warmth at all. The light from the ceiling was faint, casting more shadows than comfort. His mother was on the couch with her phone in her hand. She didn’t look up until the door closed behind you. She stood up.

“There you are.” She snapped. “You didn’t call. You don’t even think about me, did you?”

Then she saw you.

Her words trailed off as her eyes shifted to your face. She blinked, clearly thrown. For a moment, she just stared, like she couldn’t quite figure out where you’d come from or why you were standing next to her son. You bowed quickly. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Y/N.” You said politely.

She didn’t reply. Her eyes stayed on you for a second too long before shifting back to Sieun.

“This is what you’ve been doing?” She said, her voice rising. “Running around with a girl while I sit here worried? How can you be so selfish? Can’t you think about me for once?”

You froze. But Sieun...

He turned around slowly to face her, his voice steady, too calm. “Since when do you care what I do?”

She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t care before I moved in.” He said. “Back when I lived with Dad, you didn’t call. You didn’t ask how I was doing. You just liked getting the report cards. I was a good son, right? As long as you had something to brag about at work or to your friends…”

“That’s not true.” She said quickly, shaking her head. “You don’t know how hard it’s been for me. I did my best—”

“Right.” He cut in. “You’re the one who had it hard. I get it. Raising a kid who was always sick, always quiet, always a little bit too much trouble.” He said it with no heat. Just exhaustion. A truth repeated too many times in his head. “I didn’t move in with you because I wanted to.” He added. “I had to. The school’s closer. That’s all.”

“Don’t act like I never cared about you—”

“You cared when it made you look good.” He said. “When I was getting awards. When the teachers called home. You smiled and told everyone how proud you were. But when I needed you….When I was having a hard time …You didn’t even notice… Because you were never there.”

She stood there, stunned, like she couldn’t believe he’d say those things out loud. Like she was the one being attacked. “Sieun, don’t say things like—”

“Our relationship worked better when you ignored me.” He continued. “I wish you’d stop pretending we’re something we’re not. We’ve never been close. We don’t have a normal mother-son relationship. We never did. I’m not trying to fight. Please, let’s stop pretending.”

He turned to head to his room, but paused in the doorway. “I’ll text, sometime.” He added, voice quieter now. “I’ll come back every now and then. This is still home, even if it doesn’t feel like it. I just… need space. That’s all. I’m sorry.”

For a second, her face shifted. Something like guilt flickered there, but it passed quickly.

Without waiting for a reply, he walked in his room. You bowed slightly again and followed him. He packed fast. Efficient. Like he knew exactly what he needed and wanted to leave before anything else could be said. Clothes, toothbrush, charger, hoodie. A few books. His hands were steady, but his silence was loud.

“Even when I was little. Even when I was scared or sick. She’d tell people how hard it was for her. And I thought maybe if I worked harder, she’d… see me differently.” He muttered.

You stepped closer, placing your hand gently on his arm. “You don’t have to keep earning love that should’ve been given.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just zipped his bag and stood there for a second, staring at the floor. Then he nodded.

You walked out with him. His mother didn’t say a word. Neither did he.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The week dragged on, each day heavier than the last. Everyone at Eunjang felt it, even if no one said anything out loud. It was in the way conversations stopped when certain names were mentioned. In how Baku’s usual teasing quieted down, replaced with short nods and long silences. Even Sieun seemed different. Calmer on the outside, but more distant, like he was already somewhere else.

The Union had gone too far. Taking you had crossed a line, and Baekjin knew that. Maybe that was the point. Maybe he wanted to pull Baku into a corner where he’d finally have no choice but to fight back. But if Baekjin thought fear would win, he clearly didn’t know Baku as well as he used to.

The fight was set for Saturday. Earlier in the week, Sieun, Baku, and Gotak had asked you not to join, almost in unison.

“This one’s going to be bad.” Baku said, voice low. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near it.”

You knew they were right.

Not to be cliché, but you were a ballerina. You weren’t the violent type. You didn’t fight with your fists. Your world was built on discipline, control, the ache of movement, not the sting of bruises. They had told Juntae not to fight as well. He had argued at first, of course. Juntae wasn’t one to sit back when the rest of them were moving forward. But this time, they wouldn’t let him. Especially Gotak. He had pulled him aside early in the week, voice low but firm.

“You’ve done enough.” He said. “We need you safe.”

Juntae wasn’t the strongest physically, and he knew it. But mentally, he held them together. He was the one who always brought them back when they lost focus. The one who reminded them what mattered when things went too far. Without him, the group wouldn’t be what it was. He finally agreed on the condition that he could watch from afar with you, just in case things got out of control.

Saturday came by faster than you would have liked. The rain hadn’t stopped all day. The field was nothing but mud and gravel. You stood far from the fight, far enough to stay out of reach, but close enough to see everything. Beside you, Juntae stayed still under his umbrella, the rain tapping steady against the fabric. You gripped your own a little tighter, heart lodged somewhere in your throat.

Out on the field, boys from Eunjang gathered slowly, their silhouettes dark against the gray sky. Every single one of them wore their school uniform. The same navy blue blazer and white shirt with the striped tie. It wasn’t about school pride. It was about unity. About letting the Union know they weren’t scared. Not anymore.

Baku stood at the front, eyes fixed across the field. Gotak beside him, stone-faced. Sieun stood a little behind them, calm and unreadable. He didn’t look around. He just stared forward like he already knew exactly what had to be done.

The Union stood across from them. Less of them than expected. Word had gotten around, and many of their members had backed out at the last second. Maybe they realized Baekjin wasn’t invincible after all. Or maybe they just didn’t want to bleed for someone else’s pride.

And then Baku stepped forward. He raised his voice just enough to be heard through the storm.

“Na Beakjin!” He screamed

The Union’s leader didn’t move.

“If you lose.” Baku shouted. “This is the end of the Union!”

Baekjin tilted his head slightly, but didn’t answer to him. You saw his mouth move slightly, like he was talking to his gang members. You couldn’t understand from this far.

After that, a battle shout resounded and all the umbrellas dropped.

You saw the first punch fly. Then another. Then it became impossible to keep track.

You and Juntae stood frozen in place. Mud was splashing everywhere. Baku tore straight for Baekjin like nothing else mattered. Gotak crashed into a group like a wrecking ball, clearing space for his friends. And Sieun…

He fought like the rain didn’t touch him. Calm. Focused. Every hit with purpose. He didn’t shout or snarl like the others. He just moved. Quick and brutal and silent.

Baku and Baekjin stood across from each other now. Around them, the chaos kept going. There was fists and shouts and soaked uniforms slamming into mud… But this moment belonged to them. Old friends. Now enemies. You didn’t need to know all the history to feel the weight of it in the air.

Baku didn’t waste time.

He lunged first, going for Baekjin’s shoulders, quick and brutal. Every hit aimed high. You could tell he was trying to wear him down, knock the strength out of his arms before it built up. His fists were loud, messy, full of heat. The kind of fighting that looked like it came from the heart or maybe even the guts.

Baekjin’s moves were tighter, smarter. Everything was deadly precise. When he managed to land a hit, it made Baku stagger.

Still, Baku didn’t stop. Not until Baekjin caught him clean across the jaw.

You saw it happen. Baku’s knees giving out, his body dropping into the mud like it weighed twice as much. Your breath caught in your throat and you grabbed Juntae’s sleeve. Juntae didn’t say a word. He just lifted a trembling hand to his mouth, eyes glassy with disbelief

The rain halted abruptly, as though the sky itself had paused in anticipation.

Your umbrella hung limp at your side, water still dripping from the edges. You didn’t notice it anymore. Your eyes were fixed on the middle of the field, heart beating too fast to count.

Baekjin stepped over him, breath heavy.

“Who’s next?” He shouted, chest rising and falling. “Come on! I’ll take all of you!”

The rest of the field had gone still. Not a single punch thrown. They were all watching now.

Gotak took one step forward, fists already clenched.

But Sieun stopped him.

A single hand on the shoulder. Nothing more.

Gotak looked back, unsure for only a second. Then he let him pass.

Sieun stepped into the open without a word. No words. No expression. Just calm.

You gripped the fabric of your Juntae’s blazer.

He ducked the first swing with barely a flinch, wrapping around Baekjin’s leg like he’d studied every move in advance. Where Baku had gone for the upper body, Sieun went low. You saw the glint of metal in his fist — brass knuckles. He didn’t hesitate. He drove it into Baekjin’s leg, again and again, forcing him to buckle.

Baekjin staggered, but didn’t fall.

The two of them circled each other. This wasn’t the same as before. It wasn’t about power anymore. It was about two minds trying to out-think each other while their bodies gave out underneath them. Sieun hit Baekjin again, but he swung back fast, catching Sieun in the shoulder, then the ribs. Hard. You flinched.

You had stepped forward without realizing it.

“Sieun—!”

Juntae grabbed your wrist. “Don’t. Let him handle it.”

Your chest ached with how hard your heart was pounding. Your legs felt heavy, like the ground was pulling at your feet. All you could do was watch, barely blinking, eyes locked on Sieun as he took another blow and staggered back. You wanted to run to him when Baekjin landed another strike that sent him to the ground. Mud streaked across his face as he coughed, trying to breathe through the pain.

Baekjin walked up to him, blood at the corner of his mouth. “What is this?” He asked, voice hoarse. “Is this still part of your little plan, Sieun?”

Sieun turned his head slightly, dirt on his cheek. His voice was soft. “Still within the margin of error.”

And just as Baek-jin turned to look at him again —

Baku got back up.

You almost shouted.

He moved like a shadow out of the fog, face bloodied, jaw bruised, eyes burning. And then…one clean swing.

A punch to the side of Baekjin’s head.

It landed so hard you heard the crack echo across the field, like a branch snapping clean in two.

Baekjin hit the ground.

Then Baku stood over him, breathing hard. His voice was hoarse, quiet, but you heard it.

“I’m sorry.” He said, eyes sad. “But you should be sorry to me too.”

It was over.

The Union had fallen.

Cheers erupted from the Eunjang students behind you, the sound wild and raw.

Baku turned and looked at Sieun, still lying in the dirt. Without a word, he crouched and helped him up.

You and Juntae ran toward them. You couldn’t stay still anymore.

The rain had started again, light this time. Just a steady, cold drizzle, like the storm was finally winding down.

When you reached them, Sieun was on his feet, but just barely. His lip was split, blood at the corner of his mouth, and scratches ran along his cheek and jaw. Dirt clung to his uniform, and bruises were already blooming across his cheek. He still had the brass knuckles gripped tightly in one hand.

He was staring at Baekjin, who was still lying in the mud. Awake, but not moving. His face was streaked with tears, silent and steady, like he didn’t even realize he was crying.

There was no triumph on Sieun’s face. No pride.

Only pity.

And something else.

Like he’d seen this play out before, and already knew how it ended.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

Back at your apartment, the quiet felt heavier than usual. The fight was over, but it hadn’t really left either of you.

Sieun had just come out of the shower, a towel still hanging loose around his shoulders. His wet hair clung to his forehead, and the bruises stood out darker now, stark against his skin. You didn’t say anything. Just patted your bed and waited for him to sit.

He did, slowly, shoulders stiff. You knelt in front of him with the first aid kit, hands working in silence.

His knuckles were torn open, raw from the brass. You cleaned them gently, not looking up as he watched you. The scratches on his cheeks were superficial, but angry-looking. You pressed a cotton pad to each one and taped them without a word.

When you dabbed alcohol onto the cut on his lip, he flinched. AYou didn’t comment. Just moved slower after that. Careful. Steady.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the soft rustle of the bandages and the faint drip of water from his hair hitting the floor.

“I know it wasn’t easy.” You said quietly. “But I’m proud of you.”

His eyes flicked up, surprised.

“Not because you won.” You added. “But because you stood up for everyone. You didn’t have to, but you did anyway.”

Sieun looked down again, jaw tight.

You hesitated, then went on. “Baekjin… I don’t think he’s the monster everyone says he is. He looked… lost, honestly.”

His fingers twitched slightly at that, but he didn’t interrupt.

“But that doesn’t excuse what he did.” You said, voice steady. “People go through awful things — I get that. But it doesn’t give them the right to hurt everyone around them because of it.”

Sieun looked at you, quiet. There was no surprise in his eyes…just a tired sort of understanding, like he’d already been thinking the same thing.

“I’m just glad you were the one who stepped up.” You continued. “Because you didn’t fight out of pride. You fought because you cared.”

You didn’t press him for a response. You just kept tending to him in silence, dabbing gently at the cut on his lip, brushing antiseptic over the scrapes along his knuckles.

You handed him a couple of painkillers and a glass of water, and he took them without a word. Then you grabbed the ice pack you’d left on the nightstand and pressed it lightly to the bruise forming beneath his eye.

A few seconds passed like that, his eyes on yours, the cold pack resting between your fingers, and your hand on his face like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Then, softly, like it was the only thing left to say, he murmured. “I love you.”

You just looked at him for a moment, then smiled.

“I know.” You said. “I love you too.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You woke up to the sound of quiet breathing and the soft weight of an arm around your waist. The room was still, dim with early light. For a while, you just stayed there, letting yourself feel it.

Sieun was asleep next to you, lying close. His body was warm against yours, solid. Familiar. His face still carried the traces of the fight. There were bruises along his cheekbone, a swollen lip, fading red scratches near his jaw, but none of it took away from how pretty he looked.

You shifted slightly, careful not to wake him. His grip tightened, just a little, like his body was used to holding onto yours. Carefully, you reached up and pushed a strand of hair away from his face and smiled to yourself.

You’d shared a bed before, more than once, but this time felt different. Being next to him wasn’t just comforting…it made something inside you feel steady. Like you’d been holding your breath without realizing, and now you could finally let it out.

You looked at him again, at the mess of his dark hair falling across his forehead, the rise and fall of his chest. And just for a moment, you let yourself think it…

Waking up next to Sieun might be your favorite thing in the world.

Sieun stirred beside you, a quiet shift of the blanket and a faint scrunch of his brow as he blinked awake. His voice was still rough with sleep when he let out a low, muffled sound.

You laughed, barely, and leaned in to press a light kiss to his cheek, careful not to touch the bruised parts. “Morning.” You whispered.

He didn’t respond right away, just looked at you with half-lidded eyes, like he was still trying to figure out where he was. His body was slow to move, stiff from the fight, but he didn’t flinch when you shifted away.

“I’ll get your meds.” You said quietly, slipping out from under the covers.

In the kitchen, you filled a glass of water and grabbed the painkillers. When you returned, he had sat up slightly, resting against the headboard with one arm draped across his stomach.

“Do you want more ice for your bruises?” You asked.

He took the medication without complaining this time, his fingers brushing yours. Then he shook his head. “I’ll be okay.” His voice was rougher than usual, but steady. You sat down on the edge of the bed and held out the glass of water.

He took the glass, brushing your hand in the process, and swallowed the pills without a word. You watched his throat move, his busted lip stretching slightly as he drank. He winced, but didn’t say anything. He gave the glass back with a small nod of thanks, still drowsy, his body heavy with leftover exhaustion.

Without thinking, your fingers drifted up into his hair, lightly combing through the soft strands. He didn’t speak. He just let out a slow, contented sigh and closed his eyes, his body relaxing more with each pass of your hand. It was subtle, but you could feel it…the way he leaned into your touch like he needed it.

When you paused for just a moment, his eyes cracked open and he let out a quiet, disappointed groan.

You laughed, shaking your head. “That good, huh?”

He smirked faintly, eyes fluttering closed again. “Don’t stop.”

Your hand stayed in his hair, gentle and slow, until you felt the tension completely leave his body.

“You’re staring.” He said softly, voice still rough with sleep.

“Yeah.” You murmured, not bothering to deny it. “You’re pretty. Even like this.”

He gave a tired, crooked smile. “That’s not true.”

You leaned in just a little, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. “It is.”

He didn’t say anything to that, just watched you, the softness in his eyes growing deeper by the second. And when you leaned closer, carefully and slowly, he didn’t pull back.

Your lips pressed the lightest kiss to the uninjured side of his mouth, just a brush of warmth. He let out a small breath, almost like a sigh, and his hand found your hip under the blanket.

Sieun’s fingers curled slightly and he pulled you just a little closer. His eyes were still half-lidded, and the way he looked at you now, steady and drawn in, sent a warmth spreading through your chest.

Then he leaned in again, this time aiming for more than just a soft brush. You felt the shift in him, the way he tilted his head slightly, searching for a deeper kiss.

You stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Sieun.” You said gently, a quiet laugh in your voice. “You’re still healing. Your lip—”

“I’m fine. I swear.” He murmured, voice low, almost a whisper against your skin.

You looked at him for a moment, searching his face for even a flicker of pain. But there was only that same calm certainty he always showed when he meant what he said.

Still careful, you leaned in again, slowly and cautiously, meeting him halfway. And this time, he kissed you fully. A little clumsy, a little careful, but real.

The kiss deepened slowly, breath catching between the pauses. His hand slid up your back, deliberate and warm, before settling at your jaw. When he kissed you again, it wasn’t cautious anymore. It was hungry in a way that made your pulse skip.

You barely noticed the shift in position until you felt the mattress dip and his weight press more firmly against you. Sieun laid you gently onto your back, his hand bracing beside your head. His lips hovered above yours, his breath uneven.

“I want you.” He said, voice low and a little hoarse.

Your breath caught in your throat. The weight of his words settled over you, not heavy, but warm, like something long-awaited and real. You searched his face. His eyes didn’t waver. Even with the cut on his lip, the fading bruises, the exhaustion still clinging to him, he looked at you like you were the only thing he could see.

You nodded slowly. “I want you.” You said, your voice soft, barely above a whisper. Then you added. “I want you too.”

His shoulders eased, his eyes darkened, and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath this entire time. Sieun’s gaze dropped to your mouth, and he kissed you again. Your fingers found his hair. He sighed into the kiss, letting it pull him closer until there was hardly any space between you.

His hand slid under the hem of your shirt, palm warm against your skin. You gasped softly, the sound swallowed by his mouth. The tenderness from earlier melted into something needier, more urgent.

You kissed along his jaw, avoiding the worst of his injuries. He let out a low breath, almost a groan, his hands gripping your waist tighter.

“Tell me if I hurt you.” You whispered.

“You won’t.” He breathed. “I’ll tell you. Just—don’t stop.”

You could hear the slight catch in his breathing every time your fingers moved through his hair. His sighs were low and soft, almost like they slipped out without permission, like the sensation was too much to hold in.

His hand traced along your ribs with reverence, fingertips trembling slightly when he glazed your naked breast. You arched into him as his lips traveled to the corner of your jaw, then lower, grazing your neck with barely-there kisses that made your skin feel too tight, too hot.

His fingers brushed the edge of your shirt again, slower this time, deliberate. He paused, giving you a chance to pull away, but you didn’t. Instead, you lifted your arms in silent permission. Sieun helped you out of it carefully, as if the fabric itself were something delicate. Next came your underwear.

You felt his gaze, but it wasn’t heavy. It was tender. His breath caught, but he didn’t rush. His hands stayed warm and steady, resting lightly on your waist.

“You’re beautiful.” He said, voice barely audible.

In response, your hands reached for the hem of his shirt. He didn’t hesitate, letting you lift it over his head and toss it aside. His skin was warm under your touch, his chest rising and falling just a little faster now. Faint bruises still lingered along his ribs.

Sieun sat back slightly, his gaze holding yours. He didn’t speak, but the question was clear in his eyes. Is this still okay?

You met his look and nodded once, slow and certain. That was all he needed.

Without a word, Sieun shifted just enough to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his pajama pants. He slid them down and off in one smooth motion, dropping them carelessly to the floor.

He leaned down to kiss you again, slower this time. His mouth moved gently against yours, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed softly past your lips. Your hand moved lower, slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers.

He tensed for a moment, caught between surprise and the rush of sensation, but then exhaled, eyes fluttering shut as he melted into your touch. Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking his length as he moaned into your mouth. You pumped him from base to tip, running your thumb over the wet patch at the head of his cock, making him shuttered.

In return, he lowered his hand from your waist, down to your crotch, the motion a little clumsy. You heard him cursed when his fingers came in contact with your heat. He found what made you breathe deeper, what made your fingers tighten, and his hesitation began to fade. Each reaction from you seemed to guide him, steadying his hands and calming his nerves. His finger pressed onto your clit, placing careful pressure before working it in a circle. His movements grew more sure, but never careless. Every shift of his hand, every kiss against your neck... He wasn’t rushing.

He slipped a finger inside and you gasped in his mouth, tightening your grip on him. He started pumping slowly, curling his fingers inside you, your wetness helping him with his movements. A whine flew from your lips as he hit the spongy spot inside you, making your entire body twitch.

“S-Sieun.” You cried when he added another finger and curled it.

Sieun pulled back from the kiss, his lips barely parted, his breath uneven. But he didn’t move far. He hovered just above you, eyes locked on your face.

You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way it traced over every part of you. Your flushed cheeks, the parting of your lips, the soft rise and fall of your chest… He was looking at you with awe. Like he couldn’t believe he was the reason you looked like this.

He tilted his head just a little, the corners of his mouth lifting in the faintest hint of a smile. “You feel good?” He asked, voice low and just a little teasing.

Your lips curved into the barest smile, and you gave a small nod. “Yeah.” you whispered. “I do.”

Sieun’s eyes softened. He exhaled slowly, as though that one word had undone whatever tension he still carried. His hand rose to your face, fingertips brushing your cheek, then tucking your hair behind your ear. “Let me take care of you.” He said as he removed my hand from his boxers, away from his hardened cock.

You started to protest, but when he started pumping his fingers faster, curling them inside at just the right angle, a strangled sound left your throat. Your eyes closed and your body arched in response. You tried to close your legs in reflex, but Sieun held you open for him. Your knees were pressed against his thighs, the strength of them effectively holding them open, restricting any movement.

His fingers fuck in and out of you faster and faster, circling your clit in a matching pace with his thumb. You were soaked at this point, wetness dripping down the side of your thighs.

A slow, pulsing heat built low in your stomach, spreading through you like a wave. Your body felt flushed, every nerve lit with anticipation. From above, Sieun let out a low hum and the sound alone sent a shiver skimming down your spine.

Your fingers curled tight into the sheets, knuckles pale with tension, eyes still closed. “You’re so good to me.” You gasped, your voice airy and trembling. “Thank you… thank you,” You repeated, the words slipping out in broken whispers as the heat built inside you, rushing towards your climax.

A groan slipped from Sieun’s mouth as he quickened his pace, breath catching. The room filled with the slick, rhythmic sounds between you…. wet, breathless, raw — blending with your moans.

Your gaze flicked up to Sieun, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. His brow was faintly furrowed, jaw tight, as if he was carefully holding himself together. He was watching you, reading you. Every breath, every sound you made mattered. Like he didn’t want to miss a single part of you unraveling beneath him. His hand didn’t waver. He moved with quiet confidence now, like instinct had taken over.

His eyes stayed on yours, wide and unblinking, lit with a kind of quiet intensity. That look, those beautiful eyes of his, your favorite thing about him, held so much in them now. Not just focus, not just care, but something deeper. It felt like he was trying to hold you together with just his gaze, even as you were starting to fall apart beneath him.

Chorus of moans left your mouth, and you felt yourself slipping, your body tensing under the growing wave. Sieun’s gaze, locked with yours, full of warmth and something unspoken, held you there as you finally climax.

Your body shook uncontrollably, thighs tensing underneath his as intense pleasure crashed through you. Sieun’s fingers continued to fuck you throughly, only slowing when your hands went up and scratches his shoulder, your whole body twitching in overstimulation.

His name tumbled from your lips just as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His tongue pushed past your lips with a hunger that made your breath catch, the kiss messy and deep, like he couldn’t get close enough fast enough.

The room felt too small for how much heat passed between you. His mouth moved from yours to your neck, your shoulder, then back again, each kiss more urgent than the last.

Sieun backed away to fully removed his underwear. His cock sprang free, pre-cum running down to his base. He pumped himself a few times, spreading the wetness evenly.

“I don’t have a condom.” He said suddenly, eyes wide in realization.

“Don’t need one,” You whispered, breath hitching as your legs pulled him in closer. “I’m on the pill.”

You saw relief flashes in his eyes for a second. Slowly, still giving you time to pull away if you changed your mind, he spread your legs further and let himself rest against your pussy. With one hand, he tapped the tip of his solid cock on your swollen clit before rubbing it up and down your slit, lining up with your entrance. You shuttered at the contact. He presses his lips to your forehead as he slowly pushed inside, easing you into gently.

Your hands found his hair, fingers tightening as the ache of the stretch settled in. It was sharp at first, pulling a soft gasp from your throat. But slowly, steadily, the pain began to dull, warmth overtaking the sting. You were grateful he’d taken his time, that his fingers had eased you open before this. He pressed in deeper, slow and steady, until you felt completely full. There was no space left between you.

Sieun stayed still for a moment, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath uneven against your cheek. His arms trembled slightly where they held him up, muscles tense, like he was holding himself back with everything he had. You could see it in the way his jaw clenched, in the way his brows pulled together. He was fighting the urge to move, afraid of pushing too far, of hurting you.

His eyes met yours, soft and searching.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, his voice low and careful, but so full of feeling it made your chest ache.

You nodded, your fingers brushing against his cheek, grounding him. “I’m okay.” You whispered back. “Please, move.”

He nodded slowly, biting his lower lip. When he moved again, it was careful and tender. His lips found your cheek, then your jaw, then just beneath your ear, leaving soft, lingering kisses in his wake. Each one felt like a quiet promise. You felt his breath stutter, heard the soft sounds slipping from his throat. It was helpless, like he couldn’t hold them back.

You turned your face into his neck, your lips brushing his skin as you breathed out. “You feel so good.”

Sieun let out a broken moan, one hand slipping to your waist to hold you more firmly, more securely, but still with that same gentleness. The love in his touch was undeniable. It wrapped around you just as tightly as his fingers did.

The rhythm between you began to shift. It was still tender, but deeper now, more insistent. Sieun’s breath hitched as he adjusted his grip on your waist, drawing you a little closer beneath him. His movements grew more fluid, not driven by urgency, but by a need to feel you fully. To be closer. To give you everything he could.

You felt it in the way his hips moved, more certain now. In the low, quiet sounds falling from his mouth, soft and aching, almost reverent. His forehead rested against yours for a breath, his eyes fluttering shut as if the feeling overwhelmed him too. He set a steady pace, rolling his hips into you over and over, the feeling of him pumping in and out of you felt euphoric

Your body moved with his naturally, like you were made for this closeness. He kissed you again, messier this time, his lips parting yours with more heat and more need. His left hand cupped one of your breasts in his wide palm, running his thumb over your nipple. Your head was spinning, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you cried out when he reached deeper, hitting a delicious spot inside of you that made you incredibly wetter.

He whispered your name once, barely audible, like it had slipped out without meaning to. Like it was a prayer he didn’t know he was saying.

When your eyes opened to meet his again, the pace didn’t falter. If anything, it grew more intense. Sieun found both of your hands and pinned them beside your head, his fingers laced with yours. Your bodies moved in sync, fast and slow all at once, dizzying yet steady, grounded in the way he held you like he couldn’t bear to let go. The upward curve of his cock continued to hit that spot inside of you and you felt the tension in your stomach growing incredibly tensed, like it was about to snap.

You hold Sieun’s hand harder. “I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered, lips trembling. He cursed when you squeezed tightly around him. The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room, and your gasps turned to full on cries as he pounded into you more eagerly.

You moaned into the shell of his ear as the pressure blew, your whole body tensing before letting go. Sieun fucked you through it, helping you ride the wave of your toe-curling orgasm. He buried his face in your neck as his hips lost their rhythm, messily and urgently pumping into you now. His hips came to an abrupt stop as he released into you, multiple desperate whimpers leaving his mouth. You could feel the twitching of his cock as warmth filled deep inside your belly.

You untangled your hands, sliding one into his hair and the other across his back, pulling him closer as your chests rose and fell with heavy breaths. Both of you were breathless, your skin damp with sweat. His face remained buried in your neck, and your legs hung loosely around his waist. You pressed a tender kiss to the side of his head. “I love you.” You whispered, quiet and shaky.

The words hung between you, delicate but powerful. For a second, Sieun didn’t move, like they were sinking into him, wrapping around whatever was left of his breathless high. Then he slowly lifted his head from your neck. His hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed and his eyes were dazed with afterglow. They looked softer than you’d ever seen them. Full of something open and unguarded. Tender.

He leaned in and kissed you. Slow this time. Not desperate or hungry like before, but sweet. “I love you too.” He said, voice low and rough around the edges, but deep with emotion.

Neither of you moved for a long time after that.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

A few months after….

You walked hand in hand with Sieun, your steps slow and tired after the long day at school. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden light over everything. The weather was perfect, the kind that made you forget all your worries for a little while. Baku, Gotak, and Juntae walked beside you, their laughter echoing through the street as they teased one another. Everything felt easy and happy.

Then Sieun’s phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and picked up, answering with a quiet. “Hello?” At first, his expression barely changed, but then something shifted. A flicker of confusion passed through his eyes, then widened into disbelief.

When the call ended, he turned to all of you, his voice unsteady but clear. “He’s awake.”

That was all he said before grabbing your hand and running. The others followed without hesitation.

You arrived at the hospital breathless, your feet skidding to a stop outside in the courtyard. There, sitting in a wheelchair beneath the spring sun, was Suho. He wore a gray sweatshirt over his hospital clothes, pale but alive, his head tilted slightly in the breeze.

You slowly slipped your hand from Sieun’s and gave him the softest nudge forward.

He didn’t rush. He moved like the world had slowed down, like he wasn’t sure if what he saw was real. Suho suddenly turned his head and saw him.

“How’s it going?” He said, as casually as if no time had passed at all.

Sieun froze for a moment, overwhelmed. Suho’s gaze drifted past him to the group gathered behind, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Who are they?”

Sieun turned slightly to glance back at all of you, then looked at you a moment longer.

“My friends.” He said. Then, quieter, more certain. “And my girlfriend.”

Suho’s lips curled into a tired smile, eyes crinkling with quiet joy. He had always wanted one thing for Sieun—to not be alone, to find his own kind of happiness. And now, standing there with all of you behind him, Sieun had found it.

“That’s good to see.” Suho said softly.

Sieun didn’t answer with words.

He just smiled.

THE END

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