₊˚⊹♡. ໒꒰っ˕ -｡꒱১

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀A B O U T⠀M E⠀-`♡´-₊˚⊹

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ₊˚⊹♡. ⠀⠀peachy || nina || nani⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀99 liner || nov 1st ⠀ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪. ⠀ ⠀

⠀₊˙♡﹗˚⠀⠀bad english + kinda annoying & cringy [ sorry ] ⠀ ⠀ ⠀endless halloween⠀ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⠀ ⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀baby moa since mar, 2024 ☆*:・ﾟ ⠀

same thing but in a picture with extra stuff ~

˖ ot5 + yeonkai [ non romantical way ] + mostly yeonjun biased [ i can never shut up about him ] ⠀ ˖ utc+3 and weird sleeping habits, so gonna post and reply in random time lol

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀T A G S ♡.･✩°｡⋆

˖ by the member : #[ member name ] ˖ by the pairing : #[ official weird unit name ] sorry ˖ ot5 : #[ ot5 ] yeah...

⠀⠀⠀˖ for reblogged fanfiction : #[ reading ] ⠀⠀⠀˖ for aesthetic posts : #[ moodboard ]

˖ for my writing & maybe moodboards at some point : #[ by me ] ˖ for tag games and about me : #[ games ] & #[ about ] ˖ for when i can't shut up : #[ peachy blah blah ]

i mostly need it for myself because i constantly forget the tags i use lol

yeonjun volunteered to clean up the mess you left behind, telling you to just gather the notebooks, parchments, and quills. you assumed he’d actually do his part, but instead he whined about his hands being cold, then came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and sliding his hands under your sweater and onto your stomach, and you jumped with a squeak at the icy touch.

he laughed, brushing the tip of his nose against your neck, making you jerk again at its chill. “sorry, mouse. just kidding.” yeonjun was already pulling his hands back out, clearly thinking of some other way to warm them, when your hands caught his through the knit fabric, holding them in place. he froze, but you just murmured ‘s’okay. warm up’ and went right back to stacking the quills. he prayed you couldn’t feel how hard his heart was hammering—he had no excuse for that.

yeonjun tried not to think about every small gesture of care you’d given him this day or attempted to—especially the ones that made you choose between your comfort and his. he kept reminding himself, that you’d let any of your boys warm their hands on you—not something as intimate as stomach of course, but maybe your hands or forearms. you’d hold them to warm them up or rub their frozen fingers and cheeks, and for him… 

you were just letting him use you, weren’t you?... if he had to be real. and while ‘using’ was undeniably hot when it was about the blowjob earlier, now… could it be that you just didn’t care…? but his hands were cold, and it was terrible on the warm skin of your stomach for sure—at least for the first few minutes. and you didn’t let him pull them out. so you cared. didn’t you?.. 

your hand stilled at the zipper of the bag, halfway through—yeonjun was slipping away again. you had no idea how you knew, but you did. spider-sense. fennec-sense, with these huge ears. we’ve-known-each-other-for-our-whole-lives-sense. whatever. you clenched your teeth—what were you supposed to do? turn it sexual when you were on your period and couldn’t even finish whatever you started? what even was with him recently, gosh… 

“did you know,” you started as if you were sharing something extremely interesting. “that this magical glass was originally charmed for students to do their projects?” you made a pause, throwing a glance over your shoulder at him, and continued, when you got his attention. “like, studying the effect of different wave-lengths on the magic plants or tricking night-only plants into thinking it wasn’t noon. it never included giving—or getting—a blowjob! can you believe it?!” you exclaimed, making it sound completely unbelievable.

yeonjun who listened so attentively to what you had to say, curious to know one more random-but-cool fact about hogwarts, opened his mouth only to close it, before his lips stretched in a smile and he pinched your side. “you’re unbelievable!” he squeezed your waist and shook his head. “i was so ready to hear something new, and you—” 

“it is new!” you argued, turning in his arms, his hands slipping to your lower back now. you couldn’t deny you were happy he got distracted from whatever was bothering him—at least for now. and later… you’d come up with something new to take his attention away from his own thoughts. “tell me, who told you that it wasn’t for blowjobs, huh?” you lifted your brows in this ‘go on’ gesture, and he shook his head once again. “see? see? no one! so you can't deny it is new!” you poked his chest with each word, making his smile wider. 

you were silly. absolutely silly, but cute and adorable even when bratty—or maybe especially when bratty. at least, yeonjun really didn’t want to argue with you on it—sometimes he could sacrifice being right just for the sake of your smile. didn’t mean he had to put up with your sassiness, though—he pulled his hand out of your sweater, pinching your cheek gently and shaking it. “maybe. but i can do this.” 

the way back to hogwarts was full of laughter and play fighting—you were lucky to walk in these ten minutes without rain, and whenever yeonjun started complaining once again that he couldn’t be a gentleman and protect you from rain with his coat which was undoubtedly your fault for taking so long and missing the rain, you threatened to push him into the nearest muddy puddle, your hands gripping his shoulders dramatically as if you were about to, even though you could barely stay on your feet yourself, clutching your stomach from how much you laughed.

at some point, when you were already close to the training grounds, just a few minutes away from the entrance, yeonjun stopped mid-step, turned, and in one smooth motion threw you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. you squealed, clutching his back as he started walking again, loud and unbothered like he did this every day. “what? you only let me carry your bag,” he said, smug as anything—he’d snatched it from the table before you could, slinging it over his shoulder and ignoring every attempt you made to take it back—“so now i’m carrying you too.”

you slapped his ass—perfect position for that— and he didn’t even flinch, promising to show you his chaser skills if you were going to be a brat, and you could swear you felt his grin in it. “by manhandling me?” you asked innocently, hanging half-upside-down. yeonjun hummed like he was considering it before delivering a very deliberate slap to your ass in return, not caring in the slightest that someone could see.

and maybe it was the way he did it—so casual, so thoughtless—or maybe the fact that he hadn’t even slowed down after lifting you like you weighed nothing, or maybe you just was horny in general, no birth control potions in these seven days making you so much hornier, but something about it made your laugh catch in your throat for a beat. the slap was a ‘yes’, right? you noted mentally to talk to him about it later, when your period was over. well, hint at it by being a brat, of course. or maybe make him do it… 

the boys were already in the great hall when you arrived—at the slytherin table, of course; where else would two hufflepuffs, a gryffindor and a ravenclaw be?—and you plopped down next to beomgyu before groaning and gesturing to yeonjun, who was already sitting across the table, to give you your bag. taehyun and beomgyu looked between the two of you weirdly, eyebrows raised, but when you both mirrored the gesture right back at them, they only shook their heads. not very convincing, but well…

dinner stayed loud, as always. beomgyu and soobin were still at each other’s throats about the league of legends match they played on lunar new year—it’d been three weeks and they still didn’t let it go, because beomgyu found it funny to remind soobin about it at every opportunity. kai was busy telling you about the new things he’d learned about china from the letter lea sent him this morning, while yeonjun and taehyun were in their own world, discussing the upcoming quidditch match—ten days until slytherin vs. ravenclaw.

eventually, taehyun switched his attention to kai to talk about how prepared they were for tomorrow’s advanced arithmancy colloquium, which left yeonjun to entertain himself—which obviously couldn’t be good, because with soobin and beomgyu still arguing about the win criteria, the only one left for him to bother was… you. who, in his opinion, was just as bored after kai was snatched away, and your herbology project notebooks were… definitely a way to fix that boredom. too shy to ask him first. weren’t you a cutie? 

it so wasn’t like that, but could you ignore him when he nudged your ankle with his while having this annoying shit-eating grin on his face? no way. you nudged him back and then pressed tip of your shoe to his, stubbornly pushing it as hard as you could—he didn’t give in, holding his ground, so you quickly moved your foot between his, shoving it to the side and making him jerk in his seat because he didn’t expect it. 

you were so proud of yourself, so obviously smug about managing to catch him off guard, that it was basically begging for revenge. yeonjun leaned back just a little, the corner of his mouth curling slow and dangerous like he was already plotting something evil, and you didn’t even realize you’d walked right into his trap until both your ankles were caught neatly between his. he closed them in one smooth motion, not even looking at you—oh no, he was suddenly very invested in his pumpkin juice—while you tried to tug your legs free without making a scene.

“yeonjun,” you hissed under your breath, voice caught somewhere between warning and embarrassment, but he just sat there, calm as ever, thumb tapping against his glass while that infuriating smirk spread wider. you could feel the heat creeping up your neck as you gave one last, hopeless tug, and the only thing he did was squeeze his ankles tighter for half a second—just to make sure you knew exactly who was winning this round.

your hiss got beomgyu’s attention and he looked between you with his eyes narrowed and head tilted before humming and turning back to soobin—only to exhale loudly the very next second as if he suddenly remembered something and turn back to you. “did you know—” he paused at your and yeonjun’s sudden synched groans, realizing he’d clearly missed something, before continuing, “that most head boy–head girl pairs from the same year ended up marrying each other after graduation?”

yeonjun, mid-sip of pumpkin juice, almost choked on it—he froze for half a heartbeat before managing to slap his palm over his mouth just in time, shoulders shaking as he tried to swallow without launching the juice across the table. you, on the other hand, just… blinked. once. twice. brain very much lagging behind reality as your ears caught up to what beomgyu just dropped in the middle of dinner like it was some casual trivia fact, which maybe was true, but—

“what—” yeonjun finally got the juice down, coughing into his sleeve, still trying to comprehend not even what beomgyu said, but why the fuck?! and what even pushed this thought up to the surface of his mind suddenly?! it was a well-known fact that head students did it—probably, because the ‘through thick and thin’ concept usually became pretty familiar before halloween—but why the hell?

you blinked again because what did he just—and then it hit you, because of course he’d say that here, with that stupid grin on his face. parent-trapping. again. so once your voice came back, you mastered the voice you’d already used today—the ‘random-but-cool fact’ one. “did you know,” you said, making a meaningful pause after it, “that most annoying gryffindors who spent way too much time at the slytherin table and dared to tease slytherin head boy–head girl pairs… ended up not being invited to the weddings?”

yeonjun’s eyes widened for a second at your reply—he clearly didn’t expect this phrasing. perhaps he thought it’d be something closer to hitting him with a notebook calling him a bad puppy, but that one was brilliant—and his lips stretched in a grin, his head turning to you. “i also heard they got banned from sitting at the slytherin table until head boy–head girl pairs graduate.”

“oh,” you drawled, your eyes on him, as you did a rapid-fire nod, “yes-yes! definitely heard of it!” you slowly turned your head to beomgyu. “have you? i think it’s a pretty well-known fact,” you nodded a few times again with ‘mhm’, your hand slowly crawling towards the herbology notebook lying before you, and when his gaze fell on the movement, he raised his hands in defeat, jerking when your hand shot to the top of his head—but you only ruffled his hair. “good boy.”

beomgyu muttered something about ‘evil slytherins’ under his breath, smoothing his hair down while you and yeonjun shared that stupid look you both always shared after winning something small and petty. the dinner blurred after that, leaving you six in a comfortable silence, busy with the homework leftovers you hadn’t finished before dinner. beomgyu rested his head on your shoulder eventually, showing he wasn’t mad at you—you rubbed your cheek against the top of his head as a sign that you weren’t mad too before returning to your notes.

the gesture didn’t slip past yeonjun’s eyes, and he squeezed your ankles under the table instinctively—he still hadn’t let it go, but you didn’t even try to pull away anymore, relaxing in his hold. he wasn’t jealous, wasn’t even possessive—no, when it came to you with the boys, he was… envious. this long forgotten feeling from years ago, when you’d only started getting closer to them, and he couldn’t stop asking himself why you couldn’t be the same with him. back then it was tearing out as anger, but now… 

you glanced at yeonjun from your notebook almost as if you could feel that something was wrong—he was frowning, quill skimming across the parchment, eyes following it quickly, and nothing seemed wrong. but you felt it in your throat and in the pit of your stomach. maybe it was the angle of his brows, a bit too deeper than needed, maybe the way he pressed his lips, just a little tighter than when it was about concentration. but, fuck, you’d known him for your whole life and he hadn’t change since you were children. you knew.

the sigh you let out barely got anyone’s attention but yeonjun’s, who looked at you with a confused frown—you wondered if he could tell the difference between your authentic reactions and fake ones, because it certainly seemed like he’d done it right now. “can we patrol an hour earlier?” you whined, addressing the question to no one in particular, and shut the notebook, laying your forehead on it. “i’m so tired,” you sighed again, your voice as pitiful as it could be. 

beomgyu and kai petted the back of your head with a soft ‘aw’, soobin and taehyun asked you if you wanted them to patrol for you this night, but you shook your head with a little sniffle without lifting it off the table and said you’d used their kindness enough the past few months and just wanted to pull yourself together and do it yourself. yeonjun got up, patting the back of your head with ‘let’s go, martyr’ before they could insist on doing it for you anyway, and you followed him after hugging everyone good night.

except you were tired, even if your dramatic sigh was just an exasperation. you trailed after yeonjun through the halls, most of which were already empty, trying not to yawn every ten steps. he teased you for some time, ruffling your hair and calling you a sleep-deprived ghost that he hadn’t seen for so long, but soon his attention started slipping away again—up to him simply not noticing you stopping to adjust your shoes until turning the corner.  

but you were someone who knew how to put priorities straight, so even if you could barely lift your feet off the ground to walk and couldn't tell a sentence without yawning, you weren’t going to let him be a broody ghost that didn’t notice the world around—you were going to bother the hell out of him.  

you started with tugging his sleeve every possible second because ‘he was too fast and you were dying’—he looked at you unimpressed, because you clearly didn’t have problems with keeping up, and threatened to throw you over his shoulder and squeeze your ass every four steps. it was tempting, but didn’t work. okay. you still didn’t let his sleeve free, though—just in case you needed to stop and he wouldn’t notice it again.  

then the question came. “if you had to fight one hundred chicken-sized dragons or one dragon-sized chicken, which would you choose?”. yeonjun replied without thinking twice—”dragon-sized chicken, because it can’t spit fire and we’ll get a year's supply of tasty meat”—and you hummed, because it made perfect sense. “five twenty-year-old beomgyus or one five-year-old beomgyu”, and it was “one five-year-old and i’d tape him to the wall like in this meme”, which made you giggle.

there were more—every possible random stupid question you could come up with. at first yeonjun didn’t seem too enthusiastic, almost as if he was answering just to not upset you, but half a dozen in he started brainstorming, weighing each option and trying to make his answers as funny as they could be. about a dozen in he started asking you similar ones, each more ridiculous than the previous, and your cheeks were aching from smiling and laughing by the time you approached the slytherin common room entrance. 

you followed yeonjun to his room without even thinking—he turned to his dormitory, so obviously you were going to go there too. honestly, you weren’t even sure when was the last time you slept in your room without him, and if he was going to sleep in his, you were going to sleep there too—it made perfect sense, so you followed him like a shadow. or like an ‘annoying curious kitten you can’t help but find adorable’ as yeonjun called it.

he plopped down on his bed with a tired sigh, fatigue suddenly filling his limbs the moment his back hit the mattress—it was a long day. he watched you take your clothes off, grab one of his shirts from his wardrobe—how he’d never noticed how at home you felt in his room if it was this obvious?..—and head to the bathroom with a yawn and tired wave of your hand. he didn’t follow you—obviously. you weren’t too comfortable with taking a shower together when you were on your period, and while he wasn’t sure he cared about some blood enough, he still gave you space. 

when you returned, you looked more like a ghost than before even—feet barely lifting off the floor, white oversized t-shirt hanging off your shoulders, hair in a mess and your eyes blinking so slowly it seemed more like the quickest little naps, which made you move slower not to hit anything on your way. cute. undeniably cute. you dragged yourself to the couch before the fireplace and sat down on the edge, sleepily accio-ing the hair brush with a yawn—yeonjun had to cover his mouth to not laugh out loud when it almost hit you in the head. 

no surprise you are so sleepy despite taking a shower, he thought, when he entered the bathroom. it smelled like every possible herb that humanity had used for relaxing and falling asleep for the whole history of humanity. faint, not headache heavy kind of smell, but still undoubtedly this one, and he couldn’t help but yawn every few seconds while taking a shower himself—hot water was only lulling him more, too. 

when yeonjun came back, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, hair dump, you were already curled up on his bed in that very shirt, clutching his pillow to your chest, face half-buried in it, as you were obviously already deep asleep. he glanced on the other side of the bed as if another pillow for him could appear there magically, but it was empty, and he grabbed a pillow from your bed with a sigh before heading to his one and throwing the pillow on it. 

yeonjun tried to lower himself onto the mattress as carefully as he could, not wanting to wake you, but the moment his side of the bed dipped, you stirred and murmured something, eyes fluttering open. you blinked at him a few times before letting out a soft, content hum—something that sounded almost like ‘you’re here’—and closed your eyes again. your body shifted just an inch closer to his, your hand slowly crawling across the bed until it found his arm, the side of your palm warm against his bicep.

since when… yeonjun chuckled bitterly—since when what? everything? since when you were sleeping in his room when you had nothing to work on together? since when you were choosing his bed when you were on your period and could do nothing sexual before or after sleep? since when you were sleeping with your face in his pillow and reaching out for him in your sleep? and why the hell had he never noticed it before? how was it possible to be so blind? he was sure everyone saw it—especially the boys.

gosh, of course they did—what else could it be? this parent-trapping, much more subtle this time, these stupid remarks. what had beomgyu even meant with this marriage comment earlier? no, it didn’t mean a shit. what mattered was, why had you said what you’d said? what was with this ‘didn’t get invited to the weddings’? why hadn’t you said that talking about your marriage was absolutely ridiculous? could it…

yeonjun slapped himself mentally—could it mean what? your feelings? of course, yeonjun. because every girl in love reacted exactly like this, when she heard a shit of ‘were sitting on a tree’ kind—non-chalantly, friendly venomously, teasing back. of course, it wasn’t blushing and getting shy and biting back in some tsundere-way. yeah, no, everyone was different, but you were… you were who? 

back when you were kids—a bitter breathy laugh slipped past yeonjun’s lips—he thought of how it always circled back to this. weren’t you the same? other kids kept teasing you two, exactly this ‘yeonjun and [ yn ] were sitting on a tree’ following you whenever you two went, and you never became shy—you only turned your nose up and said something about them just being bullies before walking by them, not sparing them a single glance anymore, your hand warm and a little sweaty in yeonjun’s. 

even now yeonjun could almost hear the giggles behind you again, the sharp sun, the smell of grass. you always sat in a quiet corner after it, hugging your knees to your chest, and he sat next to you, his arms around your shoulders. listening to them picking on you for being friends was never easy for you, but you refused to show it to anyone—even your parents. but you were never hiding it from him.

later yeonjun started stepping in first, ridiculously proudly saying they were jealous and ‘couldn’t have what you had’—something stupid he overheard in some tv drama his parents watched—and tugging you away from them, looking too proud for his own good. ridiculously proud, even, as if quoting some actor made him wiser than everyone else on the playground. his hands were sweaty too, but you always held onto them tightly, not caring about it for a second. you’d often call them names when you two stayed alone, giggling at each one—each new insult said in a whisper so your moms didn’t overhear you. 

yeonjun wasn’t even sure where it came from—your families had always said you two would get married, for as long as he could remember. and it never was something like arranged marriage, or business marriage, or ‘we’re besties, so our kids should get married’. it never scared him, never made him feel like grown-ups wanted to do something against his will, never made him embarrassed or upset.

sometimes he barely paid any attention to it, especially when you two were busy with something, but still heard these conversations a few feet away from you, because it felt like something as a matter of course—like going to school or growing up or staying with you forever. he knew you felt the same. yet the words must have started somewhere, haven’t they? like a story told so many times it stopped feeling like a story at all.

but why would your families start it in the first place?.. yeonjun glanced at you from the corner of his eye, gaze sliding down to the white shirt on you, and he frowned before closing his eyes at all, trying to catch the memory that suddenly sparked and hoping it wouldn’t disappear before he did. a white dress… oh. it flickered just out of reach, trying to mock him, but he was quicker. he couldn’t believe he forgot it—but given how blind he was when it came to present… he probably shouldn’t have been so surprised.

it was his second cousin’s wedding, you both were five and it was probably the first time you both saw a wedding in real life—not in cartoons or movies—and it was… boring. his hanbok felt weird, especially because he was told to be extremely careful with food and drinks, and the skirt of your hanbok was hilariously huge—you were walking around like a cloud, but with your face you were closer to a thundercloud, and yeonjun couldn’t stop laughing at your grumpy expressions. 

yeonjun was throwing petals with another girl from the groom’s family, and you were sitting on his mom’s lap with your arms crossed, pouting and frowning and all grumpy, looking at him like he was the biggest traitor in the world—‘et to, brute’, probably, if you knew it back then. his mom kept whispering things to cheer you up, but you stubbornly turned your face away every time, your little shoes kicking the air in protest—it only made her coo at you, finding you even more adorable

he ran to you the moment he was free from the task, his smile the widest it could be, glowing brighter and brighter with each quick step, and your smile was growing too—you hugged like you hadn’t seen each other for years and like you weren’t grumpy at him just ten minutes ago. the adults laughed quietly, watching the two of you cling to each other like the world had been cruelly keeping you apart instead of just a wedding aisle. 

the grown-ups let you go and find something you wanted to do without anyone else, when the main meal was over and more and more little green bottles started appearing on the tables—you were already half-way out, hand in hand, when yeonjun’s mom tried to remind you to be careful with your hanboks. there was no need too—it was already too late to play, you both were tired and full after the dinner, and simply sat in a quiet corner of the garden, watching the little stars above your heads.

after a few minutes of silence, you muttered that the wedding seemed too boring and grown-up—the wedding hanbok was pretty, but the rest was ‘bleh’. yeonjun made a face, agreeing with you and telling you that his would be better—fireworks, and candy, and juice instead of whatever thing the adults were drinking. you quickly added that no speeches were allowed too, because they were way too long.

it stayed silent for a moment—yeonjun tried to remember what else was happening at the wedding—the not tasty cake, weirdly smelling glasses, boring conversations, and… “and no kissing either,” he added finally, making a disgusted sound. “ew,” he made a face again, and you mirrored it, agreeing. he plucked at the grass with his fingers for a moment, thinking hard. “yeah… our wedding’s gonna be way cooler,” the words came out so simply, that neither of you really reacted. it was obvious, wasn’t it? your wedding, his wedding… the same thing.

and then you announced it to your families the next day, absolutely officially, your faces as serious and solemn as they could be—‘we decided something. we’re getting married’ (of course yeonjun was the one to say it as the little gentleman he was). someone laughed, asking you if it was planned for tomorrow, you looked them deadly in the eyes—as if wondering how adults could ask something so obvious—before saying that you were too young yet to get married, so you were talking about the future. 

but everyone laughed, and you both frowned, yeonjun’s fingers curling tighter around yours—you squeezed his hand even more, frustrated with everyone not taking you both seriously. you both pressed your point even harder, insisting you were serious, and that you even had a list already—candy, juice boxes, fireworks, and no kissing or speeches. they found it even more adorable, and you both stomped out of the room, hand in hand—like always. 

you were sitting in a hidden corner of the garden, angry and frustrated and on the verge of tears, your knees hugged to your chest, fingers clenched around the fabric of the pants, as you tried to keep yourself together. yeonjun watched you, trying to come up with something that would make you smile—he was angry at adults too, but seeing you sad was making him sad too. he nudged a little rock with his finger before grabbing it only to throw it away. stupid grown-ups…

“we will show them,” yeonjun muttered, frowning and dragging his knees to his chest too. “we will marry the moment we can, and they will see,” he assured you with as much certainty as a five-year-old boy who was ready to do anything to make his best friend feel better could have. he stuck his pinky out at you, and you grabbed it without thinking twice. you left the garden full of determination. 

of course, the revenge was forgotten too soon. yeonjun went to his mom to ask her when the two of you could get married—she wasn’t there when you announced it—she said you’d have to wait until you both were eighteen and asked why he was curious about it. he explained that the wedding was boring and you wanted to have a cooler one—and it also made sense to stay forever with his best friend. he even told her about your wedding list, and she nodded thoughtfully, saying it could be arranged—as well as the family ring if he really wanted. 

there wasn’t the family ring when you both passed eighteen. no fireworks, no juice boxes or candy, no revenge or pretty wedding hanbok for you, and perhaps too much kissing in the last few months. ‘no speeches’ was probably the only thing that stayed true, because you never discussed anything truly meaningful. all of this was in the past now, nothing but memories. of the way you wanted it so much, of your proud answers when you were teased for acting like you were in love—because there wasn’t anything to be ashamed of.

just like… yeonjun swallowed, glancing at you again. just like now. the little you would reply the same way you did earlier after some growing up, and he never doubted the feelings of this ‘little you’ even if you were too young to call it ‘feelings’—it was always about what had happened after. and now… now was this ‘after’. but you reacted the same way you’d been doing it when your feelings were real, when you cared about him, when you wanted to marry him. could it be that now…

he almost groaned out loud, hands shooting up to cover his face—it felt like he’d known you for your whole lives, but had he? did he know you now? could he know what was in your head when you reacted one way or another? it’d been more than fifteen years, you were grown-up now, and you were a slytherin—you were native in sarcasm. and maybe you pitied him too, and didn’t want to hurt his feelings?.. you’d always been like this with him, and you were like this with him now.

you blinked slowly, trying to catch something in the pitch dark room. the sudden jerk against your hand and the loss of his palm on your thigh stirred you awake, and you frowned, seeing yeonjun covering his face—had something happened? “you okay?” you murmured, voice sleepy and quiet, as you put your hand on his wrist, caressing gently. “a nightmare?..” you asked uncertainly, frowning just a little harder before sitting up. 

yeonjun looked at you and swallowed—fuck, he didn’t mean to wake you up. and being seen like this… “no, it’s okay,” he rasped, laying his hand on your thigh and squeezing it as assuringly as he could—wasn’t too convincing even for him, but you’d just stirred awake… “go to sleep, baby. don’t worry,” he said, rubbing your thigh, which was more of an attempt to calm himself down and distract you.

you hesitated, watching him through the darkness, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his wrist—you were weighing whether to believe him or not, and the latter was undoubtedly winning. he didn’t move away, didn’t try to joke, or push your hand off, or grab your wrist and pull you to plop on top of him, and that alone told you enough—he never stayed quiet if he was really fine. “yeonjun,” you said softly, still groggy, your hand on his wrist getting even gentler without you thinking about it. “you’re not okay.”

he wanted to laugh, to tell you that he was fine, to act like you were imagining things—but the sound of his name in your sleepy voice made something tighten in his chest, and your hand was still there, warm but certain against his skin, and it felt like that warmth was the only thing tethering him to the present right now. “i’m just… tired,” he said finally, and it wasn’t a lie. just not the whole truth either. he turned his hand to catch yours and squeezed it. “really.”

you studied his face for a moment before nodding slowly—you didn’t believe it for a second but also didn’t want to press. were you even close enough for this?... for him to share what was on his mind for the past few days. the only friends you were, was ‘friends with benefits’—you shared a bed but not worries. “then sleep,” you murmured, tugging his hand as you laid down yourself. “you’re being weird,” you muttered, brows frowned, and settled more comfortably on the mattress.

yeonjun almost laughed at that. weird. yeah, maybe he was. maybe he was losing it. maybe he just wanted to stop thinking for five seconds. so he let you relax in the sheets, the mattress dipping again as he settled next to you, trying to stop the annoying thoughts. you turned on your side, half-asleep already, and your hand found his under the blanket without you even looking, without thinking probably, fingers slipping between his before you squeezed it and… left it like that.

he wanted to live and die in the same breath. maybe yeonjun wanted to believe it meant something—that you weren’t just pitying him, or simply being nice—but could he afford to? the price of misinterpreting was heartbreak, the kind that gutted you clean—he’d had enough nights to imagine how bad it could be. and worse… worse would be losing you entirely. hearing not just ‘i don’t feel the same,’ but ‘i don’t feel the same. and i don’t want to hurt you more’. the kind of kindness that would hurt a thousand times worse than sleeping beside you with no hope at all.

you grumped something incoherent, making him look at you—you were frowning, slowly blinking at him again, clearly unsatisfied with whatever you were seeing. before he could say anything, you tugged his hand as hard as you probably could, and murmured a strict and therefore an unbelievably cute ‘sleep’, pressing your intervened hands between your thighs and holding them there. 

yeonjun had to hold himself back from brushing a strand of hair away from your face. he only squeezed your hand for a second as if apologizing and giving a promise to sleep, and closed his eyes, forcing every little thought away and trying to not let the feeling of peace and quiet that holding your hand was bringing fill the void. he knew that in the morning it’d only turn into the the most venomous poison he could ever imagine—he still wasn’t immune to it despite feeling it go through his veins each time you looked at him with a warm smile.

he was the first to wake up, but you followed right after, lids heavy and brain still cottony from sleep. you didn’t even notice you were still holding onto his hand until you pushed yourself upright, arms stretching high above your head with a soft groan. the morning light of the enchanted ceiling was barely slipping past the canopy, painting the room in faint shimmering gold, and yeonjun was sitting there like the picture of annoyance—messy hair, furrowed brows, eyes half-shut, looking at the wall like it’d personally wronged him.

you reached out and nudged his shoulder once. twice. yeonjun sighed through his nose. then you shook it, not too hard, but with the kind of stubborn persistence that only got worse when he ignored you. he finally glanced at you, muttering that you were a menace, but you only grinned, leaning in just to poke his cheek for good measure, letting him know that he looked like a grumpy old cat. he stared at you flatly, clearly deciding how to retaliate.

and then his hand shot out, warm and quick, wrapping around your wrist before you could react—he gave one sharp tug that had you toppling onto his chest with a surprised yelp of ‘oh my god—’. you barely had time to recover before he shifted his weight, quick as anything despite looking half-dead two seconds ago, and suddenly you were flat on your back with him on top, his messy hair falling into his eyes and his grin sharp and triumphant.

you stared up at him, blinking in disbelief, then smacked his shoulder with the flat of your palm, hissing that he was a menace, voice caught somewhere between outrage and laughter. but yeonjun only leaned closer, grin widening like he’d just won a war, as he said that you started it, voice still rough with sleep, his face too relaxed for someone who was currently suffocating ‘a poor girl with all of his chaser weight’—he laughed, bright and loud, telling you that you deserved it.

you grumbled that you were trying to wake him up, not get murdered, shoving at his shoulder again, but yeonjun didn’t even flinch—he just leaned there over you like he was perfectly comfortable, grin widening the longer you glared at him. he shifted his weight a little, on purpose, the bed dipping further clearly to remind you how stuck you were, until you smacked at his arm in retaliation, feeling your cheeks warm up, because… it did feel nice. he laughed under his breath, low and infuriating, obviously knowing what you were thinking about.

eventually, yeonjun rolled off you with the most dramatic sigh in the world, like he was the victim here, sprawled out with his hair sticking in every direction. you shoved at his leg on your way to get up, only for him to kick lightly at your ankle in revenge—lazy, perfectly timed, and enough to make you stumble and curse under your breath while he bit back a grin.

you threw the nearest pillow at him for that. he threw it back before you even straightened up, the hit landing square on your shoulder. soon enough there were socks flying, something that might’ve been a hoodie, and both of you were ducking and dodging somewhere between half-asleep threats, poorly aimed throws and trying not to fall off the bed.

it always ended the same way. yeonjun smirking like he’d won something, you glaring like you hadn’t yet, and both of you breathing harder than you should after a pillow war that lasted all of three minutes—‘age takes its toll’ as he always said as if you were turning fifty in a few weeks. and then, as always, you got ready for the day in the middle of that same familiar chaos, pretending not to laugh whenever you passed each other while looking for all the things you’d thrown around earlier, pretending you weren’t already planning the next round.

yeonjun didn’t notice how your mornings, and days, and evenings changed—for the second time. it’d been teasing and light-hearted and full of banter for months, that he realized, but recently it’d become… more physical? and not in a sexual way—well, at least not only in a sexual way. he couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d become so needy recently, so clingy and… bothering? but not in a bad way—of course, not. you just seemed to need his attention more often, showed it openly through bothering him. with touches, or with your presence, or with your brattiness.

but most of all, yeonjun didn’t notice how bad he started craving it, when he was left alone. it was rare—you were constantly together, only parting your ways when he had to go to the quidditch practice—but it was a week until the next match, and it was a tradition for him to stay behind for an hour or so when the rest of the team left after the last practice before the match—at least if the weather was good enough for flying around and clearing his head.

it was the same this time, but barely twenty minutes in, yeonjun realized he was… missing you. the practice wasn’t a problem—his head was full of tactics, new ideas, possible situations; he was too focused on watching each player like a hawk to think about anything else. and previous few practices he’d leave with the rest of the team and find you as soon as possible after showering and changing, but now… now his head was empty and inevitably started being filled with you. 

yeonjun circled lazily above the pitch, dragging out the minutes like he was waiting for something—someone—but you weren’t there, and he had no excuse to stop early. there was no reason for you to be here, either, and yet the emptiness beneath him felt strange, like the whole place was wrong without your voice echoing somewhere near him. ridiculous. he groaned under his breath, angling into another turn before finally admitting he wasn’t even flying properly anymore, just wandering in the air like an idiot with too much on his mind.

he felt himself getting needier for your attention with each second, and the needier he was getting, the harder it felt to just land and go back to hogwarts. what if you’d just… ignore him? what if you weren’t in the mood to bother him, and he’d have to just sit awkwardly nearby, pretending he wasn’t waiting for you to start annoying him. of course he could be the one to do it first, but recently he barely started it anymore, scared of making you angry with him or accidentally showing his feelings and making you leave because of them. 

it was stupid, yeonjun knew it better than anyone, but the risks were too high and—he frowned, then felt his chest ease as a smile bloomed on his face before he even realized why. he’d spotted your figure across the field. the thought about his heart recognizing you before his brain did got slapped away so fast it was almost funny—impressive and concerning at the same time. even more impressive and concerning? the more of those cringe, pathetic thoughts he had, the less ashamed he was getting about them.

you jumped excitedly, your arms up in the air as you waved at him, despite him already tilting the broom to get back down to the ground. usually yeonjun returned earlier from the practices, but it had been almost an hour since you saw the whole team get back to the common room without him. and knowing him, his head was definitely filled with whatever was bothering him recently—you didn’t need to be on the pitch to know it. so you got up and headed there, to annoy him and drag him back to the castle. 

yeonjun tried to land as close as possible to you, but still with some distance—in case the broom decided to act up suddenly. you sprinted to him the moment you realized where he was going to land, and he barely had time to get off the broom before you almost collided with his body, making his eyes widen—and making his smile widen too without him even noticing it at first. “what’s gotten into you?” he laughed and then took the broom in one hand to pull a glove off the other, catching the tip with his teeth and tugging it off. 

your eyes slid down to his hand, the fabric dragging over a bit too defined veins and tendons that definitely had no need to be so tensed—you were sure he was flexing them on purpose—before slipping over his knuckles, sharp ridges shifting beneath the slightly red skin, then slowly uncovering his joints and fingers like he was performing a freaky hand striptease just for your brain that hadn’t had a proper sex in almost a week. you licked your lips. “am horny,” you muttered, not even trying to move your gaze elsewhere. “hurry up. we can dryhump.”

so you were horny… yeah, no, he figured—he wasn’t even making a show out of taking the glove off, he just wanted to pinch your cheek and doing it while still having it on was ew, but you were watching it as if it was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. was it feeding his ego? undoubtedly. yeonjun hummed, hiding the glove in the pocket of his quidditch robe, lips pressed tight as he tried not to giggle at the way your eyes followed his hand. “need to catch my breath for a bit. here’s my broomstick, have fun while i’m at it.” 

you slowly took the broom he handed you, half-hypnotized, your thoughts still on the way he took off the glove, and half-confused because why in the world he’d give you it? what were you supposed to do with it, when the last time you’d ridden a broom was almost seven years ago—when he saved your pathetic ass from being murdered by gravity. you pouted, eyes in broom in your hand. “can i have fun with another broomstick of yours?..” you mumbled, frowning, your pout deepening as you looked at him again. 

yeonjun’s eyebrows shot up as he blinked at you a few times—were you…? it was so terrible that it was close to the best thing he’d ever heard. he tugged the second glove off—properly now, as his hands were free—and sighed. or pretended to, because he felt like his mind was finally at peace as you were standing here. “yeah. after i catch my breath,” he repeated and ruffled your hair. “you can fly and i’ll go to the changing rooms when you had enough fun, or you give me the broom back and i go now. not letting you fly alone.” 

the speed you shoved the broom back into his hand was probably your personal record, and yeonjun chuckled, clearly expecting you to do so. you tilted your head at him, rocking back and forth on your feet, trying to be as annoyingly cute and innocent as you could master. “can i join you? it’s freezing and boring out here,” you looked over the huge pitch before returning your gaze to him. “can i?” you asked, tips of your fingers trailing up and down his arm. “pretty please?”

yeah, yeonjun perfectly knew how it would end—you bothering him to hurry up with undressing, showering and dressing back or you making out against the wall in some quiet corner of the changing rooms, and couldn’t pretend he wasn’t looking forward to either. he patted your lower back, gesturing to the exit with the tilt of his head. “let’s go, ghost girl,” he said, waiting for you to turn, and followed you when you headed to the changing rooms, a little frown of confusion on your face. “because you haunt me,” he explained, shrugging. he definitely wasn't looking for an exorcism. 

you didn’t talk on your way to the exit, but you still kept your eye on him in case he started slipping away again despite how short the walk there was—the last few days he didn’t need much time to start zoning out. just a few minutes of silence, and—boom—here he was, staring at the wall or moving suspiciously mechanically. you were constantly ready and waiting with a random stupid question prepared in your head, fingers flexing to start tugging his sleeve or body already half relaxed to lean on him annoyingly and complain.

yeonjun opened the door for you with a flourish, one arm sweeping out in a theatrical arc as if he was a courtly gentleman from a century ago—he even dipped into a shallow bow, chin down, eyes flicking up to you with a mischief that ruined the seriousness of the gesture. you played along, lowering your head just enough in a mock-demure acknowledgment, your hands gathering the sides of your robe as if it was a gown, as you stepped inside.

it was ridiculous, a parody of some 18th-century ballroom scene, and yet you both carried it with the kind of deadpan solemnity, doing your best to bite your grins and giggles back, that made the moment twice as funny. yeonjun invited you to have a sit—on a low and hard wood bench next to his bag, but you both acted like it was a centuries-old sofa with the softest cushions you’d ever sat on. 

you averted your gaze when yeonjun untied the robe on his neck, shaking it off his shoulders, and grabbed a blank piece of parchment that was lying on the bench next to his bag, easily transfigurating it into a fan and covering your face with it as a modest woman, who was clearly trying to hide her blush and shy smile, not the handsome man from her eyes. “my apologies, milord,” you murmured from behind the fan, the edges of your lips twitching as you fought a grin, “i am not certain that undressing yourself before a lady is… proper conduct.”

yeonjun stilled dramatically, his robe dangling from his fingers, then straightened his spine with a solemnity fit for a king. “ah,” he intoned, as though gravely struck by your reprimand, “you wound me, milady.” he dropped the robe onto the bench, swept into another exaggerated bow, and caught your free hand with a flourish, lifting it delicately. 

instead of pressing his lips fully to your skin, he hovered just above, letting his breath ghost warmly against your knuckles—close enough to make the gesture feel scandalous, though he remained perfectly polite in his parody. “forgive my insolence,” he said, voice rich with mock remorse, though his eyes gleamed wickedly up at you. “i was under the impression that you had witnessed me bare enough times to no longer fall victim to such charming modesty.”

you snapped the fan closed with a sharp flick, yanking your hand out of his and hiding your face behind it now instead, because his gallant performance mixed with this filthiness was far too much for your composure. “you’re such a perv,” you mumbled, poking his shoulder with the fan, and doing it again, with a little more force when he crouched down before you, his elbows on your knees. “the biggest perv.”

his brows arched, his face the picture of injured nobility, though his grin betrayed him. “perv?” yeonjun repeated carefully, tasting the word like it was foreign wine. “perv… forgive me, milady, but this peculiar term is not one known in my century. might i implore you to enlighten me on its meaning?” he tilted his head, leaning in and resting his chin on the back of his palm, his smirk far too wicked for a man pleading ignorance—and he didn’t even try to hide it.

“if you open a dictionary and find this word,” you started, taking your hand off your face, the end of the fan now caressing his arm, “there’ll be a picture of a man.” you looked away from him with a theatrical dreamy sigh, looking nowhere specific, your expression almost blessed. “so beautiful even angels would fall for him, so enviable even gods would seethe… and yet so sweetly sinful inside that even demons wouldn’t resist,” you signed dreamily again as if imagining him. “and beneath it is written… the biggest perv choi yeonjun.”

yeonjun froze for a second, his brain short-circuiting—so beautiful even angels…—and then that huge grin broke across his face no matter how hard he tried to keep it in. he bit his lip, pressed his lips together, tried to lower the corners of his mouth, but it only made his cheeks rounder, the corners curling up despite his attempts. he covered his mouth with his fist first, trying to hide the grin, then half of his face, dragging it down, only to end up collapsing forward until his forehead was half-buried in the crook of his arm on your lap. 

he mumbled something against his sleeve first, barely audible, a choked laugh then, a tiny groan after—yeonjun had no idea where to put himself now, when he was giddy and a complete idiot in front of you now. “you’re so—” he mumbled into your knees, cheeks already aching, and shook his head. a menace. you were a menace. but he wasn’t any better. he peeked up at you, your grin just as wide, his eyes crinkled as he finally recovered enough to speak. “so… tell me, are you the angel that fell for me, or the demon that didn’t resist?”

you hummed, your fingertips trailing up his arm, to his shoulder, up his neck, catching the earring with the tips of your fingers, caressing the smooth silver surface with your thumb. “hm…” your hand paused for a second, before you shrugged and continued the gentle movement. “a half-blood that didn’t resist falling?” the response was more ridiculous than flirty, but you just continued the banter without thinking twice about what you were saying—just like most of the time. “and maybe a seething goddess a little?” 

yeonjun pressed his hand to his chest, bowing his head in a mock-gratitude. “i’m honoured to have a goddess who didn’t resist falling right here,” he intoned as if he was delivering a sacred oath, but the glint in his eyes betrayed him—more jester than knight. he straightened, shoulders shaking with the effort to keep it serious, then broke into laughter anyway, his grin stretching wide, boyish and irrepressible, as he leaned closer. “half-blood, goddess, demon, angel—whatever you are, you’re mine to deal with, aren’t you?”

you didn’t have a ready comeback for that, so instead you flicked the fan against his arm one last time, shaking your head at him and rolling your eyes even though the smile on your face betrayed you completely—he caught it easily, tugged it from your fingers, and with a dramatic snap folded it closed before tossing it on the bench as if discarding the last prop of your little play, and the little sparks ran over the surface of the fan, turning it back into the blank parchment. 

the theatrics faded with it, leaving the air quieter, more ordinary, though still light with laughter. yeonjun untied the rest of his robe with an absent tug, shrugging out of the thick fabric, his body moving with that unbothered ease of someone used to changing in front of other people—but you turned your head away anyway, suddenly too interested by junière tied to your wand. your thumb brushed over the huge ears again and again, a mindless fidget, the metallic click almost too loud in the hush that followed your banter.

—

“you know,” his voice came, amused, low and echoing softly in the space, “it’s not like you haven’t seen me before.” yeonjun knew you could practically hear the smirk in his voice even without looking at him. “if you want to look so much, you can. i don’t mind,” he winked at you when you glanced at him. his words were half a too self-assured joke, but only half, because just like you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, he wanted the same for you. and well… seeing you being interested in him…

your cheeks warmed, you grip on the wand tightening, and the corner of your mouth curled up—you didn’t know if it was still okay to look at him. would he tease you? laugh at you? you pouted, averting your gaze and crossing your arms on your chest. “don’t wanna now…” you muttered, but the defensive note in your voice only made him chuckle, a sound that wrapped around you like it always did, warm and far too knowing, the furthest possible from mean. 

“sure you don’t,” yeonjun said with a smile, dragging the words out in that sing-song way he used whenever he was very sure he’d won. the rustle of clothes followed, quick, careless—sweater, thermal shirt, shoes, equipment—until his quidditch trousers hit the bench in a heap. he padded toward the shower stalls, his bare footsteps soft against the stone floor. “come on, baby,” he called over his shoulder, not even looking back, the invitation tossed out as casually as if he was asking you to follow him down the hallway. “let’s shower and then come back to the castle.”

you hesitated, arms hugging yourself tighter, but fingers reaching for the pull of your jacket nevertheless. the truth was—your period had only just ended, and even if it wasn’t anything dramatic anymore, your body still felt tender, uncertain, you could bleed despite it assumingly having ended. the idea of stripping down and showering next to him in that tiny tiled space made your stomach twist. your first instinct was to shake your head, and to make some excuse—just not to embarrass yourself if your body decided to act up.

but yeonjun had stopped at the doorway before you could reply, leaning against it, hair mussed and damp from sweat, eyes softer than his grin. “hey,” he said quietly, serious now. he knew periods weren’t easy, and while he was aware yours had ended, there was no need to spell it out for him. “i won’t touch you anywhere you don’t want me to. promise. you can just… stand under the water and complain about how cold you were, if you want.”

you let out a small huff, the tension easing just a little. yeonjun always did this when it was about something important—took your stubbornness and gentled it, gave you an out without making you feel small for hesitating. and maybe that was exactly why you ended up setting your wand carefully on the bench and stood up, unzipping your jacket and shaking it off your shoulders. “fine,” you muttered, your pout deepening despite your hand being quick to get rid of the clothes. “but if you laugh at me once, i’m hexing you bald.”

yeonjun’s laughter echoed in the empty room, loud and bright, as he leaned on the doorframe, watching you discard your clothes quickly, most probably not wanting to make him stand there in just underwear for too long. you came up to him, and before you could roll your eyes at him again he bent down and pressed a quick, almost reverent kiss to your temple. “i promise to behave,” he murmured against your skin, then nudged the shower door open for you with the same theatrical flourish as earlier, bowing his head. “after you, milady.”

you stepped past him, the steam from the shower wrapping over your bare skin, making it easier and harder to breathe at once. yeonjun followed, still careful, his usual—for this situation—cocky confidence dimmed to something quieter, much more attentive as he stayed just close enough, like he was waiting to see what you would do—not to tease you for being desperate, but to take charge the moment he saw you need it. 

it was so weird to feel this nervous—almost as if the sensitivity of your body sank into your mind and heart, wrapping around them too—and you drew a little star on the fogged glass with your fingertip, chewing on your lip before looking up at him. and then—before you could lose the nerve—you leaned up and pressed your lips to his, your eyes fluttering shut. it was barely a kiss, a soft brush, fleeting, more like a question than anything else. but it was enough. you felt the way his whole body stilled, how his breath hitched against your mouth.

the answer came a heartbeat later. yeonjun tilted his head, his hand lifting only far enough to cup your jaw—gentle, deliberate, giving you every chance to pull away—as the other found your hip. his mouth moved against yours with warmth and patience, deepening the kiss only when you leaned into him, your shy little question turning into something braver. 

yeonjun felt your palms find his chest, barely there, feather-light, and somehow fear of you doing it only to push him away was so much stronger than fear of you feeling the way his heart was thundering against your touch. but before you could do the latter, your hands slid up his chest, over his shoulders, and parted, one finding its place in his hair, another pulling him closer by his neck, your chest pressing closer to his, as you tilted your head too, parting your lips even before he could ask for it.

the kiss deepened, the soft, unthinking eagerness of your lips parting for him made his chest ache. yeonjun’s hold tightened, one arm wrapping firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against him, while his other hand slid from your jaw to cradle the back of your head. he kissed you harder then, but only for a moment—because suddenly he pulled back just slightly, his breath warm and shaky against your lips. “okay?” he whispered, his voice rough, his forehead almost pressed to yours.

you breathed out a mindless ‘mhm’, already leaning forward again, brushing your mouth over his before the word was even gone. needy, desperate, barely being able to stand the space he’d put between your lips, and you weren’t even ashamed of it. your tongue slipped past his lips, gently poking his before sliding back, coaxing and inviting him—he knew you so well, you didn’t need to worry about him not getting the hint.

the moment his tongue brushed yours, everything tipped over the edge—the kiss grew messier, hungrier, your mouths moving against each other like neither of you could get enough, like every second of space between you was unbearable. your fingers clutched at his damp skin, sliding over his shoulders, down his back, into his hair, pulling him closer, closer, as if you could merge yourselves entirely if you only tried hard enough.

yeonjun groaned low in his chest, the sound vibrating through you, and without even thinking about it, he guided you backwards until your spine met the cool tiled wall—the contrast against your overheated skin made you gasp against his lips, but the shock only gave him the chance to kiss you deeper, swallowing your breath like it belonged to him. fuck, he wanted nothing more than share every breath with you. no—he wanted nothing else.

his hand spread over your hip, anchoring you there, thumb brushing circles into your skin even as his other arm braced the wall beside your head. you tilted your chin up, offering him more, every part of you pressed to him now, the shower spray catching the edges of your tangled hair, dripping between your mouths as you kissed like you’d both been starving for weeks—as if you weren’t all over each other any moment you could.

he kept his touches as innocent as they could be, keeping his promise despite how heated the kiss was—caressing, brushing, barely squeezing the flesh. and somehow it made you lose your mind, made you want him even more. you pressed closer, whimpering softly into the kiss just at the thought before leaning back, not even an inch away. “‘njun…” you breathed out, pressing lips to his right after, even for a second, and broke the kiss again. “can i suck you off? please.”

yeonjun’s hand moved to the back of your head, tangling in your hair, his lips on yours again as if he didn’t hear the question. but of course he did—he simply wanted to show you how fucking magnificent you were. his tongue slipped past your lips again, and he swallowed your moan greedily, arm sliding between your lower back and the wall when he felt you arch into him. gosh, breaking the kiss to reply was impossible… “only if you want to,” he murmured, lips brushing yours.

“really do,” you managed to whisper, barely holding yourself back from finding his mouth again, because you weren’t sure you could breathe without his lips on yours at this moment. you had to force yourself away, your hand finding his instinctively now—he always helped you go down, his hand firm under yours whenever you lowered yourself on the floor. shit, you couldn’t with this man… couldn’t without him either. you looked up at him, licking your lips mindlessly. “can we do it like in the greenhouse?.. against the wall.”

fuck—yeonjun felt his already hard cock twitch, his fingers in your hair stilling for a second, as he cursed through his teeth. whatever his baby wanted—anything. he was going to spoil the hell out of you. “‘course, mouse,” he rasped, his hand on the top of your head gently pushing you closer to the wall, and he exhaled shakily when you followed his guidance, pressing your back and head to the wall. “such a good girl…” he praised, his thumb brushing your lower lip.

yeonjun pressed the tip to your lips first, spreading his precum a little, letting you taste him before he moved any further. he slid slowly inside when you parted your lips in what felt a little too much like an invitation, his rhythm careful, hips pressing lightly into the wall, hands gripping only for balance—one against the tile, the other brushing your jaw, mindless but sincere praises slipping past his lips breathlessly. such a good girl… the best girl.

your lips stretched around him, eyes fluttering closed as you tried to keep up with the slow pace, sucking, tracing the vein with the tip of your tongue, curling it around the head—everything you knew yeonjun loved. the wet heat, the friction, the impossibility of using your hands, being restricted not by cuffs or a tie, but by his wish and your need to please him—everything made your mind spin faster than your body could keep up.

you lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze for just a second, and the sight of him—water glistening along his chest, hair plastered to his forehead, brows frowned, breath coming out ragged, cock slick and flushed in your mouth—made heat pool low in your stomach in a way no other man in the world could. your fingers twitched against your thighs almost instinctively, needing something, anything.

yeonjun watched your hand drift down, curling between your legs, and the image of it made his hips stutter even before your moan around him did. shit, he still couldn’t get used to you touching yourself while sucking him off. your pleasure was his top priority—always—and whenever making him feel good made you feel the need to pleasure yourself… he was losing his mind. “that’s it, baby… so—fuck—so good for me,” he breathed out, voice unsteady.

you whimpered around him, eyes on his, not leaving even for a second—he was too hot for your sanity. your fingers quickened at the same time he rolled his hips against your face a little deeper—not enough to trigger a gag reflex, but, oh, more than enough for it to become harder to keep your eyes on him and not roll them back in pleasure. each inch in and out, each drag of his cock over your tongue, made your walls clench around nothing but air, the tension building until every small motion sent shivers down your spine.

he cursed softly under his breath, hips moving just a little faster, the rhythm of each roll getting more and more uneven—the way you were touching yourself, looking up at him so… needily? fuck, yeonjun couldn’t get enough of you wanting him, needing him just as much as he wanted and needed you. his hand slid down to the back of your head, shielding it from the tile wall, when his pace became too unpredictable even for him. 

but you welcomed it, relaxing your mouth, letting your lips and tongue do the work on their own, without thinking—it was face-fucking, after all. even if it was soft, and gentle, and a little too full of care and attention, and so freaking undoubtedly yeonjun—the thought made you moan. your fingers quickened, trying to match the pace of his hips instinctively, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, the little sounds were leaving your lips more and more often, vibrating through his cock and making him buck his hips into your face.

yeonjun was close and it was easy for him to say you were too—concerningly easy, but he didn’t care. he knew your body well enough to know it without needing to touch you to check. the way you sounded, how often soft whimpers and moans were escaping you around his cock, the way you could barely keep up with his pace now—everything was there, and his own approaching high didn’t overshadow it—couldn’t overshadow it. for him it was you only. 

your thighs twitched, squeezing your hand between them at the same time yeonjun’s release started filling your mouth—you couldn’t keep a prolonged moan inside, eyes rolling back. he bucked his hips, hold on your hair tightening, pulling almost and breaking your needy whimpers that managed to escape at every drag of your fingers against your clit. you had to force your head to stay still and just swallow everything, when you wanted nothing more than to bob your head and get more—get everything you could. 

he held your head nevertheless, fingers gripping your hair tight—tighter than he intended—your name mingled with breathless praises slipping past his lips as he felt you suck in around him, tongue trying to lick everything off. he moved his hips just an inch away, hand sliding up to the top of your head and guiding it closer, and he swore under his breath when you got what he wanted. 

it was non-verbal ‘you’re free to move’—you weren’t sure how exactly you understood it, but you did—and you moved away, letting his cock slip away from your mouth, a trail of saliva connecting the tip to your lower lip and you felt yourself clench around nothing. shit—too hot. you leaned in, tongue out and licking everything that left, your licks careful and soft—hurting him was the last thing you wanted—and his hand slid down to your cheek, caressing it with his thumb, praises even more breathless now. 

yeonjun pushed you away gently when it became too much, overstimulation making him inhale through clenched teeth. he helped you stand up, one hand holding yours, another on your waist the moment he could put it there, steadying you. he giggled, pressing lips to your temple, murmuring how good you were making him feel, how lucky he was, brain still a little hazy from cumming—he wasn’t sure what he was saying.

but you only giggled, letting your forehead rest on his shoulder, too out of it to understand what he was saying too, just enjoying gentle rubs up and down your back and the way he played with your hair. warm water, low soft murmurs, his scent were lulling you even further, and your arms found his waist, hands too heavy to wrap around his shoulders. you started blinking slower and slower, eyelids heaving before finally fluttering shut, a small exhale escaping you—you were far too comfy to think now.

he washed you carefully—at least where he could reach without disturbing you too much—giggling softly at your every little murmur and pleased sigh at his touches, your words sometimes being complete nonsense. when yeonjun tried to move you away to wash his body too, you only blinked at him slowly and nodded, taking the shower gel, your movements unhurried and sleepy as you spread it over his chest and shoulders. god, weren’t you cute?.. you were the cutest, and more so, because he didn’t expect you to start washing him too.

you got more active closer to the castle—maybe, cool february air woke you up, maybe doing something except standing under the warm water and getting nice and gentle rubs did, but you both started getting playful again. 

yeonjun would stop dead in his tracks suddenly, making you pull and push him, laughing at how weak you were compared to him—even if you kept saying you weren’t even trying. when he finally moved and you tried to do the same, he didn’t think twice before scooping you bridal style, your arms immediately around his neck as you squealed, threatening to hex his pretty face and hot hair if he dropped you. ‘ah, so my face is pretty and my hair is hot?’—he got the pinch on the back of his neck that made him squeal too.

if you both had to admit it, neither of you gave a single shit about entering hogwarts and the great hall like this. there were already enough rumors going around, and one more wouldn’t make a difference. sometimes you even liked discovering them—the most unhinged one was about you being pregnant, while there was absolutely nothing that could hint at this. you laughed it off, saying you two should find the one who started it and name your ‘baby’ after them, regardless genders of both. 

but yeonjun put you down before you stumbled upon more students, and when you tried to tease him for being so weak, he just huffed and promised to carry you on his shoulder next time—especially when you were wearing a skirt, because he’d cover your ass with his jacket, but would obviously have to hold it there with his palm so it didn’t slide down. wasn’t he a generous man? you rolled your eyes and tugged his ear, saying that nothing screamed generosity louder than touching someone’s ass in public, your smile wide despite your act.

the dinner went as usual. it was loud, full of laughter, banter. and mcgonagall didn’t even look at you six in disapproval anymore—she was, probably, already far past the ‘judging’ stage. you stayed after it again too, doing your homework together, little chatters and snack breaks filling any moment free from studying—and sometimes not free from it, but it was exactly the reason why you didn’t go to the library to do your homework. the amount of times you’d gotten scolded…

the night patrol went pretty fast too. yeonjun didn’t really slip into his head again—maybe still a little high on the past-practice events, maybe you were just a little louder than usual, catching his attention without even trying, or maybe he was already tired of constantly overthinking. it’d been almost two weeks, and even he had his limits of spiraling. nothing had changed much, had it? yeah, you became clingier, but in general…

in general, yeonjun was simply exhausted because of his own brain. whenever you did something, sometimes even just looked at him in a certain way, let alone being such a cute brat, bothering him to get his attention, he couldn’t stop thinking that it meant something. how could he not?.. but his brain kept stopping him before it could get too far—what if you’re just reading it wrong? what if it just doesn’t mean anything? what if it'll just break your heart? and it will. he’d survive if it did, but he was sure it’d make you leave him, and that… 

fuck! no, he was overthinking. and his heart ached in this annoying way he’d started getting used to when you fell on his bed, arms spread all over it, as if you didn’t have your own bed in the room. yeonjun never wanted it to change, but he was so scared of deceiving himself and believing it meant that you were looking for comfort his things were bringing to you, that you needed him not only for sex, but simply couldn’t show—or didn’t even know you did. because he was the same, wasn’t he? needing you, but not allowing himself to show it. 

but what if it wasn’t? what if it was just for… convenience? that was how you both called everything happening between you—convenient. it was easier to sleep in his bed to have sex in the morning, right? or in the middle of the night, or before sleep—anytime. yeonjun knew you loved his touches, enjoyed the feeling of his hand on your thigh or ass when you were asleep, so maybe you were simply looking for this? but was it much different from looking for comfort in being surrounded by him that he dreamed of you having?... 

yeonjun groaned, running his fingers through his hair, and glanced at you. “gonna take a shower again. wash my hair, they’re greasy,” he scrunched his nose in disgust and tilted his head, when you replied with a hum and ‘kay’, not lifting your head off the pillow. “don’t wanna join?” he asked, not entirely certain if he wanted you to accept the offer or decline it—both were good and bad at the same time, and he was too tired to think about which one was lesser evil. 

you shook your head, stretching on the mattress before sitting up with a groan. “nah. will finish the herbology project,” you said, accio-ing your bag. you would join him, but if you managed to finish everything now, he’d only have to go to sleep once he’s back from the shower. earlier sleep meant less overthinking. easy? yes. genius? undoubtedly. “there’s like half an hour left, not more,” you muttered, digging through your bag. 

he hummed, nodding and disappearing in the bathroom. yeah, he wasn’t sure if he liked your answer or not. it gave him an opportunity to think, but did he want to? did you say no because you didn’t want to spend time with him now and while finishing the project, preferring to do it on your own instead of doing it together? no, of course he knew everyone needed space and alone time—he needed them too!—and it never made him feel… forsaken. but he couldn’t stop overthinking when it was about you.

and what was worse? yeonjun couldn’t get your words in the changing room out of his head no matter how much he tried. this teasing about ‘a man so beautiful…’ was undeniably top-tier, and he hated and loved how he didn’t doubt your sincerity even for a second—maybe it was a little theatrical but… but not an act at the root. he hoped so at least. 

but what came next… he still could hear ‘a half-blood that didn’t resist falling’ in his head in your voice and feel your gentle touch on his earring—something you’d never done before. you hadn’t realized the subtext—yeonjun was hundred percent sure. maybe your words about angels falling for him did have this pun intended, but the next thing was said too fast, too automatic, almost as if coming from the surface of your mind. 

it was usual for the two of you to indulge in flirty banter, throwing pick-up lines back and forth—it was almost a game, a competition sometimes, who would cringe first or how ridiculous you could go—and they were half-mindless most of the time. but it was the first time yeonjun truly thought about where all of this was coming from. his ones were sincere—that was obvious now—but yours?... 

you spent so much time together, basically twenty-four-seven some days, and he wasn’t sure if you flirted to the same extent with the boys or was it just for him. you could annoy them by a few pick-up lines when they bothered you too much, but they backed out fast, so it never went as far as with him. would it if they could keep up?... would it go as far as ‘i didn’t resist falling for you’, said mindlessly but softly, without making a disgusted face after it? 

fuck, he was pathetic, wasn’t he? yeonjun groaned and leaned forward for the stream to hit his face, trying to stop thinking about… anything. he rubbed his face—he wasn’t sure how much time he’d wasted already, but probably not less than ten minutes, fifteen maybe, and he still hadn’t even looked at the shampoo bottle. he shook his head, grabbing it almost aggressively, the thought about you still lingering in the back of his mind—he hadn’t been able to get rid of it for a really long time already.

and you were trying not to think about yeonjun too—you hoped he wasn’t spiralling over this thing right now, whatever it was, because you certainly weren’t going to burst into the bathroom. what were you going to say? ‘made a mess. cleaning spell?.. what’s that?’ or ‘got bored suddenly’? yeah, no, absolutely not suspicious. you sighed, returning your attention to the notes, a little frustrated with… everything. stupid everything.

you inhaled deeply and scrunched your nose, groaning and rolling your eyes—the room had been smelling weirdly recently, and you’d been ignoring it since you noticed it a week ago, but today the smell seemed stronger and more annoying than usual. not even the smell itself, probably, but its presence—you needed to find it and get rid of it. or you’d go absolutely insane.

the notebook was thrown on the bed mindlessly, when you were already on your feet, sniffing the air and surely looking pretty weird—you didn’t give a shit, though. it didn’t take you too long to find a box under the desk yeonjun barely sat at recently, and you crouched down to drag it out, your eyebrows rising when you saw what it was—the valentine box. full of cards and little trinkets and notes, and all the things yeonjun had been receiving two weeks ago. and on top of everything…

you groaned the moment you took the chocolate box into your hands—it was definitely from the girl that approached you when you were dealing with the magical birds, and it smelled so freaking weird. who in the world would make chocolate—the door to the bathroom opened, making you jerk and look over your shoulder as if you were in the middle of some crime and not just looking for the source of a disturbing smell. 

yeonjun frowned, glancing at the box on your lap, and mentally slapped himself—he had two weeks to get rid of all of it, but each time he thought about it, there was something that needed his attention more than a pile of white-pink-red papers, and now… now his crush—well, yeah, more than just ‘crush’—was sitting with the box full of valentine’s cards and gifts from a dozen of other people that he hadn’t thrown away in two weeks. way to fucking go, choi yeonjun.

he opened his mouth to say something, but before he could even try—as if there was anything he could say—you got up with the chocolate box in your hands, and nearly stomped towards him. oh, yeah, he fucked up. on the other hand… you clearly hadn’t tasted it—you would be crazily in love with him right now otherwise. and if it was going to be a jealous tantrum… would it be this bad? yeonjun slapped himself mentally again, begging his stupid mind to finally shut up with this bullshit.

you came up to him, staring him in the eyes as deadly as you could—a truly tough task given he was wearing a black tank top and his hair was wet and he looked really, really good—and basically hit him with the chocolate box in the chest holding it there, until he lifted his hands to take it from you, full of confusion. “the girl is a damn freak. you really should question what vibe you give off because if you attract people who make chocolate that smells like this—” you sighed dramatically. “something’s clearly wrong with you, man.”

yeonjun felt his heart drop into his stomach. smell like… he swallowed and licked his lips that suddenly went dry. he wanted to know what it smelled like for you and wanted to snatch the box before you could recognize the smell, before you could connect it to anyone. wanted to just throw it away and distract you—push you into the wall, fuck you until you forgot the damn box ever existed. he felt like his whole world started slowly crashing down, because he didn’t want to share you, to lose you. “smell like what?” left his lips before he could stop it. 

you scrunched your nose and leaned in, taking a small sniff of the chocolate in his hands before straightening, making a face. “no, listen, i know mint choco is a weird, but common combination. in anything but ice cream, though?.. but well, okay,” you rolled your eyes and took a piece of chocolate to show him. “but beer?! does she know it's not beer that's used in liquor chocolates?!” you exclaimed, discarding the piece back where it was. “clearly for you. and salt. i swear to god—” you sighed.

it was like everything around yeonjun shrank to the little piece of chocolate you’d thrown back into the box. you said so many things, so many words. mint choco, beer, and… salt? yeonjun listened to your frustrated monologue, more watching than actually getting what you were saying, your words passing over his head because there was only one thing on his mind—mint choco, beer, salt. mint, beer, salt. mint, beer, sal—ocean?...

but you only continued your playfully annoyed speech without noticing that it, probably, went too far. “oh no, don't tell me you're into beer chocolate because beer is your favourite alcohol…” you closed your eyes as if it was the worst discovery of your life. “it’s already disgusting but with mint and salt?! never kiss me before brushing your teeth at least twice!” you paused before pointing your finger at him. “thrice!”  

yeonjun blinked at you, unable to say anything, so many little moments going through his head at the same time. your little nose scrunch at the beer bottle in his hand, and a soft ‘disgusting. getting used to it, though’ breathed into his lips later; your giggle at the mint toothpaste and the question if he was ever planning to try a new one, as he’d been using exactly this one since you were babies; your sleepy mumbles about him smelling like an ocean shore and teasing him for smelling like he’d just crawled out of the sea. was it…

← to chapter 14 | ♡ you're here ♡ | to chapter 16 →

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his head was spinning, legs jelly, but there was a strange feeling of tranquility under it all—or was it numbness?.. yeonjun couldn’t tell. it was pointless to even pretend otherwise—his own denial was starting to feel pathetic. the cinnamon and vanilla were never about the chocolate, he knew that now—he’d always thought your little hisses were cinnamon and your soft purrs vanilla. different every time, different proportions depending on the day, but always balanced in a way that kept him hooked without him even realizing it. 

yeonjun couldn’t even spiral—not yet, at least. because wasn’t it obvious?.. every small thing for the past few months had been nothing but affection, dressed up as something casual, brushed off as something ‘natural’, something that ‘wasn’t a big deal’, something that simply worked and didn’t need overthinking—he wondered if you’d ever actually been ‘just friends with benefits’. it sure as hell didn’t feel like it anymore.

he took the piece of a chocolate one more time, staring at it as if it could deal with everything now, after it turned his world upside down—or maybe simply finally showed the reality. yeonjun chuckled bitterly—wasn’t he dumb? weren’t you dumber? he was almost sure you were just as blind as he’d been just five minutes ago—you would already run away if you saw the truth. you would do it the very next second you did.

run away… the words felt bitter on his tongue, made his chest ache. would you do it if he told you now? would he be able to catch you before you vanished from his hold? could he even survive seeing you every day, if you avoided him? if you pretended nothing had ever happened? it made the ache in his chest stronger, too strong. could he risk everything?.. his eyes drifted toward the bed—toward you curled up around his pillow—and a lump rose in his throat so hard it almost hurt. imagining you never being there again felt unbearable.

you went so far from october, so fucking far… yeonjun couldn’t even believe it. gosh, your first time had happened on the very same couch all these months ago. back then it was almost terrifying, how close you were, how intimate things were getting—you didn’t want to undress, didn’t want him to take his tank top off, stopping him so carefully. but now… now you giggled when he’d cut your underwear, asked him to tug the tank top off. fuck, you were wearing his sweater now, having snitched it from his wardrobe like it was yours. 

and he changed too. could he imagine back then that he’d just get handcuffs out of nowhere and you’d agree so eagerly? he used to be so careful with how much of a freak he could be, terrified of scaring you, of pushing you away, but he hadn’t even noticed when he didn’t care anymore, when he’d suddenly become… free? when you’d started meeting whatever he wanted to do with excitement and curiosity.

yeonjun didn’t want to think about everything that wasn’t about sex. him carrying you to his bed this time—fuck, when was the last time you slept in different beds even? taking the thigh-highs off, but leaving you in his sweater. the way half of his clothes was shared between you two. this little teasing flirting, here, there and everywhere. the way he always looked after you, making sure you took care of yourself. the way he found you cute even when you hissed and bit like the gremlin-kitten you were. 

shit, it was so obvious… how blind was he? how was it even humanly possible to be this blind? and what was more important… what was he supposed to do now? yeonjun couldn’t confess—fuck no. if you didn’t feel the same, it’d mean he ruined everything with his own damn hands and he would never forgive himself for it. keeping everything as it was?.. perhaps?.. having what you had now until you fell for someone else and broke it off seemed like a lesser evil than losing you right on the spot. no, not seemed. it was lesser evil.

yeonjun didn’t wake you up for the night patrol despite perfectly knowing you’d get pouty because of that—he needed some time to himself. or, if he had to be honest, away from you. he wasn’t going to go insane and avoid you or try to ‘get rid’ of these feelings, he just simply needed to have this little space to let everything settle down so he could pretend nothing had happened. 

all the cards, little presents and this cursed chocolate box were quickly put into a cardboard box he found deep in the wardrobe—looking through them didn’t make any sense now, when, as it turned out, his heart was taken. the thought felt unfamiliar, and he even whispered it, tasting it on his tongue before shaking his head—the acceptance came too fast, and it was absolutely ridiculous. almost hilariously ridiculous. 

one little heart-shaped card stayed on his desk, though. yeonjun wasn’t sure about this one, but… he was going to think about when he was back from the patrol. the patrol that felt endless and at the same time passed too quickly, giving him too much time to spiral and not enough time to deal with anything, and it was just a little before midnight when he returned, and here you were, sitting on his bed all frowning and pouty, arms crossed on your chest. 

you softened when you saw him, though—he seemed tired, lost in thought, frowning too as he always did when he was too focused on something, and throwing a petty tantrum over him not waking you up for the patrol… “hey!” you called for him—a little harsher than you wanted, mentally cursing yourself for it—and when he looked at you in question, gestured for him to come closer.

yeonjun frowned, taking his shoes off before padding to his bed, standing at the edge of it. he expected you to pinch him or slap him playfully for leaving you behind, but you only asked him to give you your bag—he was standing between you and it, so accio-ing wasn’t an option—and after rummaging through it for what felt like forever, you held out a… paper. a pink heart with little black roses decorating the border and his name in the center. 

he turned it around, and the laugh escaped him before he could keep it inside, his cheeks starting to warm up. gosh, you were absolutely ridiculous.

you know what’s hotter than your abs? nothing. literally. except maybe my body temp after round three. and your chest. and arms. and your outstanding-ness. don’t let it go to your head tho.

you hadn’t even tried to cross out the last part properly, just a straight line that wasn't really hiding anything, and it was such a huge message in a tiny valentine’s card, he wondered how you even managed to write it down—he had to squint to read it. yeonjun looked at you, your brows still in a frown, mouth in the most careful pout to hide your smile, and he accio-ed the card he left on the desk, holding it out. 

it was amusingly similar to yours in shape and size, almost copy—it already made you giggle—messy flowers around the border with your name in the center. you turned it around, eyes skimming through lines, and you had to cover your mouth to keep the grin and giggles inside.

roses are red, violets are blue, my refractory period’s shorter when it’s you ♡

you’d both laughed at the cards, at how ridiculous and cute they were—his full of messy doodles clearly drawn with devotion, yours looking like you’d spent way too long on it and didn’t want to make another one when the message got too long even though you swore you had spent like ten minutes. but it was late, and both of you were already tired, yawns interrupting laughter and breaking words in two, so you lied down, carefully placing the cards on the bedside table—you both were going to keep them just like christmas presents.

you curled up in yeonjun’s bed like usual, giving him his pillow back with a grumpy ‘it smells like me now, so suffer all you wanna’—his heart skipped a beat at the mention of your scent, but he only accio-ed the corgi plushie from your bed, pressing it to your chest for you to hug. you hummed a little thank you, curling around it and moving just a little closer to him, when you felt his hand on your thigh, relaxing under it. 

the morning woke you up with a weird neediness—you weren’t sure you had a wet dream or anything close, you weren’t even sure you’d dreamt of anything, but your mind was filled with the thoughts of yeonjun’s mouth and tongue even before you opened your eyes properly, and you cursed at yourself quietly, sitting up, feeling a warmth pooling in your lower stomach, and realizing your body had already thought about him before your brain caught up. waking up horny was one thing, but waking up desperate for messy making out was absolutely weird even for you. 

you felt bad for waking yeonjun up—you really did—but he’d said you could, right?.. so you nudged his shoulder softly, whispering his name, and his eyes fluttered open for a second to focus on your face before closing again. he rasped a sleepy ‘is everything okay?’, broken in half by a yawn, and you felt even worse for waking up—you still whispered that you wanted to make out, your index finger rubbing nervous circles on your knee. not sex—just making out.

yeonjun blinked a few times, still processing your words—you woke up before sunrise because…? he nodded to himself—okay, no problem—before rising up on his elbow, his other hand cupping the back of your head to bring you closer, and you followed the lead almost eagerly. but before his lips were pressed against yours, he paused with a little frown. “messy?” he asked, voice hoarse and low, and you nodded nearly too fast, bracing yourself on both arms to sides of his torso as your lips parted already. 

your eyes rolled back the second you felt his tongue on your lower lip, whining softly, the tip of your tongue darting out to nudge it and coax inside—he followed it, hand on the back of your head tightening its hold in your hair before he rolled you onto your back, your hands around his shoulders, tugging him down immediately. gosh, you needed to find out which god blessed you with this man before he became your religion. 

the kiss was messy—yeonjun made sure it was that, using the position to make it even messier—and he fed off the way you were clinging to him, and moaning, and whining, and being so close to begging from just kissing. your legs were closed, his arms were busy with holding himself above you, only tagging your hair occasionally—there wasn’t a single explicit touch, and yet you were arching and moaning his name. was it him being that good or was it you being so sensitive for him? both, perhaps?

you knew you promised that it was just making out, that it wasn’t about sex, but the way he kissed you was utterly mind-blowing, stealing your breath and sanity, making you needier with each little nibble and caress of his tongue on yours. his weight on you felt like heaven, breathing the same air was dizzying, the chins and lips of you both glistened with saliva, and you couldn’t get enough, tugging him closer, arching your back. fuck, you wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he had some aphrodisiac in his saliva. or a drug. 

yeonjun cursed when you broke the kiss just for a second, just to look him in the eyes so prettily, so pleadingly, whispering that you needed him—he was the furthest possible from surprised. he’d be ashamed of himself if he let himself be deceived when you said ‘not sex’—he knew you both wouldn’t be able to keep it as just making out, even if you thought otherwise. he leaned back, turning his head away just for a second to move the canopy aside and let the dawn light in, and your hands were already on his cheeks, not letting him do it.

they were almost trembling, your hold gentle on his skin, as you turned his head back, pressing your lips to his desperately—not starving even, not thirsty, closer to needing to breathe. “please,” you whispered into his lips, the voice broken, almost pathetic but you couldn’t care less, and deepened the kiss even if just for a few seconds. “m’sorry,” you murmured, barely needing any space between you, chasing his lips after just a moment of being apart. “will be on top if you’re too sleepy. if you wanna right now.”

if he wanted to have sex with you right now? what a stupid question it was—“always wanna, pretty,” yeonjun breathed into your lips, one of his hands going down your body to nudge your legs apart—you did it at the smallest touch, tugging him over your body properly, caging him with your legs the moment he stilled between them. “what do you think about sleeping without underwear?” he teased, lips brushing against yours, uncertain where it even came from—he still snapped the waistband of your underwear against your skin as if it wasn’t a big deal. 

you moaned, arching your back, legs around his hips tightening instinctively, as you nodded quickly. it was a pain in the butt, it’d be better without it for sure—easier access, less time lost, you could feel him so much earlier too… you moaned at your own thoughts, your lips pressing to the corner of his accidentally, and you whined softly at the ruined kiss. “cut them, please,” you begged, voice high-pitched, your hips already rolling into his, eyes rolling back from how good his cock felt against you.

yeonjun felt shivers run down his spine, palm holding your jaw as he deepened the kiss and slipped the fingers of another hand inside your underwear, needing no focus on the spell to cut through and leave you bare. you were greedy. and freaky. and absolutely shameless. fuck, he loved it about you. he loved when he was the one making you like this, and making you like this for him. 

the moan you let out when he suddenly pushed inside was choked out, his hand on your jaw not letting you move away even mindlessly, and damn everything if you weren’t grateful for this, starving for his mouth on yours even more. your trembling fingers found his cheek, cupping it as you tilted your head, sucking on his tongue and caressing it with yours, your hips rolling into his, meeting his every movement and matching the pace he sat. 

fuck, you seemed insatiable these days, and yeonjun couldn’t ask for anything else, couldn’t dream of more. his hips snapped into yours, filling the room with slaps and squelches, his fingers dig into your thigh just an inch from the yesterday’s marks, his teeth kept grazing your lower lip and each tiny nibble turned out a little harsher than he expected, making you clench, and moan, and arch to get closer to him. 

you fell over the edge before you even realized it was catching up on you, too drunk on being surrounded by yeonjun—on his mouth on yours, greedy and messy, on his weight caging and trapping you underneath, on his smell that seemed to soak into your skin already, on the feeling of his hands everywhere all at once. your head tipped back, chest pressed against his, as his name left your mouth, and then the unexpected, but too sweet pain on the side of your neck, made you let out a broken sob, nails digging into his shoulder, as the second wave crashed over you even before the first one faded.

yeonjun’s mind was full of you, and your broken, desperate sounds, the way his name left your lips, your arms and legs around him so tight that it felt like he’d wear the prints of them on his body, and, fuck, your clenches—so tight that sometimes it felt like you were sucking him in—everything was too much, and the moment he felt you come undone underneath him, he let go too, giving the last, the deepest thrust and stilling, teeth sinking into your neck before he could stop himself. 

he could barely feel the way your fingers in his hair were trembling, holding him against your neck, but he was never going to forget how hard you were clenching around him, how long too, not letting him go until he had nothing else to give you. the way you shuddered under him, sobbing his name out, your lashes wet, thin trails glistening down your temples, holding him with a strength he never expected from you—everything was burned into his memory, and he’d never let himself forget it. 

you fell asleep almost right after, mind giving in to the sweet fatigue yeonjun put you in, and you curled around the corgi plushie, the red sweater crumpled around your waist and your fingers around his wrist, appearing there without your realization. he covered you with a blanket, and you tugged it a little higher, murmuring a soft ‘thank you' without waking up.

it wasn’t this easy for yeonjun, though—the memories from yesterday’s night washed over him, and when he glanced at the cardboard box, hoping to see a proof that he's just dreamt of everything, the piece of chocolate, broken in half, was still there, mocking him with its existence. he covered his eyes with his forearm—not the one you were holding, of course—sighing deeply. it already didn't seem easy yesterday, but now…

you'd woken him up. just to make out. you were clinging to him like your life depended on it. you promised to be on top if he didn’t want to, just for him… not to stop? and now you refused to let his wrist go, and even when you needed your hand to pull the blanket, your fingers were back the very first moment they could. it meant something, right?.. had to mean. but it was someone you were in sex, he knew that. and your touch now—he looked at your hand holding him, his heart stuttering—was just a post-sex clinginess, wasn’t it?..

getting ready with you, seeing his shirt on you with your babbling about liking the red sweater a lot and it being a shame that you couldn’t wear it throughout the day—or he couldn’t wear it because you were sure it’d look good on him—and getting his head flicked with hair ties because you were in surprisingly good mood—everything felt strange. had it been like this for so long? had both of you been so blind not to see that you’d been acting like a freaking couple minus romantic gestures for months? 

you tilted your head, when he stayed seated on the bed, when you were already tugging your shoes on by the door, and flicked another hair tie at him to get his attention—helped along with a tiny, lazy push of magic, because you still couldn’t do it properly to save your life. “hey, earth to yeonjun,” you called, even though he was already looking at you with his eyebrows raised. “you’re gonna go? or gonna laze around here for the whole day?” you gestured at the common room behind your shoulder. “won’t bring you breakfast. lunch… maybe.”

yeonjun shook his head, bending to get your hair tie before you could accio it, and lifted it to show you, nodding at your bare wrist. “it’s the last one. what you’re gonna do, when you need it?” his lips curled into an almost devilish smirk, and he enjoyed your face falling into surprise and then this nearly-pleading expression, but before you could start begging, he slid the hair-tie on his wrist with a little snap. “will have to ask me,” he sing-songed, getting up, watching your face become more kitten-gremlin-like from the corner of his eye. 

you rolled your eyes as he towered over you, trapping you between him and the door as he put his shoes on, and huffed, your expression sharpening into what he called ‘kitten-like’ annoyance before you could stop it. “let’s go, torturer,” you turned around, hand on the door handle as you already felt warmth pool in your lower stomach—what was with you today? “before i pull you back to bed, which you obviously wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“no, i wouldn’t,” yeonjun murmured, his hands going up your thighs, tip of his nose caressing the hickey covered by one of his magical ointments—he’d given you the one for faster healing, but you’d only rolled your eyes, taking the one that just hid it, making his heart skip a beat and making his thoughts spiral a little more, scared of even thinking that you wanted to let it last. he shook the thoughts away, though, his lips on your neck, the kiss feather-light. “doesn’t seem like a bad idea, though.”

fuck, what was with this man making everything harder for you too? you groaned softly, genuinely considering skipping the breakfast and the first class for a moment, your fingers on the door handle tightening as if to stop yourself from letting it stay locked for an hour or two, before doing your best to get yourself together. “professor eldrick’s gonna kill us,” you mumbled, words so forced, basically pushed out of you on your last willpower and spark of sanity. “if we eat quickly… maybe we will find a little time before the first class?..”

yeonjun sighed and nodded, giving your ass a squeeze before adjusting your skirt and following you out of his room. the way you were with him was dizzying now, when the glasses that didn’t let him see the truth shattered. you wanted him, openly and unabashedly, and maybe you were getting shy when he teased you, when he showed how much he wanted you, but you still didn’t try to hide wanting him back. if it wasn’t something that made him so freaking confident in himself…

but it was about sex—again. shit, yeonjun was sure that was how insanity started—from overthinking if the extra special treatment he was getting was just because you were sleeping together. and did he want to know what would happen if you stopped? no, fuck no. firstly, because he did want to have sex with you, secondly, because… it couldn’t be good, right?.. he always told himself it was ‘just sex’, and that was what it was. 

you nudged his side with your elbow—he was way too quiet for his usual self who’d try to either grope you (welcomed by you, undoubtedly) or tease you for absolutely anything (surprisingly, still welcomed)—and you needed him out of his thoughts because… just because. “hey, you heard that careless students who think too much while wandering around hogwarts tend to get lost and never be found?” 

yeonjun didn’t even think before looking around quickly, his hand wrapping around your waist when he saw no one was around, and he tugged you towards him, chest to chest. “will you save me?” he murmured, nudging your cheek with the tip of his nose as if he was a fox or whatever. “or you’ll get lost with me, mouse?” he whispered, lips brushing against the skin. honestly, he was waiting for you to push him away—it would be understandable and deserved. after all, you were in the middle of a freaking hall. 

but you hummed, your fingers on his chest playing some melody, as you considered his question. “if we get lost…” you started reasoning, fingers still a little restless. “nothing to distract us from sex?” you murmured, pretending to think. “hm… get lost then. live in walls, fuck whenever we want,” you visualised before looking him in the eyes and tilting your head. “but it means no quidditch for you… ugh, okay, fine.” you rolled your eyes, stepping back. “i’ll save you. but you’re gonna owe me so many treats. unholy amount. enough to make even your broom jealous.”

yeonjun blinked, staring at you as if you’d just said something that made absolutely no sense, while making perfect sense. he couldn’t lie his breath hitched—and not in a good way—when you made it about sex again, but the mention of quidditch—no. no, he didn’t want to think about it. didn’t want to think that you acknowledged how much it meant for him, and basically—what was wrong with you? what was wrong with him? just sex. just. sex.

he followed you to the great hall, trying not to stay inside his head for too long. yeonjun was glad the boys were already there, at the slytherin table, creating chaos and noise even before the both of you were there—it was a good distraction. even if he kept glancing at you when you laid your head on soobin’s shoulder pretending to fall asleep when beomgyu decided to bother you with questions about your mastery project, or tickled kai to make him give you your sweets back. he wasn’t jealous, it was just… you were cute with them.

there were ten minutes between breakfast and the first class—it was more than enough for yeonjun to make you cum at least three times, so the moment you two turned corner after waving the boys goodbye, he pulled you into a quiet nook behind a random tapestry, and got on his knees without wasting any time, holding your skirt up. you tried to pull him up, but he only grabbed your wrist, pressing it to the wall next to your hip with a warning bright in his eyes as he looked up at you. 

yeonjun placed your leg over his shoulder once your underwear was cut—again—and his mouth was on you in mere seconds, your eyes rolling and head tipping back on the wall. your hand shot up to cover your mouth as he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking it in harshly, your hips rolling already against his face. he murmured something about you being so wet and such a good girl, but the sounds were muffled—he refused to move away even for a second—and you were too light-headed to recognize anything. 

you tasted like heaven—he simply couldn’t get enough, and when you came, trembling and shaking, sobs barely heard behind your palm as your fingers dug into his hand that held your skirt, yeonjun couldn’t find it in himself to move away, pulling the second one out of you almost immediately. you looked so beautiful when he looked up at you, and he cursed everything for not casting the silencing bubble around because he wanted nothing more than to hear your sobs.

but you had other plans, and the second his mouth left you, the second you got an opportunity to breathe, your hands were on his shoulders, clawing on the fabric of his shirt in a weak attempt to pull him up. and when yeonjun complied—thank god, he did—you pressed your lips to his without thinking twice, your hands fumbling with his belt. maybe two was enough and three was too many, maybe you already had tears of overstimulation running down your cheeks, maybe you were barely standing—you refused to leave him hard and aching.

it was impossible for yeonjun to hold a moan back when he finally pushed inside—your name left him in a broken, choked out sound, and you caught it hungrily with your lips. fuck, you were so tight, so warm, and so, so damn wet, that he could feel your wetness run down his cock and balls as he snapped his hips into yours, pace uneven from the very beginning. he could feel how wet your cheek was under his thumb, your leg trembling around his hip, your arms tight around his shoulders as you tried to bring him closer. 

too much, it was too much, your body was nearly screaming for rest, sore and aching, but it felt so freaking good, you wouldn’t change a thing even if you could. the pleasure was teetering on the edge of pain, but it only made everything so much better, so much brighter—and the crushing wave hit you before you even realized it did. your head fell on his shoulder, hands sliding down his body as you couldn’t hold up anymore, and his body, that was pressing you into the wall, was the only thing that still held you upright.

yeonjun swore he could see stars from how hard he came, a low, almost animalistic groan was muffled by your shoulder as he bit into it, his hips stuttering before stilling to fill you up. he looked down the moment he came to his senses enough to control himself, his and yours cum flowing out of you around his cock, a sinfully pretty white circle forming at the base of it. he felt your trembling fingers find his cheek, cupping it and caressing with your thumb, and he leaned in instinctively, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to catch his breath.

you breathed out a quiet ‘fuck…’, fanning over his ear, and he chuckled, nodding tiredly before lifting his head from your shoulder with just as quiet ‘fuck indeed’. you looked at him, eyes immediately going to the mess of the hair, and you giggled, lifting your hands to try to fix despite how heavy they felt—after all, you were the one who made this mess with your restless fingers. 

he helped you clean up, and adjust your clothes and hair, making you look more or less decent and trying not to laugh too loudly when you made just one step before clinging to his arm because your legs refused to hold you up. you slapped his chest, reminding him whose fault it was, and he pinched your cheek reminding you who tugged him up because ‘presumably, two times weren’t enough’. your statement of being a generous woman was met with a laughter—you joined him right away.

the days went by. yeonjun kept going into a spiral after every little sign of attention you gave him, overthinking if it was just you, if it was you because you were friends-with-benefits, of it was you because you… he never finished the thought, though, refusing to get his hopes up—being too much of a coward to meet the heartbreak when it’d come. somehow he believed it inevitably would—or was simply scared to think otherwise, preferring to keep it blurry than risk believing in something you might not actually mean.

yeonjun told himself he was imagining things anyway. because that was what it was, wasn’t it? nothing changed much in your behaviour when it wasn’t about sex—the mornings had been the same since october or maybe november at worst; you’d been cutely complaining about random things for months; you’d been falling asleep in his bed whenever you were stressed or tired since the very beginning. it was just you. gosh, you were more affectionate with the boys even—he kept lying to himself it wasn’t chewing on him slowly.

sex helped. of course, it did—his head was busy with something else at the moment, no thoughts about what you were and where you stood. but it hit harder when you were done—you were clinging to him in your post-orgasmic haze for longer; you’d become softer and gentler out of nowhere, giving him more tender touches while being too fucked out to think straight. and after each time it ate him alive while you rested nearby already asleep, sometimes your hand still resting on his bare chest, over his poor heart.

and that was what ruined him the most—the cruel ghost of belonging. it was too easy to imagine it lasting beyond a night, beyond the sweat cooling on your skin. it left him half-blissful, half-strangled with the urge to say something—anything—just to keep you his for a little longer. or forever. but whenever he opened his mouth, the image of you leaving went vivid before his eyes, so he stayed quiet instead, and made the next time last longer, too—to prolong the sweet, brainless quiet before reality crept back in.

at first it was just a few extra minutes—a slower messy kiss, leaving you breathless and trying to grind against him; his hands lingering on your waist like you had all the time in the world, taking longer to slip under your clothes and dig his fingers into your skin; the way his mouth kept dragging over your neck, leaving little bites long after it should’ve moved lower. not actually getting much gentler despite how it looked—a little meaner, a little crueler. 

but then it started happening every time you had enough time—him kissing you until you were whining for him, until you were dripping even before he touched you properly in any way; touching you until you were trembling and begging for him inside, your eyes wet, each sound more of a sob because it felt like you could cum untouched and didn’t want to; dragging his cock against your walls painfully slowly, while his mouth and hands were far from gentle, biting, and sucking, and gripping, and grazing your gentle skin with his nails.

sometimes yeonjun told himself it was just to make it better for you—he knew you loved the way he was making you feel, too attuned to your body. sometimes he almost believed it. but deep down he knew he was selfish—so, so selfish. he was trying to forget the reality; he was chasing those moments where you clung to him the tightest, begging for him, calling him jun; he was losing his mind whenever you were fucked out to the point of you just being a soft puffy in his bed, too brainless to build walls or be anything but cute. 

yeonjun didn’t even notice when he started doing it on purpose—edging you until you were sobbing just to hear you beg; making you cum again and again just to feel you trembling against him, unable to form words, as you could only cling to him as tight as you could; using every opportunity to leave you breathless and shaking even if it was only making out. it was almost as if he tried to get as much as he could while it lasted.

he pulled out the handcuffs once again, his heart thundering in his chest, because he was going to die of shame if you refused—it didn’t work for you both the previous time, but he wanted to try again. but you only smiled like the previous time, nodding almost eagerly as you held out your hands. yeonjun pounded you from behind this night, your face in his pillow, hands behind your back as he used the chain to fuck you back on him—his hand moved to interlace his fingers with yours when he was cumming, though. this time the cuffs worked a little better.

you started finding more hickeys all over your body—not bright enough to be put there on purpose, placed too randomly for it too. a few on your neck, under your collarbone and right over your heart, on the inner thighs and above your hipbone. yeonjun helped you put the masking ointment on the ones that couldn’t be hidden by your clothes, but you always smiled and shook your head saying it was okay—they were a little freaky, but what was life without anything being freaky in a cute way? he wasn’t sure if you saw them as marking.

the quickies—when yeonjun couldn’t take his time with you the way he wanted—became more rushed. faster, sharper, far more desperate—he didn’t want to think about you seeming just as desperate as he felt. he was pressing you into the wall stronger, needing to feel your body against his as close as possible—as if you holding each other so tight your arms were sore wasn’t enough—and deep down being scared that you’d slip away if he gave you too much space. 

his touches became harsher, leaving little marks under your skirt and shirt—he always kissed them better later that day, while torturing you with kindness until you begged him to go harder. kisses were getting messier, filled with sucks and bites and saliva—as if they could get messier—and he died a little every time you reached out for him first, your fingers trembling on his cheek, as you tried to press your lips to his desperately and clumsily, sometimes missing.

yeonjun already felt the way his control was slipping with you, driven by his overthinking and need to feel you close not just physically. to feel you needing him. to remember every little thing—the way you looked, the way you sounded, the way you arched, and begged, and clawed at his clothes, and clung to him as if you couldn’t get enough—get enough of him. he wanted it to burn into his memory and skin so he could never forget you.

but sometimes it was getting the best of him. more and more accidental ‘hickeys’ started turning deliberate—soft, almost shy at first, never dark enough for anyone to suspect. but they faded too fast, barely lasting a day, pale little ghosts on your skin and he kept renewing them, over and over, too scared to leave a proper, real one behind. he pressed his lips to each one—of course, when you were already too light-headed from arousal to pay any attention to it—but gritted his teeth, fighting himself on making them darker. 

yeonjun didn’t know why he was like this. he couldn’t deny he’d always been into marking, but with you, when it was about the little dull marks on your skin, he was restless—the need to leave them on you was on the brink of being maddening. he tried to pretend they were still completely accidental, that he didn’t pause at your collarbone or hip just to leave a new mark where the previous one had faded. he was so obvious, though, and if you thought about it for even a second… 

but you only looked at them, twirling before the mirror with little hums, not caring for a second about covering them unless you had to go and see other people—sometimes yeonjun watched the marks like a man possessed, wishing for the day to come, when he’d be allowed to leave a good one. you ruined him more when you’d catch him starring and move away the fabric of your clothes just enough to open the little mark with a cheeky move of your shoulder—but at least he knew you were enjoying them just as much.

he made you be more vocal about what you wanted from him. not each time, of course—at first uncertainly, almost shyly, and then carefully not to ruin sex for you and not to scare you away. just ‘please’ wasn't enough anymore—he wanted to hear more of you, hear everything you wanted him to do to you, needed to hear it. to know you wanted him and everything he was giving you just as much. 

sometimes it was broken words, sometimes—much more rarely—whole sentences, sometimes just the softest please followed by the thing you wanted most—‘kiss me harder’, ‘don’t stop’, ‘touch me there’, spilling out before you could think. he almost made you do it, asking what you wanted, what you needed, if you felt good, and he treasured each word you gifted him. it was a balm for his poor, tearing apart heart that whispered ‘she’ll leave eventually, but you’ll have these memories’ in the darkness of nights.

he got talkative in general—every please you gave him got rewarded, his voice sinking deep into your head and making you dizzy. “there you go, baby,” he murmured when you said exactly what you needed, “my perfect girl, asking so sweetly. you feel what you do to me?” and every time you clenched at his words, he caught it, his tone turning just a little lower, just enough to make you shiver. “yeah, that’s it… like it when i tell you how good you are, huh?” 

the words were never rough, never cruel—he simply couldn’t find it in himself to degrade or humiliate you even when he was pounding you into the bed like there was no tomorrow. you were so sweet, so soft, so, so perfect—even in your bratty mood you were a good girl, the best girl. but he knew what his voice did to you, how much you loved being praised, and he just couldn’t hold back and rob you both of this.

yeonjun was giving you his shirts before you could reach out for yours. you’d been already barely wearing your own for months, but these days you simply didn’t know where your sweaters, blouses or t-shirts were anymore—you wore his, joking it was comfy you were the same house and didn’t have a too strict dress code as head students, as you pulled the sleeves over your hands to hit him with the sweater paws just because bothering him was a fun thing to do.

the study or report sessions, no matter the place, slipped into something charged too often. you tried to work, to do your homework, to plan out your mastery project, and yeonjun always volunteered helping you—it worked for an hour at best until he was getting bored, his hand finding its place on your thigh, lips on your neck only moving away to whisper all the things he was thinking about right now, all the things he was going to do to you once you were done with whatever you were working on as a good girl you undoubtedly were. 

there was only one meeting with the prefects these days, and yeonjun made sure to make a great time of the free hour you had before it—he was so, so careful, though, his touches and kisses so gentle to not make a mess out of you, no marks, or gripping, or even cutting your underwear; but his pace, slow but hard, made your eyes roll back, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk. and when later the annoying gryffindor fifth-year you already forgot about sat exactly where your brain had been fucked out… you were almost certain the place wasn’t random.

yeonjun tried not to distance himself—he promised he wouldn’t do it to you, he tried to fight his own brain when it said it’d be better for you if he was away, if he left you alone, if he stopped bothering you with his intensity that was becoming too close to insanity. you were the only thing saving him when these thoughts kept creeping in—the way you tried not to laugh at his dumb dad jokes, the way you tried to snap hair ties at him only to hit your own thumb with it and just throw it in his head instead, the way you bothered him when you needed his attention. 

the way you were with him—silly, bratty, annoying and bothersome, demanding and needy—was the blessing and the curse. you weren’t cold with him—he wouldn’t survive it—and it only meant you liked spending time with him; but each time, each fucking time it became about sex too fast. you’d crawl onto his lap, start peppering kisses all over his neck just to get his attention, or mention wanting him out of nowhere. and while he loved being wanted by you, while sex was a gift because he couldn’t think…

you weren’t blind. maybe others couldn’t see because yeonjun was hiding it too well, but you… you’d been attuned to his emotions a bit too much for your whole life—even when your only interactions were trying to curse each other—and now his mind was somewhere else. he never told you what it was (which was understandable for friends-with-benefits), but he also never showed you it openly. just watching him was enough to know when his mind was slipping somewhere else, though.

yeonjun would suddenly zone out in the middle of his mastery project, his hand stilling, the ink from the quill threatening to leave a blot on the parchment, and you’d sit down next to him, snitching the quill from him before it could mess his work, and draw a little angry or teasing face on the back of his palm in the brattiest way you could manage. he’d snap back to reality immediately, pinching your side or cheek or ass even with a wide smile, pushing you down to the couch and tickling the life out of you. it uninventably resulted in sex.

and then your period started. yeonjun didn’t even know what he was going to do except dry humping, maybe. and blowjobs—of course blowjobs, because you just used your period as an opportunity to get on your knees whenever and wherever. he knew you weren’t about to let him rest—these days, he pressed his mouth to yours before you could say you wanted to go down on him and took your mind off it before you could try. 

the first day was too busy, and you were too frustrated with everything, sitting on his bed like a grumpy ball of hatred to the whole world, and he airplane fed you cookies just to have a good laugh at you while you frowned at him, but still munched on it—with the deadliest glare he’d ever seen on you, and he reminded you were more of a gremlin than a kitten at that moment. 

the second day was supposed to be busy too—you ‘booked’ the small greenhouse for the evening to work on your shared herbology project and occupied it when the classes were over. you even had to ask beomgyu and taehyun to patrol tonight in case the project took you too long—it was the only day you could do it, because somehow you’d completely forgotten about it, and you only got the chance to use the greenhouse because the hufflepuffs who’d booked it before, overlapped it with their quidditch practice. dumb but lucky you.

you threw your bags by the door, not caring for a second about the dusty ground and the wetness of your bags—you were wizards and had cleaning spells, didn’t you? yeonjun already started tugging his coat off, but you blinked at him a few times before wrapping your own jacket tighter around you trying to warm up, and he stilled before pulling it back with a sigh—stupid greenhouses and stupid winters. 

it smelled like damp earth, rain tapping faintly on glass walls and roof, and the lantern lights painted everything into a soft golden—it was almost cozy as if it wasn’t for your fingers trembling from cold because you couldn’t wear gloves and the breath of you both leaving you in a little puffs of fog. all the tools were cold, plants were freezing your hands too, chill damp air kept creeping under your clothes and wrapping itself around your bones.

yeonjun rolled his eyes when you cursed for the nth time in under half an hour—he really, really tried to work and to be done with everything as fast as he could, but you kept distracting him with your little hisses, and winces, and whispered curses, so eventually he couldn’t take it anymore. he turned you to him, little trowel still in your hand, and he sighed, taking it away and putting it on the table only to tug your jacket off you. 

you frowned at him, fingers clenched around the sleeves. “what are you doing? it’s cold as hell!” your frown deepened as he didn’t stop, but you let him do what he was doing—he had a reason, right? at least you hoped so. you wrapped your arms around yourself trying to warm up, watching him lift your jacket before his eyes and point his wand at it, murmuring a spell under his nose, before putting it back on you as if you were a child. you shivered at the warmth that sipped through your sweater even, hands slipping into the sleeves to warm up too.

yeonjun chuckled at your extremely pleased face, quickly doing the same to his coat—he understood why you were like this the moment it was back on him. it felt like laundry right from the dryer, except… he glanced at you, still shivering, your fingers still trembling as you tried to write down the names of the plants, and frowned. warming up after being too cold for too long wasn’t fast—he perfectly knew it as a quidditch player. but he could deal with it, couldn’t he?

you jerked when you felt the front of the coat wrap around you from behind, his chest pressing to your back as he trapped you in a cocoon of warmth, making goosebumps rise on your skin. “clingy,” you murmured, but still pressed yourself into him closer, hands finding his coat to tighten it around yourself even more—brat or not, your ass was freezing and you wanted to get warm as soon as possible. 

he huffed, rolling his eyes, and blew a string of air on the back of your ear as if you were some cat and would get annoyed by it—and you bumped him with your shoulder, a laugh escaping him. “hold it,” yeonjun said, and when he felt that you grabbed his coat tighter, he let it go to take your quill and continue your notes. he made a step closer at some point, pulling an annoyed ‘ass’ from you when you were pressed against the edge of the table and he blew at your ear again before mumbling, “aren’t you adorable?”

for all his smirking and teasing, it did something to him. holding you like this—his coat around you, your back to his chest, your hands clutching the fabric as if you trusted him to keep you warm—hit yeonjun harder than he wanted to admit even to himself. he told himself to stay calm, that it was just a hug—your first ever hug for more than fifteen years—but the weight of you leaning against him made his heart stutter. it felt new. and dangerous. because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to not get addicted to something he didn’t even have.

yeonjun’s hold was snug and comfy, quickly warming your bones with the help of both charmed jacket and coat, and it probably wasn’t even a fifteen minutes when you wiggled out of his hold because it was getting too hot already. he watched you with a half-smirk, squeezing your whole body before letting you go, and you stuck your tongue out at him, grabbing the quill again with a roll of your eyes and ‘yeah, well, thank you’—he laughed, taking the hand trowel from the table, telling you how generous you were with your gratitude.

his heart broke, when you pouted and averted your gaze, clearly a little ashamed, and whispered ‘really. thank you’, and yeonjun ruffled your hair telling you he had to do it as a decent friend with benefit and a fellow head student—he couldn’t afford freezing his partner to death, could he? he wasn’t sure himself if the line he drew between you by saying it came from his scared heart or from his brain that tried to convince him you were just those and nothing more—pointlessly, of course. 

but your little project carried on far more comfortably from this moment, the charm keeping your clothes warm so you could focus on things that weren’t cold air and trembling limbs. you worked in perfect rhythm, never once colliding with each other even when you moved around chaotically to grab a tool or a bag of soil; each little accident—bumping into pots, knocking a trowel or hand rake off the table—was always caught by the other. you caught the tool, yeonjun caught the pot and you.

you were done with the part that required being in the greenhouse before lunch even—you expected it to take much longer—and just continued going with the rest automatically, because, well, you were already working on it and just stopping halfway through seemed to make no sense. except, as the time passed, you were both slowly getting bored, letting small things pull your attention away from the project. 

yeonjun leaned over your notes with a hum, tilting his head before casually pointing out that your handwriting looked funny—as if he hadn’t said the same thing three times already—and you flicked soil off your fingers at him, making him gasp and flick some back before immediately stepping out of range with a laugh, because he already knew you were reaching for the clay pebbles next.

he darted behind the table when the first pebble flew, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he hid behind it, crouching down to look at you just over the surface. you rushed to chase him around it, but he was faster, jumping up and leaning just far enough out of reach to flick one last bit of soil in your direction before laughing again and ducking away. 

you gave up after the third failed attempt, muttering that he was an ass under your breath as you returned to your notes, trying to catch your breath, only for him to appear right next to you not even a minute later—closer than before, shoulder brushing yours and eyes glinting with mischief. his fingers brushed the edge of your notebook like he was checking your work, but his tone was teasing when he asked if you were finally done making a mess, distracting you from the way he folded the corner.

but you didn’t answer—not with words at least. you simply smoothed the page he’d wrinkled, grabbed a handful of soil, and pressed it right into his palm before he could pull back, and the way he froze, looking at his now completely ruined hand, was worth every second of retaliation. you didn’t expect him to react so quickly, his hand suddenly on your ass with a loud slap, as he squeezed it, making you squeak through laughter, his handprint staying on the fabric.

yeonjun didn’t expect it to turn into full-on war, but soon there was soil on his sleeve, even more soil on your pants in the form of his hands, clay pebbles on the floor in what felt like every square inch, and both of you laughing too hard to aim properly. he tried to corner you with the watering can at one point, only for you to duck out of the way and flick more dirt in his direction, slapping his ass on your way out of his reach.

“this is serious work, you know,” yeonjun managed through his laughter, voice breaking at the end when you pelted him with two more pebbles. “we’re head students, we should be an example for other students!” he pointed at the glass walls all around you as if anyone would go out on their own will in the annoying rain just to spy on you two and follow a bad example. “it’s serious!” he didn’t sound so because of his laughter, though.

“so serious,” you echoed, dodging him when he tried to grab your wrist, skidding around the table until you nearly tripped over the bag of fertilizer. he caught you then, saving you from falling down and finally catching you at the same time, both of you stumbling, laughter spilling out until it was impossible to keep throwing anything at all because you could barely breathe. 

and somehow, in the middle of it, you ended up with your back against the wall, yeonjun bracing a hand beside you as you both tried to catch your breath. your chests were still heaving, shoulders shaking with the last bits of laughter, but the air between you felt different all of a sudden—thicker, heavier, like you both realized the same thing at the same time, and your eyes met.

you shifted before yeonjun could, your hands trying to cup his face instinctively, but he caught them easily, fingers wrapping around your wrists and lowering them back. he didn’t press them to the wall, but didn’t let go either, leaving your hands by your hips, murmuring a soft ‘they’re dirty’, the corners of his mouth tugging upward, and you couldn’t help but smile back, leaning in barely noticeably, and whisper ‘so are yours’. 

yeonjun didn’t say anything about your subtle movement, didn’t argue; just leaned in and kissed you, slow at first, unsure if you were going to respond and if he would be able to stop. your hands stayed in his hold, his grip warm and firm, but loosening it the second he felt you shift, ready to let you free—but you only lifted your hands just enough to curl your fingers around his palm, responding to the kiss just as slowly. 

it was obvious for you he was giving you space—to back out, to stop him, to pull away or push him away. but you didn’t—you couldn’t. your body acted on its own, leaning closer, interlacing your fingers, and you didn’t want to stop it—not when it felt so good and so warm. you simply didn’t want to think when it felt so good not to.

the greenhouse was still spinning faintly from all the laughing, but everything slowed when his mouth moved against yours—not demanding, not hurried, just steady and deliberate. he tilted his head a little, deepening it slowly, and you exhaled against his mouth, the air between you turning warmer. you pulled away just for a second to take a breath before leaning back, unable to stay away for too long, your noses brushing as the kiss deepened again, now by you. 

it wasn’t messy yet, but it was sure, his lips catching yours in a rhythm that made it hard to think about anything except how close he was, how solid he felt, his chest nearly touching yours. his thumb brushed over your pulse point mindlessly, as if he needed to feel the beat under your skin, to know if he made it beat just a little faster than usual, if it mirrored his own heartbeat.

and maybe that’s why you felt it when he shifted closer, focused on the feeling of his soft touches on your wrists—the faint press against your hip, accidental for half a second before it wasn’t anymore, and you stilled for a heartbeat, lips parting just enough to let in air you suddenly didn’t have, eyes meeting his for half a breath, and when you kissed him again it was even slower, like neither of you wanted to admit that you felt the change, that you wanted to turn the kiss into something… sinful. 

but it was impossible to stop your mind now, impossible to not let the warmth pool in your lower stomach—you were too weak when it came to his arousal. you pulled back just barely, lips brushing his when you spoke, soft and unsteady, “...yeonjun,” you whispered, and he hummed like he didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want to lose that last kiss. “i wanna give you head,” you murmured, lips pressing to his again right after as if it would stop him from saying no.

yeonjun exhaled shakily, breath turning into a soft chuckle before he pressed the last kiss, stilled and prolonged before leaning back. “i know, baby,” he sing-songed quietly, leaving one more little kiss on your lips—he just couldn’t get enough of it. could you blame him, though? especially when you kept instinctively chasing his lips whenever he moved away even half an inch. “was a matter of time.” 

you narrowed your eyes at him for a second in a play-pretend threat and looked down to lower yourself on the ground, but before you could start, he shrugged his coat off, eyes on you with his brows risen in this ‘don’t start’ when your hands moved up to grab the coat and not let him take it off. you frowned. “it’s cold, yeonjun…” you muttered, watching him spread it on the ground next to you. 

he nodded at it, gesturing you to sit on it—either this or you’d have to wait until you were in his or your room. you seemed to understand it without him having to spell it out, because you lowered yourself on it with a pout, and he stepped in front of you. “good girl,” he murmured, muddy hands flat against the wall over your head to not touch you instinctively. “not gonna get cold. won’t take too long and… quidditch, remember?” he grinned at you looking up at him, your hands on your knees. “i’ve been frozen worse than this. get comfy.”

you made a face at him, tugging your jacket closer around yourself, the coat warm against your legs, shutting out the dampness of the ground beneath it. you glanced up at him, his hands on the wall, head slightly tilted as he licked his lips and you mirrored the gesture unconsciously, before lowering your gaze to the tent in his pants. “just don’t touch my hair,” you muttered, eyes already glued to his boner as you felt your mouth fill with saliva. “washing day is tomorrow,” you continued, putting even less thought into the words.

yeonjun’s eyebrow rose—huh? that was how you were going to be? still a brat? acting like cleaning spells that he could use on his hands didn’t exist? okay, two could play this game. “don’t touch my pants then,” he shot back, unable to hide the little smirk at your unsurprised, ‘are you serious?’ expression. “laundry day is tomorrow,” he finished, already half-amused, half-aroused—much more aroused, because this restriction could only mean one thing. 

the hesitation in your eyes was obvious—you were completely sure—but at the same time you felt yourself getting wetter, and it had nothing to do with your period. yeonjun looked so freaking good, towering over you, hands against the wall, and you couldn’t deny being trapped between him and the wall had always been a little bit too hot. your eyes flicked up to his, and he murmured a soft ‘go on’, voice low and already a little breathless. 

you leaned in, lips brushing against the front of the belt—the leather was cool and probably a little stiff, but you wanted to try nevertheless. you opened your mouth, catching the part in the buckle with your teeth slowly pulling it out until—you groaned in frustration, leaning back and frowning at the stupid piece of… clothes. the end tip stuck in the first belt loop on its way probably, and tugging it forcefully…

yeonjun chuckled softly despite his breath growing heavier and heavier with each second—fuck, your determination to try freaky shit had always been his soft spot—and found the metal tip on his back, carefully pushing it through the loop. “here. you’re doing great,” he breathed out, already half-convinced it was a stupid idea despite how hot it was—he wanted to pet your hair so badly. “i’ll just help you a little.”

he swore under his breath when you bit the belt again. the sight was supposed to look ridiculous—clumsy, fumbling—but for some reason it lit his nerves on fire. maybe it was the way your forehead brushed his stomach each time, maybe it was the fact you didn’t look away, eyes so damn serious and determined for something this stupid that could be dealt with by a simple easy spell. it made his chest ache in a way he didn’t expect.

fuck, he was hot with his stupid softness. you leaned in again, eyes glued to his as your teeth were on the belt again, pulling it slowly—both to let him help you without a rush and to tease him. the next belt loops weren’t a problem, as his fingers popped the belt through each one before you could get stuck, breathless curses leaving his lips each time you bit into the belt again for easier movement, your chin brushing against his hard-on.

his stomach tightened every time your lips grazed the leather—he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh at the mess you both were and at the silliness of the action or groan because of how much it was messing with his head. it was supposed to be funny, it wasn’t supposed to make him so turned on. he could feel his cock twitch even when you weren’t grazing it, just looking at you was making him like this.

the end was free in nearly no time, but you paused again when it was time for the buckle—shit, undoing the belt with one hand was nearly impossible, but doing it with your mouth only... you licked your lips and swallowed, glancing up subconsciously—it was almost like you kept doing it when you were uncertain about something and looked for his help—and leaned forward, lips brushing against the cold metal tongue as you tried to bite it to tug it out—a pointless attempt.

yeonjun didn’t let you suffer for too long—the way you looked was making him lose his mind, and it was getting worse when you kept nudging his boner because of your clumsiness, so he was suffering just as much—fingers wrapping around the end of the belt, pulling it taut. “here,” he mumbled, tugging the belt so hard that the metal tongue almost slipped out on its own. “okay, now—fuck—now try.”

he had to breathe through his teeth when your mouth hovered so close again, warm and uncertain in success, but still too stubborn to give up. it wasn’t even about the belt anymore—not fully at least, because it was undoubtedly hot as fuck—he just couldn't stop himself from thinking how much of a good girl you were for him. the way you wanted to please him… fuck, he wished he could touch you right now—a gentle praise slipped past his lips even though you still hadn’t done anything.

the praise encouraged you, and you leaned in again, your tongue slipping between the buckle and the button of his pants, hooking the tongue of the belt, and it gave in after a second careful twist—and after a third curse from above you and first accidental hip thrust. the leather loosened with a soft snap, falling slack against his hips, and the rest was easy—you took the buckle with your lips, already warm after your breathing and so many touches, and yeonjun pulled the free end out, refusing to let you put your mouth on it after he’d touched it with muddy hand.

you sat back a bit, catching your breath—both from all the effort and the way yeonjun was looking at you while you were doing something ridiculous like this in the clumsiest way possible. he watched you like it was the hottest scene he’d ever seen, and it made you a little too proud, if you had to admit. “button next?” you asked softly, already knowing the answer but pausing for his nod—if you were too slow and he was too impatient. 

yeonjun hummed, bracing his second hand against the wall too—but a little lower, just in case you needed help with the button—and watched you lean in again. but it seemed to be easier—you caught the edge of the fabric between your teeth and tugged until it popped free, quick and a little awkward, but it worked. your teeth were on the zipper before he could think about anything else, and you dragged it down slowly, eyes not leaving his even for a second—yeah, he wouldn’t last long once you got your mouth on him. he was certain now.

you moved a little, shaking your head just enough to make the fabric slide down his hips. it wasn’t hard to get the pants moving—they were loose enough that you could hook your teeth into the waistband and push with your chin until gravity did most of the work—the harder part came after: the dark waistband underneath, snug and clinging, the kind that didn’t just slip down because you looked at it intimidatingly enough.

yeonjun let out a small laugh through his nose, when you bit at the edge once, twice—no luck, his chuckle quiet enough to almost miss. “hold on,” he muttered, one hand finally moving. carefully, he hooked two fingers into the waistband, tugging it outward just far enough so it didn’t snap against your face when you pulled. he bit his lip at the way the cool evening air of the greenhouse hit his cock even through this little gap between his skin and waistband, but still held it for you.

you felt the warmth radiating off his skin as you leaned in again and couldn’t help but rub your cheek against it gently, his lower stomach twitching at the touch. your teeth caught the fabric just an inch away from his fingers, right in the middle, and he sucked his breath in as you finally dragged it down, eyes on yours. he let go the second his cock sprang free, hand braced against the wall again like he’d never moved, his breath already much harder than before.

the air was cold against your flushed cheeks, and you were certain it was far, far worse for yeonjun—you already saw the goosebumps on his thighs, probably from your warm breathing fanning the tip—so you didn’t waste time on kitten licks or teasing, taking the head in your mouth immediately, sucking on it gently. your eyes rolled back when he bucked his hips, precum smudging over your tongue, and you’d never been as grateful for potion invention as for the one that made blowjobs freaking tasty. additionally to all the other good stuff.

yeonjun’s fingers curled against the glass wall, almost scratching it with his nail as he tried to control himself, thighs tensed—his hands itched to bury them in your hair and guide you. you weren’t bad—fuck, no, you were so far from bad—but you went so slow, so hesitant, you were so used to his guidance. he knew you just weren’t sure about the pace now, when his hand wasn’t on your head. “you’re doing great, mouse,” he breathed out, voice tight as his eyes met yours. “you can go faster.”

you tried to—just a little faster, just a little deeper, the tip hitting the back of your tongue as you bobbed your head, tongue swirling around it each time you moved back. your jaw was already starting to ache, spit slicking your lips, but you didn’t stop—if anything, it made you want to do better. but it wasn’t easy without his hand in your hair, or at least yours around his shaft making up for what you didn’t take into your mouth—your fingers twitched on your lap, as you tried to take him deeper, relaxing your throat as best as you could. 

the curse that left yeonjun’s lips wasn't even quiet, forehead pressing to the cool wall as he squeezed his eyes shut, frowning—so fucking good. too fucking good, he couldn’t stand it. and not even because of the way it felt, but because you tried it for him, tried to take him in your throat. but—fuck—there was no way he was letting you figure out deep throating here, not when he’d never let you go this far before, and the place was just absolute shit for the first time.

you felt your eyes water, your throat nearly fighting against your stupid idea, but you still wanted to make him—and then his cock slid out of your mouth before you could even try, your eyes following the thread of saliva connecting the tip to your lower lip before looking up, blinking at him, confused. were you this bad?.. had you hurt him? he didn’t want it in general?.. gosh, you hoped you hadn’t hurt him… 

“it’s okay,” yeonjun was quick to assure you even before his brain caught up on your expression, still a little too focused on the way the cool air felt against the flushed, wet skin of his cock. “you were awesome. just…” he swallowed, exhaling shakily, trying to make his foggy mind come up with proper sentences—or words at least. “just later. somewhere more comfortable for you, okay?”

the nod you gave probably didn’t look too convincing, and you gave another one, sharper this time, as if to prove you were fine, trying to make it more certain despite not being sure if you were certain. “okay,” you echoed quietly, licking your lips, self-conscious suddenly. “should i…” you paused, mouth opening before closing again, unsure of what you were going to ask. 

fuck, just one hand, just for one moment, and then he’d get it muddy again if you wanted the honest no-hands game. yeonjun twitched his fingers, and all the dust and mud from his right hand vanished into cool air, his palm cupping your cheek the next moment, caressing the skin under your eye with his thumb. “you were freaking hot for it, pretty. didn’t expect it at all,” he whispered, and when he felt you nod, took a small step forward. “let me help, yeah? just move back a bit.”

you licked your lips, gaze falling back to his cock as you repeated ‘yeah’ softly, earning a ‘good girl’, and scooted toward the wall, your back and head against it. your hands found the warm fabric on the ground, tugging the hem of the coat closer to you to give yeonjun space to move closer to you. you opened your mouth slightly, tongue resting on the lower lip, eyes not leaving his as you waited for him to take the next step.

yeonjun cursed under his breath, moving closer, his feet on the sides of your thighs where his coat was just a moment ago—he could swear your thoughtfulness made his cock twitch. the tip brushed against your lower lip, smudging precum and your saliva over it, and you lowered your head just enough to catch between your lips before pressing back to the wall. “just like this,” he breathed out, stepping a little closer. “relax, okay?”

you hummed in agreement—his cock twitching against your tongue at the vibration—and let your jaw move a bit more freely as he made a tentative roll, the head sliding against your tongue. you sucked as he pulled out, twirling your tongue around the tip—even though he told you to relax—and he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a second before he opened them again, watching your every little move. 

shit, you were—fuck, he couldn’t even come up with words. because you were too good, and because you were so damn determined to do it right even when the weather and the ground and your muddy hands made the whole thing ridiculous. yeonjun rolled his hips again, deeper this time, but still carefully, your wet lashes making him groan your name out, the way one of your hands squeezed his pant leg making him roll his eyes. it wasn’t even close to the safe-tap he knew you’d use if you needed it, so you were holding yourself back from moving. 

yeonjun wanted to let you. god, he wanted to see how far you’d go for him, what sounds you’d make if he stopped being careful for just a second, how much you’d enjoy it because he knew you would. but the air was cold. the ground was cold. his left hand was still dirty, and it was a stupid no-hands game, even if his right hand was clean already. the whole thing felt too much like a dumb joke, but, fuck, weren’t you a blessing? 

“good girl—” the praise turned into a moan as you sucked harder, your eyes rolling back too as if you felt just as good. he reached down, thumb brushing your jaw, and even that tiny touch was enough for him to make the call, slipping out of your mouth with a muttered curse before it could get too far. “right, no hands,” he groaned, hand on the wall curling into a fist. “you like it? wanna me stop… using your mouth?” the word ‘using’ came out rough, tasting strange on his tongue—hot, yes, but wrong. he wasn’t sure if it crossed a line.

your eyes flicked up at him, through your wet lashes and you blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the annoying wetness in the corners of your eyes, and the corners of your mouth curled shyly even as you still caught your breath, tongue darting out to lick the lower lip—as if it wasn’t wet enough already. “no,” you whispered, voice a little hoarse, but steady. “it’s hot,” you averted your gaze, suddenly feeling shy, your cheeks hot. “i think i like it… just as much as the regular one.”

yeonjun swallowed, exhaling shakily—dammit, you were… he still had no words that would be good enough to praise you. you took him into your mouth again, making him curse quietly, and he rolled his hips—more certain this time, now, when he was sure you weren’t small or uncomfortable mentally, weren’t letting him take something you didn’t want to give. you liked this. him, like this. so he could stop overthinking it now. 

he set one palm flat against the wall above your head, the other pressed between his forehead and the wall, almost trapped to stop himself from touching you. his hips rolled shallowly at first, testing, but the soft, whiny sound you made around him knocked the air out of his chest. his jaw clenched. he pushed in again—slow, steady, never too deep—but there was a rhythm now, careful but real, and his breath broke on a low curse when you leaned closer like you wanted more.

“fuck—look at you,” yeonjun ground out, his voice cracking when you hummed around him, and his fingers dug into the wall, knuckles pale, but he kept them there, kept his promise. no hands. only the slow, deliberate press of his hips, the slide of him over your tongue, your lips wet and open for him as he moved. he couldn’t look away—couldn’t, when you tilted your head back just a little with the softest moan, eyes fluttering shut like you were enjoying it just as much. “s-so good for me—”

you could feel his pace get uneven, more and more slow rolls being interrupted by little twitches, his brows frowned, teeth sank into his lower lip, only letting it free to give you another praise. your fingers twitched on the fabric of his pants as you tried to do everything you could to bring him closer without moving your head—twirling your tongue, sucking, humming around the shaft. 

“shit—” yeonjun’s voice cracked again, higher this time, and he almost pulled back before the thought died halfway—your brows shot up, eyes turned pleading. fuck, you didn’t look like you wanted him to. he felt it building too fast anyway, all the heat coiling tight, breaking open the moment your tongue pressed just right under the head. his hips jerked once, hard, then stilled completely as he came with a ragged sound, his right hand falling to your head, and he wasn’t sure himself if he wanted to hold you there or praise you like that.

yeonjun stayed like that, jaw clenched, shoulders trembling, his cum spilling over your tongue while his breath came harsh through his nose, and he felt you still sucking gently, taking him through his high. the wall under his palm was damp where he’d been bracing himself, forehead tipped against his arm like he couldn’t hold himself up any other way. only when the edge started to fade did he blink down at you, his heart thundering, eyes heavy but soft. it was almost like he'd just remembered to breathe again.

you swallowed around him, slowly so nothing spilled, the warmth sliding down your throat while yeonjun groaned above you, voice breaking as you pulled away carefully, letting his cock slip past your lips only to lick it clean. god, he was so hot like this—forehead pressed to his arm, brows frowned, lips parted, the muscles in his stomach tight as if breathing was too much work. you kept going in, not looking away even for a second, tongue tracing him lazily, catching the last drops before he finally twitched and pulled back with a shaky curse.

he tucked himself in with the clean hand—maybe it’d be fun to make you pull his boxers back with your teeth, but he was almost completely certain it’d overstimulate him beyond comfortable—before crouching down without even thinking about it, his lips on yours in no time. yeonjun didn’t expect you to lean closer, didn’t expect to feel your lips curl into a smile against his—the kiss was spontaneous, more of an emotional outburst, and deep inside he thought you’d push him away. you didn’t, and he couldn’t help but smile into the kiss too.  

your smile turned into a giggle, and you leaned back, unable to continue anymore. your gaze slipped down, pausing on yeonjun’s undone pants, belt hanging lifelessly, and the giggles turned into laughter as you looked up at him. “so… so we really did it in the freaking greenhouse,” you covered your mouth with your hand, keeping it an inch away, even though you were sure most of the mud already was on the bottom of his pants and your knees. “in a building made of glass.” 

yeonjun’s brows shot up, smile widening as he watched you—cheeks flushed, eyes still a little wet, lips and hair messy, but you were glowing. almost as if you were the one who got head, not gave it. and he was absolutely offended at you for thinking he’d ever let you go down on him out in the open. “i can’t believe it!” he exclaimed through laughter, gesturing at the glass walls around you—slightly tinted now, a thin layer of dark fog curling over them. 

it only made you laugh harder—of course he cast the shading charm. it’d been so long since you’d worked in complete darkness here, you’d almost forgotten the glass walls could be charmed either way—blocking out the daylight outside, or swallowing every trace of light from within. yeonjun had clearly used the latter, darkening the walls until they looked nearly black to anyone passing by. “when?” you laughed, not believing it—how could you not notice him doing it? 

“oh, somewhere between,” he said, clearing his throat with the kind of theatrics only he possessed, and pitched his voice ridiculously high. “yeonjun…” he whispered, clutching his chest like he was you. then, even higher, “and ‘i wanna give you head…’”. you gasped, smacking his chest as he stumbled back, wincing in the most dramatic, over-the-top performance you’d ever seen, like your tiny slap had mortally wounded him.

you promised him that the only thing keeping you from pushing him to the ground and making him regret teasing you like that was his poor coat under you both—it had already suffered enough. honestly, it was the smartest way to finally put the coat back on him. his hand on your cheek through the kiss was freezing, and sure, he could brag all he wanted about being a quidditch player, but he’d hated the cold since he was a baby. you still regretted agreeing when he insisted on taking his coat off earlier, but he was more stubborn than you—you never stood a chance of winning that one.

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yeonjun was the first to wake up in the morning, before the sun rose even, his hand on your thigh—he found it absolutely ridiculous, how he couldn’t hold a spoon, but still had managed to find and hold your thigh while sleeping—rubbing and squeezing, trying to wake you up. “hey,” he whispered, turning his head to you. “mouse. baby. gremlin,” he chuckled at your soft groan at the last nickname. “morning check-up in the hospital wing.”

you groaned again, but sat up nevertheless, rubbing your face and trying to wake up at least a little. gosh, you were thanking you from the past who’d managed to meet all the needed requirements for skipping classes and hadn’t been abusing it for nothing. monthly summary you were going to work on? to hell with it. you still had a few more days to hand it, and it was almost done. you were just going to fall into bed after breakfast and curse anyone who dared to disturb you—except yeonjun, maybe. maybe.

the boys—except beomgyu who, probably, slept in—were already there when you stepped out of the common room. yeonjun was walking much stabler now, you’d even call it confident, so you just trailed after him and soobin and kai who walked on either sides of him—just in case—listening to taehyun yapping about the recent poitioneering class as you tried your best to reply to him without yawning every few words. 

beomgyu caught up to all of you when the examination was almost over—he burst into the hospital wing, and madam longbottom gave him a cold glare that gave chills to all of you, not just beomgyu. he quickly hid behind you and you threw him a glance over your shoulder, mouthing ‘fool’ before returning your attention to madam longbottom and her words about yeonjun’s condition.

at least, until you felt something slip into your hand, and—you looked at beomgyu shocked, the little ghost mouse charm light and heavy in your palm at the same time. you mouthed ‘how’, and he just nodded in yeonjun’s direction before leaning in and whispering that waking up with a patronus fox on his chest—that looked too close to bearing its teeth at him—wasn’t in his to-do list for today. 

perhaps, yeonjun felt your stare, so he turned to you, seeing the charm in your hand and still shocked expression on your face, and sent you a clumsy wink, his lips curling in a smile—you’d spent enough time and strength on the quidditch pitch yesterday and he wasn’t going to let you do the same again, and, well, if he couldn’t do something for you, he’d definitely find someone to be his hands. 

madam longbottom’s ‘doctor’s report’ pulled his (and your) attention back—she said he just had to rest today and tomorrow, continue yesterday’s treatment for two more days, and live through how terrible the bruises looked. you couldn’t deny they did look terrible—absolutely so. it was almost as if his stomach was the only part of his torso still alive, not buried under huge, dark purple blotches.. 

she gave a few more directions, scolding yeonjun for not showering before the examination if he’d been planning to—because now she couldn’t put the balm on; he’d just wash it off right after, and that meant he’d have to do it himself today. neither of you expected anything different, even though she’d probably be better at it—she still praised you for your work and for keeping him still enough that his condition hadn’t worsened from unnecessary movement. she said she was expecting you the day after tomorrow and sent you off.

yeonjun said he wasn’t hungry enough for breakfast yet—especially in the great hall, when it was obvious enough that he was slowly getting weaker again with every step—so you agreed to wait for soobin and kai to bring food from the kitchen which, honestly, took them surprisingly little time. but yeonjun was already leaning on the wall next to the common room entrance by the time they arrived, so you didn’t waste much time on goodbyes—the boys understood. 

you helped him eat—he buttered the toast himself, even lifted it to his mouth without your help—and you smiled like it was a little victory. he didn’t smile—he didn’t feel the same. it was too slow, too clumsy, the toast nearly falling out of his hold because his grip wasn’t steady; and it was gone too fast for all the effort it took. it only made him both weaker and feel weaker. 

the shower was the same—he could wash his stomach and lowest area of the chest now, but you stepped in to help with the rest of his chest, back and shoulders, when you noticed how awkward it was, his movements stiff. you could feel the way he braced himself against the tiles as if even standing there was costing him too much, and you didn’t want him to torture himself more—eating the toast on his own was enough of a victory for the morning. 

his shoulders were slumped, head hanging low while you were rubbing the balm into his back and shoulder blades, and you assumed he was simply tired and needed to rest, but it wasn’t the case when you moved to sit in front of him, expecting him to lie down—he stayed still, sitting upright, and you hummed, getting more balm on your fingers. if he wanted to sit… 

you were putting the ointment on the huge bruise on his ribs, your touches almost air-light, when yeonjun’s hand slipped under the shirt you were wearing, his palm warm on your bare skin, and he leaned closer, pressing lips to your neck and making you shiver. maybe your mind forgot that you were ovulating, but, gosh, your body certainly didn’t, and even if you fucked just twenty four hours ago… it missed him so, so badly. 

yeonjun felt your hand on his ribs pause, your breath hitching, and he hummed, leaving an open-mouthed kiss on your neck before nibbling on the skin gently. “just like that…” he murmured, fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. “such a good girl. will make you feel so good, right?” he whispered, your fingers on his side sliding down slowly until they rested on his thigh—he tried not to hiss as they brushed against a huge bruise on his side. 

you breathed out his name, swallowing thickly, as your head tilted just enough to give him more space before you could think about it. but despite your body giving in, your mind refused to do the same, and your hand found the little space on his chest where he wasn’t bruised—you knew each one of the bruises as the back of your hand now—to ground yourself and… and push him away maybe. 

because he was still hurting, sex would only make it worse—even if you were on top—and… he didn’t seem like he really wanted it. he seemed tired, weak, not… aroused. and—your thumb brushed against the fabric of his underwear just enough to feel that it wasn’t stretched—and he wasn’t hard either. “yeonjun,” you breathed out, pushing him just enough to show your intention. “you’re still hurting. and you’re not even hard.”

the push wasn’t enough to make yeonjun move away of course, but he still pulled his hand from under the shirt and rested his forehead on your shoulder instead. “sorry,” he whispered, even if he just wanted to say ‘thank you’. he wasn’t sure himself why he’d tried to initiate something—maybe to ‘prove’ something, or maybe to thank you, or maybe… he didn’t know, but you stopped him, and… it couldn’t be because he didn’t turn you on given by your first reaction, could it? you just cared. he hoped so, at least.

you only shook your head, though. “just promise you’ll pound me into the mattress until i can’t form any words but ‘please’ and your name,” you murmured, still smoothing the ointment over the angry bruise on his ribs, and he laughed warmly against your neck, lingering there before he leaned back just far enough to look you in the eye with a low and certain ‘deal’.

the treatment was almost done. yeonjun didn’t lie back and made you finish like this, but not out of stubbornness—his mind started wandering, relaxed by the way you straightforwardly said you still wanted him. yeah, maybe it was a little pathetic to care about it, but right now his head was filled with something else. it really slipped out of his mind all these years ago—even if he had a few sleepless nights because of it—but yesterday, when you sent your patronus to the hospital wing, he was reminded of it again. 

it took yeonjun some time to gather enough courage—or stupidity, which was usually a gryffindors' trait alongside with the first one, not of a slytherin—to ask you about it, but curiosity had finally won, and he dragged out a ‘listen…’ when you turned away to put all the jars back. he watched you take a deep breath, easily deciphered as ‘it can’t be good’, before continuing. “why’s your patronus a fennec?” 

you paused, blinking at him, caught between a laugh and a frown at both how unpredictable and kind of uncalled the question was. and, oh, you knew what the real question was; you weren’t an idiot—it was a gryffindors’ trait. ‘is your patronus a fennec because of me’, not just ‘why is it one’. “that’s the question you’re going with right now?”

“what? i’ve been wondering,” yeonjun said, stretching out onto the mattress and doing it as carefree as he could, but regretting it the second the movement tugged at his bruise too harshly and he winced and let out a hiss—he still tried to pretend. “you’re like—tiny, twitchy, and you bite if someone pisses you off,” he chuckled at your eye-roll. “makes sense, of course. just curious,” he finished, shrugging a little. “can obliviate me after, you know?”

if it was this easy… it wasn’t—not for you, and not for him. he suspected the truth, though he seemed intent on confirming it for reasons of his own—yet, in the way his gaze lingered, you could tell he was already certain. and you, in turn, understood exactly what he was really asking—and he knew you did. you just simply wasn’t sure if you had it in yourself to talk about it—maybe show it, though… “i can show you?..” you said uncertainly. “i guess…”

yeonjun tilted his head and frowned—you were obviously talking about legilimency, but was he in a good enough condition for it?... especially when he still sometimes struggled with getting clear enough pictures. but when he asked you about it, you only shrugged—obviously pretending to be nonchalant too—and said it was his memory too and it was stored somewhere in his brain even if he forgot.

so you sat face to face, like so many times before, but so much heavier than usual, yeonjun accio-ed his wand and casted legilimency spell. his magic brushed against your mind like a feather—hesitant at first, careful not to push too fast, too deep. then, as you let the walls down, it slid further in, threads of thought pulling taut between you, drawing him closer to something half-buried. the present began to blur at the edges, taking all of his senses into nothing right before everything around disappeared completely and he was somewhere else.

yeonjun was… himself. a little boy on the meadow you used to play in, hiding from the scorching sun under the huge tree that felt as old as the universe itself, surrounded by absolutely random things—a plush keychain, a friendship bracelet, a batman figure, a few doraemon stickers, a bunch of papers held by a rock, some with drawings of two stick figures holding hands, some with messy handwritings, and more. a memory capsule. it was the day you two made your memory capsule, the first day of summer before school started. 

you were sitting before him on his windbreaker—your mom always told you not to sit on the ground and he made sure you didn’t—frowning, a few dozens colourful pencils scattered around you as you were drawing something, the orange one in your hand moving so fast he could barely see it, and just a few seconds later you showed him your drawing, absolutely proud of yourself. it was a fox—head only, because bodies were too hard to draw—bright orange, coloured neatly, with his name written in capital letters above it, an empty space to its right.

you handed him the paper and the orange pencil, your palms green from the grass and black from the marking pen. “now draw me! as a fox too!” you squinted at him and frowned as if trying to intimidate him.

yeonjun laughed and took the paper, but leaving the pencil in your hand and reaching for another one—something between orange and yellow. “you’re not a fox,” he said and laughed at you when you pouted—you were a copycat, and he liked it, but he also liked it when you were you. “you’re a fennec,” he announced, drawing a messy oval.

you huffed in frustration, crossing your arms before quickly gathering all the pencils on the ground between you and dragging them to yourself. “don’t call me names!” you frowned and your pout deepened almost on its own. “at least teach me first what they mean.”

“it’s not a name,” yeonjun explained, drawing giant curvy triangles on the sides of the oval. “it’s an animal. a fox too, but it lives in deserts,” he continued, drawing little alien-like eyes and a cute nose. “it’s smaller and cuter than a regular fox.”

the crease between your eyebrows smoothed out and you crawled closer to him, looking at the drawing. “why did you draw such huge ears? i’m sure they can’t be this giant!” you sat back on the balls of your feet, eyes glued to the creature on the paper. “you’re just teasing me, right? you are fennec!” you lifted the hair on the side of his face, uncovering his ears. “your ears are big, so you’re this fennec.”

yeonjun laughed, bumping your hand with his head. “no, it’s you. because you want to copy me, so you get my huge ears,” he pointed at the drawing and then pinched your earlobe. “and they are this big, i’ll show you the picture in my encyclopedia,” he promised, before humming the way characters in cartoons did when they were deep in thoughts. “they need big ears to hear better, and you… you always know what i feel. so it’s almost as if you hear my thoughts.” 

the words were so quiet, you almost didn’t hear them, but maybe you really had big ears when it came to yeonjun, and you wrapped your pinky around his, lifting your hands between your faces. “i promise to hear your thoughts with my huge fennec ears. forever and ever,” you stated as certainly as you could, face serious.

he looked at you surprised at first, but then tightened his pinky around yours, frowning too. “and i promise to always use my fox cunning to help you and save you from all the troubles,” yeonjun proclaimed and took a second. “and to hear your thoughts with my big ears too,” he added and stuck out his thumb to seal it.

you nodded, sticking out your own thumb. “and i promise to help you and save you from all the troubles too,” you finished, pressing your thumb to his, sealing another one of your countless promises and vows neither of you was going to break. you looked at him properly now, face so serious—just like yours, probably—and burst out laughing, pulling your hand away. yeonjun mirrored you, smile wide and happy as he grabbed the pencil again. you hoped you both would never change.

yeonjun slipped out of your head gently, with an air-light caress on your mind as he always did, even if the memory you showed him now was wrapping around his throat too tightly. so it was about him, he told you what a fennec was and he said you were one. and yet another promise, another vow he had broken and made you break too—he still wanted to remember it, though. “listen…” he broke the silence. “i know i said you could obliviate me, but…”

you looked at him in surprise, slipping out of the fog of your own thoughts. “huh?” you shook your head, getting rid of the last thoughts. the past was the past now, right? and it wasn't like you could choose your patronuses, they just… were, so it wasn't a big deal—not a too big deal at least. you shook your head before yeonjun continued the thought. “wasn't going to. don't worry.”

he let out a breath of relief, slowly lowering himself onto the pillows again, tiredness and sleepiness taking over him suddenly, and you did the same, tugging one of the plushes to your chest. yeonjun hummed as if he was deeply thinking about something before chuckling, “bet they’d hiss and run off to different corners. glare all day and night,” he said, studying the clouds on the enchanted ceiling.

you turned your head to him, blinking slowly. you weren't sure you’d ever seen your patronus interact with other patronuses—yeonjun was the only wizard of your year with magic strong and stable enough to put enough personality into his patronus, and needless to say, back when your patronuses were in the same room, your little fennec had no interest in his fox. “i… guess?” you answered uncertainly, before frowning. “this is what you're thinking about instead of sleeping?” 

yeonjun didn't reply with anything but another chuckle before quickly summoning his patronus with mere movement of his wrist, and you sighed before doing the same—where this extra strength of his was coming from after just one day of sleeping and doing nothing?

his fox blinked into the room like a gust of fog—sleek, shiny and silvery, reflecting nonexistent light as it padded over the carpet before jumping on the bed you two were lying on. your fennec shimmered into place just a feet away, on the bed from the very beginning, tail flicking once with something between confusion and curiosity—they hadn't shared space in years.

you propped yourself up slightly on one elbow folding your legs subconsciously to give two creatures more space. the fox slowed, looking at you for a second before lowering its head and watching the smaller figure—not in aggression, just… observing. your fennec gave a soft shake of its ears as if unsure if the fox deserved its attention and circled once on the spot, paws light and precise as it lay down in a practiced coil, its back to the fox, and its eyes, twin glints of silver-white, closed.

the fox tilted its head, watching the fennec, and when it wiggled its tail again, the fox slowly, as if it had done it a hundred times before, padded over, towered over the fennec for a mere second before curling its larger body around the smaller one, its nose nuzzling into the side of the fennec’s head. the smaller fox twitched its ears, let out a faint hiss of protest, but after a moment only shuffled closer, letting the light of its form ripple against the fox’s fur like silver waves.

you blinked at them a few times before letting your upper body fall back into the pillows with a soft groan, as you mumbled that they wanted to sleep too, your voice somewhere between tired and smug, but yeonjun only smiled, corner of his lips quirking up as he informed you these two were faking it, and you hummed, frowning in question. he nodded at them, stretching his legs under the blanket, waiting. 

hm? you turned your head lazily back toward the glowing figures, watching the faint pulse of silver where the fox’s paw twitched—just a tiny movement—and nudged against the fennec’s flank. your fennec let out a light hiss, a sparkle of static in its throat, not even bothering to lift its head before it bumped the fox with its forehead—a gentle, irritable bonk—then lay back down.

you groaned into the pillow, letting yeonjun know he’d raised a menace, and he snorted, shooting back with ‘that one’s yours’ before relaxing into the sheets too, half-lidded eyes still on the adorable silver creatures as the air around you dimmed just a little and the patronuses began to fade, flickering like candlelight meeting morning, leaving behind the quiet warmth of shared magic, as you both slipped under the weight of dreams. 

the next few days blurred together in the quiet rhythm of shared meals, petty bickering, and you fussing over him more than he’d ever admit to enjoying. each day he moved more, breathed easier, the bruises fading from violet to yellow. by the fourth morning, he’d even showered on his own—which, apparently, was enough to warrant his smirked ‘see? we won. told you your juices work better than felix felicis’, and you replied with a flat ‘right, because nothing says victory like finally being able to wash your own hair’, making him laugh.

on thursday morning, before the breakfast even, yeonjun tugged you to the trophy room despite your weak, half-hearted protests and yawns, and only let your wrist free when you were standing in front of the ‘personal records and achievements’ glass shelf in the quidditch section. there it was—a round silver plate, glowing just like every trophy of the current year so everyone who visited the room saw the new additions. 

choi yeonjun chaser & captain, slytherin set record for most goals in a single match 16 quaffles – 160 points 6 february 2022 hogwart quidditch record

maybe—maybe—in these four long as hell and embarrassing as fuck days yeonjun wondered if it was worth it. if making a fool of himself before the whole hogwarts was worth it, if making the boys worry was worth it, if being a half-dead weight on your shoulders and basically forcing you to take care of him as if he was a five-year-old was worth it. but maybe… maybe they all were? no one laughed at him and you didn’t hate him and now he had his own plate with his name on it, he set a fucking record. 

yeonjun’s grin stretched wider than usual, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the absurd pride on his face. “you have a stupid shit-eating grin,” you muttered under your breath. “just fyi,” you huffed, rolling your eyes again, before he could gloat any longer. but… it used to annoy the hell out of you in the past when he was so smug and cocky and proud of himself, but now… it was almost hot. 

though… almost? god, he was hot as hell. you weren’t sure you’d ever found anything hotter than someone who wasn’t just capable, but knew their worth too. and when that person was choi yeonjun, standing there all proud like he was on the top of the world, and you were still ovulating, and you hadn’t had sex since sunday… or maybe choi yeonjun was the only person who looked so good while being so over-confident—who cared. 

he looked at you from the corner of his eyes, and you knew he was going to ask what was wrong with an even bigger grin—because this bastard knew—and call you ‘baby’ in this voice, so your fingers were around his wrist before he could do either. “listen,” you whispered through clenched teeth, tugging him toward the closest storage room. “you either fuck me until i can’t think straight or… or i’m begging you to do it and you know i will.”

oh fuck, yeonjun knew it, he knew it like no one else in the world—he loved hearing it, watching you beg, he dreamt of this, there couldn’t be a wet dream without your broken voice pleading for him, your eyes watering as you clung to him. he couldn’t pretend you just promising to beg was having the same effect on him as if you were already doing it—he was half a breath away from giving in and already half-hard.

you were pressed to the door the second it was closed—not smashed against, not pushed into harshly; pressed, his chest against yours, palm on the wood behind your head, his other hand on your lower back, both softening the hit in case there was one. this fucking man was driving you absolutely insane, and your hand found the back of his head, pulling him to you only to crash your lips against his, not caring about the dust floating in the air, the smallest space the room gave you and the smug ‘already?’ he murmured into the kiss with a smirk. 

and you didn’t answer him with words—your answer was the needy drag of your nails at the back of his neck, the way your mouth opened under his, swallowing his cocky grin like you could smother it and silently begging to feel his tongue against yours. you could feel it, the way he was already hard against you, grinding lazily—you knew he was doing it just to make you whimper, just to remind you that you’d started this.

yeonjun’s hand slipped lower, skimming the curve of your waist, fingertips dragging slow over your hip until he caught the edge of fabric and the soft skin right below it—not pants, not something that would slow him down, not something that would make him turn you around simply because you had no time to get rid of the damn piece of cloth quick enough. “aren’t you a good girl, baby?” he murmured, squeezing your ass under the skirt. “was waiting for it? wanted it, didn’t you?”

you didn’t even consider replying, only stubbornly pulled his face to yours again, parting your lips against his and coaxing his tongue with yours as a soft, barely audible whimper escaped you at the feeling of his chuckle right before his tongue slipped inside again. your arms tightened around his shoulders, eyes rolling back behind closed eyelids, as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. 

it was still the answer for yeonjun—it was ‘yes, please’ and ‘oh, god’, your voice in his head because he just knew you so well. his hand slipped lower, fingers wrapping around your bare thigh before he lifted your leg to his waist, tilting your hips for your crotch to be pressed against his hard-on. he leaned back, swallowing his own moan, his thumb pressing against your lower lip, already slick with saliva of you both. 

yeonjun’s eyes slipped lower, at the necklace, shining brightly right above your heart through your shirt in the dimly lit room—fuck, the way you kept wearing it despite it always telling him how aroused you were, and, god, the fucking way you didn't even try to hide it from him… his eyes snapped back at you at the tiny whimper that slipped past your lips and he felt your fingertips brush against the waist of his pants in a silent plea. and the puppy eyes—fuck, he would do anything for his baby.

it barely took yeonjun any time to undo his pants and move your underwear to the side—fuck, you were already so wet, he couldn’t help but brush the tips of his fingers between your folds, collecting your wetness before bringing them his mouth to lick it off, a pleased hum escaping him as his eyes fluttered close. “always taste like heaven, baby…” he murmured, opening his eyes only to watch your gaze glued to his fingers and lips, your breath getting heavier. fuck, so cute.

he wrapped his fingers around the shaft, pumping a few times to spread the pre-cum, as a soft hiss slipped past his lips. yeonjun pressed his cock between your folds, tip catching on your clit, making you moan his name softly, head resting on the door as your fingers tightened on his shoulder. “fuck, please, inside,” you breathed out, leg on his hip trying to bring him closer. 

fuck—your small begging ‘please’ sent shivers down his spine and straight to his cock, making it twitch in his hold. yeonjun hoped you’d never stop wanting and needing him, never stop being so open about it—he was almost sure he wouldn’t survive it. his fingers found your jaw, tilting your head before pressing his lips to yours, as he slowly pushed inside, stretching you and hungrily swallowing each little sound of your pleasure. 

your eyes rolled back as you tightened your hold around his shoulders, bringing him closer, your walls clenching around him even before he buried himself to the hilt. your mind was already foggy, you wanted to hide in his neck and pull him as close as possible, but his hold was firm on your jaw and you were only left to moan and whimper into his lips—it was too freaking hot, though.

yeonjun picked up the pace almost immediately—you barely had any time because the trophy room was always left unlocked, even past the curfew, which meant anyone could come here and see you two leave the storage room all messy and glowing. and he couldn’t wait too—the way you pulled him here… “look at you, clinging to me,” he murmured into your lips, hips snapping into yours. “you’ve wanted this for days, haven’t you? poor baby, yeah?” 

your hands fisted in his shoulders, pulling him closer as your hips ground desperately against him, each thrust dragging a low whimper past your lips. the heat pooling between your legs made your vision blur, senses shrinking to him—his touch, his chest firm against yours, his uneven breath and quiet curses on your skin, his fingers digging into your ass as he guided you, making you meet his thrusts. 

yeonjun felt you clench again and again around him, his pace stuttering because of this and he bit into your lower lip as if he was punishing you—just a little. “clenching so tight on my cock, fuck—” his next thrust was sharper as you whimpered, a string of broken pleas leaving your lips. “love it when i’m so great? when i’m so outstanding?” he gritted through teeth, pace picking up even more. “pulled me here—”

the sound you let out was more like a sob and your jaw clenched as you thought about the way he looked when he saw his name on the stupid plate—smile wide, all smug and cocky, as if it put a giant crown on his head, made specifically to fit him and no one else in the world. exceptional, outstanding, absolute ace—fuck, he was too hot and you hated it. and hated how easy it was making you for him. “your stupid smirk—”

fuck, was this it? fuck. yeonjun shuddered—that shower sex on the morning after the lunar new year came to his mind suddenly. was it like this now too? were you biting him now just because—oh, fuck. “yeah, baby?” he breathed out, slamming into you now, thumb brushing away an escaped tear shakily. “you love it when i’m—fuck—smug, when i’m full of myself, yeah?” he rasped, feeling you clench around him. “yeah… you love being weak for me, baby. i know it now.” 

yeonjun’s thumb on your clit was absolutely nothing compared to the way he said it, to the way he knew it, and it fogged your brain worse than anything before. his thumb was firm on your clit, rubbing tight circles, as he kept pouring filth into your ear, and when he asked if you also loved being pathetic for him, his voice low and almost mocking, you could only sob out, your body trembling as you felt the coil in your lower stomach tightening too strongly. “yes—fuck—yes, yeonjun, love—”

his whole body trembled, your words going straight to his cock that was squeezed so fucking tight by your walls, he could barely think straight. yeonjun’s fingers dug deeper into your thigh, sure to leave little bruises as he slammed himself in harder. “fuck, that’s it,” he gasped, barely managing to keep moving as you clung to him, all of his senses focused on you only. “fuck, that’s it, baby—shit—”

your vision blurred, body jerking against the door as the pressure inside you snapped all at once—heat spilling through every nerve, toes curling, thigh locking around his hip like you could pull him deeper, keep him there while you shattered. a broken cry ripped out of your throat, high and unsteady, and you could only cling to him, shaking apart in his arms while he groaned against your skin, still driving into you through every pulsing wave.

the thrusts lost rhythm, turned messy, rough, driven by the heat rolling off your skin, by the way your eyes squeezed shut and your nails clenched helplessly the fabric on his back. he was chasing it—the high of your body spasming around him like you were made just to fall apart on his cock. “so good—so fucking good—” he choked out, forehead pressed to yours, teeth gritted as he slammed into you once, twice—then buried himself deep, all the way, trembling as he came with a low groan, your name spilled past his lips, soft and breathless and ruined, over and over.

you stayed there, panting and still twitching a little, his face in the crook of your neck, your forehead on his shoulder and hands still holding onto his shirt on his shoulder blades out of the last strength as you felt your mixed release run down your thighs, making you whimper softly. yeonjun moved a little, pressing you tighter between the door and his body, and you let out a chuckle, brain still barely working. “you look fucking good in all black and all cocky,” you breathed out, shifting just a little to make the position more comfortable. 

yeonjun wasn’t sure he could process anything right now, but surprisingly enough it wasn’t the case with these words, and he felt a wave of pride and ego wash over him and fill his chest. was he really ‘looking fucking good’? cute. he pressed a few lingering kisses up the column of your neck, hand squeezing your ass under the skirt. “you look fucking good twenty-four-seven, baby,” he replied, just as breathless as you. 

“hogwarts heartthrob choi yeonjun who knows his way with words,” you teased, puffing, as he broke the trail of kisses only to chuckle before resuming them, shivers running up your neck at both, and you felt warmth pool in your lower stomach again—and it wasn’t helping that he was still hard, nestling so perfectly in your pussy. fuck. “well, you're not too bad twenty-four-seven either,” you tried to tease him, clenching around him, but he rolled his hips into you as a reply, and you exhaled shakily, shuddering. “round two?”

another roll of his hips was an answer, and you leaned your head back on the door, your back arching, fingers digging into his shoulder—you were still so sensitive but, gosh, fuck it. you moved your hips to meet the lazy rolls, and the moment you gasped, they sharpened into thrusts, quick and needy, like yeonjun had only been waiting for permission. overstimulation burned in your nerves, every drag of him inside you sparking louder than the last, and your arms were around his shoulders in no time—it was too much and not nearly enough.

you clenched around him, body giving in before your mind could catch up, and the quick, messy peak tore through you like a snap—you broke against him with a gasp, trembling, and his groan followed right after, sharp and low, spilling into you like he hadn’t just come earlier. it wasn’t careful, wasn’t patient—just raw, hot, and gone too fast, leaving both of you boneless against the door, panting into each other’s mouths.

yeonjun’s gaze slid between you two, eyes catching the faint glow under your shirt and he let out a breathless laugh, pinching your thigh. “insatiable, are you?” he murmured, giving you another pinch, a little lower this time, at your eyeroll, and pulled out slowly watching gushes of his cum follow, sticky white trails running down your thighs slowly. “maybe i should eat you out?..” he mumbled as if to himself only, and the giggle he let out at your squealing ‘no!’ was impossible to keep inside.

cleaning up, adjusting your clothes and checking if you both looked more or less presentable and not ‘we’d just fucked in a tiny dusty storage room, five stars, would recommend’ barely took any time—yeonjun was still the one to hand the monthly summary to professor mcgonagall while you were waiting outside, because, quotting, ‘you were glowing brighter than the necklace and she would know’. you kept nudging him and calling him an ass all the way to the great hall.

the slytherin table greeted yeonjun like a conquering hero—whistling, calling his name, clapping his back and ruffling his hair, someone even transfigured a few spoons into flowers, tossing them at him like confetti. the quidditch team quickly swarmed him, and you were sure they would’ve tossed him into the air right there in the middle of the great hall if professor mcgonagall’s sharp gaze hadn’t cut through the crowd. you still decided to get a little further—just in case—and plopped down on the bench next to the boys.

what a morning this was—yeoniun was giddy. he couldn't hear people cheering for him on the match—first too focused for it, and in the end falling like a rock from fifty feet—but now these cheers were right here, surrounding him and going through his veins. almost as good as your whimpers and pleas. or these amusing little huffs you always gave him with an eye roll. or—right, eye roll. you were differently rolling your eyes at him now—he looked around, finding you already laughing with boys, and quickly made a beeline to you five. 

you tilted your head, watching yeonjun plop with a pleased sigh and the brightest smile on the other side and nudge beomgyu’s side with his elbow, before grabbing a toast, his eyes landing on you. “so…” you started, corners of your lips curling slightly. “so what, hercules? olympus done cheering for you already?” you tilted your head toward the still-rowdy part of the slytherin table, all glow and noise.

yeonjun blinked, your comment taking him aback for a mere second, before his lips stretched in a sly smile and he leaned a little closer. “you think i’d look good with curls and a tunic?” he stage-whispered, grinning right through the boys’ groans, his attention on your eye roll and this cute ‘don’t push your luck’. he chuckled and leaned even closer over the table. “gonna be my meg? i’d leave godhood behind a hundred times for you.”

“yeah?” you raised your eyebrows, your fork pausing. “what about this pretty little silver plate with your record on it, hm?” you tilted your head, feigning sweetness, your voice almost sugary. “sixteen quaffles. crowd screaming your name. you gonna give that up too?”

his eyes went wide, lips parting like you’d just slapped him, as he placed a hand over his heart. “oh wow. you are cruel,” yeonjun shook his head in disbelief and betrayal. “after everything i’ve done to you. after—” a tired ‘oh god’ coming from soobin broke his act and he had to clear his throat before continuing, expression as pitiful as it could be. “after all the things i left behind for you.” 

“mm,” you shrugged, catching a tomato slice with your fork too nonchalantly for someone who had just carved his ego open with a scalpel. “meg would’ve let you keep the plate.” 

yeonjun reached for your cheek, pinching it—and enjoying your little nose scrunch, of course—before shrugging too. “you would’ve too. i know you. you’re the sweetest, cutest, adorablest, kindest, nicest, pleasantest, caringest, tenderest—”

beomgyu let out a long groan, dropping his forehead to the table, and the rest quickly joined in—‘oh my god’, ‘for the love of merlin, stop’, ‘get a room, you two’, ‘half those words aren’t even grammatically correct!’, ‘i can’t do this anymore’ filled the space between you six, mingling with groans, sighs and exaggerated sobs. you two only laughed, ruffling their hair and patting their shoulders—they had nothing to worry about because you would get a room later. but they didn’t need to know it. 

thursday flowed into the weekend too quickly, filled with joy and happiness and the never-ending celebrations of yeonjun’s record and recovery—barely any homework for you both, since you’d managed to go even further in your study plan over those three days off, and with always someone around him, always looking for him for… whatever? you weren’t exactly sure, and he didn’t memorize it either, only making up for all that lost time with you before sleep, after waking, and maybe in-between.

you completely forgot the monday was valentine’s day, but a bunch of glowing magical sparrows of red, white and different shades of pink that aimed at yeonjun the moment you both stepped out of his room didn’t fail to remind you about it.

just like at christmas, when hogwarts provided special spots for students to leave gifts for friends in other houses that ended up under the christmas tree in the needed common room, these valentine’s birds were enchanted to help shy students deliver their cards or tiny presents. you simply called for one, attached your card or gift to its talon—or tucked it carefully into its beak—and whispered the house, year and name of the intended recipient. the birds were doing the rest. 

and yeonjun… was the main star. you were sure some students sent a few even—the birds couldn’t fly through walls and it was so early for the entrance door to stay open for so long, meaning all of these had slytherin origin. and obviously it got worse when you went out—he had to stop every few steps to get yet another valentine card or a little charm, storing them in his bag and sending every bird back with a soft ‘thank you’. 

it was getting worse closer to the great hall—you weren’t even sure hogwarts had so many students!—and you stopped again with a sigh. “i feel like a disney princess, except it’s you who’s a disney princess,” you rolled your eyes, and when he threw you this apologetic glance while untying another chocolate from the bird’s talon, you only huffed. “don’t give me this ‘sorry for being so popular and lovable’ face.” 

yeonjun laughed, tucking the card away. he was going to look through them later; maybe, when he was completely alone and you were asleep—doing it in front of everyone seemed a little cruel. honestly, he was used to such an amount—he was receiving it yearly and by the end of the breakfast he was sure he was done with this year’s ones too, unless the boys or slytherin team decided to have fun and send more. 

after the lunch charms professor approached you two, asking you to dispel the flock that had been carrying notes all morning, which… wasn’t exactly an easy or quick task with how many of them were there, even if now they were all summoned to the central hall, flying around and looking for a bashful student with a red or pink heart-shaped card in their hand. but you and yeonjun were the only ones there—no cards, no chocolates, just wands and the spell that would release each one until the next year. 

you were halfway done—calling each bird to your palm, pecking its little head with a soft ‘thank you’ and whispering the spell that released it back into the silver-pink glittering sparks of magic it had been woven from—when a girl, maybe fourth-year, maybe fifth, caught your attention from the corner of your eyes, and you called yeonjun’s name, tilting your head toward her, because she obviously wasn’t looking for your attention.

he nodded to you with a ‘be right back’ and quickly ran up the stairs, wondering if the girl wanted to give him the card in person—usually everyone sent them with the birds, and couples were the only exception. especially someone a few years younger than him—they always were the shyest—so she was… bold. yeonjun noticed a pink and red box in her hands right away, and greeted her with a warm polite smile, strong flowery-citrus smell surrounding him—her perfume, perhaps?..

she told him she had made the chocolate herself, her tone a little too quick, a little too polished, as if she had rehearsed it in her head on the way up the stairs—he brushed it off despite noticing. she was probably nervous. the box was neat, wrapped with ribbon that looked deliberate and so neat that it felt wrong to untie it, and when she pressed it toward him she looked so determined, as if she had already decided he couldn’t refuse.

yeonjun thanked her, ready to take the box and get back to helping you, but she didn’t let it go, her fingers tight on the other edge, as she asked him to try it right there, her chin lifting in this a little arrogant way that made the request sound more like an instruction than a plea. she said she wanted to know what he thought, that she had worked hard on it, and something else, but he was already thinking of the way he never did it—maybe it was paranoia, but you could never know what could be added to valentine’s chocolate. 

she kept insisting, her voice getting almost pitiful, expression more and more puppy-like, and she was holding onto the box so tightly as if it was the only way to keep him here—one fourth of a bite would do nothing, right? too little for any working concentration, usually all the potions and poisons were inside, in the filling, not the chocolate around, and—but fuck, he would break his own rules. it had happened once already, and it hadn’t been nice.

yeonjun felt like an idiot—a trapped one, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to eat it right here either—but suddenly a pink sparrow collided with his shoulder, a piece of parchment on its talon hanging openly, ‘choi yeonjun! lend a hand, no?!’ scribbled on it in your angry handwriting, followed by your voice with the same message. he was sure it was heaven-sent. 

the girl blinked in surprise, her composure faltering only for a moment, and her fingers twitched as though to snatch the chocolate back, muttering something about ‘another time’, but yeonjun was already gone, the box in his hand as he promised to let her know how it was later, already running down the stairs, leaving her standing there with her outstretched hands and the words half-formed in her mouth.

you lifted your brow as you saw him accio his bag to put the box inside before returning to calling for birds—so the girl wanted to give him chocolate… made sense—even birds created with magic had their limits. and they couldn’t quickly check presents for hexes or funny stuff like the christmas system. “tasty?” you asked after a few minutes of silence, and yeonjun looked at you confused. “the chocolate, i mean.”

he hummed, throwing a glance at the bag on the floor, filled with valentine’s cards and this box on top of them. never again… not before checking. “dunno,” yeonjun mumbled, before clearing his throat to sound a bit more… like himself. “never eat sweets strangers give you, kiddo,” he ‘educated’ you mockingly as if you weren’t the same year. “you never know what kind of potion can be there.”

you chuckled, calling for another bird. “sounds like personal experience,” you noted, watching him from the corner of your eye. not like you had any trust in hand-made chocolate when it was done in hogwarts in general—you preferred treats from honeydukes—but it didn’t seem like hygiene was his concern. 

yeonjun scrunched his nose, shaking his head. “aphrodisiac potion. strong one,” he looked at you, but you only tilted your head and frowned, asking uncertainly how in the world they managed to get the semen production potion inside without it losing its effect after low temperature. he took a deep breath, chills going down his spine at the memory—never, never again. “that’s the thing. they didn’t.”

you hissed through clenched teeth if you could physically feel it. being rock-hard for hours, ready to fuck again and again and again, but not being able to—not even because of overstimulation, but because empty balls ache as fuck too. being painfully hard and not being able to do anything about it because doing anything was worse—lose-lose situation, no less. there was no need to own a cock to imagine it. 

surprisingly, you were done with the task before the class ended and students filled the hall—thanks to yeonjun not slacking off to have a talk with his not-so-secret admirers, of course—and headed to the slytherin common room. you had nothing to do—you both were single, the boys were preoccupied with… whatever? no forever-alone party for six this year—so you were just going to do homework, maybe go through some reports, nap a little. maybe even something else if either of you got too bored…

the common room had always been the best at night and in the middle of a weekday, when everyone was in classes—empty, quiet, almost private. almost. both of you still couldn’t forget this ruined blowjob from the previous month, so you preferred to act decent—or try to—in case everyone would appear out of nowhere. just maybe in yeonjun’s perspective, ‘decency’ also included ‘having his hand on your ass under the skirt on the way up the stairs to his dormitory’, but, well, each for their own—you weren’t going to complain.

he slapped it gently the moment the door closed behind him—wasn’t he a gentleman for letting you in first?—and asked you if you wanted to join him in the shower, but you shook your head, taking your shoes off (his fingers running up the back of your thigh as you bent down, of course) before plopping down on your bed face down, too lazy to do anything after the bird dispelment. 

you got bored too soon, though—actually, so soon that when yeonjun turned the water on, you were already on your way to his wardrobe to look for something to wear. red knit fabric caught your attention quickly and you frowned, tugging it out and holding it before you—a thin, a little oversized sweater, something a gryffindor student would wear, not a slytherin one. what a shame, you thought, certain it was the reason you’d never seen him wearing it—red looked really, really good on him.

the blouse and skirt were off in no time, your bra unclasped quickly as you shivered at the cool air of the still warming up room before pulling the sweater over your head, sighing at how soft and warm it was. you plopped back down on the bed—his one this time—grabbing the legilimency book from the bedside table and flipping through the pages, pausing at the ones with the sticky bookmarks. 

yeonjun’s eyes widened when he stepped out of the bathroom, hands that were wiping his hair with a towel pausing as his gaze fell on you—lying on his bed, wearing his sweater with these cute knit thigh-highs he noticed even before you left this morning, flipping through his book. “what’s up, little yeonjun?” he chuckled, coming up to you and lifting the sweater to uncover your ass before patting it—just to be annoying. “decided to copy-cat?”

you wiggled it in his hold before shutting the book and putting it back where it was. “little yeonjun,” you repeated mockingly and then hummed, turning on your back and stretching your arms above your head, sleeves sliding down, before letting them drop back onto the blanket, a small teasing smile curling on your lips. “guess i’m just better at being you than you are.”

his brows rose at that, towel still dangling from one hand. “better at being me?” yeonjun repeated, tone dripping with disbelief before he leaned forward, crowding over you on the bed until his damp hair was almost brushing your face. “you think you can pull that off, huh?” he whispered, and you already opened your mouth to reply, when a cold drop from his hair landed on your cheek, and you squealed, pushing him away. he sat back on the edge of the bed, laughing. “are you better than me on top too?”

the flashbacks from the lunar new year filled your mind, and you were certain yeonjun didn’t need any legilimency right now to know what exactly you were thinking about—your frightened, traumatized expression was enough. you cleared your throat before huffing and rolling your eyes—carefully, not too bratty. “well, maybe not exactly everything, but…” 

“but?..” yeonjun repeated, waiting for you to continue, and burst out laughing when you huffed and rolled your eyes again before sticking your tongue out, refusing to answer. “yeah, what i thought,” he singsonged, snapping the cuff of the thigh-high against your skin lightly, and tossed the towel toward his chair before dropping beside you, shoulders brushing as he sank into the mattress, his fingers sliding under the cuff immediately to rest there. 

you clicked tongue as he put his other arm behind his head, his eyes fluttering close but lips staying curled in a soft smirk—why was he so boring? you shifted a little to rest on your side, and yeonjun opened his eyes just enough to look at you without having to turn his head, as your toes found his ankle, sliding under the cuff of his sweatpants. “why are you so dressed?” you asked, feigning innocence, your fingers slipping under the waist of his tank top too.

yeonjun lifted his eyebrow, shivering at your touch, his fingers under the cuff of your thigh-high pausing—why were you so… so… this? bratty, but soft and—he chuckled mentally—cute. funny to play with too. he hummed and shrugged nonchalantly, closing his eyes again. “not too hot here. especially after a shower,” he murmured, yawning as if it was evening already. 

your hum was more of an exhale as your fingers moved further up his tank top, palm nearly flat on his stomach now, fingertips drawing shapes on his skin. “dunno…” you mumbled, thumb caressing his lower rib. “wouldn’t say it’s too cold,” you replied, toes rubbing his ankle, as your eyes traced the hem of his tanktop, the waistband of his sweatpants and the little heart-shaped birthmark picking from under the fabric. 

“yeah?” yeonjun breathed out, mirroring the shapes you were drawing, fingers getting deeper under the cuff, before squeezing your thigh. “why are you shivering then, baby?” he murmured, opening his eyes again to look at you, lying here all cute, playing with him. “your thigh is covered in these tiny little goosebumps even though you’re not too undressed either.”

“is it?” you asked, soft and stubborn, nails tracing the lines your fingertips had drawn just a moment ago, before trailing more lazy patterns up his side, pushing the fabric up. “you’re imagining things,” you murmured—half lie, half challenge—and your fingers paused only to move lower now, slipping under the waistband, grazing the gentle skin with your nails. “definitely not shivering.” 

yeonjun laughed—giggled even—the sound something between amusement and disbelief, and then his fingers caught your wrist on his lower stomach and stilled it, not rough, not firm even, as his eyes narrowed with that mocking glint, lips curling in a sly smile. “imagining things, huh?” he echoed, as if tasting the words. “baby, you’re shaking so bad i can feel it in your pulse.” his thumb brushed lazily over the inside of your wrist, feeling your heartbeat. “maybe i should check properly. see if i’m really imagining it.”

you tried to tug your hand back half-heartedly, both checking if he was going to let it go and maybe being a brat—he only grinned, tightening his hold for a second, probably to show you that he knew you were barely any serious. you shrugged, nudging his calf with your foot, your hand relaxing in his hold. “can check all you want. will find nothing,” you muttered, voice stubborn.

his fingers slipped from under the cuff, going higher to squeeze your thigh before his fingertips brushed against the fabric of your underwear, as he leaned in close enough for his breath to tickle your cheek, hovering over you when you turned on your back. he threw a glance at your other hand as you lifted it, but he only chuckled. “nope, hold it there,” he said lightly. “you said i’m imagining things, so now i gotta be sure. unless…” he shifted, his knees suddenly on the side of yours, caging you. “unless you wanna admit you’re lying already?”

you looked up at him, hovering over you, braced on his arm, holding your wrist down, as his other hand grazed the side of your thigh with his nails, and you opened your mouth to say you weren’t lying, when a stubborn cold drop fell on your cheek, startling you and making you jerk in yeonjun’s hold. you blinked up at him brows up watching him press his lips together trying not to burst out laughing. “hey!” you hit his shoulder, pushing him away. “go dry your hair! you’re like a wet dog right now!”

yeonjun sat back, accio-ing the towel with a laugh, before putting it on his head. “and you looked like a cat who got water sprayed right into its nose,” he informed you, reaching to flick the drop away from your cheek—didn’t matter it was gone already—and making you scrunch your nose at him and turn your head in an attempt to bite him. “yeah. a cat. exactly what i said,” he nodded to his own words, pinching your cheek before getting up to take a dry towel from the wardrobe—this one was too wet.

he came back with the dry towel slung around his shoulders, ruffling it through his hair as he dropped back into his chair, and the two of you settled back into the usual rhythm of a quiet evening. there was homework waiting for both of you, head students’ reports piling up on his side of the desk, and you sprawled on the couch with your own essays spread around you like you were building a fortress out of parchment.

for a while, it was just that—the scratch of quills, the occasional muttered curse when ink smudged or a fact slipped your mind, yeonjun drifting past you once or twice, stealing your quill under the excuse of needing it, or setting a chocolate frog beside your elbow when your scowl got too deep. nothing unusual. but the hours dragged, and the enchanted sky dipped into gray, you finished your work and he grabbed the quidditch pitch scheme, probably to start planning the next match that was a whole two weeks away.

and without homework to tame your thoughts, without anything new to do… you got bored. again. and yeonjun was busy. with something absolutely not important. two weeks! he started too early. you tried to entertain yourself—you really did. you flipped through the pages of every book in your arm's length, sorted out all the reports by prefects, checked your homework—thrice!—but you were bored.

you crawled closer to him on the couch, sitting down to lean over the parchment resting on the desk he’d summoned here. in big, slanted letters, it read ‘march 6. slytherin versus ravenclaw’ above the little scheme of the quidditch pitch. yeonjun looked at you over his shoulder for a second—barely that—before turning back to the diagram, the little circles on the page resuming their movement. huh? what was that glance supposed to mean? not even a full second?

you frowned, stealing the quill he’d just set down and drawing a little angry face in the corner, and then next to it, in tiny letters: ‘hello. bored girl was here’. yeonjun didn’t even react—he just took the quill back the second you returned it. you huffed. okay… you moved the ink bottle two inches to the left. and then all the spare quills. and then all the parchments. and then even the scheme he was working on. he didn’t stop you, just shifted two inches to the left along with it, his hip and shoulder pressed against yours—you stubbornly stayed where you were.

but you tugged at his sleeve a few times. he turned, probably expecting a question—but you only blinked up at him, no intention of speaking. he looked back down, and the little circles and arrows shifted again on the parchment. you did it a few more times—he stopped reacting entirely. you took a lock of his hair, ruffled it up just to make it stick in the wrong direction, then ‘fixed’ it—again. and again. and one more time. checking for reaction in between and getting none.

you turned toward him, chest pressing lightly to his arm, and started nudging his knee with your foot. yeonjun’s fingers wrapped around your ankle after just a few nudges, and he rested your calf on his lap—still didn’t look at you, still paid no attention. well… your fingers slipped under the strap of his tank top and tugged it down his arm. you brushed your fingertips along a spot beside his collarbone, slow and deliberate, humming. “where’s this hickey from?” you asked innocently.

yeonjun took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, eyes fluttering close. he wasn’t actually annoyed—he’d realized you were bored and needed his attention from the third sigh in under two minutes even before you crawled closer to him—and he wasn’t doing anything too important either, but you were such a cute brat in such desperate need of his attention, feeding his ego so well, that he couldn’t help himself. and he wanted just a little more. “there’s no hickey,” he replied calmly, not even sparing you a single glance as he tugged the strap back. 

what—you frowned, clenching your teeth. why was he such an ass?! okay. okay. you shifted, moving the leg that rested on his lap forward instead of back, and yeonjun’s hold on your ankle faltered—he expected you to pull away, not push closer—and that split-second of surprise was enough for you to straddle him, sliding into his thighs, between his body and the desk, knees braced on either side of him, your hand on his shoulder stubbornly shoving the strap down again.

his hands found your thighs without a second thought and he squeezed the flesh, his pinkies slipping under the cuffs of your thigh-highs as he tipped his head back to meet your eyes. “so,” yeonjun started, tilting his head as you echoed the word as a question and shoved the second strap down too. “what’s gotten into you today, hm?” he squeezed your thighs again. “should i tie your restless hands up, baby?”

your lips formed an ‘o’, eyes widening, naughty pictures flashing before them already. you lowered yourself on his lap to be closer to eye-to-eye level, hands on his shoulders finally stopping. “can you?” you asked, tone almost excited, no hint at the previous brattiness. 

yeonjun lifted his eyebrows in surprise, hands sliding to your hips under the sweater—were you serious?—but just a moment later his lips curled in a smug smile, because, oh, you were giving him one opportunity to play with you after another. he leaned closer, nose bumping against yours. “can i?” he whispered, feeling your breath hitch. “i can….” he murmured before humming, pretending to be in thought. “but do brats deserve it?” 

oh? you blinked a few times before pouting—just a little, maybe even just for show—and leaned forward, lips brushing his cheek as you murmured the softest ‘please?’ into his skin before leaving another kiss just a little lower with another whispered ‘please?’. you trailed kisses down to his jaw, under it, along the side of his neck, each press of your lips coming after a gentle plea breathed into his skin. 

his head tipped back against the backrest before he could even think about it, giving you more space, as his palms slipped into your underwear to cup your ass, no annoying fabric in the way. yeonjun couldn’t tell if it was your kisses sending shivers down his spine, making his eyes flutter close, making his breath heavier, or your behaviour—but but his eyes fluttered shut as he exhaled softly, “fuck. such a good girl, baby. go on.”

the praise and the weight of his hands on you— it made you shiver, your kisses losing the rhythm when you ground against him mindlessly, letting out a shaky breath as you felt him getting harder. you cursed softly into his neck, your arms around his shoulders the moment his hold on your ass grew firmer and he guided you against him, his hips jerking up to meet you. fuck, he was too hot—it was utterly maddening. 

the kisses you were leaving on his neck turned into quiet moans and desperate whimpers, as your hips rolled down harder, held and guided by him, and the praise he was giving you was broken by his groan, low and wrecked, right against your ear. yeonjun dragged you down against him, nails digging into your ass, sure to leave marks, your panties already damp from the friction, his cock straining under his sweats as you rocked together, desperate and messy.

“shit, baby…” his voice broke off into another groan when you ground down again, and he turned his head, his mouth finding yours, tongue slipping between your lips before the proper touch even—he swallowed your moan greedily, hips rolling up as he pulled away for half a breath only to murmur, “so messy.” his lips were back on yours, tongue tangled with yours before you could say ‘you’re worse’. 

your hands were in his hair, then sliding down his shoulders, then yanking his tank top up just to feel his skin, and yeonjun didn’t even know where to put his own—your hips, your back, your thighs—so he held everywhere at once, squeezing, kneading, leaving traces with his nails. the friction made you dizzy, kisses turned to half-bites, his tongue sliding against yours only to break apart too soon, both of you chasing each other’s mouths, arms clinging to each other like you couldn’t get close enough no matter how hard you tried.

the couch creaked when his hips bucked up harder, his hands under the sweater, brushing against the edge of the desk with each movement, probably catching on your spine when his arms weren’t there, and, fuck, if it wasn’t annoying as hell. “hold up,” he murmured against your lips, low and breathless, and when he felt your arms tighten around his shoulders—no questions asked—his hands left your body only to push the annoying furniture away, its legs scraping against the floor, making you jerk and cling tighter at the sharp sound.

you looked over your shoulder at the desk, the rug under its leg that folded awkwardly because of the push, and swallowed down before licking your lips and returning your gaze to yeonjun, his eyes are already on you. “it was hot as fuck,” you breathed out, licking your lips again—your brain was fogged, no coherent thought except needing this damn man so bad, that you couldn’t breathe.

“hot as fuck, huh?” he murmured, his mind getting dizzy. his eyes roamed all over your face, studying the mess he made of you already. your pupils blown, lips parted, swollen and glistening with his and your saliva, tongue darting out to gather it, chest heaving against his—fuck, you were closer to masterpiece than a human being. and you were looking at him like he was one and… yeonjun cursed, his arm around your middle in no time and you were under him before you could understand what was happening.

“yeah. hot as fuck,” you breathed out, your legs wrapping around his hips on pure instinct, hands tugging his tank top up to open his stomach. “this,” you nodded at your current position, “was too,” you whispered, your hand trailing up his stomach and then chest, slipping to the back of his neck only to pull him down, your lips meeting his halfway. “need you, ‘njun,” you murmured into the kiss breathlessly, arching into him. 

he barely gave you time to finish the words, to breathe before his mouth was back on yours, his weight settling over you—he had no plans of letting you go. not now. not until tomorrow morning, maybe. not until you were shaking and crying and begging him to not stop. his hand slid under your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, the heat of your body soaking right into your skin through clothes that suddenly felt like too much, and he yanked the sweater up to feel your torso against his, skin on skin.

the kiss was messy, desperate, yeonjun kissed you like he was starved—teeth clashing sometimes, tongue sliding past yours, swallowing every sound you made—and you responded with the same passion. his hips moved without rhythm at first, rough, desperate, grinding against you until the friction finally found a pace that made you gasp into his mouth and claw at the fabric covering his shoulder blades.

you tightened your legs around his waist when he shifted to get a better angle, the drag of his body against yours making you whimper against his lips—he groaned at the sound, low and sharp, like it went straight to his head or to his cock, his hand gripping your thigh keeping you where you were. “yeonjun—” you whimpered, and the sound came out cracked, nearly a plea, but he just kissed you harder, lips sliding wet over yours before you could beg him to fuck you properly.

his breath mingled with yours when he finally pulled back half a second just to murmur, “i know, baby, i know,” before chasing your mouth again. he really, really wanted to be inside you now too, feel your walls flutter around him, feel you tremble under him, clinging to him, hear your moans and whimpers of his name, but fuck, your lips were so addictive, he couldn’t stand not kissing you—even if just for a few seconds. 

the pace picked up without either of you saying anything, your hips lifting to meet his every push, heat curling in your stomach at the way he rutted against you, the way his fingers were sinking into your thigh, other hand on the back of your head, tangling in your hair only to pull it and make you arch and moan, his teeth catching your lower lip. “jun, please—” the sound was too close to a sob, but you didn’t care. “so empty—” 

yeonjun cursed, his cock throbbing at your little sob, eyes finding yours instinctively, desperate to see what he knew he’d find there—wet lashes, corners of your eyes glistening, more tears threatening to fall down from how good he was making you feel. fuck, he couldn’t resist. “okay, baby,” he breathed out, moving his hips away just enough to put his hand between you two. “just a second.”

you felt his fingers slip under the fabric on your hip and just a moment later your underwear went loose, cut through with a spell. your breath hitched for a second before you let out a soft giggle. “just like halloween,” you whispered, and, when yeonjun looked at you a little surprised before his lips curled in a smile, giggled again. “aren’t we pitiful? spending saint valentine's day with a fuck-buddy?”

he chuckled into the skin of your neck, before leaving a small bite there and humming. maybe you were, but… was there a place in the world he’d rather be now? no, not really. “i'd say others are pitiful because we don’t spend it with them,” yeonjun murmured, leaving a few open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. “they wish they were us,” he breathed out, feeling you shiver under him. “will fix your underwear, by the way. sorry.”

“don’t worry, they’ll survive” you shrugged, palms sliding down his chest. “they were already absolutely ruined thanks to you,” you murmured, your focus already on his stomach, and you tugged his tank top up a little. “take it off?” you looked at him, eyes pleading.

he didn’t reply, only straightened up, hands grabbing the fabric on his shoulder blades—slow enough to show off his muscles, of course. yeonjun’s eyes didn’t leave your face for a second, watching your eyes tracing his arms, shoulders, collarbones, neck; your tongue darting out to lick your lips; your breath heavy, chest rising and falling unevenly, still covered by the red sweater. he felt your hips roll up in this cute bratty ‘hurry up’, and chuckled, tugging the shirt off. 

your hands were on his skin the second the tank top was out of the way, fingers caressing his abs—fuck, you loved this little softness he had on his stomach, chest, arms despite working out.  there was muscle under there, firm and solid when he moved, but right now he was warm and a little soft under your palms, in a way that made you want to touch him everywhere. he was the perfect balance of soft and strong. 

yeonjun watched you being so mesmerized, your fingers on his stomach nearly trembling, eyes glued to his torso, and now he was certain he’d never felt like this—not even when he saw the plate for the record he set, not when the whole slytherin table cheered for him as if he was a hero. fuck, you were feeding his ego too well. 

his gaze fell on your wrists, so close to each other, hands restless again,, and yeonjun suddenly remembered where you had started in the first place—with you on top of him, begging him to tie you up—and the red sweater reminded him of just the thing. he glanced at his bedside table. were they?.. yeah, most probably. he pulled his hand away from your knee just enough to catch the accio-ed handcuffs—the very ones you gave him as one of the christmas presents—and lift them to get your attention, metal clinking softly. “still wanna try?”

you looked him in the eyes before shifting your gaze to the handcuffs, following the sound of the chain, the slow sway of silver between his fingers, then back to his face—cheeks flushed, hair sticking damp to his temples, a wicked grin on his lips making him evilly beautiful, and you clenched around nothing, your thighs tightening around his hips for a second. your licked your lip before biting into it, your own grin blooming before you could notice it, eyes still on his as you nodded almost too excitedly. 

yeonjun cursed under his breath, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and the cuffs clicked once as he rolled them in his hand, watching you through his lashes. his other hand found your wrists on his stomach, fingers caressing the skin as if preparing it. “yeah, baby?” he breathed out, and you nodded again, still grinning mischiefly, though every click of the metal in his hand made your thighs squeeze around his hips.

he took your hand in his, slipping the cuff on your wrist and watching it tighten on its own—right, they were charmed—before doing the same on another hand, while he tried so badly to ignore the way his cock throbbed at the image of you lying like this before him, handcuffed now. gosh, he was sure you’d dripped on the couch already… he wrapped his fingers around the chain, tugging slightly, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. “good?”

the weight and tightness on your wrists was unfamiliar, but you couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t making you wetter with each second—and yeonjun was only making it worse, towering over you like this, shirtless, the outline of his hard cock clear through the gray sweatpants, wet patch on them left by you, still smirking, these stupid hair of his… fuck. “yeah,” you breathed out after swallowing. “just really, really need you inside.” 

shit, weren’t you a blessing? sure you were. “yeah?” yeonjun murmured, voice low and breathless, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband—the sweatpants and underwear went down together in one impatient tug, the thin fabric catching for half a second on his thighs before pooling around his knees, his cock springing free. he wrapped a hand around himself right away—fingers pumping slow, almost lazy, precum shined on his knuckles, catching the dim light as he worked himself, gaze never leaving your face.

you could swear you were going to combust, were going to freaking cum untouched just from the way he looked now—like a damn deity, but perhaps an utterly sinful one. the cuffs on your wrists were tight, your whole body hot, burning even, and restless, your thighs squeezing his thighs for a moment on instinct as he knelt between them. “yeonjun—” you breathed out, the sound turning into a high-pitched whine embarrassingly fast, but you so didn’t care. 

he shushed you, leaning over to press his mouth to yours, trapping your cuffed hands between your bodies, smearing spit into the kiss, his hand holding your jaw where he wanted it, the other hand guiding himself. the head caught on your clit, making you jerk and whine—yeonjun swallowed the sound happily—before it nudged against your entrance, and he pushed it slow. painfully slow. 

the stretch was everything—fuck, you didn’t realize how badly you needed him inside—your back arched, mouth breaking from his as you gasped, fingers curling against his and your stomachs while he sank in inch by inch. you felt him curse against your neck right before he sank his teeth into the gentle skin, making you moan his name out, and he groaned, voice rough in your ear as he asked you if you felt it, how well you were taking him. ‘such a good girl’.

yeonjun didn’t move at first, just stayed there buried deep to the hilt, chest heaving—you felt like heaven, he just needed a second to get used to you around him, no matter how many times and for how long you’d been wrapped around him. so tight, so warm, so freaking wet—just for him, right? fuck, yes, just for him. only for him. his head got dizzy and he took a deep breath, straightening slowly, pushing up on his knees, still inside you. fuck, you looked like an angel. 

you felt his weight leave your hands, your fingers twitching subconsciously, and you arched your back a little when yeonjun grabbed the hem of your—his on you—sweater to let him push it up properly, up to your neck, uncovering your chest. he palmed your breast, squeezing it softly and making you whine and arch just to push it into his palm more, before his hand continued its way down almost absentmindedly until he found the chain between your wrists.

a little tug—not hard, just enough to make the cuffs clink and your hands shift—and his cock twitched inside you. the sound of the metal alone was making his brain foggy, but you clenched around him, your eyes fluttering close, teeth sinking into the lower lip. “look at you,” he muttered—more to himself than you—eyes dragging down your body beneath him, as he made another pull on the chain, this one a little sharper, his hips rolling forward with it, trying to use the cuffs to drag you onto him harder.

you gasped, legs flexing around his waist, the new angle hitting deeper than before, heat curling in your lower stomach so fast it was dizzying. his pace was sharp and precise, each thrust helped by tug on the chain, making it deeper, more maddening, your hands on his stomach, trembling on the skin, nails catching on it with each roll of his hips. fuck, it was good, so freaking hot too, but… too restricting. 

yeonjun moved your hands up his torso a little before gripping your waist instead of the chain—he wanted to feel more of your hands on him, not just on his lower stomach, but your hands could only go this high. he tried to lower himself, desperate to be closer to you, to feel your lips on his, but your hands between your bodies made it harder to thrust properly, and having the chain over the back of his neck or shoulders—shit. 

he looked at you, your lower lip caught by your teeth, brows in a slight frown—obviously not the expression you had when he was fucking you so well, that you couldn’t think (the only acceptable level of ‘well’ in his opinion). yeonjun slowed his moves before pausing completely and you blinked at him, confused, hands on his stomach twitching. “doesn’t work, baby, does it?” he breathed out, and exhaled a chuckle when you shook your head. “thought so. for me neither.”

“wanna touch you,” you mumbled, fingers flexing uselessly against the chain. it was hot, yeah, but—you bit your lip, relief curling warm in your chest when he sighed like he’d been thinking the same. his hand found your wrist, thumb pressing against your pulse as two fingers hooked under the cuff, stretching it just enough for it to slip loose. the metal gave way easily, like even the magic had been impatient for this, and before you could blink his chest was pressed to yours, your arms finally sliding around his shoulders where they belonged.

you barely had time to catch your breath before yeonjun was moving, really moving now, hips snapping harder into you as if there wasn’t this paused to deal with the handcuffs that seemed to hold him back. your body jolted against the couch with each thrust, the air stuttering out of you in broken little sounds of his name, pleas and curses you couldn’t even hold in, as your limbs tightened around him, trying to bring him closer, closer, closer.

fuck handcuffs, yeonjun thought, drunk on the way your arms felt around him. maybe you’d try again some day—the free cuff on his back made no difference, when you were wrapped around him like this, so maybe the chain wouldn’t be this bad. but now, fuck, now he needed your hands free and all over his body. his name leaving your lips in a half-plea, half-warning snapped him out of his thoughts, but he didn’t slow, one hand braced by your head while the other gripped your thigh so tight you both knew he’d leave fingerprints there.

you felt coil in your lower stomach tightening too fast now, when there was nothing to ruin it, to prevent yeonjun from doing whatever he wanted to you—his mouth was on your neck, jaw, shoulder, everywhere at once, biting enough to make you gasp but not enough to hurt, not really. not yet—shit, not yet. because you felt him pause just below your collarbone, muttering something against your skin before sucking hard, enough to make your back arch into him. you could feel it—his teeth, his tongue, the sharp pull of his mouth. fuck, was he—

yeonjun couldn’t help it—the moment he thought about the fingerprints on your thigh, the image of you wearing a hickey, even a tiny one, got to his head, refusing to leave and not letting him breathe. you were so responsive to every bite, your breath hitching, little mewls leaving your lips, and you clenched around him so hard, when he sucked on this spot, that he could barely move—and then your back arched, fingers tangled in his hair as you held him there, your desperate sob ‘jun—please—don’t stop’ going right through his body.

his hand slid lower, gripping your hip tight as he drove into you harder, rougher, pushing the sound out of you again and again, until your mind was only him and begging. the room felt too small, filled with wet squelching sounds and slaps of skin against skin that only made everything feels filthier and so, so much better. you were clinging to him, gasping into his shoulder with every sharp thrust, his name spilling from your lips, and you didn’t even care how wrecked you sounded.

yeonjun could feel your tightening around him, your body trembling under his, your arms tight around his shoulders, begging him to stay, legs locked around his waist, begging him to not stop—fuck, he was so close. you chocked out a warning, tried to—‘jun—i’m’—but your voice broke on the last word, and that was all it took for him to lose it, his rhythm stuttering as he slammed into you once, twice—

“with me,” he gritted out, forehead pressed to yours, and then everything snapped at once, your body going tight around him as you came with a strangled cry of his name, dragging him right over the edge with you, and his lips covered yours, starving to catch each sound. he spilled inside of you, hand on your hip holding you where he needed you—steady, unmoving, taking everything he wanted to give you, every last drop. you were only clenching around him as if needing more, hungry for everything he could give you.

and oh fuck, you absolutely did. you couldn’t even pretend you hadn’t got addicted to this feeling—the last deep thrust before he stilled, and then the heat blooming inside, spilling warmth you could feel with every pulse of him. you felt every twitch, every drop, the fullness making you moan softly against his neck as your body clenched around him, milking him for more even while you were still trembling from your own high. gosh, this man was addictive from head to toe. 

yeonjun braced himself on his arms—tried to, but the moment he tensed just enough for you to understand that he was going to sit up, your hands tightened around him as a whiny, little ‘don’t’ escaped you. he chuckled breathlessly, leaving a tiny kiss on the side of your neck. “i’ll crush you, mouse,” he breathed out, and you muttered a messy ‘don’t care’—when he tilted his head to look at you a few seconds later, your eyes were already closed, lips slightly parted as you were clearly slowly falling asleep.  

he shook his head with a little chuckle, sitting up carefully as your arms slid down his sides, no longer holding him in place—what was with this couch, anyway, that you always seemed to get knocked out here? his own quiet giggle left him as he caught sight of the handcuffs still dangling from your wrist—completely forgotten somewhere along the way—and he loosened them with careful fingers, slow enough not to wake you.

yeonjun took you to his bed—he probably should’ve let you sleep on your one, but his one was closer, and he still could barely think, and you were so clingy in these two second before you drifted off, that maybe it’d be better for you to stay in his bed—cleaned you up, smiling at your little frowned expression, fixed your underwear and tugged the thigh-highs off, letting your legs breathe. he left the sweater on, though—it wasn’t too hot in the room, and, well, you looked cute. 

but it was probably too early to get to bed for him—he was going to sleep after the patrol and there was still a little time before it to get something done. yeonjun glanced around the room, looking for something to get himself busy with, when his eyes landed on the bag that was full of valentines cards, and little gifts, and… this chocolate box. he hummed, getting up from the bed to grab it and sit on the couch, still a little warm from what it had endured not so long ago. 

of course the box was lying on top of everything—it was the last gift he got that day—and with a sigh, he accio-ed his wand to check it. the chocolate looked nice enough, smelled warm and sweet too—cinnamon was a little unusual in chocolate, but the balance with vanilla was… weirdly perfect. too perfect. he still picked out a piece, muttering a quick checking spell before popping it back into the box with a roll of his eyes. amortentia. figured. no wonder the girl was practically begging him to try it right there.

the cinnamon, though… and—yeonjun sighed—back when they were brewing amortentia all those years ago, it hadn’t smelled like anything to him. he used to joke about it smelling like quaffle leather, fresh morning air and broomstick wood for him—but the truth was, it was nothing. and of course he’d never brew it just to sniff at it, but now it was right here in his hands and… he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t curious. 

yeonjun picked the discarded piece back up, carefully breaking it in half—potions were usually inside—and bringing it closer to his nose, inhaling carefully and hesitantly, his heart beating a little faster for whatever reason. cinnamon and vanilla—the ones he felt before already, perfect balance—and… he frowned, inhaling again, deeper and more certain this time, trying to recognize the smell. it was familiar. too familiar. pleasantly so, but he couldn’t define it even though it hovered on the edge of his mind. 

he glanced around the room again—it was just too familiar, almost as if it was soaked into his skin, and clothes, and walls themselves, and the answer was right there, he was sure. his eyes landed on you, and his heart stuttered before he even put it into a coherent thought. yeonjun got up, moving like he was under a spell, his head empty, barely breathing as if it was his last breath and he needed to save it to see. to know.

the way he crouched down before bed was slow and careful—yeonjun wanted to pretend it was because he didn’t want to wake you, but even he knew it was out of hesitation, out of fear, maybe. his hand moved before his brain did, brushing your hair behind your ear gently, and he swallowed nervously before leaning in, the tip of his nose barely caressing the skin between your ear and jaw. the smell—your smell—slipped in before he even inhaled deep enough, and his chest felt too tight by the time he straightened, backing toward the couch on legs that didn’t quite feel like his.

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everyone was already at the slytherin table, including beomgyu, who pretended not to notice his captain glowering from the gryffindor table—you gave him ten minutes before he was physically dragged away. honestly, you could swear you hadn’t seen either of them sitting at their houses’ tables since the year began if it wasn’t for pre-quidditch matches breakfasts, which would undoubtedly turn into trash talking across the table. it was the first time and you couldn’t image how right you were…

beomgyu leaned over his plate, grinning. “hope you enjoyed sleeping in, yeonjun,” he sing-songed, mouth full of scrambled eggs. “it’s the last peaceful morning you’re getting before i catch the snitch and wipe that smug look off your face.”

four of you groaned, and you even dropped your head on the table, because yeonjun just wasn’t going to let it slide. and of course you were right—he snorted, buttering his toast with deliberate calm. “cute. i’ll be scoring so much you’ll need two snitches just to keep up.”

“yeah?” beomgyu raised a brow, leaning in even closer. “i’ll catch it before it even flaps twice. you’ll be crying into that pretty green robe by lunch.”

“mhm,” yeonjun popped a piece of toast into his mouth, smiling like the cat who had already caught the canary. “hope your team packed tissues. i don’t plan on letting you touch that snitch before you’re a hundred and sixty points behind.”

it didn’t stop until gryffindor captain finally came up to you and dragged beomgyu out of the table for the ‘pre-match meeting’, and other boys left to their tables too, when slytherin team started approaching yeonjun for today’s tactics discussion purposes. papers with schemes and notes were scattered across the table, magical figurines of every player floating just an inch above, and you were sure the gryffindor table had the same chaos.

you barely paid any attention to whatever yeonjun was saying—you couldn’t understand half of it and your job was to keep watch on the players from the ground in case of anyone falling, their tactics wouldn’t help you to predict when and how it’d happen anyway, so you were just fidgeting with your wand and junière that you attached to it in the morning as a little charm.

time passed quickly while you were listening to yeonjun’s voice and trying not to fall asleep to it, distracting yourself with munching on some random treat he moved closer to you, and soon it was time to head to the quidditch pitch. you had some free time while everyone was getting ready and checked, but you still decided to tug along simply because you didn’t know what to busy yourself with—too much time to do nothing and too little time to do something. 

you trailed behind the team alone, lost in your thoughts, until yeonjun noticed it and decided bothering you would be more fun than just walking to the quidditch pitch—especially as you were the one to follow him. he ruffled your hair, asking if you were prepared to finally fulfil head students’ duties by freezing your ass on the pitch for an hour for absolutely nothing—adding that at least you’d witness slytherin’s win this time. 

but before you could tell him off, he stopped dead in the tracks, startling you and almost making you fall. yeonjun pointed at your bare neck, asking where your scarf was and if you were going to freeze your throat too—your eyes widened, and you touched your neck as if you were still hoping to find the scarf there. you cursed under your breath, saying you forgot it, and added quietly that the outfit for the day he prepared for you didn’t include your scarf. 

yeonjun only clicked his tongue, giving your cheek a light pinch. “don’t blame me for forgetting your scarf when i already take such exceptional care of you,” he muttered, already tugging his own free—in one smooth motion, he looped it around your head and over your nose, then another turn until it swallowed your whole face, covering even your eyes. he patted the thick bundle with both hands, smug and content with the result. 

you tugged the fabric down, uncovering your death glare that only made him laugh and pat your head as if you were a grumpy, but still cute kitty—you assumed that was exactly the way he saw you, though. sadly, you couldn’t try to bite his fingers now, so you just muttered that he was a butt under your breath, adjusting the scarf to cover your neck and half of your face the moment you exited the castle. 

it was adorable and amusing how proud yeonjun looked while finally doing the pre-match check as a captain. and maybe just a little hot—his face focused, brows slightly frowned, hold on the wand firm, and you suddenly wanted these fingers to be wrapped around your wrist. or neck. or to cover your mouth. or be inside it. or be inside—he seemed to feel you looking at him and turned to you with a little frown. 

his gaze slid down to the pendant peeking from the robe, shining gently and slowly getting brighter and brighter, and his lips curled in a cocky smile—it got only cockier when you noticed him looking at the necklace and yanked the robe to cover it with a frown and pout. yeonjun would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised you were still wearing it, but he felt… appreciated that you did even if it was just a teasing gift. after all, he still had the ‘world’s okayest dom’ keychain on his keys and used the ‘mr. pathetically obsessed with me’ cup daily.

the anxiety in the pit of your stomach was growing with each passing second, though—it was the first time you'd be on watch in case of falls or injuries. yeonjun was the one to do it at the previous two matches as a head boy, but for this day he was a player, a captain, he was simply unavailable. and you… you were a head girl, and you had to do it despite hadn't been attending matches for years. you were scared of seeing someone hurt and now it was your job to basically wait for it. 

yeonjun told you it wasn't that bad—the area for you was protected, no physical objects were able to fly in including rain, the bench was charmed to stay warm and was always dry even in the thunderstorm and without the shield. and he assured you it wasn't going to take too long anyway—the longest match out of the previous three this year took about eighty minutes and it was considered pretty long for the average skill already. 

you couldn't say it made you much more confident—injuries were going to happen anyway, just no one would need your help, most probably—but you decided not to bother yeonjun more and pretended his words helped. you were almost certain he didn't believe you, but, well, he had other things to care about today and you shooed him toward the center of the pitch once you took your position.

yeonjun was right—the place was comfortable, a few cushions lying on the bench, the shield spell did protect from the light rain that started the moment the whistle went off. except the problem was, the shield protected you, chilling your ass out on the damn bench while both teams were throwing and dodging damn balls forty feet from the ground, and even if no one was reckless yet, you knew it’d take them all too little time to fully sink into the game.

of course it did. by the third goal, the initial carefulness was gone—brooms cutting through the rain like knives, bludgers swinging harder, the commentary barely keeping up. a chaser from gryffindor swerved past a bludger, heart in your throat for a second before he straightened up. your eyes flicked to beomgyu automatically—nowhere to be seen, chasing the snitch—and then yeonjun. he was fine, of course, already stealing the quaffle back with the kind of stubborn focus that made him dangerous. to himself too. mostly to himself.

your eyes kept darting from player to player, a rhythm you couldn’t settle. another gryffindor’s chaser shot past a bludger so close it clipped his sleeve, and you flinched, heart jumping before he looped out of danger. then—a newly found habit—your gaze flicked to beomgyu, flying side by side with slytherin seeker, then to yeonjun, just to make sure he was still upright. he was, of course, already barrelling after the quaffle like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

the rain slicked everything into a blur, silver and green and red and golden streaks weaving in and out of one another. another goal, this time for slytherin—commentator shouting over the wind—then a near miss for gryffindor, the quaffle bouncing off a wet hand and tumbling into open space. your breath caught as two chasers dove for it at the same time, brooms nearly colliding before gryffindor pulled up, letting yeonjun snatch it and whip around—he didn’t even look down; your stomach turned watching them skim that close to the mud.

the first forty minutes stretched like hours. no one had slowed yet, though the edges of recklessness were already showing—a keeper swatting a bludger away one-handed, a beat that sent it spinning wildly instead of clean. your bench creaked as you shifted forward on it, palms sweaty despite the shield and your gloves, eyes flicking up for beomgyu again—then yeonjun, because you couldn’t not. still fine. still fast. still so damn single-minded it made your teeth clench.

yeonjun couldn’t see anything but the game. the quaffle. the hoops. the blur of red trying to block his path. the rush of air against his ears drowned out the slowly fading rain, the cheers, even the faint whistle of a bludger passing too close. his whole world was cut down to hands gripping wood, leather against his palm, the perfect arc of a goal in his mind before he even threw.

he dove, hard, the tip of his broom skimming the rain-slick pitch before he yanked it up in a sharp climb that made his stomach swoop. the other chasers didn’t follow—they’d learned better—but one of them tossed the quaffle his way at the last second. he caught it against his side, hugging it like it belonged to him, and twisted so violently into a new path that a bludger sent by gryffindors smacked empty air where his shoulder had been. sharp moves, always sharp. no one was stealing this from him.

yeonjun hated the moments the quaffle wasn’t in his grip. hated it sitting in someone else’s hands, even for a clean pass. every second without it felt like an itch under his skin, a drag in his chest. he cut through the air, wet hair plastered to his face where it came out off the helmet, forcing his broom into tighter spins than he should’ve, the rain making everything slicker, faster, sharper. one goal. then another. and another. his arms were already starting to burn, but he barely noticed—he could rest later.

your heart spent more time in your throat than in your chest. beaters were getting more violent, swinging bats so hard that you thought they would fall off the brooms; bludgers were moving so swiftly, aiming so many players that it felt like there were far more than two; seekers were appearing and disappearing without any pattern, sometimes side by side, sometimes on the opposites sides of the pitch—that was when you realized they had no idea where the snitch was. 

watching the chasers and keepers was the worst, therefore you had to pay much more attention to them. it was almost as if they were getting an extra score for sending the keeper through the hoop alongside with the quaffle—you weren’t sure any of the six chasers even considered controlling their strength. and yeonjun was the worst of six, which made him the main target for gryffindor beaters. 

the bludger finally caught yeonjun hard in the shoulder—sharp pain snapped down his arm and made his fingers tingle—but he didn’t even flinch. he gritted his teeth and forced his broom into another sharp dive, cradling the quaffle tight to his chest. pain could wait. the only thing that mattered was the flash of hoops ahead and the satisfying thunk as the quaffle left his hands and sailed clean through. he let out a sharp laugh, adrenaline drowning everything else out.

it was the first proper hit by the bludger for the slytherin team. your fingers trembled around the wand, but you didn’t dare to lift it—you couldn’t interfere. even if you were scared, even if your vision was getting blurry with tears and everything felt more like your personal hell, you could only act after something happened, not before. and right now you could only watch and pray.

maybe your prayers worked—by the time it hit an hour and a half, the game finally slowed. passes grew sloppier, bludgers didn’t quite swing with the same vicious speed, and even the commentators’ voices dipped, occasionally leaving long pauses when nothing exciting happened. rain still clung to the pitch in a slick sheen, brooms cutting lazy arcs instead of sharp dives, and everyone could finally catch a breath—including you. 

the score crawled forward slowly, teams neck and neck again. every goal was followed by a sluggish regroup, players hanging low on their brooms, shoulders heaving—you could almost feel the fatigue from the ground, a thick haze that settled over the pitch. yeonjun was still moving, still sharp, but even he wasn’t immune—his dives became less reckless, his throws slower, like his body was catching up to the hits he’d taken, unable to ignore it anymore as the adrenaline started washing off. 

but then, ten minutes into that uneasy lazy lull, something shifted—a glint of gold in the corner of yeonjun’s vision, and the snitch was suddenly before his very eyes, barely an arm's length away, as if it was teasing him, mocking him for being unable to touch it. and then a bright red blur—beomgyu diving for the snitch, his broom tilting sharply, and yeonjun right there in the same stretch of air, close enough to see him nearly catch it before the snitch darted away. 

the sight seemed to flip a switch in him—they were just a hair's breath away from losing, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything. and suddenly, yeonjun was moving faster again, quaffle glued to his arm, weaving through players with renewed aggression—reckless, like he could wring a win out of sheer willpower. no one expected it and barely anyone could keep up.

they were tight on time, and yeonjun could feel like someone poured fire into his veins. losing wasn’t an option, not when they were this close, not when he could already see it slipping. the quaffle might as well have been part of his arm—he wasn’t letting go. sun was blinding him, wind roared in his ears, but he cut through the air like a blade, weaving between players without thinking, just instinct and anger and want. 

a bludger slammed into his shoulder hard enough to jolt him sideways—he hissed through his teeth, pain blooming sharp—but he didn’t slow down, didn’t even glance at the beaters. score first, breathe later. another goal. another. one more. another hit followed by one more goal. the world had narrowed to quaffle, hoops, the thrum of his heartbeat, and the taste of victory on the tip of his tongue that felt too close to fading away.

you weren’t sure you could breathe anymore, you weren’t sure you could afford blinking—your eyes were glued to yeonjun despite sun blinding you, and even a single look away felt like something that was going to make you skip the inevitable. he was scoring like a madman, barely giving an opportunity for other chasers to score too; he ignored every hit, not caring for a moment about dodging it anymore; and you were thanking the heavens that everyone except this reckless idiot was already too tired to really hurt him.

the score hung on a knife’s edge—slytherin was leading by exactly one hundred and fifty points, a crazy difference. one goal, one snitch, and the match could end in a win or a draw. everyone knew it; you could feel the tension humming through the air despite how tired everyone was. 

no one could even process what happened. one heartbeat, all eyes were on the gryffindor hoops—yeonjun leaning low on his broom, arm snapping forward, the quaffle slicing through the air to fly through—and the next, a deafening roar rolled from the opposite half of the pitch like a tidal wave. beomgyu had the snitch clutched in his fist, golden wings struggling against his fingers, his grin flashing.

for a moment, the crowd didn’t know which way to scream. the commentary cracked over the noise, words tripping over each other—“slytherin scores—wait—gryffindor—snitch—!”—before it was swallowed by the chaos of cheers and groans and confused chatter. the scoreboard flickered, numbers dancing in a way that barely mattered to you anymore, because—

yeonjun didn’t even look at the scoreboard—he didn’t care if it was a draw or if slytherin had snatched the win by a breath. his world just… blinked out for a moment. the roaring crowd, the drizzle that started again, even the burn in his muscles—all blurred into nothing but a single, weightless thought: it’s over, and his grip on the broom slackened, shoulders sagging as relief and exhaustion crashed over him in one dizzying wave.

your hand shot out before your brain caught up, wand jerking up with a sharp tug that bit at your fingers—but you didn’t notice, couldn’t notice. all you saw was yeonjun, his broom tilting, his body limp, and the spell burst from your wand before you even realized you’d cast it. wingardium leviosa caught his robe, wrapping it around his body and jerking it up just ten feet from the ground before lowering him slowly. 

you rushed to him, falling to your knees before him, not caring for the mud or puddles soaking into your robes and pants. he groaned, frowning with his eyes still closed, and your hand went to his neck without thinking, fingers trembling as they pressed to his pulse. steady. thank god. “yeonjun, hey—” your voice cracked on his name as you shook his shoulder gently—his eyelashes fluttered, a faint hiss escaping his teeth when your hand brushed the arm he’d landed on. alive. conscious. and in pain.

yeonjun tried to sit up, his muscles twitching in protest, and he felt your palm pressed to his chest immediately, pushing him back down. he tried to at least undo his helmet because everything felt too fucking hot, but his arms begged for him to stop, making him groan and squeeze his eyes because of the pain shooting through him. he felt your hands pushing his away, and let out a shaky, painful exhale—what the fuck was wrong with him…

“don’t. just… give me a second to check you,” you muttered, your voice steadier than you felt, as you reached for the straps of his helmet, fingers clumsy, and helped him pull it off when his own arms refused to cooperate. his hair was plastered to his forehead, his skin hot—almost burning—but the cold air was already clinging to his soaked robes. you swallowed hard and quickly loosened the top of his uniform, tugging the collar open and undoing a few fastenings just to help him breathe, but not enough to chill him to the bone.

yeonjun felt cold air wrap around the back of his neck, cooling the scorching hot skin, and groaned again, brain finally catching up on what was happening. he fell off the broom. like a fucking idiot and not a proper captain. and now you were trying to help him. fuck, he probably scared the shit out of you too. nothing ever happens my ass. he could feel his nose itching, eyes watering. great, now he was a pathetic loser too. 

you pressed the back of your cold fingers to his cheek, cooling the skin. “stay with me, yeonjun,” you muttered, shifting his broom out of the way and scanning for any visible injuries. no broken bones, no blood—thank god—but his arm and shoulder were already mottled from the bludger hits, probably more bruises all over his body. this was exactly why you were here, no matter how much you hated it. exactly why you got dragged to the match you would’ve otherwise avoided like the plague.

yeonjun let out a breath through his teeth and blinked up at you, unfocused. “m’fine,” he slurred, voice rough from wind and rain and contained tears he didn't want to admit.

“sure you are,” beomgyu replied, landing on the other side, his fingers quick to undo the gloves and knee-caps to let his muscles relax without the tight ties that sometimes felt closer to cutting the bloodstream off completely. “the epitome of fine.”

you nodded to beomgyu as a thank you—he definitely knew what was needed in a situation like this much better than you—and switched your attention to yeonjun’s legs, running your hands slowly to see if he’d flinch or jerk. you only got a soft groan when you touched the inner thigh, muscles sore from gripping the broom for so long, but nothing else—legs were uninjured. 

it was almost as if your feelings and emotions turned off completely, leaving you cold-headed. you knew they were going to hit you later, but for now their absence felt like a blessing—it gave you a sharp mind and steady hand, letting you focus more on what yeonjun needed. “can you stand up?” you asked, brushing his still wet hair away from his forehead. “we’re gonna take you to the hospital wing.”

yeonjun wasn’t sure, if he had to be honest, but he would stand up and walk and make sure to lean the least on you. fuck, please, baby, don’t think of me as pathetic and weak as i think of myself. he was so damn glad beomgyu was there and he could lean on him more instead of you. 

beomgyu slung yeonjun’s arm over his shoulder while you steadied his other side, and together you guided him off the pitch. the rain had stopped again, leaving everything slick and smelling like wet grass, and the crowd’s buzz had turned into a low murmur. the walk to the castle felt endless, yeonjun’s boots dragging in the mud now that the adrenaline had fully left his body—he hissed when the steps forced him to move his shoulders, and you tightened your grip instinctively, murmuring, “almost there.”

the hospital wing was warm and smelled faintly of potions and polish, and the smell made you scrunch your nose—the scent never meant anything good. madam longbottom was already waiting near the doors, having received your patronus, her wand out before you could even explain. “put him on the bed, let’s see,” she instructed briskly, and beomgyu helped him sit before stepping aside.

“nothing broken,” she muttered after a quick diagnostic spell, “but you’re a mess, young man. deep bruising across the shoulders and upper back, probably some strained muscles. no flying for at least a week.”

yeonjun groaned quietly but didn’t argue, wincing as she helped him out of his soaked uniform and cut his shirt with a spell. you stayed close but let the matron handle the examination, your hands busy with small things—piling the wet robes neatly on a chair, fetching a towel when she asked. the bruises looked worse without the fabric in the way, mottled purples and blues climbing across his shoulders, and even his chest was beginning to discolor where bludgers had hit him, and you looked away as if seeing them made you feel them too.

“he’ll need this balm applied every few hours until the swelling eases,” madam longbottom said, summoning a jar from the cabinet. “especially the back—he won’t be able to do it himself for a day or two, not until those arms stop screaming at him,” she warned, demonstrating the first careful application, the cool green ointment sinking into the sore muscles as yeonjun let out a shaky exhale that was part relief, part exhaustion. “ideally, he should stay here tonight.”

yeonjun’s head turned toward you immediately, damp hair brushing his cheek, and it almost felt like you could read the silent plea in his eyes—please, no. he didn’t want this—lying here where anyone could wander in, the team, other students, curious well-wishers or gawkers. the great slytherin captain, the head boy, known by each and every student, bruised and pitiful, put on display like a cautionary tale. he just wanted to crawl to his den and lick his wounds until he was his happy bubbly self again.

you drew a slow breath, then met madam longbottom’s gaze. “he’s head boy,” you said carefully, voice steady. “and… he’s popular. the whole school saw him fall. if he stays here, people will keep coming in, and he won’t get the rest he needs.” you hesitated, but only for a second. “i’ll take him back to the dorm and look after him. i can apply the balm on schedule, make sure he doesn’t move too much. he’ll recover faster somewhere quiet.”

the matron’s mouth tightened, clearly torn, but she glanced at yeonjun, who was already trying—and failing—to mask the shame written in the line of his jaw and the stiffness of his posture. she had seen so many students like this… but you were a head girl and she had no reason to not trust you. and after a long pause, she nodded once. “fine. but i expect to see him tomorrow morning for a check-up. and if he so much as sneezes, you bring him back.” she fixed his shirt on him with a wave of her wrist.

“understood,” you said, already moving to gather his dry clothes and wrap him in a blanket for the trip to the dungeons. you heard yeonjun let out a slow exhale, the closest thing to a ‘thank you’ you could get right now—no complaining, it was more than enough. beomgyu hugged his waist, helping him get up and you exited the hospital wing for the privacy of the slytherin dungeons yeonjun so clearly craved.

beomgyu made sure you were steady and didn’t need extra hands before jogging off, leaving you and yeonjun in front of the entrance to the slytherin common room. the giant metallic serpent slid up to open the door without asking for a password, a rare courtesy for the house’s head students, and you swore you’d never been so grateful for it—you were embarrassingly close to not recalling the password.

yeonjun’s weight grew heavier with every step down the stairs, he kept muttering under his breath—half curses at salazar slytherin for burying the dorm this deep, half pained little grunts he clearly didn’t want you to hear—and by the last turn, his shoulder twitched over your arm like he was two seconds from giving up. you tried to give him some strength by squeezing his hand hanging off your shoulder.

two sixth-years appeared from nowhere and, thank god, helped you drag him up the grand stair to your dormitories. you barely managed a breathless ‘thanks’ before yeonjun sagged against the wall by his door, his head tipping back and eyes fluttering like he was on the edge of passing out. you got the hint and hurried to push the door open, and the second you guided him inside, he staggered to the bed, collapsing with a groan that punched straight through your chest.

you took out all the things madam longbottom gave you, trying to recall instruction to each one—this balm had to be applied to his whole back, torso and arms every four hours even at night; that potion was for when the pain gets unbearable, but it wasn’t the time for the balm yet; this ointment for legs and that one for bruises, both should be applied before bed and after waking up, and half a dozen of other things. you already felt like crying from simply thinking about memorizing at all—your emotions had finally started catching up on you.

yeonjun watched you through half-lidded eyes, too tired to keep them fully open, too focused on you to let them close. he perfectly knew why you avoided quidditch matches, and he knew that your cold head and steady hands wouldn’t last long—you were scared, and pushed it away for the sake of focusing on his stupid ass. gosh, he hated himself for scaring you. but at least now he was in his room and wouldn’t be a bother to anyone anymore. 

the painful groan from yeonjun’s bed pulled you out of your thoughts, and your gaze followed the sound instinctively. he tried to sit up, bracing on his right arm—the sorest one—but it was clearly unsuccessful, and you were by his side in a second, slipping an arm behind his back and another under his elbow. “carefully…” you murmured, guiding him up inch by inch, eyes on his face, twisted with effort, but with your steady pull he finally managed to sit against the headboard, chest rising and falling like he’d just run another lap around the pitch.

“thanks,” yeonjun muttered, voice low and rough even to his own ears, before fumbling with the hem of his shirt. he wanted it off—it clung to his skin, damp with sweat, smelly and annoying, making him feel too hot and sweat even more—but his arms barely lifted halfway before he inhaled sharply and winced. freaking hell… he made another attempt, but your gentle fingers on his wrist stopped him.

“yeonjun,” you whispered, carefully lowering his hand on his lap, thumb brushing the skin softly to get his attention. these days were going to be hellish—that you could already say for sure. “you’re going to tear something if you keep forcing it.”

he groaned, head hung low—he hated this day so much and it was only afternoon, he hated himself for so many things, he just wanted to sleep through these days and wake up healthy and active and happy, not this pathetic mess of a weakness that could do absolutely nothing. he frowned, closing his eyes. “can’t sleep in this,” he said quietly, not fully certain if his voice was so quiet out of shame or exhaustion. “too fucking hot.”

you hesitated for a moment before sighing and placing your knee on the edge of the bed, facing him—just let me help you, idiot. “lean on me,” you mumbled, letting out a soft ‘okay’, when you felt his forehead pressing against your collarbone. your fingers slid under the tight fabric, carefully peeling it up his back and over his shoulders, slow enough not to jolt his sore muscles—even so, he flinched once, muttering a soft curse into your chest. “almost there,” you whispered, helping him lift his arms just enough to slip the shirt over his head.

a sigh of relief escaped yeonjun when the cursed thing was finally off, and he sagged back against the pillows. slightly cool air of his room felt so good on the damp skin of his chest and arms—he was almost sure it lessened the soreness too—and then this soft fabric wiping the sweat off, your touches gentle and lulling and even more pain-killing, and he almost forgot how much of a bother he was for you. it was bad, but your touches felt so good…

you watched his face relax, features softening with relief as he let his eyes finally close, and you felt your own composure slowly breaking down, the walls you’d built around your emotions to keep them away going down—faster each time your gaze caught the dark bruises scattered over his chest and ribs. please, just a little, you begged your own brain, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his trousers before tugging them off. he didn’t show any discomfort and you were glad at least half of his body was okay—despite a few bruises on his thighs. 

yeonjun barely managed to reply with the softest, quietest ‘thank you’ when you told him to rest and said you were going to bring him lunch. he wanted to say you should eat first properly and without rush, but sleep pulled him under, and he only murmured another ‘thank you’ when you covered his legs with a blanket—it started to get colder and you knew what he needed before he asked you. 

you shut the door as quietly as you could, taking a deep breath the moment you stepped out—you couldn’t break here, in the common room. you couldn’t break on your way to the great hall. couldn’t break in yeonjun’s room because he’d feel like shit and might try to comfort you. couldn’t break in your room either, because you simply refused to leave him alone just because you were a freaking crybaby. you’d cry later. somewhen later. you didn’t know when, but not now. 

it was easier said than done, because the moment you stepped out of the common room, you froze—the boys were already there, crowding the corridor like a little welcome to hospital party. soobin barely managing to balance two packages of warm, obviously charmed food, kai with an armful of plushies, and taehyun carrying a wobbly stack of books, and for a second, your throat closed up so tight it almost hurt.

“we, uh… found a two‑for‑one deal,” beomgyu said, grinning, and gestured to the pile like it explained everything. “so, you know. half for yeonjun…” he tilted his chin toward the common room door, “…and half for you.”

it was ridiculous, it was sweet, and it made your chest ache. the food was steaming in the cold dungeon air, enough for dinner too, most probably, and you wondered how badly they begged the elves to give them so much; the plushies were obviously from kai’s collection, carefully chosen for both you and yeonjun; and the books—of course—were exactly the kind you’d curl up with when you were too drained to do anything else and the ones yeonjun would be interested in reading.

they helped you put everything in your charmed bag, promising to come here first thing in the morning to help you take yeonjun to the hospital wing for his check-up—before breakfast, while all the students were asleep. you nodded quickly, blinking too fast, clutching the stripe of one bag like it could ground you—if you stayed here for even one more second, you were going to fall apart completely.

you sniffled a few times, biting your lower lip to keep the tears from spilling, when they caged you in, giving you the warmest group hug imaginable, and as if the hug alone wasn’t enough to undo you, they thanked you for taking care of their older brother, voices soft and sincere. your own came out embarrassingly high and tight when you told them they were the little brothers anyone could ever dream of—and the kind yeonjun had always deserved and wanted.

returning felt ridiculous when you left not so long ago, but you didn't want to leave yeonjun alone for too long and he most probably was hungry and needed proper nutrition to heal. you expected to see him confused—you would be confused too—but it was replaced by disbelief and gratitude when you told him you didn't have to go anywhere, because the boys had brought all of it and waited for you by the entrance. 

yeonjun watched you unpack the bag—plushies first, then a neat pile of books, and finally the mountain of food that made his room smell like the great hall—and his nose itched. sometimes he wondered how many lives he must’ve saved in another lifetime to deserve people like you five in this one. and if he’d ever managed to give even half of it back—he really hoped he did.

he flinched when your fingers brushed his shoulder, and you froze, mumbling an apology before you could stop yourself—you’d been careful to avoid the bruises, but maybe even the untouched skin ached. yeonjun shook his head, the motion small, reassuring you without words, and that tiny mercy let you ease him upright again, tucking a cushion behind his back.

you opened the packages for the both of you, settling on the mattress next to him—sitting in the armchair next to the bed would feel like a damn hospital—and your eyes fluttered shut at how delicious the food was. were you really this hungry? you opened your eyes to see if yeonjun was just as happy—well, frowning in anger at how tasty it was—but he hadn’t got a bite yet, his hold on the spoon… uncertain. 

yeonjun did feel anger—at how weak and pathetic he was. he couldn’t even hold the fucking spoon properly, fingers sore from how tight he was gripping on the broom for hours and catching and throwing the quaffle again and again. and the spoon was still empty. if it was filled with hot soup… people could survive without food for a few days, right? he could just drink water and maybe ask for something he could drink through a straw like smoothie or potage or—

it was almost like his overthinking was written on his face for you—and you put your food away, turning to face him, and taking the bowl and the spoon from his hands without saying a word. you stirred the soup, getting some with the spoon, before looking at him, waiting for some kind of… permission? you weren’t sure what you were waiting for, but, perhaps, the way he lowered his gaze and pressed his lips tight as if accepting the situation was the only permission you could get.

“i’m so fucking pathetic, aren’t i?” yeonjun muttered and chuckled bitterly before he thought twice about it, regretting the words the moment they left his mouth. fuck, he only made everything even worse… and the way you paused, meeting his eyes over the steaming spoon, before lowering your gaze again to cool the soup with an easy breath, made a red-hot shame run up his neck. he felt humiliated—and worse, he was doing it to himself.

you brought the spoon to his lips, careful not to spill any, face carefully neutral despite the lump in your throat. you didn’t trust your voice now, perfectly aware how tight and broken it’d be, and you didn’t know what was worse—letting him hear you like this or letting him believe the words he said. except… the answer was obvious the moment the question was born in your head. “you’re not pathetic,” you mumbled, swallowing thickly. “you carried the whole match on your shoulders.”

and now i can’t even eat on my own, yeonjun thought, his self-loath bitter on his tongue, overshadowing the taste of the soup. he hated being weak, hated being a bother, being a dead weight, hated making people waste time on him—he always disappeared until he was back to his usual self, hiding the worst of his days from everyone. it seemed to be nearly impossible with you.

and it was harder with you too—being like this. yeonjun didn’t want to think of you as someone who believed men couldn’t be anything but strong and tough whatever happened—after all, it was never a problem with the boys. but… that was just it. they were boys to you, and he was a man. the man who was sitting here weak, letting you feed him like a child. but what if him being like this… he would understand if you never found him arousing after this. wouldn’t be able to blame you.

you hated how quiet he got—it wasn’t ‘i’m so engrossed in eating that i can’t talk’, it was ‘i barely notice that i’m eating in the first place, because i’m thinking of something else entirely’. and he certainly wasn’t thinking of how great today’s match went. “i don’t know much about quidditch in hogwarts…” you started uncertainly, trying to keep your hand steady. “but you’ve scored so many… more than ten, i think,” you muttered, hoping you didn’t sound too stupid. “sounds close to hogwarts record or something.”

“fifteen,” yeonjun mumbled almost as if he was ashamed of it now. “or sixteen, if they count the last one,” he added, even quieter. “the current record is fifteen.”

your lips formed an ‘o’, eyes widening—sixteen? no surprise he was so exhausted now. “you’re basically the reason why slytherin won,” you whispered, still having a hard time believing it—it was close to inhuman. choi yeonjun was exceptional, but this was a superhuman kind of exceptional. usually he’d be so smug and proud of himself, and the way he wasn’t now was… heartbreaking. even if you used to roll your eyes at this. honestly, you hoped he’d be back to his normal cocky self soon.

yeonjun wasn’t sure how to reply, so he didn’t. deep inside he was proud—of course he was, he’d just set a new record—but it felt muted, smothered under the weight of his aching body and the stupid shame of needing you like this. it was hard to feel like a record-breaking chaser when he couldn’t even lift a spoon on his own. he hoped the pride would come back later—he hoped, more than that, that you’d look at him like this again.

you finished the lunch in silence—you tried to stop yourself from hugging yeonjun because, perhaps, it wasn’t what he needed now and because you knew you’d most probably break in his arms yourself, and he tried to not focus on how pathetic he felt now, not just being taken care of, but being unable to take care of you. he tried to do the bare minimum, though, and when he finished his soup and you tried to get up and take him to shower, he told you to eat first.

yeonjun was surprised when you started undressing too—he expected that you would just wash his back when it was needed like a nurse or something or even leave him to do it alone completely, but you joining him… you didn’t think he was able to get it up now, did you?..

but, honestly, you weren’t sure you could get wet either—you were tired, on the verge of crying, and the situation itself wasn’t something arousing in general. you simply didn’t want him to feel like you were treating him as some patient by washing him while staying outside and dressed. you tried to joke about him getting an opportunity to grope your ass a little while you washed his chest, and maybe it came out a little dry, he still chuckled—tired, but not bitter, and that felt like a win.

yeonjun rested his forehead against you, heavy and warm, and when you had to tilt your head down to rinse him, he shifted just enough to keep the contact—barely there, but still grounding. his head, his whole body, felt so heavy now… maybe a bath would’ve been better, but it would take too long to prepare, and he’d still have to rinse off under the shower anyway, and he just wanted to get back to bed and sleep. 

your fingers moved slowly over his skin, careful where the bruises darkened and bloomed, trying not to think about them too much. he didn’t flinch, didn’t even twitch when you touched them—just breathed, quiet and shallow, like anything more would be too much right now. the water ran in steady streams down his chest, curling around each muscle, catching in the dips and lines before sliding away, and you followed it with your palms, washing the sweat of the match off.

he stayed silent. his forehead stayed against you, maybe just for balance, maybe because it was easier than lifting his head—he wasn’t exactly sure, but he was too tired of thinking for now, too sleepy too. every so often, he let out a low breath that barely reached a sigh—absolutely uncontrolled—and felt bad each time your eyes snapped to his to see if it was one of pain. “just feels good,” he whispered, assuring you.

you reached for the towel when you were done and gently dabbed at the edge of one bruise—his arm tensed briefly under your hand, hiss escaping through clenched teeth. were water and slick gel making it so much better for him?.. “sorry,” you whispered, even though he hadn’t said a word, and he hummed—not a protest, not forgiveness, just some kind of… ‘it’s okay’. “i’ll try to make it quick and careful.”

once this torture for the both of you was done, you helped him step out carefully, letting him lean against the cool tile for a second while you wrapped the towel around his shoulders. his hair was glued to his face and dripping onto the floor, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to fix it himself, but the effort never came—you brushed them back carefully, opening his forehead and cheeks and dabbing his skin gently. 

yeonjun leaned his cheek in your palm as if it could help him stay upright, which was getting harder and harder with each passing second. his eyes fluttered shut for a moment—your touch was so lulling… or maybe fatigue and exhaustion finally started catching up on him, when he wasn't hungry and his skin wasn't annoyingly sticky anymore. 

you felt the faint weight of him giving in—trusting you to hold him up, even just like this. “almost done,” you murmured, moving the towel to catch the stray drops sliding down his neck. his hum was barely audible, more a vibration against your skin than a real sound, and his head followed your hand when you reached for his other cheek. it was strange, seeing him like this—not because of him, but because of you. you knew yeonjun could be soft and vulnerable, but it surprised you he was like that with you.

he let you guide him without a word, muscles too heavy to fight you, brain too foggy to care. the towel was warm and your hands were warmer, and every place you touched seemed to anchor him, keep him from swaying, and he should’ve been embarrassed—he was embarrassed—but it was buried under the weight pressing on his whole body. when you accio-ed a tank top and coaxed his arms into it one by one, his fingers twitched in shame and in holding himself back from trying to help you.

yeonjun hated that he couldn’t even help you pull it over his head, hated that all he could do was stand there, swaying slightly, letting you dress him like a kid. but when the soft cotton settled over his shoulders, when your fingers smoothed it down his chest and tugged it gently to sit right, he thought maybe… maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to let himself be taken care of. just this once. by you. even if he still preferred being the one to take care of everyone. 

the walk to the bed felt longer than it was—yeonjun leaned on you just enough to keep his balance, feet heavy against the floor, but still trying to do as much as he could on his own. when you finally lowered him onto the mattress, his whole body seemed to sink into it all at once, shoulders loose, eyes half-lidded, and the thought of when you’d managed to change the sheets flickered for only a second.. he felt you tuck the blanket over him, letting the warmth settle around his damp skin, and exhaled softly. “warm,” he mumbled.

you whispered a soft ‘good’, fingers brushing hair away from his forehead, as you told him to rest and said you’d be here and would wake him up in a few hours when it was time to put the balm on. yeonjun murmured something in response, but you were almost certain he didn’t understand a thing already, simply reacting to your voice—for the better, you thought. it meant he could sleep.

but when you finally sat down—on another bed of course, not wanting to disturb his sleep—you realized you had no idea what to do in these few hours. you tried working on the reports, tried to continue drawing the graphs for the monthly summary and evaluating the progress since the previous one, tried to read one of the books the boys had brought, tried redoing your homework, but your concentration was slipping on each one, head filling with nothing. 

it felt like you’d pressed pause on the world for these few hours—because you had to press pause on yourself. your thoughts, your feelings, everything had to freeze if you didn’t want to break down right here. it wasn’t so hard after a while—the image of yeonjun’s fall finally stopped looping in your head like a broken record, and he was sleeping now, safe and sound, just half a dozen feet away.

you flipped the page again, eyes skimming over the words without catching a single one. the book felt heavy in your hands, but putting it down meant doing nothing at all, and doing nothing would let your thoughts slip back to the pitch—so you let your gaze slide over the same paragraph twice, three times, the tick of the clock and the soft rasp of yeonjun’s breathing filling the room.

sometimes, a soft groan coming from his bed caught your attention, and you found yourself watching him shift—maybe because he could stir awake and might need help, maybe because it was the only thing happening in the world that seemed to freeze in time. everything was alive outside, had to be—it was a sunday afternoon after a truly legendary match like this—but in here time was thick and slow, holding the two of you in a bubble where nothing else could reach.

when the clock on the wall finally showed five, you got up from the bed, sighing—finally. you walked up to yeonjun’s bed and reached out, touching his shoulder lightly, murmuring his name. his eyelids fluttered, heavy and reluctant, and he let out a low hum in response. “it’s five,” you whispered, as if the hour mattered at all. “time for the balm.”

yeonjun blinked at you, not yet awake enough to comprehend what you wanted, but still sitting up with your help and a small wince. you turned him with a soft hand on his arm, and he let you, his movements sluggish, eyes half-lidded. he didn’t complain when you sat behind him, moved tank top stripes down his shoulders, gentle fingertips spreading the warm ointment across skin already spotted with bruises.

his mind, either too sleepy or trying to ignore discomfort of even the softest touches on the sore muscles, started wandering. he’d been the one taking care of you since that conversation in october, when he found out how bad you neglected yourself. he never mentioned it to you, just doing everything quietly or playfully, and now he wondered if you noticed these little things.

yeonjun kept refilling your water bottle, always checking if you left it behind and taking it whenever you did to hand it back later; snatching the books and papers from you when you tried to read, do homework, or write reports while eating so you could actually finish your meals; tugging you to bed under the excuse of being ‘horny,’ only to fuck you so well you could only sleep after; sneaking little healthy snacks into your bag in the morning, content when he saw you munching on them throughout the day.

honestly, yeonjun didn’t even need you to notice—he never did it for that, it was just what he did, what felt right. but now, with your fingers pressing balm into his shoulder blades, careful as if he might break, he wondered if this was how you’d felt then and if you were now feeling how he always felt. he didn’t need the thanks, but the quiet weight of being cared for this way made him think of all the times he’d done it for you without expecting anything in return. 

your quiet question pulled yeonjun out of his thoughts—‘can i take your tank top off?’—and he had to stop himself from tugging it off himself, limiting his movements to a nod and a soft ‘of course’. he tried not to hiss or twitch when you peeled the tight fabric up his back—if he couldn’t take care of you properly now, he’d do the best he could to make taking care of him easier for you. 

and you… you weren’t sure you could think about anything except making sure you weren’t hurting him in any way. and to not think about the way the bruises on his back were going to look tomorrow—the biggest ones, already treated in the hospital wing, were an ugly mix of red and violet now, edges blotchy and swollen in a way that made your stomach twist. his chest was probably better, but ribs… are you always that beaten up?.. is every match like this?

you were right—yeonjun looked better from the front. most of the bruises were still dark pink, not seen ‘severe enough’ by madam longbottom to put the balm on them right after the match—just a few on his ribs. for now. tomorrow morning, after you put the balm on each one before sleep, all of them would look awful—feel worse too of course, and you hoped you’d be able to be even more tender by the time it happened.

yeonjun quietly asked you if you were done with his back and if he could lie down—it still wasn’t easy to stay upright even if he was sitting, and it’d also probably be easier for you to spread the balm if he wasn’t hunching, wouldn’t it?.. you nodded and helped him shift gently, careful to avoid the sore spots when your hands slipped under his arms. he groaned as his weight sank into the mattress again, relief tugging at his expression even if his brows stayed furrowed from the dull throb running under his skin.

he closed his eyes as you dipped your fingers back into the balm, starting with his chest—your touch was featherlight, but the area was tender and raw in places, and he still flinched sometimes, hissing through clenched teeth. each time, your thumb brushed soothingly over a clearer patch of skin as if trying to soothe him, and he breathed out like he was apologizing for reacting at all.

you didn’t speak—didn’t trust your voice not to break. there was something too vulnerable about seeing him like this—quiet and hurting, too tired to pretend he wasn’t. you weren’t sure you were even allowed to see him like this. or if anyone was. he didn’t say anything either, not even when you reached his ribs. the only sounds in the still room were the soft sound of balm being worked into skin, and his breaths, uneven but not pained.

it took longer than it should’ve, maybe because you were being too careful, or maybe because neither of you wanted to rush this—yeonjun was glad it took so much time, if he had to be honest. it felt nice despite the occasional reaction of his bruises and sore muscles. but eventually your fingers slowed, and he opened his eyes again. “thank you,” he murmured. voice scratchy, low, already tinted with sleep—or still. “you’re really good at this.”

you looked up at him, lips pressing into a small, shaky line. “you’re really bad at not terrifying me,” you muttered, shutting the lid of the balm and putting it away. you watched yeonjun smile weakly, almost guilty, before letting his eyes flutter shut. you both knew he didn’t actually regret it, and would do it all again—score sixteen goals, get crushed mid-air, win for his team, hurt for days. was it so obvious that you’d do all this again, too?..

it barely took yeonjun any time to fall asleep again—your steady breathing as you lingered on his bed for a while, cross-legged near his side, one hand resting lightly over the blanket where his thigh was. maybe the warmth helped, maybe the balm was working, or maybe he was just still exhausted down to his bones. either way, he slipped under fast, not even realizing he did.

the next thing yeonjun knew, the enchanted ceiling was already dark, passing clouds covering dull stars occasionally, and… and the scent of food was curling around the room. real food. warm. familiar. spicy but soft. he blinked slowly, still half-asleep, and shifted on the bed with a quiet groan. something tugged deep in his chest at the smell—his mom’s doenjang stew. what the hell…? 

a soft clink came from the desk, and when he turned his head, you were sitting by it, scribbling down something—maybe homework, maybe monthly summary—and there was a box too, placed next to your notes. clean container, steam still trapped under the lid, a spoon and chopstics lying across it, sticky rice in a bowl, chicken too, crisp and golden—exactly how he liked it. home-made, undoubtedly. had you told his mom…?

the groan behind you made you jerk and you turned to look at yeonjun for barely a second before rushing to him to help him sit up. he murmured a soft ‘thank you’, but his eyes were still glued to the container on the desk, his brows in a frown. oh. “haven’t told her,” you assured him quickly, no need to hear the question. “said you wanted home-made food, but didn’t want to bother her.”

yeonjun replied with a quiet ‘oh’, still not exactly sure how to feel about it. if home-made food didn’t work as the best medicine that ever existed… but he hated bothering his mom—he was a freaking adult now, a grown up man, he had food in hogwarts, but his mom had still given up part of her sunday cooking for him. and while he was grateful you went so far for him without him asking… he didn’t know how he felt about it.

your eyes searched his face, hoping to see something except this… disappointment? you felt your nose itch, and you turned around to grab the container, trying to distract yourself from it. “it’s, uh… we made it together,” you said quietly, probably in an attempt to fill the heavy silence. “had to use my time-turner and it was absolutely ridiculous. i called her when another i was already there and—” you shut your mouth to physically stop yourself from rambling. “just wanted to say if it’s bad, it’s on me…” you finished quietly, not looking at him. 

it had been ridiculous. you left shortly after yeonjun fell asleep, going to your room only to take your time-turner—you didn’t want to leave him for too long, and cooking something might take you enough time. you knew it wasn’t exactly the ‘emergency’ time-turners were given to you for, but… you were taking care of your fellow head boy, and needed to get him back on his feet as soon as possible, didn’t you? just in case anyone asked. 

you had to explain it to professor mcgonagall, because the only fireplace in hogwarts connected to the floo network was in her office—you sincerely thought she would send you back and tell you to stop doing nonsense, but she only inquired if yeonjun was feeling better and if you needed one or two days off the classes (but not off the head students’ duties, of course). thankfully, you already met all the requirements to do so on your own.  

so you flooed to your house, knowing it’d be empty, and then dialed mrs. choi to ask her if you could visit and cook something for yeonjun—you could probably do it on your own, but you wanted it to be exactly what he used to and loved. but before you could even say hello, she laughed warmly, saying ‘yes’, and you realized you were a complete idiot. she told you that you were already there—had come about an hour ago—and you were almost done. she added that she’d make you use the fireplace in their house for no accidental meeting between you and… you. 

it was so, so awkward, stepping into the house again after using the time-turner—even if mrs. choi didn’t know what had happened yet. you’d basically apologized on behalf of your future self, stumbling over words, and she’d only laughed, warm and amused, like it was the most adorable accident in the world—not even a little surprised, like she expected no less from you.

she coaxed you into the kitchen with a smile, already chatting about what you could make, pulling ingredients down as if you’d been planning this for days instead of improvising time travel, and when the call came nearly an hour later and she picked up with a knowing glint in her eyes, the two of you laughed together, full and soft.

maybe it was the first time in hours you didn’t feel like you were barely holding yourself together—like your own feelings weren’t pressing down so hard on your ribs you could hardly breathe. even if mrs. choi didn’t know what the last few hours had taken from you—you’d only told her about slytherin’s win, not the cost of it—she still wrapped you in the warmth and love of a mother, like it was second nature, like you were her child too.

and she shared everything—every little trick behind the doenjang stew yeonjun loved so much. secrets spoken between stirrings and simmerings, like she was handing you pieces of his—your—childhood in the form of spice ratios and timing, secrets from the side you’d never even thought about. and you listened like it was gospel, memorizing every little thing as if you’d ever need it. 

she hugged you goodbye by the fireplace in their living room, reminding you that you could always send her an owl if yeonjun was misbehaving and promising to scold him—if you didn’t do it yourself, of course—and kissed your forehead, reminding you to stay healthy. you were already in hogwarts, when you realized the bag was suspiciously heavy—of course there was your favourite food. you hadn’t even noticed her cooking it. eat well, sweetheart. you’re always welcome here. love, mom choi ♡

you couldn’t pretend you didn’t linger in your room a little longer after slipping the time-turner back where it belonged. you needed a moment—just a few minutes to breathe through the sting behind your eyes, to let your chest loosen after being filled with so much warmth and softness you weren’t sure you deserved. fifteen years of silence and distance hadn’t changed how much she welcomed you—and that… that was hard to carry without breaking a little.

but you couldn’t let yourself cry—so you stayed just long enough to steady your breathing, splashed cold water on your face to hide the redness, and returned to his room, hoping that even if he was awake, it’d be too dark, or maybe his eyesight would be still too blurry, or you had done a good job and it wasn’t so obvious. he was still asleep, though—of course, he was. for him, only twenty minutes had passed since you’d left, and as expected, he hadn’t moved an inch.

you sat quietly at the desk, setting the food beside you, and reached for the monthly summary again, willing your brain to refocus. it didn’t work very well at first—your thoughts kept drifting back to the kitchen, to mrs. choi’s warm laughter, to the way she packed your favorite food without saying a word. but eventually the numbers and dates took over, and your feelings and emotions ended up hidden behind another wall.

and then came the quiet groan from the bed—barely a sound, but you heard it immediately. you were at his side in seconds, already helping him sit up, already murmuring some soft apology as you guided the pillows behind his back again. and now you were in front of him, holding a spoon as steadily as you could despite the nervous, guilty flutter in your chest; the container sat open on the nightstand, and you waited quietly while he took the first bite of the stew.

yeonjun knew it wasn’t quite the one from his childhood the moment it touched his tongue. made by his mom—yes; but also… with a touch of someone else. of someone who perhaps knew his current preferences—or at least assumed them. it was spicier, had more garlic and a little more tofu—not ruining it, but actually making it more like how he would make it for himself now. but still tasting like home. the sweetest, warmest home, where his heart belonged.

you weren’t sure if you heard right when yeonjun said he loved it—you’d been so scared of ruining it, even though you kept asking mrs. choi whether adding more of this or less of that would improve the stew or only mess it up. you trusted her—of course you did. you just didn’t trust yourself enough. but he wasn’t lying—it was obvious from the little ‘angry at how tasty it is’ frown on his face, even through how sleepy he still was.

surprisingly, yeonjun still wasn’t fully awake despite having slept for more than six hours already—actually, it was probably making him even sleepier. he wasn’t sure if it was the pain-dulling effect of the balm working, or everything was just muted because his bed was so cozy, the taste of the stew you made was still lingering on his tongue, and your touches were so gentle, but he barely felt anything, his eyes closing even when he was sitting. 

at some point you had to tilt his chin back up gently, as his head started dipping, and you weren’t merciless enough to make him stay up, so you helped him lay back down the very first moment you could, finishing the treatment with him already drifting off. his fingers were still tight around your thigh, and you waited for the grip to loosen before getting up. first day was over. just approximately two more, and he’d be back on his feet like nothing had happened. 

you were going to work on the monthly summary a little more, but the moment yeonjun’s breathing evened out, you felt your own exhaustion wash over you, fatigue filling your limbs—so you only cleaned everything up quickly, considering leaving the empty food containers for tomorrow. but not wanting to deal with the dried scraps tomorrow morning had won and you reached for the wand—you definitely weren’t in the state for wandless magic now.

the containers and cutlery were clean in no time, and you sighed in relief, lifting the wand to your eyes. “see, junière? we’re—” you felt that little cold drop in your stomach—the trinket was gone. your fingertips caressed the end of the wand as if it was still there, just invisible, but no—the end was empty, no hint of anything ever had been there. no no no—

you looked around yourself, frantically patting the blanket in case it was underneath—nothing. you checked yeonjun’s bed as carefully as you could to not stir him awake, even though your fingers already started trembling—nothing too. pockets, your bag, desk, papers, every bedside table, even empty and clean containers—it was gone. ‘accio junière’, ‘accio trinket’, ‘accio charm’, ‘accio ghost mouse’—nothing worked. it wasn’t here. 

professor mcgonagall’s office? no—she’d notice. yeonjun’s house? his mom would’ve found it. hogwarts halls? you were holding him up the whole time, never touched the wand. hospital wing? same thing. the path from the quidd—fuck. when you yanked the wand up to catch yeonjun, something snagged—stuck—and you’d jerked it free without a second thought. fuck.

you grabbed the robe, half-shoving your shoes on as you were already moving, yanking the door open and flying down the stairs—nearly missing a step, catching yourself by some miracle, heart pounding hard enough to shake your ribs. you didn’t even see if the common room was empty—most probably not, it was barely past nine, too early for everyone to be asleep—you were already at the far side, taking the exit steps two, three at a time, barely feeling them under your feet.

the sky was clear—at least it wasn’t raining—but it was no use on the pitch where none of the hogwarts lights reached. the darkness here felt heavier, swallowing the faint glow of your wand almost instantly and swallowing you whole too. your breath curled in the air as you stepped onto the grass—or what was grass when it was summer—now it was thick mud, uneven and slick, sucking at your shoes with every step.

you forced yourself to move quickly, eyes scanning the ground even though the trinket could be anywhere—buried, half-covered, reflecting nothing. the light from the ‘lumos’ was trembling just like your hand, your fingers were numb before you’d even realized you’d stopped moving them, clutching the wand tighter just to keep feeling in them. cold air was sinking through your clothes and skin, wrapping around your bones, making your teeth chatter. 

of course you tried ‘accio’—you called the trinket any way you could come up with, but it was no use. you just prayed it was stuck somewhere and couldn’t move to you, because if it was gone for good—you shook your head, returning to the head students’ area. no. no, it was somewhere here. it had to be. who would need some weird oddly specific trinket? who would care about it after a match like today’s one even if they saw it?

you looked around the bench again. on it. on the backrest. under it too. you looked a dozen feet around it, trying to desperately ‘accio’ it, going blind to see the little glint in the mud—nothing. nothing-nothing-nothing. your hands were shaking, breathing was getting harder as if someone—cruel realization, probably—was tightening a corset around you, your vision was getting blurry, but you still tried to hold yourself together. 

the spells left your mouth in stumbles—half-formed, too fast, too sharp. the words were right, but the magic wasn’t listening. the wand was still warm in your palm, but the glow felt pitiful now—weak, mocking. magic had found things thousands of times before, pulled books from shelves, cups from across the room, caught a quaffle mid-drop—fuck, you’d even caught yeonjun with it today. but now, it had turned on you. useless. absolutely useless. disappointing. 

you tucked it away almost violently, before the trembling could make you drop it. you weren’t even sure if you were mad at this piece of wood, your magic or yourself, but when you were near the bench—where, you were sure, you dropped the charm—your knees hit the mud with a wet slap, cold seeping instantly through the fabric, and you dug your hands into the earth like you could dig through the whole pitch if you had to.

clumps of wet grass caught in your nails, mud splattered your sleeves and soaked your pants fully down from your knees, but you didn’t care—if you had to turn over every inch of this cursed field until your fingers bled, you would. even if you couldn’t see from the tears stubbornly filling your eyes, even if you were freezing, even if your hands were shaking, even if you were already sobbing, even if you could barely breathe anymore. 

fucking quidditch. you hated it. you already hated it before, now you had one more reason to loathe it. the day was shitty. the weather was shitty—drizzle, and clouds, and sun, and then drizzle again, and cold as fuck. the crowd was loud and shitty. the players were shit in general—beating each other senseless with bludgers, bodies slamming midair like it was some noble sport, as if anyone in their right mind should enjoy playing it—even watching that. you’d had to watch yeonjun fall— fucking hell. yeonjun.

you had to wake up in three hours to put the balm on him. and then in seven hours again. you had to get up early and bring him breakfast. and feed him. and help him shower. and then balm. and bruises ointment. and then watch him in case he needed something but refused to bother you. and then deal with the lunch—thank god the boys brought enough food for two meals. and then feed him again. and balm. and ointment. and not mess up the order, time or purpose.

no, you weren’t angry with him. not at all. you just couldn’t believe you were such a fucking dumbass, running to the quidditch pitch in regular clothes and a robe, digging through half-frozen, half-wet mud with your fingers, sitting in it, crying and sobbing like some pathetic idiot over something you could just deal with tomorrow morning—when it wasn’t dark as fuck—while yeonjun needed you to take care of him before he decided to do everything himself and made it worse. and you’d already left him alone for too long…

you threw a rock under your hand against the bench leg with a frustrated groan, the clink swallowed instantly by the mud. you pushed yourself up, knees stiff, hands slick with cold. the pitch didn’t look any less empty when you weren’t kneeling in it. just wider. blacker. heavier. you turned away before you could think twice, shoving your frozen fingers into your pockets and walking fast, almost too fast, toward the castle lights that never seemed close enough.

yeonjun wasn't asleep—he had woken up a little while ago, found you left somewhere, but was too tired to think much about it; you might as well be patrolling despite him having asked beomgyu to take over or went to your room to take something. honestly, he had no doubts you'd be sleeping here—it didn't cross his mind even as if it was obvious. and it was? so he accio-ed his glasses, a parchment and a quill charmed to write whatever he said, and started “writing down” directions for every balm, ointment and potion madam longbottom had given you.

he was almost done when the door opened, getting his attention and here you were—toeing your shoes off almost angrily, shaking your robe off your shoulders sharply and leaving it where it fell. yeonjun blinked, his gaze sliding up and down your body—mud on your sleeves and knees, dirt and… grass?.. covering your hands and even stuck under the nails. what in the world—he chuckled. “why do you look like you were playing in mud like a little cute piglet?”

you didn’t even glance at him—you were afraid if you did, anger would vanish and your face would crumble all over again. he wasn’t supposed to be awake—you hoped he wouldn’t be, that you could sneak back in, wash off, lay next to him and deal with it all in the morning like it never happened. but he was here, glasses on, voice tired but playful, and it hit you like a slap how safe he looked, tucked into the blankets, trying to be helpful—it almost made your throat close up again.

yeonjun’s eyes widened in surprise and worry as he saw your face—eyes still wet and puffy, brows frowned, teeth sinking into your lower lip. he watched you rub the back of your sleeve across your cheek as fast as you could, tried again with your palm—not staining the skin with mud by some miracle—and he started moving, but you were at his side in two steps, pressing gently on his shoulder before he could go any further. 

“don’t,” you muttered, trying not to sniffle. “just stay down,” you whispered, letting out a shaky exhale when he laid back down without trying to argue. his eyes searched yours, but you turned away, busying your hands with the containers, the wand, anything. “just…” you started before he could ask and took a deep breath, trying to make your voice more stable. “nothing. i lost… lost junière on the quidditch pitch.” 

yeonjun couldn't ignore the way your voice broke a little on the last words, and he felt ashamed because he was surprised you cared so much about… a trinket? a charm that you only had for two days—less even. he felt strangely warm, even if it was obviously wrong, given you went out to look for it in the dark and cold. “it wont go anywhere,” he said simply, watching you fidget with papers now. “we’ll find it in the morning. i’ll help.”

“you can’t even sit up without help,” you mumbled, the words leaving your mouth before you could think them through. shit. “i’m sorry,” you said quietly, mentally cursing yourself—way to go, baby. what else you’re going to say? “i didn’t mean—”

but he only laughed—well, mostly chuckled, because, if he had to be honest, sometimes even just talking wasn’t easy. “it’s okay, you’re right,” yeonjun assured warmly, sinking back against the pillows with a soft, pleased groan and sending the parchment and the quill away. “will be moral support then. from here,” he added even softer. “i’m good at that,” he sing-songed, watching your shoulders relax—even just a little. “you should take a shower and sleep. i’ve made a treatment checklist for two more days.”

you breathed out a quiet ‘thank you’ eyes fluttering shut just for a moment—you were so, so tired. absolutely exhausted. drained to the bone. you weren’t even sure you’d be able to wash yourself properly, but you had to at least wash mud off your hands and face—in case you got it there—and, preferably, throw your dirty clothes into a corner to deal with it later. just thinking about it was making your limbs heavier.

it was the quickest and, probably, the most useless showering known to mankind—but it was showering, and you weren’t covered in mud anymore, therefore you were proud of yourself and deserved to fall into the bed and pretend the day didn’t exist. except, you wished it was this easy.

you barely registered the faint tap of his quill on the bedside table before the checklist landed on your lap—makeshift alarm clock you supposed. your eyes burned from being dragged out of whatever shallow sleep you’d managed, refusing to open properly, and yeonjun was already turning his head toward you, lids heavy, voice raspy, asking you if you could skip just this one—this low ‘baby’ would be so hot if your mind was working. 

you yawned so wide your jaw cracked. “i wish,” you muttered, already fumbling for the balm, as you helped him sit up, “madam longbottom will kill me.” he made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, tipping his head back to let you work. your hands weren’t as steady as they should be, and his breathing hitched once when you pressed too hard, but neither of you cared enough to comment.

it was worse when it was five in the morning—colder, darker, the dormitory so still you could hear every creak of the bed as you sat up. yeonjun didn’t even open his eyes until your fingers were on his shoulder—he rasped a low ‘already?’, getting ready to sit up, and you echoed the word as an answer. there was no conversation this time, just the slow rhythm of you working the balm in and his muffled sighs—you capped the jar the moment it was done, shoved it back on the table, and half-collapsed beside him on top of the covers.

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yeonjun came back downstairs quietly—he didn’t even check the time when you left, head already preoccupied with other thoughts, so he had no idea how long you both were absent. everyone was already sitting at the table, but he could almost feel the chill of february air with his skin—perhaps, they got back inside not so long ago. he quickly adjusted his hair, still messy from your fingers, and took his place like nothing had happened.

but before he could pour himself some tea and grab a few yakgwas to enjoy dessert after… well, enjoying a little better dessert that was sleeping in his room right now, a little chuckle from his left made him pause. sungjun leaned back in the chair, arms on his chest, a stupid smirk on his face. oh god, yeonjun thought, fingers tightening around the cup, just fucking eat something, just stuff your damn mouth with anything. he’d already ruined everything with you once because he was too foolish and listened to sungjun, and now he didn’t want to hear a thing. 

“you’ve been gone for a while, junnie,” sungjun noted, looking at yeonjun with a tilted head and an annoying smirk—as if they were still seven and poking at him was fun. “did she need you to tuck her in too?” 

yeonjun didn’t look at him—just exhaled once. what was wrong with him? neither yeonjun nor you were blind, you both saw the way every family member who knew about your past threw glances at you two before looking away as if nothing had happened—everyone had enough common sense to stay quiet, but it didn’t seem to be the case with sungjun. “she wasn’t feeling well,” he said finally, voice flat. “i stayed until she fell asleep in case she needed anything.”

sungjun hummed, grabbing a yakgwa, and that should’ve been it—but of course it wasn’t. just a few seconds later—one bite, another small hum—and he looked at yeonjun. “you two are seriously friends again, huh? or maybe more?”

yeonjun’s eyes lifted—slowly. no smile, no sharp comeback, just that look—dry, unimpressed, a little warning in it. he didn’t give a fuck sungjun was older, and the only reason yeonjun was still holding back from openly telling him to fuck off was moms of you two watching him now. “maybe we both grew up,” he replied, thanking every god above that you weren’t here now to listen to this bullshit. “maybe you should try it sometime too.”

sungjun raised his hands in defense—he probably got what he wanted. “okay-okay, whatever. no need to bite this hard, lover boy,” he laughed, shrugging at the way yeonjun’s mom looked at him—unimpressed, displeased, with a warning. he could be twenty-two years old man, but he was her son and the topic wasn’t something to tease about. 

but yeonjun wasn’t paying attention already; neither to ‘lover boy’, nor to his mom’s worried gaze on him. his right side felt cold, empty, lonely now, and his mind was already too deep in the painful memories. back then it hadn’t felt just empty—it’d felt like half of him was torn away brutally and he’d never feel whole or happy again. he didn’t know epithets like this back then, but now, more than fifteen years later he did, and he wanted nothing more than to hold this boy and tell him this pain wouldn’t last forever.

yeonjun knew he wouldn’t believe it, though. how could a seven years old boy believe it, when it was his birthday and the chair next to him was empty? just like it was now. the same living room, same people, just fifteen years younger—no friends from school yet—same table and chairs, same empty chair to his right, your name carved on the underside by his little hands and a key. his mom had grounded him for the whole month for doing it—you stayed with him in his room for the whole month without tv or dendy, refusing to have fun without him. 

he didn’t let anyone sit there, hoping you’d come—he didn’t need a present or even a postcard, he only needed to see you there; he was going to give you the whole cake and all of his presents the moment you entered the room and hugged him. you didn’t come—even when he stubbornly waited until midnight, tears dried on his cheeks, but eyes watering again, when he realized you really wouldn’t come. he cried himself to sleep that night, no silly handmade postcard from you under his pillow. 

yeonjun never let anyone sit there. not next year. not the one after. not until his sixteenth birthday that he celebrated in hogwarts—for the first time away from home. it was your chair, your place; and even when there were other celebrations, other family dinners and he couldn’t keep an empty chair at the table, he always hid this one, never letting anyone else use it. 

he never realized how much this stupid claim of a chair meant to him, not even when earlier this day his mom asked him to bring it to the table, mentioning that she and his dad had left it in the storeroom once yeonjun started spending more holidays in hogwarts than home—just so no one could use it even accidentally. your presence at the table to his right felt so natural even after fifteen years, that he only noticed how much your absence meant, when you weren’t there. like a ghost in the empty chair. 

the next thought hit yeonjun so hard that he felt the pull in his chest, lump forming in his throat before it even became something palpable—could you spend your birthdays the same? could you keep a chair to your left empty—the chair you’d so foolishly marked as his the same way, being his little copy-cat as you always were? could you wait for him until midnight every year, hoping he’d come and hug you and be friends again like nothing ever happened? could you cry yourself to sleep too? had he made your birthdays just as awful as his were without meaning to?

he was so blinded by his own suffering that he never realized how badly he was hurting you, and suddenly the decade-long pain he thought he’d left behind years ago was choking him harder than ever. yeonjun wasn’t an idiot, he knew it couldn’t be easy for you, but even thinking about how much pain he possibly caused you by his own hands—too stubborn, too cowardly, too blind—made him want to run away just to avoid causing more pain. 

yeonjun barely noticed the dinner coming to an end—he stood up, saw everyone off, maybe even with a warm smile and even warmer words, started cleaning up the table—wanting to help his mom and being your hands while you were resting, because you’d undoubtedly help—carefully placing one plate into another, but his mind was elsewhere. and of course his mom couldn’t not notice it. 

she caught him before he could leave the kitchen, after placing the plates onto the counter, his gaze unfocused—she took his hands in her, thumbs brushing his skin as she looked up at him with the warmth only mothers carried. he was so tall, his hands were so big, that they didn’t fit inside hers anymore, but his heart never changed—except, maybe, becoming only softer and bigger with years, clouded with guilt now. 

it snapped yeonjun out of his thoughts—oh god, he made a scene at the dinner. with so many people around. he should’ve just said ‘yes, we’re becoming friends again’ without literally snapping, let alone saying sungjun should finally grow up. “mom, i’m sorry, i—”

but she only cupped his cheek, thumb caressing his skin, as her other hand still held both of his. “you’ve always had a heart too big for your body, jjunie. don’t let the past shrink it,” she said warmly, watching him close his eyes and frown, lips pressed together, not knowing how to do what she said, and her thumb moved to the crease to flatten it. “don’t frown, baby.” she smiled, when his brows relaxed. “i know it’s not easy and it still hurts after so many years, but isn’t everything getting better now?”

it is, yeonjun thought, looking at the way her hand was holding his. but so not the way you think it does, mom… but… wasn’t she right? maybe, she didn’t know the details—thank god, she didn’t—but sometimes it felt like you were friends again and like there weren’t fifteen years of whatever the hell it was. just… you grew up and maybe the ways to have fun together, well, grew up too? 

his mom smiled at the way his gaze became a little clearer, a bit more open. “don’t think i didn’t notice you two munching on yakgwas earlier. i let her grab two, but there were four absent and you two had the most suspicious faces i’ve ever seen,” she laughed. “it was always our [ yn ] who stole treats from the kitchen for you two before you could do it, because we could never scold her properly—she was too cute.” 

yeonjun smiled at the memory, a soft breathy laugh escaping him—he’d never let you be the one to do something bad, so you’d eventually stopped telling him that there was something tasty and just brought it to him. then he started saying he was the one who asked you to do so and you’d always throw a tantrum about it—and your parents would scold you both or just give up and let you be. 

“you’re right, junnie,” she continued, happy that her little boy was smiling again. “you both grew up. and it doesn’t mean that you should forget the past, but…” she caressed his cheek. “you grew up, and that’s why you have a present and a future. you won’t hurt each other like that again.” she cupped his other cheek too. “i’m completely sure about it.”

yeonjun nodded, sniffling once before wrapping his arms around his mom, bringing her to his chest—she always knew his heart better than he did. even when he tried to hide it, or to seem strong, or when it still ached years later, she always saw right through him. he was such a mommy’s boy, and he had always been proud of it—how could he not when his mom was a person like this? 

he used to miss it if he dared to admit it. used to miss home—the silence of his room, the comfort of knowing which creaking floorboard came after which, the feeling of being known even in his worst moments. he missed the kind of quiet that didn’t demand anything from him, the warmth of being seen right, without having to explain, without needing to soften the edges first. it used to hit him on the worst nights—when the castle’s corridors fell cold, and the beds in the slytherin dorm felt too big or too small, never anything in between.

but this year, it was easier. the weight on his shoulders felt lighter, even if it didn’t make much sense—he was head boy, quidditch captain, it was his final year at hogwarts—and still, somehow, it was easier. maybe because now, there was someone quietly sharing the load—probably without even realizing it. and it wasn’t even about sex—it was about having someone he could, maybe, call a friend; someone who happened to be in the room on his worst nights; someone whose presence alone made them feel less frequent. 

this year, the cold echoing castle felt a little more like home.

yeonjun’s mom ruffled his hair before asking if he was going to occupy one of the guest’s bedrooms—you were still most probably asleep, as you hadn’t come down yet—and yeonjun shook his head saying he’d sleep on the couch in his room. a little lie would do no harm, would it? telling he was just going to shoo you closer to the wall and plop down next to you, making you bounce and grump at him, would sound worse. 

he finished cleaning up close to midnight, spending the last hour alone after convincing his mom to finally go rest. the quiet in his head was unexpected—but not unwelcome. maybe it was her hands and words that soothed him, maybe he was just tired, or maybe he was already thinking about walking back into his room to bother you just enough to clear the rest of the mess out of his mind.

and oh, yeonjun never expected you to give him such a huge opportunity to do so—he found you holding half of his hoodie to your chest, your face squished against another half. he crouched down next to the bed, carefully moving hair away from your face only to see your lips parted slightly, a little shining trail going from the corner of your lips to the tiny wet spot on his hoodie. he smirked, smudging the trail with his thumb.

the action made you stir awake, brows in a frown even before you opened your eyes, and the moment you did, you closed them again, your palm finding yeonjun’s shoulder—or maybe face, you weren’t sure—to push him away with a soft displeased groan. “lemme sleep, jun,” you mumbled, clutching the hoodie to your chest as if he was going to take it from you. 

yeonjun giggled, fingers wrapping around your wrist to bring it to his mouth and leave a little bite on your fingers, watching you scrunch your nose, your fingers wiggling in his hold. “you’re sleeping in my bed,” he reminded you, letting your hand fall back on the mattress, his fingertips pinching your nose. “and you’re drooling on my hoodie, by the way, didn’t know drooling gremlins was a thing.”

you tried to push him away again, frowning more—you opened your eyes just enough to send him a death glare, which, you had to admit, wasn’t easy when it was dark and your eyelids were so heavy that you could barely keep your eyes open. you gave up, though, letting your eyes close—yeonjun knew your glares well enough. “m’not,” you muttered, finally turning away from him, hoodie still pressed to your chest—of course. 

he chuckled, resting his elbow on the mattress, cheek leaned on his palm. go on, baby, he thought. three seconds til you realize your inner thighs are messy and uncomfy. three. two— ‘njun’, dragged out, whiny and bratty, as if it was his fault in the first place, half of his name lost in a sleepy protest. okay, maybe it was two seconds instead of three. “yes, mouse?”

you turned your upper body to him, fingers finding his forearm blindly. “clean me up,” you whined, tugging at his sleeve almost impatiently, the fabric of the cardigan ridiculously ticklish on your fingers. “you promised to.”

yeonjun hummed. “did i?” he teased just to mess with you a little—you were just too cute to not do it, and he had a soft spot for annoying grumpy kittens who could do nothing back. his hand was already under the blanket, though—he knew it only felt nice for maybe a few minutes, until cum got cold and crusty and stuck to the skin in the most disgusting feeling ever. “maybe, i did…” he pretended to think, and your fingers around his forearm tightened—he laughed, mumbling a spell, leaving your skin nice and clean.

a little content sigh escaped you on its own, and you mumbled a soft ‘thank you’, turning your back to him again and nuzzling into the hoodie. it was the smallest pause before you shifted further from yeonjun, giving him space.

yeonjun snorted under his breath, watching you burrow into his hoodie like a rodent ready to hibernate—most probably preferably for a few years. “don’t hog it all,” he muttered, mostly to himself, as you were obviously already too asleep to even react to it. he pushed up from the floor with a groan, body heavy with the kind of tired that seeps in after a long day of too many thoughts and not enough breaks—something he used to, but still hadn’t learned to enjoy.

he tugged off his cardigan and tank top, dropped it somewhere near the bed—he’d deal with it later—and pulled off his jeans too, wincing when the waistband folded weirdly and nearly made him fall—three curses under his breath. the his right socks didn’t quite come off on the first try, when he tried to tug it off with his foot—a few more curses—and then he finally crawled into bed with all the grace of someone who should’ve gone to sleep two hours ago, making you bounce and grump something in your sleep.

yeonjun didn’t bother pulling the blanket from you, just laid down with a sigh, limbs sprawled messily across the sheets—partly cold, partly warmed by your body—before they found their regular position, one arm under his head, the other on your thigh. it was fine like this—quiet, warm, hoodie-thief still breathing softly next to him. he’d be asleep in five—maybe four. maybe even less.

but your restless turning woke him up just a few hours later, long before sunrise. yeonjun didn’t move—he kept his breathing steady, eyes barely cracked open, just enough to watch you. he didn’t regret it; you were clearly awake, trying so hard not to wake him, your movements all too careful, all too stiff—so much so they were more disturbing than just shifting freely. and when your stomach growled— he lost it.

you hit him with his hoodie before even saying a word, and his laughter, muffled and warm behind your back, only grew louder, making you groan. what an ass! you’d tried to let him sleep, being the generous, gracious woman you were, but here he was—laughing at your body’s pitiful cry for food, as if you hadn’t sacrificed your dinner and your soul just hours ago. sacrificed to him. he, on the other hand, probably had a full meal after fucking you. meanwhile you were here—starving. empty stomach. full pussy. argh.

yeonjun patted your butt through the blanket. “let’s go. there’s enough food left,” he sat up stretching arms above his head with a soft groan of relief before murmuring ‘accio’ through a yawn, sweatpants flying into his hand the next second. he threw a quick glance at you, pausing at your unimpressed expression. “what?..” 

you only moved the blanket away, pointing at your naked butt, and yeonjun sighed flopping sideways to hang half his body off the bed, fingers feeling blindly along the floor until he found his jeans in the dark. “why did i even keep it in the pocket,” he muttered to himself, fishing around before finally pulling out your crumpled underwear. “here we—hey!” he whipped his head around to look at the shameless person who poked his ass—he nearly fell off the bed.

“you always knead my butt in your sleep,” you stated, poking his ass again. it wasn’t like you were too against it—it was just a little weird that he was doing it while being unconscious, but he was still gentle with it—which you found strange but cute—and, well, it felt good. “and tonight too, by the way. what were you dreaming about, huh?” you poked his bare shoulder as he sat up, noticing he wasn’t wearing anything except underwear—okay, he was hot.

yeonjun tossed your underwear at your face. “baking,” he said without missing a beat. weren’t you a little freak for lying there and enjoying it? if you knew it, then you were awake while he was doing it. and bringing it up to shame him? what a cute brat. 

you scoffed, sitting up properly and tossing the blanket away, tugging your underwear on. “right, of course,” you rolled your eyes at him. “what were you kneading then? cupcakes?”

he hummed, yawning—perhaps three hours of sleep was still too little. but, well, you two could sleep more after some midnight snack. “no,” yeonjun yawned again, rubbing his face. “you. obviously,” he smirked at you, looking way too proud of himself for someone who was running low on sleep, and you and your glare didn’t work nearly as well when paired with your hair a mess and your stomach growling again, even louder this time. “let’s go,” he laughed. “i’ll give you my basketball shorts, butt-naked baby.”

you got up, following him to the wardrobe—so he knew they existed, huh?—pinching his side when he laughed at yet another growl of your poor stomach and said you sounded possessed. you rolled your eyes, letting him know that starvation was a form of possession and grabbing his boxers from the drawer instead—would be fine if you wore the oversized hoodie you slept on. 

and maybe also because he’d take too long to find basketball shorts when it was freaking february, while standing there all hot with no shirt, gray sweatpants low on his hips—you wouldn’t survive looking at it even a little longer. a few more minutes and you’d pull him back to the bed, begging him to leave the sweatpants on, and nope—you were going to be the one to tease him by leaving your legs bare, after all. 

yeonjun shook his head with a chuckle, tugging his tank top on, while you pulled both the boxers and hoodie over yourself—turning around in front of him like you were showing off some glamorous outfit, not the ‘i just openly stole this from my fwb’s wardrobe while he watched and i feel zero remorse about it’ one. he slapped your ass, then squeezed it under the hoodie—telling you it was just a length check—and you finally headed to the kitchen.

there was a little quiet banter by the fridge—of course. yeonjun said you could have whatever you wanted, and you side-eyed him—whatever you wanted, huh? he pressed a hand to his chest, asking if you didn’t trust him, and when you dragged out an uncertain ‘well…’, he exclaimed you’d been fucking for months—so you huffed, mumbling that you trusted him with your pussy, not with your relationship with his mom. he muttered ‘i see you set your priorities straight’ under his breath, pulling out leftovers for both of you.

yeonjun eyed the microwave for a few seconds before taking out a pan and turning the stove on—nope, he didn’t care it was half past three at night, he was going to reheat it properly. he looked at you hovering by the window, before getting your attention and gesturing at the counter next to the stove. “you can sit here while i’m at it.” 

you hummed and padded over to him, careful not to slip on the tile floor with your socks, with a giggle slipping out each time your socks skidded across the tile—yeonjun’s hand landed on your head, guiding you to the counter so you didn’t fall like a dummy (his words, not yours). you huffed, side of your feet nudging his calf as you leaned on the counter. “i’m still not going to sit on the counter in your family’s house. tune down your wattpad-fed fantasies,” you singsonged. 

he laughed, throwing his head back. “‘girl sitting on the kitchen counter while guy’s cooking’ is a great trope!” yeonjun exclaimed, nudging your side with his elbow as he stirred the leftovers in the pan. he paused for a second before humming, pretending to think about something before continuing. “if i rent a little house with a tiny kitchen, will you sit on the counter while i’m making the worst scrambled eggs you’ve ever had?”

“hm…” you tapped your chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. “well… under two conditions,” you murmured, fingers dragging lightly up his bare arm before slipping under the fabric of his tank top on his shoulder, and he looked at you with a little smirk and a soft ‘hit me with it, baby’. “first, you make the best ramyeon of my life,” you pointed at him with a chopstick, “and i know you can. and…” you paused, feeding his curiosity a little. “you bend me over that counter.”

yeonjun hummed a few times, pretending he wasn’t exactly sure if the deal was fair enough. “that and you’re wearing thigh highs. and my hoodie,” he lifted his hands in defense, when you shot him an unimpressed look. “what? i’m a simple man, i have my preferences!” he laughed when you tore chopsticks away from his hand before the sauce dripped on the floor. “try the temperature while you’re at it. and maybe we should add something too.”

making me work… you thought and turned a little, bumping his hip with yours as you grabbed a piece of some veggie and bent over a little to not lift it too high—the roll of your eyes was already a reflex when you felt yeonjun’s hand on your ass, but you still did nothing to stop it. “it’s good for the temperature, but…” you hummed, fishing another piece and straightening up, palm under the chopsticks as you brought them to his mouth. “soy sauce?..” 

he took the bite, his hand moving between yours and the chopsticks to protect your skin just in case before he could think about it, and pressed his lips together, frowning a little—maybe there really wasn’t enough soy sauce?.. “yeah… maybe this,” he added some before taking chopsticks from you and stirring everything, giving you another taste when he decided it was done—not before blowing on it a little to cool it, of course. “how’s it now?”

your lips formed an ‘o’, brows shooting up as you nodded a few times. “just perfect,” you said. choi yeonjun and his magical mouth and hands—a giggle escaped you at the thought, oh, magical indeed. and not only mouth and hands. you giggled again and only shook your head when he looked at you weirdly. “thigh highs and your hoodie if you wear sweatpants and nothing else.”

it took yeonjun some time to grasp what you were talking about, freezing with plates in his hands—three hours of sleep were really getting on his mind—but when he did, his lips stretched in a pleased smile. “no problem, mouse,” he murmured, setting the plates on the countertop and turning to you. “one more condition, though,” he made a step closer, leaning forward. “i pound you into absolutely every surface. you can choose the order,” he whispered, making sure his smile was showing how serious he was. 

your eyes narrowed and you leaned even closer. “doesn’t count because i wanted to set this condition myself,” you whispered back, watching his smile twitch, one eyebrow lifting like ‘is that so’, and it made your own lips tug up—not in a smirk, not yet, just the start of one. you didn’t step back, and neither did he—the distance was more silly than charged, two overgrown kids daring each other to blink first.

“we’ll call it mutual consent,” yeonjun said eventually, trying so hard to keep little laughs inside, his tone mock-serious and he watched your lips twitch as you obviously tried to do the same. you added ‘mutual enthusiasm, too’ with your best serious voice, and he nodded—keeping a straight face was getting harder and harder. “oh, absolutely,” he shook your hand, sealing the deal, and finally backed away. “always a delight, partner.”

a giggle escaped you even before he let your hand go—it was impossible to keep a serious face, when the whole exchange was absolutely ridiculous. but where and when else such important deals could be sealed if not in the kitchen at almost four in the morning over the stove while reheating leftovers? perfect place and time. 

the late-night-slash-early-morning snack—but not just a ‘snack’ either, honestly, when yeonjun took out half a dozen banchans two bites in—was quiet. you were basically starving by the time you sat at the table, and food was absolutely god-tier—your moms made it together, which already made it perfect, but then yeonjun somehow made it even better, and you still wondered if there was something he couldn’t do.

you throw a glance at him—he was frowning, almost angry at how tasty the food was, sitting on the chair sideways, completely relaxed, one leg extended lazily close to your chair, the other bent slightly under the table. yeah, you thought. there was one thing he couldn’t do—at least, so easily—and it was sitting with his legs closed. but well… were you the one to complain? 

and… you were a little bored too. you turned just enough for your foot to comfortably find his calf, toes slipping under the fabric of his sweatpants loose around his ankle. yeonjun paid no attention, though, grabbing a piece of danmuji if absolutely nothing was happening. you pouted—how dared he?—your touch getting firmer, sliding higher, until the stubborn fabric just refused to lift anymore. and still no reaction.

yeonjun had to try so hard to bite down his smile, your little annoyed huffs you tried so hard to keep quiet were making his meal even more amusing. he waited for you to get just a little more impatient, a bit bolder—and when your toes finally brushed his knee, he wrapped his fingers around your ankle, the quiet scuff of his chair sliding on the tile floor not too loud as he scooted closer, lying your leg across his lap.

your eyes widened, chopsticks almost falling from your hands, and when you tried to tug your leg off from his hold—shyly, uncertainly, not even out of the want for him to let it go, mostly just checking if he would—he just hummed, loosening the hold a little, but letting his palm rest on your ankle, pinky slipping under the cuff of the sock, as he muttered a soft ‘eat’, thumb rubbing circles on your skin.

it was… weirdly relaxing. maybe because you weren’t somewhere private—god, you were in his mom’s kitchen, and you didn’t even want to think about doing anything here—or maybe it was because it was both too late and too early at once—four in the morning, that strange in-between hour. either way, it was making you sleepy, and you sighed, kept eating, and let yourself enjoy the way yeonjun’s finger traced random patterns up and down your leg.

he cleaned up the little mess you both left while you washed the plates, yawns escaping you more and more often with each passing second, making yeonjun chuckle each time, and the moment you turned the water off, he patted your ass guiding you towards the exit from the kitchen. “let’s get you back into hibernation. you’re too small even for a mouse to stay awake in winter for so long, huh?” 

you splashed the water you still had on your hands at his face, making him laugh—you could swear he’d call you ‘the smallest mouse ever known to science’ even if you were seven feet tall and built like a wrestler, stomping around in steel boots and casting a shadow over him. the guy was so weird sometimes—and the way you understood his weirdness was almost concerning.

the bed was so much more comfortable now, when your stomach was full, and you plopped down with a content sigh, arms and legs spread, eyes fluttering close. gosh, why was his bed so much better than yours the previous night? you should ask him what laundry freshener it was and what temperature he kept his room at. you sighed again, letting the mattress swallow you—you were going to steal this one for sure too.

yeonjun shook his head at you, tugging his tank top and sweatpants off, sending you a clumsy wink as he noticed you watching him. “you mind?” he asked, gesturing at his body, nothing except underwear covering him—he should’ve probably thought about it the first time four hours ago instead of just taking his clothes off and getting into the bed in his underwear only, but well, too late. 

you only shook your head, though, sitting up with a yawn to tug your—well, his, but same thing—hoodie off. you knew this dumbass would tweak the room temperature to keep you comfortable and end up freezing his entire existence instead, so you figured it was better to stay in something thin too—you made grabby hand at his shirt lying on the chair next to the wardrobe and his gaze went so unimpressed, he didn't even look away from you to summon it with ‘accio’—annoyingly hot, but you were too tired and full. 

yeonjun turned away as a gentleman he was while you were changing your shirt to the one he gave you, and you almost felt bad for the way you kept eyeing him every time he changed in front of you. you told him you were done, and hesitated—should you?.. “umm… you didn’t have to, but thank you,” you said before adding quietly, “and if i ever make you uncomfy, tell me to turn around?..” you cursed yourself—it should’ve been phrased as ‘sorry if i make you uncomfy, i won’t look from now on’, not make him ask for it—fuck.

he chuckled, laying down and wiggling a little to get comfortable, arms behind his head. “don’t worry. your starving needy gaze feeds my ego,” yeonjun laughed as you pinched his side before lying down with a pout, and his hand found your thigh, giving it a squeeze. “thank you,” he said softly, head turned to you, thumbs caressing your skin. “you’re not making me uncomfortable, but i’ll say if it ever happens.”

you nodded with a soft ‘okay’, making yourself comfortable, your body freezing for a moment until yeonjun’s hand found your thigh again, and you exhaled in something close to relief, letting your eyes finally flutter shut, your body relaxing into the bedsheets. perfect. just perfect in every sense, and it didn’t take too long until you both drifted off to sleep.

it was hard to say who woke up first—you decided to lay with your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of yeonjun’s hand on your thigh, too sleepy yet to define if his movements were unconscious or purposeful. and when you finally gave up and opened your eyes, turning your head to him, he was already scrolling through his phone, priorities set straight—he was holding his phone with one hand, the other was on you, so you got the honor of witnessing his morning yawns in full glory—mouth wide, not a care in the world.

yeonjun felt you shift under his hand and turned his head to you, patting your thigh as he saw your eyes sleepy, but open. “good morning,” he rasped, voice still hoarse from sleep, the words being the first thing he said since waking up a ten or so minutes ago. “shower?” his hand slid higher, squeezing your ass, as he put his phone on the bedside table, arm finding its place under his head.

you buried your face in the pillow with a quiet groan—you so didn’t want to get up, but a shower could help. “toge—?” the word was interrupted by a yawn, your eyes fluttering shut and you kept them close just for a few more seconds, wondering if going out was this important. but you had plans with your parents, and you remembered yeonjun mentioning something about going out with his mom and cousin today, so…

he hummed, when brain caught up on what you wanted to ask, his own brain was still waking up too and not exactly successfully. “mhm. meant that,” he stretched with a quiet soft groan. “if you wanna, ‘course,” god, the words just refused to form properly in his head. what a morning… a shower wasn’t just a necessity now, it was essential for functioning. 

you rubbed your face, sitting up, and nodded. “sounds good…” you paused, putting letters into words and doing your best to put words into sentences. was his bed charmed to keep your brain as mush? “together, i mean. saving water. or… time. or both,” you muttered, and yeonjun chuckled, noting that you’d most probably be saving neither—and, well, you could only agree.

the shirt you were wearing was off before you even got up from the bed—you only shrugged, saying that he was wearing underwear only too, when yeonjun looked at you with his brow raised—so it barely took you both any time to get under the water, groaning at the pleasant feeling on your skin and half-mindedly thanking the universe for giving you the same preference for the shower temperature.

yeonjun didn’t waste time on… anything—the moment a pleased sigh slipped from your lips and your head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut, his arms were already around you, his already wet chest pressing to your back. fuck, he’d be lying if he said he missed when morning wood was just a health check—waking up with you was always making it about arousal, and just jerking off was already making his mornings better, but having sex with you first thing after waking up? better than felix felicis. and it’d be a shame to waste a perfectly good erection. 

you leaned your head on his shoulder, letting out a shaky exhale as you felt his hard cock pressing to your lower back. fuck, just this was making you wet already, but one hand slipped between your thighs, fingers grazing your folds, while the other cupped your chest, rolling your nipple between his fingers, and your mind already started fogging. it got worse—but actually better—when yeonjun grazed the skin of your neck with his teeth, making you let out a quiet, but already desperate whine.

he hummed, lips curling into a smile against your throat as a soft ‘good girl’ left his lips at the same time as his finger slipped inside—no resistance, you were tight, but already so damn wet, it was making his head spin. “always so wet for me,” yeonjun murmured into the skin of your neck, the second finger joining the first, making you arch in his hold. “always so ready for me, huh?” he breathed out, low and teasing. “such a good girl, aren’t you?” 

the ‘yes’ sounded more like a mewl than a proper answer, but you could be sure he accepted it as one—how could you not when he called you a good girl again so sweetly but so, so perfectly filthy at the same time? damn this man and his praise kink. or bless him. you weren’t sure. you weren’t sure in anything except needing him to fuck you right now, and it managed to escape through a little broken ‘please’.

yeonjun pinched your nipple for the last time, enjoying the sharp inhale, followed by a soft whimper and grind back, and his hand found your hip, withdrawing his fingers out of you—he cursed softly at the way your walls clenched around them, as if trying to keep them inside, but he was going to give you something so much better… “just a little, baby,” he whispered, his fingers wrapping around his cock and pumping a few times before pressing the tip to your entrance.

you arched your back, giving him better angle, fingers twitching on the wall, forehead pressing to the cool tiles in a desperate attempt to ground yourself—he was pushing so freaking slowly, you could feel every inch stretching you, mind dizzy, walls clenching around his cock before he even bottomed out. and when he did, your whole body was already trembling—you were barely holding yourself up on both legs. 

yeonjun’s body moved even before he could think about it, stepping closer to press you whole against the shower wall, trapping you between himself and the tiles. “better?” he murmured, lips pressed behind your ear, and when you nodded weakly, he breathed out a soft ‘good’, feeling you shiver against him—so fucking cute.

rolls of his hips were almost lazy, too sleepy yet to pound you properly, but oh, he wouldn’t be choi yeonjun if he didn’t make up for it—his hand slid up to your neck, fingers curling around it with something close to tenderness, holding it without squeezing, and he smiled, when he felt your hold on his wrist for a few seconds before your hand covered his and squeezed it. “like this?” he whispered, tightening his hold just a little, and you nodded, making him breath out yet another praise for showing him what you want.

but your little sounds, his name slipping past your lips more and more often, more and more broken, your movements meeting his thrusts getting so uneven, he had to press you harder into the wall—everything was slowly but surely wearing the sleepy haze off, each thrust getting a little sharper, more intentional. “fuck, baby,” yeonjun growled into your neck, voice suddenly lower. “how are you always this perfect for me?”

your whine broke into a moan as his grip on your hip and neck tightened, ‘oh god, ‘njun—’ escaping you, his pace suddenly growing, driving into you now, his sounds muffled against your shoulder, teeth sinking into the sensitive skin, making the sounds escaping you even more broken. you could barely think straight, fingers tightening around his forearm that was pressed to your chest, your heart thumping against it. “‘njun, please,” you whimpered, head turning to him, lips brushing against his ear. “please—”

he paused, his pace faltering for a moment, as your hand reached out back, trembling fingers brushing against his ear, cheek, jaw, wherever you could, almost as if you were… getting his attention? “what is it, baby?” yeonjun lifted his head, eyes immediately on your face looking for any sign of discomfort, finding none, and before he could ask, your lips dragged over his clumsily, little ‘please’ slipping past them, warm and trembling against his mouth.. fuck. “a kiss?” he breathed out, and you nodded so desperately that he cursed again.

you barely managed a mewl when yeonjun finally pressed his mouth to yours, his lips firmer, hungrier, hand from your neck sliding up to grab your jaw and tilt your head the way he needed, his pace growing again, even sharper now. you whined, though, your head turning to the side so swiftly, his hold loosened immediately to give you space to do it. “‘s hitting me right in the face,” you mumbled, scrunching your nose.

shit, yeonjun thought, hand leaving your jaw and reaching blindly to switch to the wall-mounted shower head from the rain-styled one, trying to angle it properly to not hit your face but to still keep you warm. “be patient, baby,” he whispered, losing his own patience a little too fast—stupid fucking showerhead—and you were distracting him, trying to move his wet hair away from his cheek with the tip of your nose only to press an open-mouthed kiss just under his cheekbone. “patience, mouse.”

when the angle was finally right, water hitting you both below your necks, yeonjun’s hand quickly brushed his wet hair back—you clenched at this—before he grabbed your jaw again, more impatient this time, fingers digging into your cheeks as he tilted your head. his tongue slipped past your lips immediately, not wasting time, and you moaned—you were so, so damn close. the effect choi fucking yeonjun had on you.

for the briefest second, something buzzed in the back of yeonjun’s mind—hot and shaky and sharp, the shape of a thought that wasn’t quite a word. flashing through him like a swallowed spark, like frustration curled inside him for half a second—how maddeningly easy it was to want him, how good it felt to be weak for him. fuck, it was yours—were you—had he—fucking hell—

you gasped—a familiar but unexpected warmth flickered through your mind as a pulse, as a raw feeling that wasn’t yours, buzzing at the edge of your consciousness. you could almost feel yeonjun there, the flicker of his presence brushing your mind like a feather, and it sent a shudder rolling through you—your walls clenched without warning, heat blooming deep and fierce as your body betrayed you, the wave crashing over you before you even had time to realize what was happening.

and the way you broke in his arms, head dropping to his shoulder, one hand finding the back of his head—trembling fingers threading into wet strands, holding him there, not letting him pull away from the kiss—as if he ever would—and the way his name spilled from your lips, wrecked and breathless, broke him too. his hips gave one final thrust before stuttering still, an arm sliding low across your stomach to keep you flush to him as he came, spilling deep inside.

everything felt like it was behind a thick wall of water, somewhere far away and barely significant—especially compared to how yeonjun had taken over all your senses. your hands suddenly felt so heavy, and the one that was on the back of his head slowly slid down, your fingertips brushing his jaw, the side of his neck, and before it could fall, he caught it, fingers tight around your wrist.

yeonjun wasn’t even sure why he did it, his body acting on instinct as his mind still was too fogged by this bliss to catch on anything. he lowered your hand gently, stepping back just enough for his cock to slip out of you, his quiet groan and your soft whine mingling together, barely heard behind the running water. fuck… fuck. he let out a laugh under his breath—his head was absolutely freaking empty. 

you turned around lazily, legs still too weak to stand properly, leaving you no choice but to lean on the wall, palms flat against it as if it could help you not to fall. “so you…” you took a pause, gathering your thoughts that flew around in your mind and escaped the moment you just looked at them. was it yeonjun’s saliva that made you like this or what? “so do you… practice with someone else? to suddenly get so good,” you asked with a soft chuckle, brain still mushy.

he groaned—he was so embarrassed because of it, he was sure you wouldn’t be able to even imagine it. honestly, yeonjun wasn’t even sure he’d slipped into your head, assuming it was his ego talking, but if you’d felt it... “fuck…” he muttered, rubbing his face. “it was an accident, i’m sorry,” he mumbled, genuinely feeling shitty—doing it without consent was a bad move, accident or not.

but you giggled, your hand, still weak and trembling a little, reaching out for the shower gel bottle. “wasn’t the question, but okay,” you whispered, fighting yourself to not drop your forehead on his shoulder, whining for him to wash you—the idea was really, really tempting, though. gosh, there was a long day ahead, you had to get back to hogwarts in twelve hours and you were so lazy again…

so you weren’t uncomfortable… good. yeonjun let out a breath that was way too dramatic for someone who just gave the performance of a lifetime in a shower at eight in the morning, and took the bottle from you, squirting some gel into his hand before rubbing his palms together, gesturing for you to turn around. “you’re unbelievable,” he muttered as he started lathering your back, dragging his fingers down slowly just to make you squirm. “you can barely stand and are already interrogating me.”

you squealed, wiggling when his fingers brushed against your sides, and nudged his calf with your ankle. “you aren’t any better,” you muttered, letting your forehead rest on the wall, scrunching your nose at the warm tiles. “and you’re dodging the question, by the way,” you reminded him, your hand reaching back to pinch his thigh. 

yeonjun snorted, leaning in just enough for his lips to brush the skin of your jaw, barely there, hand covering yours on his thigh, holding it there. “there’s no one else, babygirl,” he murmured, voice purposefully low, as ridiculously sexy as he could manage. “only you,” he whispered, laughing when he saw you cringe. “kinda wish there was someone to blame for it,” he continued, his voice back to normal, hands rinsing off the bubbles on your back. “but… i barely survive your mess. so guess my spectacular progression in legilimency is on you too.”

you rolled your eyes with a huff and turned around, pinching his shoulder before turning him, running your nails down his back, enjoying his squealing and squirming at the ticklish gesture. “can’t stay still, huh?” you teased, voice filled with sweet venom, little giggles—purposefully evil-ish—slipping past your lips, until he reached back, slapping your ass, and you yelped, slapping his shoulder blade. “why are you such an ass?”

yeonjun didn’t reply, only squeezed the flesh with a chuckle, enjoying your hands on his back—you were so weirdly gentle and careful, it was relaxing him better than his expensive as hell mattress. and it let his thoughts wander—he was going to talk to you about the accidental legilimency again later, because talking to you when you were so blissed out was nearly useless—you’d agree to anything. 

there were other things he had to think about too, both about slipping into your head and the day with his mom and cousin—all the things he wanted to spoil them with—and he barely noticed when you both were done and you were complaining about how suspicious it was that you smelled like him. yeonjun shrugged, saying that it’d be much more suspicious if you smelled like your shower gel after showering in his bathroom. you only hummed, agreeing it made sense. 

you ended up leaving his house after breakfast—his mom just couldn’t let you go hungry—and agreed to meet at his place to floo back to hogwarts together after dinner, just in time to rest for a bit before the night patrol. you thought you noticed this little twinkle in mrs. choi’s eyes when she saw you wearing yeonjun’s hoodie, yesterday's shirt hanging off your arm—she said nothing, though, hugging you goodbye and nudging yeonjun to walk you home.

he promised to bother you with photos of every unnecessary thing each second he had an opportunity—you begged him to spare you, but he didn’t, and now your chatroom was full of photos of aesthetic places, fun-shaped clouds, desserts he bought for his mom and cousin, mirror selfies in increasingly ridiculous shirts and absolutely awful thirst traps—the one where he showed you that he had a tongue-colouring candy being the worst one—that somehow ended up being saved on your phone. app malfunction, of course. nothing more.

yeonjun bought you a dessert—the one you replied to with ‘you’re such a sadist for showing me it’ with a bunch of crying emojis—and a pound of tongue-colouring candies, blue for him and red for you, bringing more wattpad-fed fantasies to annoy you. 

there was another thing too—a tiny charm of a mouse ghost with huge ears, cute face with pink cheeks and frowned brows, but shiny, pleading eyes. yeonjun stumbled upon it accidentally, rummaging through dozens of trinkets in a little shop while waiting for his cousin to choose a phone case, and thought about you at first glance, buying it without thinking twice. 

he most certainly should have, though, because now he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to give you it. what was he even supposed to say? ‘saw this and thought of you’? it sounded so stupid even if he added ‘you constantly trail after me like a grumpy tiny ghost’. so it lived in his pocket for a few days until he just attached it to the belt loop of the pants you were going to wear this day while you were showering, and acted like nothing happened when you entered the room.

you noticed it right away, twirling the trinket in your fingers before throwing a glance at yeonjun who was insanely engrossed in the legilimency book. your thumb brushed its ridiculously large ears, thinking about a name for a second before murmuring, “you’re gonna be junior,” you repeated the name to the trinket, before humming. “or junière, right? a little french babygirl.”

yeonjun cocked an eyebrow at you, finally looking up from his book. “it’s pronounced zhoo-nière if it’s french,” he said, voice almost bored—he was barely holding his giggles inside at the way you talked to the little thing so cutely, giving it the name right on the spot. “what’s that, by the way?”

you tilted your head at him—really? were you really going to play the game of pretending there was someone else who could do it in the last fifteen minutes in your room? oh, okay, you could play this game. “don’t listen to him, jun-ière, he’s boring,” you petted its little head. “dunno,” you looked at yeonjun, the adorable charm dangling between your fingers. “probably a little something from my secret admirer who seems unbelievably cute.”

he hummed, gaze falling back to the book almost uninterested anymore—yeonjun really didn’t want to admit he felt the tips of his ears get warmer. he wasn’t an idiot, of course he knew you figured out it was from him—who else for god’s sake—but he expected to be laughed at or maybe hear something like ‘ah. don’t need it then’ to make him admit it was from him. not because it was you or because he’d do the same—never—but because… it was from him?..

instead yeonjun was called cute and had an honour of the little trinket being named after him?.. gods, weren’t you ridiculous? and cute. but mostly ridiculous. and before you could say anything more, he flipped to the paragraph he bookmarked earlier. “listen, about legilimency while having sex—”

you groaned even before he finished the word ‘sex’—it was so embarrassing in every little thing. first, he definitely couldn’t find anything good there, it had to be something absolutely terrible—most probably something about how freaking hot he was. second, if he’d caught you cumming right after it happened and put two and two together, you were going to obliviate him right there. or avada yourself. or first obliviate him and then avada yourself. 

“yeah, it’s mentioned in advanced legilimency,” yeonjun started, turning the book to you, but before he could show you the paragraph, he had your hoodie covering both him and the poor book. he lifted the fabric, peeking from underneath it. “sorry, mouse, i’m not a parrot. you can’t cover me with something and expect me to fall asleep,” he threw the hoodie back and laughed when you caught it with ‘sometimes i wish it worked’.

you let the trinket dangle off your pants, exactly where you ‘secret admirer’ left it—you weren’t sure yet where to attach it, and the belt loop seemed like a good place for the time being. kai’s eyes caught it immediately, the moment you approached the slytherin table where everyone was sitting already, and he cooed saying this little thing was the cutest. you replied with ‘right?!’, telling how adorable big ears and pouty expression were, and that her name was junière.

beomgyu hummed, carefully taking the charm between his fingers, making you step closer to him. “isn’t it zhoon if you’re trying to go for french? unless…” his lips stretched in a smile that certainly meant nothing good and he threw a glance at yeonjun from the corner of his eyes. “unless she’s called after someone who’s not zhoon.”

yeonjun rolled his eyes, saying that the trinket—junière, you corrected him, and he rolled his eyes again, repeating the name—looked more like you and nothing like him, but he definitely could endure someone being obsessed with him to such an extent. you huffed, plopping your portion of scrambled eggs on his plate asking him to busy his mouth with food instead—he sent you a clumsy wink, snatching a sausage from your plate too.

it was saturday, it was raining and it was the day before a quidditch match between slytherin and gryffindor, meaning no one would be training even if it was sunny for the sake of resting beforehand. the boys offered to help with the monthly summary and you gladly accepted it, getting comfortable in the head students’ office with drinks and snacks and music playing quietly in the background.

by the noon beomgyu and kai started slacking off, spending more time on little dances than on the reports, soobin and taehyun began taking more breaks from the papers, and yeonjun perfectly noticed you staring at his forearms more than into the charts you were drawing, so before it became obvious for everyone else he sent them to rest and eat properly—it was almost lunch time. 

they barely even argued, waving you goodbye and not asking when you two were going to join them, probably too happy you were going to finish everything yourself. yeonjun shut the door behind them, anti-alochomora spell leaving his mouth on reflex now, before turning to you. arms crossed on his chest, a too self-assured smile on his lips. “what’s gotten into you?”

you had to force your eyes away from his forearms to look at his face. you thought that nothing could make his new hair hotter, but he suddenly decided to wear all black today, and it was already barely bearable, but then he rolled the sleeves of his longsleeve up and you decided you didn’t really need your brain as much. “what’s gotten into you? since when you’re wearing total black?”

yeonjun hummed, coming up to you, fingers wrapping around the trinket on your pants, fidgeting with it. “since i dyed my hair and decided i want it to stand out,” he answered—no legilimency was needed to know that you thought ‘as if it doesn’t stand out already’. he chuckled to his thoughts, unclasping the charm from the belt loop easily, hiding it in his front pocket. “little thing doesn’t need to know some stuff, does it?” 

yeah, he was probably right despite how ridiculous it sounded—he pressed you against the desk before you could think, his hands sliding down to your hips. the black sleeves clung to his forearms, veins flexing as he braced himself over you as he murmured a mocking ‘look at me’, undoing your pants and dragging them the rest of the way off, and you tried so bad to look him in the eyes without your gaze falling to his chest, forearms or fingers.

“look at me,” he repeated, the first snap of his hips stealing a broken whine of his name from you, and he groaned when you clenched around him, settling into deep, steady thrusts. one hand gripped your waist under the shirt, the other braced against the desk next to your head, holding you right where he wanted—nowhere to run but into him—each thrust making your fingers curl tighter into the fabric of his rolled sleeves. “so easy for me,” he bent to bite at the side of your neck, voice low against your skin. “so fucking easy—”

your hand slipped under the hem of his longsleeve, trembling, desperate, pushing the fabric up until your palm could press flat to his stomach. the heat of him made you clench around his cock. he was wearing a tank top underneath, and fuck—why couldn’t he give you both rolled sleeves and bare shoulders? and he only made it worse, leaning in and murmuring how much of a greedy mouse you were right against your ear, making you tighten around him, your back arching off the desk.

your arms were around his shoulders next second, head turning to chase his lips and yeonjun didn’t need any other sign, his palm gentle on your cheek as he tilted your head, tongue slipping between your lips. his pace got sharper, less controlled, his hips pressing you harder into the desk with every thrust, the edge building so fast you barely had time to breathe. 

yeonjun caught your whimper with his mouth, your whole body trembling, legs tightening around his hips as the heat coiled low in your stomach and snapped, breaking you open with a muffled moan of his name. yeonjun groaned against your lips, thrusting through the way you clenched and pulsed around him, and followed you over the edge, spilling inside you with a shudder, his forehead dropping to yours as he caught his breath.

“should have… worn a skirt,” you breathed out into his lips with a soft laugh, mind still too dizzy to understand if your words were making any sense, but yeonjun chuckled, agreeing with you, so, perhaps, you were better than you thought you were. “by the way, the poor little thing still heard stuff…” you whispered and looked down—you couldn’t see the front pocket, but you knew that poor junière was somewhere there. 

yeonjun’s eyes followed your gaze and he laughed, pressing a little kiss to the side of your neck before straightening up. “i’ll obliviate it, don’t worry,” he promised, patting your knee and pulling out with a soft hiss, his fingers on your inner thigh, cleaning you up before you could complain—cumplay was great, but maybe for tomorrow, after slytherin’s win. he grabbed your pants and underwear from the floor. “hey, desk princess,” he called out when you did nothing to help him dress you back. “some cooperation?”

you whined, the sound almost tantrum-ish, getting up on your elbows and telling him he was the one who decided to drag them off fully—you were more than fine with him hitting it from behind. you still moved your legs to help him, earning a ‘good girl’ instead of an eye-roll—and ‘as if i didn’t see your gaze glued to my forearms’. he was right, but you refused to admit it, so you just huffed, pinching his side, as he clicked junière back in place. 

the rest of the day went lazily—you managed to drag yourselves out for lunch, the boys already waiting for you at the slytherin table. you sat across each other like nothing had happened, though yeonjun’s stupid little smirk every time your ankles brushed under the table nearly gave you away—taehyun noticed it, but you only rolled your eyes, saying yeonjun’d found a mistake in your statistics and now was too full of himself. 

the afternoon melted into a comfortable haze—yeonjun was on his bed, struggling to keep his eyes open as he flipped through the pages of the advanced legilimency book, while you were already dozed off on the rug, the welsh corgi plushie under your cheek and papers with the unfinished monthly summary scattered around you. yeonjun cursed you for making him get up and brought you to his bed, the plushie pressed to your chest as he continued reading until dozing off too.

you stirred awake a little before dinner, shaking yeonjun until he finally sat up, rubbing his face and muttering that you were lucky you were cute even with your kitten-gremlin teeth—you bit his shoulder and asked him if you were still cute, but he chuckled, pinching your nose and saying that it made you even cuter. you tried to bite his fingers too and he laughed—‘that’s what i meant’.

after the night patrol, yeonjun tugged you into his room before you had a chance to turn towards yours, reminding you he had a really important match tomorrow and needed his lucky charm to soak up as much luck as possible—and it wasn’t about junière. “yeah-yeah, i’m an idiot,” he said, voice flat as he patted your butt towards his bed. “go and rest. your night shirt is somewhere under the blanket."

you thought he meant something sexual, but he just plopped onto the bed after shower and preparing his uniform for tomorrow, his hand squeezing your ass—which hadn't been considered sexual for months already. well, maybe you were mistaken and he was just a weirdo with something unpredictable going on in his mind. except, it was predictable. 

yeonjun woke up before sunrise, still a few hours before he had to go to the pitch and check players and equipment. he wasn’t too anxious, but he certainly was bored and it was making him restless, letting his head fill with some nonsense. it was against gryffindor and beomgyu was a seeker, and somehow it was harder because he could bring the win single-handedly. it’d been raining yesterday, was raining now, and would rain for a little at the start of the match, and playing in the rain… he hated it. and his ‘lucky charm’…

he looked at you, asleep on the other side of the bed, and hummed—perhaps, there was a way to distract his mind and boost his luck. he turned you on your back softly, not exactly purposefully carefully not to wake you up—actually, it’d be easier for him if you did—just not to startle you, and nestled between your legs, gaze catching the calendar on the bed-side table that you coloured for him. oh, he thought, lips stretching in a smirk. your ovulation started today. 

you woke up from the open-mouthed kisses trailing up and down your inner thighs, your legs on yeonjun’s shoulders, his thumb caressing gentle skin. just one look—one. damn. look. at him—hair messy, and his new dye affecting you as bad as the first day, bare shoulders and arms as he’d started sleeping in his underwear only, this stupid grin of a fox or a cat that stole the tastiest treat. just one look and your head fell back into the pillow with a soft moan of his name. 

“morning, mouse,” yeonjun murmured against your thigh, voice still low and rough from sleep, his breath warm against your skin. he rubbed his cheek on your inner thigh, his faint morning stubble rasping against the sensitive skin, making your toes curl on his lower back. “don’t mind me… just collecting my luck for the match,” his lips ghosted closer to where you were already throbbing for him, teasing, his grin audible in his voice.

you whined his name, dragging it out, sleep still clinging to your voice, your back arching off the bed. waking up with yeonjun between your legs was surprising and absolutely expected at the same time. “yeonjun…” you breathed out, fingers tangling in his hair. “what time is it?.. we’re gonna be late—”

“nah,” he interrupted, chucking at your weak attempt to resist with your words, when your hands clearly preferred him to continue. he placed a wet kisses right next to the fabric of your underwear. “we’ve got hours, baby. and this...” he nudged the wet patch on your underwear with his nose, making you inhale sharply, your thighs tightening around his head, “works better than felix felicis,” he glanced up at you, watching your face as he licked a wide stripe up.

the groan you let out at the felix felicis joke melted into a soft gasp at the feeling of his tongue, your eyes fluttering shut when his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear and tugged it off your legs, before spreading them again. his tongue finally traced along your folds, slow and deliberate, your fingers twitching back toward his hair on instinct, and he hummed approvingly when you threaded them through, tugging just enough to let him know how much you wanted it.

yeonjun groaned low in his throat as he tasted you, the sound vibrating against your core—you tasted divine—and he got more comfortable between your legs, settling in to devour you properly. his tongue dragged up, slow and firm, before circling your clit with the kind of patience that he knew was maddening—he felt your toes curling against his back, your fingers tightening in his hair, and he chuckled like he’d just scored the first ten points of the game already.

he alternated between long, teasing licks and soft, wet kisses, the rhythm so unhurried it promised nothing good. your hips twitched despite yourself, a tiny whimper slipping out as his tongue flattened and pressed right where you needed it most, only to lift again and trace along your folds, gathering every drop of wetness. the first slick, obscene sound made your thighs twitch, and yeonjun’s hands slid to hold them in place, thumbs stroking the softest skin like he was reminding you to stay still for him.

a shiver ran through you as he sucked your clit into his mouth, and your breath hitched hard, head falling back into the pillow. your chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm, the faint rasp of his stubble on your inner thighs grounding you in the moment even as your mind began to float. one of his hands left your thigh to slip lower, fingers gliding through your slick folds before pressing one inside you, slow and deep, curling just enough to make your back arch.

your lips parted, but no real words came out—just a soft, desperate sound as his mouth and fingers worked in tandem, deliberate and purposeful. another finger slid in, the stretch so perfect, his bony fingers so beautiful against your walls, your heel dug into the muscle of his shoulder blade, and yeonjun groaned against you, making you whimper—the coil inside you was tightening so fast, faster than you expected in your sleepy haze, your body trembling with every slow pump of his fingers and flick of his tongue.

and when yeonjun curled them just right and sucked hard enough to make the pressure snap, your hips jerked, a half-sob breaking from your lips as heat went up your body—you came with a shiver and his name on your lips, clutching at his hair and shoulder, thighs trembling around his head while he hummed into you, drawing your orgasm out until you were squirming, sensitive and whining softly.

yeonjun leaned his head on your thigh, watching you catch your breath, his restless tongue darting out to lick your juices off his lips. he waited for you to finally look at him, your eyes a little unfocused, breath still uneven, and brushed his chin with his thumb, catching stray drops before licking them off, eyes glued to yours. “good thing this doesn’t show up in pre-match checks unlike felix felicis, huh?” he murmured and you inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering shut. 

fuck, he was a menace—a damn hot one. you weren’t much better, though. “good thing,” you started, still breathing heavily, your mind still somewhere else, “only you can have this, huh?” you barely felt his shoulders tense under your legs, but still cracked your eye open. “like… ultimate luck potion?..” you explained uncertainly.

he cursed under his breath, his eyes closing as he inhaled deeply, hips rolling into the mattress—it was unexpected, but so, so fucking hot. only he could have it, right—no one else could even think about it, no one dared to think about it. “that’s right, baby,” he murmured before his fingers spread your folds, lips wrapping around your clit without wasting time, your back arching under his hold. “sweetest fucking good luck charm in the world,” he muttered, barely moving away, vibration shooting straight through your core. “all damn mine.”

yeonjun groaned low into your skin, the sound vibrating against you as he sucked harder, tongue circling your clit like he’d been starving for it. he couldn’t help the way his hips pressed into the mattress at the taste, at the sounds you were making, at the way your body twitched and your hand found his half-mindedly—the ache in his cock was unbearable, grinding for any bit of friction. 

fuck, you were dripping for him, twitching under his mouth, and every broken sound from you only pushed him closer to losing it. his fingers dug into your thighs, keeping them as he wanted as he flicked his tongue faster, drunk on the taste of you, on the thought that you were all his, that he could make you fall apart again and again before the damn match even started, and when it did, you’d stay there all prettily at the side of the pitch watching him win.

your vision blurred for a moment as heat coiled in your stomach even faster than the first time, sharper this time too, and your breath caught on a sob when yeonjun latched onto your clit again. your body jerked, hips trying to shy away from the pressure but his hands held you in place, and the rougher pull of his mouth had you whimpering his name. your thighs trembled on his shoulders, a little ache curling into the edges of pleasure, but it only made it better, only made you feel like you were melting against the sheets.

the world, your world shrank to his mouth, his voice rumbling against you, and the shameless rut of his hips into the mattress you couldn’t ignore—your second orgasm hit hard and fast, leaving your limbs limp and mind hazy, clenching around nothing as he groaned into your skin, his fingers digging into your flesh like he’d just won the fucking match already.

yeonjun didn’t move away—fuck, he couldn’t. you tasted so sweet and sounded even sweeter and he wasn’t going to deny he was a weak, selfish man who was so fucking greedy for you, he couldn’t think straight. he didn’t stop even when you whined his name, your hands in his hair trying to push him away—he’d react to ‘red’, but his name leaving your lips in sobs only urged him on. “i know you can do it, baby.”

you arched your back, a quiet broken sob escaping you, as your hips twitched against his mouth—you couldn’t even open your eyes anymore, tears running down your temples and disappearing in the hairline, as your fingers trembled in his hair. yeonjun’s words were a blur in your mind, but you could guess he wasn’t going to stop—not until he decided it was enough.

and maybe that should’ve been fine, should’ve kept you floating on that haze, but some tiny spark of awareness cut through—the sharp ache of emptiness, the drag of his hips into the mattress, the way his cock kept brushing the sheets instead of you. a whimper broke out of you before you could stop it. “yeonjun…” you almost sobbed, and he hummed against your clit, but you shook your head weakly, legs twitching on his shoulders. “n-not—” your voice cracked on a sob, “please, inside… please, yeonjun, want you inside—”

he rutted into the mattress, his groan sharp enough to vibrate through you, making you jerk, and he finally lifted his head, hair a mess, lips and chin shining, eyes dark and locked on you. fuck, he wanted it so much, his cock was so aching, yet he was still so thirsty for your taste… but he knew you wouldn’t be able to take the fourth and jerking off was the last thing he wanted—fuck. 

yeonjun pressed his forehead against your thigh, cursing again under his breath. “you’re gonna kill me, baby,” he muttered, voice low and shaky, and took a deep breath, leaning back, eyes falling to your pussy—wet and glistening and so fucking alluring, begging him to forget about his aching cock, but the little ‘please, yeonjun—’ snapped him out of these thoughts, and he sat up before he could change his mind.

you weren’t any stronger, because the moment he did, your eyes travelled down to the tent in his underwear—your legs would definitely close if yeonjun wasn’t between them. and then he knelt over you, towering, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light of the cloudy enchanted ceiling, the wet patch on the fabric making you swallow hard—your fingers twitched uselessly against the sheets, your chest rising and falling in shaky breaths, and for a second you could only stare up at him, your whole being already begging without a single thought.

yeonjun barely noticed it, though, pushing his underwear down hurriedly, hissing at the feeling of cool air on hot, wet, sensitive skin of his cock, before wrapping his fingers around the shaft, pumping a few times with a curse under his breath—it surely wasn’t going to take him long, but he knew you were just as close. he braced himself over you on one arm as he pressed the tip to your clit, rubbing it against it, making both of you shudder. 

“p-please,” you hiccuped, voice catching on a sob as your hips jerked helplessly, the slick drag of his cockhead over your clit making your whole body flinch—your hand shot up to his wrist by your head, clutching tight in a pathetic attempt to anchor yourself, thighs twitching around his hips. you could barely get the words out, a mix of ‘please’ and his name slipping past your lips mindlessly—every nerve was raw and trembling, teetering on the edge of pain that only made the need sharper. you needed him inside.

a breathless ‘fuck’ left yeonjun’s lips when he saw you—watery eyes, wet lashes, tear-tracks streaking your temples, your swollen lip caught between your teeth—you were a complete wreck, and all because of him. nothing in the world felt better than this—except maybe the thought of finally feeling you squeeze around his cock. he groaned, angled himself, and slid in slow, savoring every trembling inch.

the heat of you nearly knocked the air out of his chest, and yeonjun pushed in to the hilt, your walls tightening around him like your body was starving for him. your name tore from him, forehead dropping to yours for a split second before instinct took over—his hips snapped forward, fast and hard, water-slick skin smacking as he chased that unbearable pressure coiling low. the old bed creaked under his thrusts, his cock sliding in and out of you with wet, obscene sounds, and he couldn’t even think—just feel, only feel.

you cried out, the sudden fullness and rough rhythm crashing through the raw edges of your nerves. and your fingers groped at his arm and shoulder, clinging to him as the headboard thudded softly against the wall. every thrust stole your breath, the coil in your stomach winding so tight it hurt in the best way, yeonjun’s name slipping out in broken sobs, and you swore there was nothing in the whole world but heat, sweat, and the delicious ache of him pounding you into the mattress.

yeonjun could feel you fluttering around him already, every rough thrust pulling a broken sound from your lips, and his own control was hanging by a single fraying thread. “fuck—baby—” he gritted out, voice shaking, hips slamming forward faster. his vision blurred for a second as the edge hit him hard, your walls clenching like you were trying to drag his release out of him—a groan ripped from his chest as he spilled inside you, hips jerking through it helplessly, chasing every last wave.

the second you felt him twitch and flood you, the coil snapped—your back arched off the bed, a broken, raw cry spilling from your lips as your orgasm crashed into you, hotter and sharper than the first two. your legs trembled around his waist, body shivering as pleasure and overstimulation tangled, making your head so much more dazed. you could feel him groaning against your neck, holding you down through his own release, and all you could do was cling to him, letting the aftershocks shake you both apart.

“we’re gonna…” yeonjun paused to catch his breath, and let out a soft laugh when he did—god, he was so fucked out, it was almost embarrassing. “gonna win today for sure, baby,” he continued, leaving small bites on your neck between words. “all thanks to you,” he murmured, his hand running up your thigh—carefully, not wanting to hurt you, giving you time to come down from your high without overstimulating you further.

you weren’t exactly sure what yeonjun was saying but his quiet raspy voice scratched your brain so sweetly… your body felt heavy, like your bones weren’t solid anymore, your legs twitched against his hips, and even keeping your eyes open felt like too much work. every little brush of his fingers made your body jolt, but you couldn’t even think about pulling away—couldn’t think about anything, really, just words. warm… tired… yeonjun… so comfy…

he watched your eyes flutter shut, your limbs around him slowly relaxing and barely holding on anymore—he was already softened enough too, and just one little move of his hips was enough for his cock to slip out of you, accompanied by your soft whine and his quiet hiss that turned into a gentle shush the moment he saw a pained expression on your face. “such a good girl,” he whispered, spreading your legs carefully. “lemme clean you up, yeah?”

your murmur barely made any sense, but you still relaxed, letting him do whatever he wanted to do—your fingers still wrapped around the wrist of his free hand, probably in case he decided to leave you alone. you felt the tingling sensation of the cleaning spell between your legs, wincing slightly, and then his hand covered yours on his wrist, his thumb caressing the skin underneath, and you hummed contently. 

yeonjun giggled quietly at how adorable you were—obviously needy and soft, but ‘don’t you dare’ written all over your exhausted and blissed out face. crying was probably the worst you could do to him, so he was extremely careful, sitting you up despite your protests and flinches, shushing and praising you while bringing a bottle of water to your lips. aren’t you a good girl? course, you are. so proud of you. so strong.

his words were a blur in your sleepy brain—even more than before—and you were already more asleep than awake, body relaxing completely the second yeonjun lowered you onto the bed again. you whined something incoherent when his warmth left you, but he was back in no time, his warm big palm on your thigh, firm and heavy and certain, and your mind finally relaxed too.

yeonjun barely noticed the hour passing, the notes for today's tactics scattered all over the bed as he muttered strategies to himself, occasionally glancing at you and checking if you were still breathing. making notes weren’t exactly easy when his second hand was busy with something more important—staying on your thigh, rubbing and caressing and squeezing—but he was a man who knew how to put his priorities straight. 

he woke you up a little before breakfast, just enough time for you to get ready without rush—perfect amount of time, actually. yeonjun squeezed your thigh, patting your ass to wake you, and when you finally dragged yourself up, grumbling and cursing, he shooed you to the bathroom, saying something about his new gel shower and shampoo—you were too sleepy to pay attention.

by the time you came back, still fighting sleep but at least not with a shutout loss anymore, yeonjun was already in his ‘quidditch undergarments’—black trousers and tight thermal shirt that made you pause for a second from the way it hugged his back, and even a longer pause when he turned to you and you saw how tight it was on his chest. no—no, you had no time, but maybe right after the match…

yeonjun smirked like a satisfied cat when he saw you eyeing his torso, the shirt tight and black—weren’t you cute? licking your lips mindlessly before trying to pretend you weren’t affected. just wait a little, baby, he thought. i’m going to pull you somewhere private the moment the helmet and gloves are off. he chuckled one more time before nodding at his bed where he prepared clothes for you. 

it was nothing extraordinary—one of your pants that hadn’t seen your room for months and obviously his slytherin sweater. territorial much, huh? you thought, tugging the bathrobe off and grabbing the underwear lying next to the sweater. as if it was a problem—your sweaters were the same except size, so whatever his heart desired. especially after leaving you so jelly and boneless. 

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waking up from real sun hitting your face through huge windows and no resistance in the form of curtains that you forgot to draw before bed felt unusual after exactly five months of being woken up by the enchanted ceiling that you could control at least a bit by switching hour back or forth or making it a little less bright. waking up and not hearing yeonjun’s soft snoring from the other bed felt even stranger, if you had to be honest. you made a face before getting up—he wished you’d think about him first thing in the morning.

by the time you got ready, your body being the laziest it had ever been as you trailed through your room, taking a shower, brushing your teeth, choosing what to wear and dressing up, dozing out after tugging on only one sock or just trouser leg up to your knee, it was already past noon, and your parents already were at yeonjun’s family house, helping with dinner preparations—that’s what the note on the fridge said, at least. 

and that was where you headed—to join the pre-party, help your moms and whoever else was there and maybe gossip a little. yeonjun wasn’t there—his mom told you so after pulling you into a warm hug and cupping your cheeks, saying you were getting prettier and prettier each time she saw you. she also added to tell her if her son was annoying you, because she could scold him and tell him to behave. 

you only shook your head with a laugh, saying he was pretty well-behaved as she raised him well—it wasn’t exactly true, because he was kind of an ass sometimes, but it definitely was on him and not on his mom, who was the sweetest woman in the world. it had always felt like you had two moms instead of one, and it never mattered what exactly was happening between you and yeonjun—you were always welcome in mrs. choi’s arms and heart. 

it had disadvantages too—when you were sneaking bites on the ingredients you were slicing, you were getting two times more scolding, but it was so gentle and always followed by yeonjun’s mom telling you to eat well and not only uncooked ingredients and to stay healthy and strong, and yeonjun’s older cousin who was helping too would tease you and call you ‘little thief’, ruffling your hair like you were her younger sister. 

you never realized how grateful you were that your petty childhood fight with yeonjun never ruined your relationship with his family, and only now you saw how close your families were and how important each child of both of them was for ‘parents’. you had been celebrating everything together since you could remember anything—of course, it wasn’t rare for you to politely decline the invitations in the past, and the same applied for yeonjun, but your families seemed to understand it wasn't easy for you both, and never held any grudge. 

but it was almost obvious by the way your moms threw glances at each other as if they were communicating through their minds—they knew something had changed between you two, but didn’t want to ask about it to not ruin whatever there was. of course, you spent almost the whole summer together, but there were always your friends with you, and celebrating with families only was… new. but not unwelcome—your moms couldn’t dream of anything better than you two becoming friends again. 

yeonjun and your dads returned an hour or so later, and he was a little surprised to see you in his house, cutting mushrooms for japchae in the kitchen and laughing with his mom, but he only shrugged—you were loved by his family and only skipped shared celebrations because of him, and now everything between you two was okay. if whatever you had was ‘okay’ in a family-friendly way, of course. 

he gathered everyone in the kitchen, all eyes on him, confused and curious if he had something to announce, and you just prayed to the heavens it wasn’t something about you two—he couldn’t be so stupid, could he?.. no. no, of course he couldn’t. it was probably something about being a headboy or a captain or maybe something about his exceptional grades or about intern—

your mouth fell open, eyes widening, when yeonjun tugged his beanie off—fucking highlights. messy ones—uneven, roots and ends still black, some locks are black, some lighter than the rest. it almost seemed like the hairdresser was absolutely wasted—and maybe kept drinking something like vodka or whiskey while bleaching the strands—and like it’d been a few weeks since the disaster happened, because there was like an inch of dark roots. absolutely disastrous. 

but you knew yeonjun—it wouldn’t be him if it wasn’t intentional. he had the image in his head for certain, and you could be hundred percent sure the result looked exactly the way he wanted it to. and, honestly, you couldn’t lie that he looked hot as fuck. there was probably no one in the world who’d pull off this hairstyling catastrophe like he did. the intentional uneven mess on his head was making you feel weird—it made him so much hotter…

it was intentional, you were right. but the moment yeonjun looked in the mirror in the salon… he wasn’t sure if he loved it simply because it was him but looked like an idiot to others or if it really did look good. and of course he expected everyone to be shocked, maybe even expected them to laugh and ruffle his hair and say something like ‘don’t worry, we still love you’—it was exactly what happened—but you didn’t say anything, only averted your gaze before turning around to face the counter and getting back to cutting stupid mushrooms.

yeonjun didn’t want to admit it made him feel weird—he couldn’t say it hurt or made him insecure, but… you two were having sex regularly and he knew you found him hot, was his new hairstyle not hot?.. so ridiculous that it was the exact opposite of being hot? he almost ‘knocked’ into your brain, but stopped before you could feel it—if you found him looking stupid now, he’d prefer to hear it coming from your lips sugarcoated. 

but you couldn’t get that ridiculous new hairstyle out of your head. there was something so unfairly sexy in how he was supposed to look like a complete loser but somehow made it work—it didn’t make him look like an idiot; he made idiocy look fucking good. and you hated how it made you want to pull him into his room and beg him to fuck you until the only thing in your head was him. you weren’t even being a tsundere, you simply hated how you clearly had no opportunity to do so—fucking choi yeonjun and his ‘perfect’ timings.

he caught you alone a little later, on your way to the storeroom where his mom sent you to get some extra fancy cutlery and dishes. you really tried to ignore him following you step by step, but it was hard to do so, when his hand brushed your ass with each movement and when he pressed you into the storeroom door the moment it closed behind you two, hands on your hips, chest against chest, his breath warm and minty on your lips as he whispered anti-alochomora spell—just in case. 

you tried to not let it affect you—you really did—but he smelt nice, and was so close, his body was so firm against yours, you could feel his every breath, and the lights were just dim enough for him to look even better with this disaster on his head. your hands found his stomach, fingers clenched around the fabric of his hoodie as your eyes flattered shut. you knew he would accept it as your defeat, but you didn’t care—your body was aching for him. 

yeonjun pressed his lips to the corner of your lips, hands going up your sides to slip under your shirt, thumbs drawing little circles on your skin. he moved his kisses closer to your ear and then lower, lips resting over your pulse point, barely there but enough to feel your heartbeat getting faster. “what do you think of my new hair?” he murmured and your eyes snapped open, looking at him in surprise. was it… bad?

you swallowed, leaning your head back to look at him. you expected absolutely anything—a bite, a hickey, a spank, maybe something filthy whispered into your ear—but not this question, and especially not it sounding like it wasn’t just teasing. did it matter much in the first place? well, if he was asking… “you’re supposed to look like a total idiot,” you whispered, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “but honestly? you look hot as fuck.”

yeonjun studied your face for just a few seconds before pressing his lips to your cheek and humming. “do i?” he murmured, lips curling in a smug smirk against your skin, hands squeezing your waist. of course, he wasn’t insecure—he was choi yeonjun after all—but hearing that he was hot from you? could he maybe make you do it regularly? “does it make you hot and bothered already?”

the mewl that left your lips made his smile bigger, and your hands moved to his chest, breath hitching—yes, yes, yes. fuck you, choi yeonjun. and fuck me. but not here, not now—fuck, you couldn’t. your families were waiting for you to bring dishes and if you ended up looking like a mess they’d know—fuck. “yeon—jun,” your breathed out, trying to push him away but your fingers were still clenched around the fabric. “we can’t… can’t now.”

his hips ground against you against his own will and he let out a broken exhale into your neck. “fuck, i know baby,” he whispered, his kisses getting softer, his hold on your waist gentler to not leave any marks of what was happening—at least not the ones you wouldn’t be able to deal with quickly enough. “i know. i hate it so much. want you so much, babygirl.” 

you tried to spread your legs—just a little, just the smallest touch—and your thigh brushed against his boner, making you exhale shakily. “fuck, yeonjun,” your breathed out, fingers clenching on his shoulder. there was nothing that you wanted more than to be taken right here, in that stupid small old dusty storeroom, but you couldn’t. “you’re hard.”

yeonjun chuckled. “i know, mouse,” he murmured into the skin of your neck before taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent, as if trying to keep it on the surface of his mind for next half an hour. “don’t worry. i’ll just jerk off in my room,” he left a few more fleeting kisses, hands under your shirt crawling up to brush your nipple with his thumb through the thin fabric of your bra. “with the pair you found in my bag, hm?” 

you felt his smirk and let out a breathy laugh. “you’re such a perv, choi yeonjun,” you whispered, fingers slipping into his hair. “a fucking hot one,” you muttered, his new hairstyle bright and vivid behind your eyelids as if your fingertips could feel it. his breathy smug chuckle sent shivers down your spine and maybe his confidence wasn’t so annoying this time… “your room is far. you’d look weird if someone saw you with a boner,” you whispered, tilting your head to look at him. “can suck you off.” 

it was a really, really tempting offer—he’d still prefer to fuck you properly, of course, but neither was possible now. “your lips get puffy and your eyes water,” he murmured, kisses trailing closer to your mouth. “everyone will know,” he muttered, his minty breath warm against your lips before he leaned in—the softest kiss you’d ever shared. not because either of you wanted it that way, but because it was the only way. “i’ll just jerk off here, then.”

“you can—” you cleared your throat that suddenly went dry—the words left your mouth before you could filter this thought out and ‘nevermind’ never worked on yeonjun, you had to finish it. you swallowed and licked your lips before continuing. “you can cum into my mouth?.. so you don’t—don’t make a mess here?..” you whispered, your voice less and less certain with every word. 

just don’t tease me, don’t laugh at me. don’t wanna—say ‘no, it’s okay’, don’t make fun of me. you knew yeonjun would see right through you—pretending the cleaning charms didn’t exist when they were literally part of your morning (and evening. and sometimes afternoon) routine by now. you knew for him it’d sound exactly the way you meant it—‘i want you so much and can’t wait til night’. 

you were right—yeonjun knew the meaning behind your words. but what was much more important, he also knew the meaning of them, as if he could feel your vulnerability sinking into him through your fingertips digging into his shoulders. he leaned back to look into your eyes—just for a moment—before leaving a little kiss under your jaw. “okay,” he breathed out, feeling your body relax against his. good, he thought, taking your hand from his shoulder to guide you down to the floor between his legs. 

you sank down without hesitation, fingers trembling a little as you undid his belt—yeonjun didn’t tell you to do it, but just sitting there and watching felt weird—and he breathed out a soft ‘good girl’, his left hand resting on the top of your head as he fidgeted with the button and zipper, his pants sliding down his hips when he was done, hand slipping inside his underwear to pull his cock out.

your hands fell to your thighs, tongue darting out to lick your lips as you looked up at him—his lower lip caught between his teeth, chest rising and falling unevenly, eyes locked on your face. your gaze dropped to his hand, his fingers already wrapped around the shaft, pumping a few times, a soft groan escaping his lips. he slowed his movements, stroking himself, and you were almost sure he did it to tease you, and you looked back at him. 

yeonjun was drinking in your every reaction—every tiny shiver, every unsteady breath you took, every swift glance down to his hand wrapped around his cock and the way your gaze was getting more and more pleading each time you looked back into his eyes. “pretty,” he murmured, his voice low and strained, brushing your hair back to see your face better, the action almost tender, thumb swiping over his leaking tip before his hand picked up pace again.

you swallowed hard, trying not to squirm under his heated stare, your nails digging into your thighs. and when his movements turned jerky, his hips twitching forward, you leaned in without a word—lips wrapping around the tip just as he came, swallowing it down instinctively, your eyes fluttering shut at the taste and weight of him on your tongue. his low groan echoed in the tiny storeroom, and his hand fell to the back of your head, not pushing, just grounding himself, fingers playing with strands unconsciously.

yeonjun could swear his soul tried to leave his body each time he watched you lick your lips after sucking him off, but this time you looked at him surprised too, his lips stretching in a pleased smile as you stood up, your fingers brushing your chin in case something escaped. “what do you think of the new taste?” he murmured, tilting his head, his thumb catching a little drop and bringing it to your lips.

you rolled your eyes, clicking your tongue against your teeth. “being generous today, aren’t we?” still, you leaned in—kittenish, teasing, eyes locked on his—your tongue flicking over his thumb with a soft, almost mocking hum. it was good, though—had he changed the taste-affecting draught? “i like it more. the last one was fine too, though,” you added, as if it was just an afterthought.

he only hummed, low and satisfied, a quiet good slipping past his lips. he wasn’t looking for ‘fine’—he wanted it perfect, wanted it to be something that would make it even better for you despite how much you loved it already. and if it meant you might just suck his soul straight out through his cock... well, sometimes you have to pay a price for being such a thoughtful, generous, utterly perfect man—of everyone’s dreams, of course.

you grabbed the box yeonjun’s mom had asked you to bring and groaned immediately—the huge dish for galbi wasn’t inside like you expected, your gaze fell on it lying on the shelf. and you were already holding the box, and you really didn’t want to set it down just to pick it up again—effort you didn’t feel like wasting today. “can you, please, put this dish,” you gestured at the platter with a tilt of your head, “on top of the box? faster, please,” you added pointedly, exaggerating the word with an impatient little stomp. “it’s heavy.” 

yeonjun looked at you like you were the most hopeless idiot he’d ever seen—the type who didn’t even know they were being an idiot. he didn’t bother replying—instead, he plucked the box right out of your arms, gaze locked on yours with that unamused look that always made you want to strangle him. or kiss him—you weren’t sure. then he jerked his chin at the dish. “grab it yourself, fool,” he said, watching you roll your eyes and murmur some insult under your breath as you stomped over to the platter—as if he’d let you carry a box so heavy. 

his eyes flicked to another platter nearby—smaller, not nearly as fancy, the one they never used for new year dishes. he casually told you to grab that one too, and you frowned, your grip tightening on the first dish as you said it wasn’t needed. he barely let you finish, though, before dropping the one phrase that worked on you better than any imperio ever could—‘be a good girl and put it on the box, please’. 

your eyes snapped to him instantly—what an—you hissed out a curse, but he only raised an eyebrow. he needed no legilimency, no necklace, nothing at all to know exactly what it did to you. you were already hot and bothered after that pathetic excuse for making out and an even more pathetic excuse for a blowjob, and now he had the audacity to push you further? you grabbed the dish, doing your best not to slam it onto the box in his arms, but to place it calmly — as calmly as you could manage.

yeonjun watched you storm out first — holding the door for him, of course (even pissed off, you were helping), but not sparing him a single glance. shit. that wasn’t the plan. to make you a little frustrated? yes. to put a thundercloud above your head, lightning crackling every time he inhaled or exhaled? not really. who the fuck does that to a girl right after coming in her mouth, choi yeonjun? he cursed himself mentally. a fucking idiot.

you understood, though, when yeonjun’s mom asked what took so long. he didn’t even hesitate before saying you had insisted that the dish you were carrying was the right one—she sighed, and before he could even finish, she said it was exactly the one that was needed, then sent him back to return the extra platter he’d picked. you played along easily—rolled your eyes, turned to him with an ‘i told you so’ look, and he just shrugged, wearing one of his slyest little smiles. you could almost see the ‘get it now?’ shining in his eyes. i do.

closer to dinner, both your parents and yeonjun’s started to slow down, tiredness creeping into their voices and movements after hours of prep and chatter. when more guests—mostly yeonjun’s extended family—began arriving one after another, he gently sat his mom down in the living room, telling her to stop fussing and just focus on catching up with all the aunts and uncles she hadn’t seen in ages.

he promised he’d finish everything in the kitchen himself. with your help, obviously—mrs. choi had pulled you aside before he noticed, her fingers warm around your wrist as she leaned in closer, voice soft, almost conspiratorial. she asked you to keep an eye on him, because, as she said with a fond little sigh, he could still be just a tiny bit clumsy sometimes—she didn’t want him to feel bad or embarrassed if he messed something up.

you nodded with a little smile and a quiet ‘of course’, following yeonjun into the kitchen to help with whatever he was so focused on now—which turned out to be pouring tteokguk into bowls for each guest, and for some reason, it was taking him forever with just this one. when your curiosity finally got the better of you—which, honestly, didn’t take very long—you asked what exactly he was doing, and he only muttered that he’d added a little more ingredients when his mom wasn’t looking.

his eye roll when you asked if ruining the main dish was the real reason he’d kept his mom out of the kitchen during the final preparations was so dramatic and annoying that you almost felt bad for even asking. you stepped closer, leaning over his shoulder as he turned away to hide the pot and the half-filled bowl like a guilty kid, and asked again what exactly he had done—maybe you two could fix it before anyone found out.

yeonjun didn’t reply—only set this bowl on the counter instead of giving it to you, and quickly poured another bowl, no problems with this one whatsoever. “careful to not burn your hands,” he mumbled, placing this one into your hands, watching you blink at him in confusion a few times. “tteokguk is perfectly fine, don’t worry,” he said and sighed when you didn’t move an inch. “go until the skin of your palms goes off, because it’s really hot.”

you huffed but obeyed—the bowl really started getting too warm and at some point of your friendship with five males you found out sometimes your curiosity wasn’t really worth it. some things better stay undiscovered… he probably kept this bowl for himself—you would serve your dishes last, so it made sense he put it aside. yeah, probably this. and what was inside… well, maybe you didn’t want to know.

the two of you slipped into the rhythm naturally—yeonjun pouring with practiced precision now that he wasn’t hiding anything, you taking each bowl with exaggerated sighs and muttered curses about his ‘snail pace’ and ‘bad wrist strength’, earning soft scoffs and flicks to your forehead each time you dared to complain too loudly. he threw in a quiet ‘you’re just mad i didn’t let you taste it first’ at some point, to which you only rolled your eyes and told him he should be grateful you didn’t drop one of the bowls on purpose yet.

you still eyed the bowl yeonjun put aside earlier, and when he noticed it, he pinched your thigh—after checking that no one was too close to the kitchen, of course—and said that in your case curiosity didn’t kill the cat—it ate the gremlin-kitten alive first. you stuck your tongue out at him, and he did it back, also making a face at you, so you had only one thing left—you blew a raspberry, and he didn’t hesitate before doing the same, and the childish noise filled the kitchen.

his cousin who peeked in just in time to see the exchange opened her mouth before closing it again—everyone kind of rooted for you two to get back to being friends the way you were before school, but it wasn’t about you acting this way. “are you two pre-schoolers?” she exclaimed, and your heads snapped to her, eyes of you both as wide as they could be. “anyway, auntie asked to bring more japchae. and you two better hurry up because she already wanted to come and do everything herself.”

you just nodded, lips pressed tight together to keep inside the laugh that already started filling your lungs—you glanced at yeonjun who most certainly was trying to do the same, and his face was so hilarious that it got harder to not laugh, and his cousin just sighed reminding you to hurry up before disappearing towards the dinner room. yeonjun was the first one to burst out a laugh, hand on his stomach, as he folded in two, palm flat on the counter to keep himself from falling. 

you nudged his shoulder, a wave of laughter going through your own body, and you barely managed to fit ‘you’re such a copy-cat’ in-between. he seemed offended, trying to keep his best insulted face when you said he was copying your tricks without having anything in his arsenal. he pinched your check, shaking it lightly and asking if you stole your ‘arsenal’ from a five-years-old, and you stuck your tongue out at him again—at least you had something there, because his one was absolutely empty. 

his eyes narrowed, a smirk already crawling onto his lips, and he lunged at you without warning, arms hooking around your thighs to lift you off the ground just enough to make you squeal, your hands flying to his shoulders in instinctive panic. “yah— put me down!” you shrieked, half-laughing, half-actually-terrified—damn these six-feet giants and their need to lift you out of nowhere—your legs kicking uselessly in the air.

“say you’re sorry first,” he teased and you hissed a little ‘never!’ back, giggling helplessly, trying to push away from him but also clenching the fabric of his cardigan in case this idiot decided to drop you. he only squeezed you a little tighter before finally setting you back on your feet, your knees wobbling a little as you regained balance. he leaned closer, so close that you could feel his breath ghosting across your jaw, his smile as sharp as always, but instead of kissing you like you expected, he flicked your forehead with a teasing ‘good girl’.

yeonjun turned around before you could say anything, your mouth ajar at the audacity of the man in front of you, and you already lifted your hand to slap his chest when he handed you the bowl he poured into first, the surface pleasantly warm against your palms—probably charmed to stay at perfect temperature. you blinked up at him, confused, and he only nodded at the dish in your hands, voice low but playful. “extra special ingredient proportions. try to not make it obvious to everyone, dummy. okay?”

“for you?..” you asked uncertainly, voice a little higher than usual, and he looked at you the same way he did earlier this day—like you were the biggest idiot he’d ever met—and you huffed, lips in a tiny pout, not completely sure how to react to this kind of treatment from him. “i get it, get it. don’t look at me like this,” you muttered, looking into the bowl—more stuff that you liked, almost none of what you didn’t. “thank you…”

of course, you and yeonjun sat together as the ‘kids’ of both families, and maybe it took you embarrassingly long, but you still ended up nudging a piece of sweet and sour pork belly from your plate onto his, rolling your eyes even before he noticed it, let alone said anything. you knew it wasn’t going to be good—it was choi yeonjun after all—but you wanted to thank him in some way nevertheless.

yeonjun poked at the meat with his chopsticks, leaning closer with that stupid glint in his eyes, whispering ‘trying to fatten me up, hm?’ before shoving another piece onto your plate in return, almost too quickly, and you clicked your tongue, head tilted, muttering ‘you’d look good in any shape anyway’ under your breath, praying he didn’t catch it—but the slow curl of his smirk told you everything, and you rolled your eyes again, turning back to your plate as if nothing happened.

anyone barely paid any attention to you; the adults seemed more focused on each other’s stories than you two, they were only throwing glances here and there—sometimes soft, sometimes amused, sometimes a little surprised even, like they couldn’t quite believe you and yeonjun were slowly, carefully piecing your friendship back together after years of silent battles and quiet stares. 

no one noticed when your knees bumped under the table, and when you flicked a piece of radish at him in a moment of childish rebellion, the only person who rolled their eyes was yeonjun—before flicking it back at you, his hand coming up to shield his glass of beer expecting more (radish beer wasn’t on his ‘drinks to try’ list). he was sipping from this glass for ten minutes now—much longer than he usually needed.

you didn’t drink at all—for the first toast you took the tiniest sip of the soju shot and quickly pushed the glass to yeonjun to switch with his empty one, and for the other two you just held up your glass with whatever non-alcoholic drink yeonjun poured there for you, ‘geonbae!’ just as cheerful as those who were already above ‘just a few shots’. 

yeonjun teased you for not drinking ‘grown-up beverages’, asking you if you needed him to bring you a sippy cup for your baby drinks, and you were torn between thanking him for being so generous to offer you one of his and telling him that you indeed loved sipping some stuff out as you both had found earlier this day. the choice was so difficult that you just rolled your eyes and decided to tell him both later. 

despite teasing you, yeonjun was actually glad you decided to stay sober and didn’t really drink much either—just sipped on the same glass of beer from the moment it was poured, taking a few shots—two? three? probably three with the one you gave him—of soju in-between. he dodged each next toast by holding up his beer instead and no one really cared, you were the only one throwing glances at him, and he assumed he knew why—there was… an activity planned for later, even though you hadn’t really discussed it.

and it was the reason behind him needing you completely sober and neither of you eating too much—your bowls of tteokguk already had a little less than of others, yeonjun took care of it, and you were already dangerously close to ‘full’ after it, so you both just kept moving the food around your plates enough to keep any aunt from nagging you. you still took a bite here, a piece there, tasting everything on the table—but just tasting, not more. after all, you could always sneak into the kitchen and eat the leftovers in the middle of the night.

dishes on the table were getting emptier and emptier with each minute, conversations were getting lazier and you could hear quiet groans and sighs here and there—some stretched their necks, some leaned back in the chairs as if to show how full they were, yeonjun’s cousin, the one that found you ‘too girl’ for their boy-ish games more than fifteen years ago, was shamelessly looking for his lighter already, and you just rolled your eyes at him while no one was looking, making yeonjun chuckle.

it was getting close to tea and dessert time, but a little smoke break before it—and when yeonjun noticed everyone slowly getting ready to go ‘get some fresh air, stretch and walk for a little to make some room for desserts’, he threw a quick glance at you, humming under his breath. it was a great time for you two to sneak out—half of the family would get up to go outside and you could leave too without making a show, but… 

you hadn’t talked about it, and yeonjun couldn’t just lean in and ask you if you wanted to go and have a high-quality, mind-blowing quicky in his room while everyone was busy and wouldn’t notice for how long you were absent. no, well, he could, it’d never been a problem—but not in the middle of family dinner for seollal, because you never know which auntie might have a good enough hearing.

so yeonjun just leaned a little closer, brows in a frown, eyes narrowed as he studied your face, and you turned to him, head in a little confused tilt. “are you okay?” he whispered, hand on your knee giving it a little squeeze before slipping it just a little higher, his pinky brushing dangerously close to your crotch—a sign, a hint at what was hidden behind the little question. “you look a little pale.”

you licked your lips—oh—and waited half a second before blinking a bit slower than usual and letting your body sigh like it was a little heavier than it actually was. you gave a small nod—it wasn’t convincing and it wasn’t meant to be it. “just a little lightheaded,” you murmured, closing your eyes for a second as if giving yourself just a moment of rest. “it’s okay.”

yeonjun hummed, squeezing your thigh one more time, “will take you to my room to rest while everyone is on their way out, okay?” he whispered, waiting for you to nod, and his eyes moved to search for his mom’s—but both of your moms were already watching you, worry written on their faces. he mouthed ‘everything’s fine’ to them and they nodded, returning their attention to the family members who were going to step out for a few minutes. 

they were already getting up, coats pulled on and shoes shuffled into, the ones staying inside giving small nods and glances toward you, concerned but not alarmed. a few of them murmured things—’make her some tea’, ‘maybe it’s just the cold’, ‘lie down for a bit, sweetheart’—and you thanked each one with a little nod and a weak ‘thank you, i’m sorry’. 

you stood up with yeonjun’s help, not playing it up, not exaggerating—just leaning into him a little, letting him guide you gently past the table, out of the warmth of conversation and laughter and into the quieter hallway and to the stairs. the front door opened, letting in a gust of frozen air that spread over the floor, and closed, cutting it off—you didn’t feel it through the thin fabric of your socks though, yeonjun’s palm on your lower back pushing you up the stairs gently before you got cold. 

he didn’t speak as he walked you to his room. just kept his hand where it was, warm and steady, his thumb brushing lightly there. he wasn’t worried despite how well he was pretending—your head was already hung low, a little silly smile curling on your lips, and he felt like you were too close to letting out a few breathy giggles. too close to someone who was supposed to feel unwell and wasn’t behind a closed door yet.

you didn’t need him to show you where his room was—you knew perfectly well yourself—but still, you waited right in front of the door for him to catch up. you were a fragile little thing tonight, weren’t you? a damsel in (lightly fabricated) distress, and a gentleman like him would of course handle the heavy labor of… turning the doorknob. he did it with a bow, and the moment you stepped in, his palm found your ass in a playful unexpected slap, making you yelp. 

the magic lights in the room flickered to life with a soft rustle right as you entered—too dim at first, barely giving more light than the moon and street lights from the window—and yeonjun flicked his fingers absently behind your back, a small spell murmured so quietly you barely heard it, making the glow bloom into something more neutral. not soft, not harsh—just something you both got used to.

yeonjun smirked, following you inside, shutting the door with his foot as his arms already wrapped around you, pulling you into him, your pack colliding with his chest and he pressed his lips to the side of your neck immediately. he was undoubtedly tipsy, but more than that it was coming from how fucking confident he felt now—nothing reminded of the weird uncertainty he’d felt in the salon. he felt closer to a deity now—because you’d been looking at him like he was one since he took the beanie off. it was making him giddy.

he hated feeling insecure, feeling uncertain about himself—hated doubting not just his looks, but his thoughts, his instincts, his worth, his meaning, and you were a fucking drug for his mind that tried to make up for a mere second of faltering in his confidence with being so self-assured, it seemed almost arrogant—it never was arrogance, though. never. only a gratitude he showed through fucking you so good, that you couldn’t form words afterwards, let alone sentences. 

but all the thoughts were pushed out of his head with a tilt of your head, followed by a soft sigh—not a real one, more like a bit teasing, an impatient and a little bratty ‘will you hurry up, please’, the way you knew he wanted you to sound at the simple touch of his, at the simple gaze from him even, and you were mocking him. he chuckled into the skin of your neck, completely unfazed—little mouse trying so hard to be a fox, cute. not working with other foxes, though. “feeling better already, little mouse? such a bad liar, though…”

you shivered at the nickname— ‘mouse’ was already nibbling on your sanity, but ‘little mouse’? it was close to something mindbreaking—and the way his fingers slipped under your shirt at the same time. it was getting harder and harder to be an annoying brat when he was so close, his chest so firm against your back, lips gentle on your neck, making you wish to feel his teeth on it, his smell surrounding you. “shut up,” you responded, voice much shakier than you wanted it to be. 

yeonjun smiled, hand brushing the skin of your stomach on its way down, making you think he was going to maybe slip his fingers under the waistband of your pants, but he only pulled his hand out of your shirt at all, taking a little step back and enjoying the way you looked at him over your shoulder—confused, a little pouty even, brows raised. but he took another step back slowly, cocky smirk still on lips, already imagining how you’d follow him. 

when yeonjun reached the bed, he sat down, legs wide, hands braced behind him on the mattress, and tilted his head in this nonverbal but so loud ‘why are you still standing there, baby?’. but just one little step from you and he moved back, up the bed, leaning on the headrest with this stupid smirk that only meant one thing ‘what you’re gonna do now?’, his legs spread just a little.

your jaw clenched against your own will as you took a step closer. he suddenly wanted to play? okay, you were going to play too—it could be a game for two. you placed your knee on the edge of the bed, slipper falling off your foot ridiculously, but both of you were too into the game to notice—especially when you placed your palms on the mattress too, slowly crawling to him, making sure your back was arched exactly the way he loved. 

it made yeonjun’s cock twitch and smile widen—such a cute kitten. crawling to him so slowly, back arched just right, eyes on him—he’d never be foolish enough to forget that cats had claws and fangs, though. but yours were as cute as you were, and it was so fun to pull them out of you, even if it meant a few scratches here and there—simply because you both knew so well you’d start begging too soon. well… maybe he was a bit tipsy after all—he let out a giggle without noticing.

you almost tched at him—you perfectly knew yeonjun saw right through you even in his state and definitely expected you to act up. you didn’t know what would be more fun—surprising him by being a good girl or having some fun by giving him exactly what he was waiting for. you placed one of your palms on his thigh, still not certain which one you wanted more, and then another, your face just inches away from his, but his whole was annoyingly unbothered—such an ass.

“you thinking about being sweet for once?” yeonjun murmured lazily, head tilting just slightly, the pads of his fingers brushing through your hair as if he was petting a cat that already bared its little teeth to hiss. “or just pretending for a second so you can make a mess after?” his hand dropped back to the mattress with a soft thud, and he leaned his head to the side, half-lidded gaze raking over your expression pretending to be already bored. he added, tone all faux-kindness, “take your time, baby. i’ll wait.”

your eyes flicked to his hair like you were weighing whether he was worth all this trouble in the first place—he so fucking was. didn’t mean you had to behave or make it easy for him, though. you set your hand on his shoulder, pausing just long enough to make it clear it wasn’t hesitation—it was tease. your other hand followed, a little slower, a little cockier. then you shifted up onto your knees, towering over him with a tilt of your head.

yeonjun’s hands slid along your thighs, fingertips curling around the backs of your knees, trailing up with deliberate pressure. he squeezed when he reached the top, then cupped your ass, eyes never leaving your face. you didn’t look intimidating even for a second—just soft, just sweet, just wrapped around his finger from the moment he shut the door. “what are you going to do, pretty girl?” he murmured, one hand slipping away just far enough to leave a firm slap.

you yelped, frowning at him despite the way it sent shivers down your spine and made you clench—it was almost as if you were a little angry at him for making you feel good. and being so hot too, honestly. you pinched his shoulder, your knees already spreading his legs, and that confused expression on this ridiculously handsome face was almost funny—would be, if you weren’t so fucking wet already. 

what were you doing?.. yeonjun frowned—he was waiting for you to be on top for a little making out and it wasn’t like his legs had to be spread for it, so—a breathy chuckle left him when you suddenly turned, pressing your ass against his boner and your back against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder and one leg already hooked over his, leaving your legs spread. huh, so you demanded him to make you feel good without giving him anything in return… that was what he always did anyway, but did brats deserve it?..

you were proud of yourself until you felt his lips on the side of your neck, tips of his fingers caressing your crotch while his other hand slipped under your shirt, and you were already melting in his arms. you barely heard his quiet murmur against your neck, only paying attention to it when he paused his touches. he didn’t repeat it, and you groaned, trying to remember what it was—something about him being hot. “really hot,” you breathed out, not even completely certain that was what he asked.

yeonjun giggled into your skin, hand squeezing your chest—not exactly, but would suffice. he hummed, “just ‘really hot’?” he murmured, exaggerating a pout so you could feel it under your jaw, hand undoing the button of your pants and stopping there waiting for your answer—zipper was going to be next.

“choi yeonjun—” you choked out, gritting your teeth, your fingers digging into his thigh—you tried to grind back against him, but he only moved his leg under yours enough to make it impossible for you and you groaned, sound turning into a soft whine. him being such an ass was hot even if you didn’t want to admit it. “f-fucking good, okay?”

he hummed, pretending to consider if it was ‘okay’ or not really, and only gave in when your hips jerked against his hand as well as they could in this position—so, so impatient and so cute. he was sure you were already dripping wet. “not really,” he whispered, lips, still curled in a smile, dragging down your neck as slowly as the zipper of your pants. “not good. what do i look like, mouse?” 

fucking—you clenched the bed cover in your fingers, closing your eyes, a shaky exhale leaving your lips. you could stop him right here, could drag his hand where you wanted, could turn around and pull him onto you for fucks sake, but he’d never been this petty and mean, and you just couldn’t make yourself break it. “obnoxiously hot,” you breathed out, arching into him. 

yeonjun knew he wasn’t even fishing for compliments, he was straightforwardly making you call him hot, but more than that he knew you were absolutely sincere—and he knew it affected you just as much as him. you loved feeding his ego. such a good girl—he slipped his hand into your pants as a reward, slipping under the waistband without wasting any time. “pretty?” he whispered, fingertips brushing against your clit, the touch getting firmer when you echoed the word back. good, good girl.

but… he was tipsy, yes, but not drunk enough to let these sweet words lull him with their honesty and make him forget how you acted up—were you thinking he was giving you exactly what you wanted? maybe only while you were giving him what he wanted, and now… you wanted so badly to be the one getting all the pleasure, and what was the best way to do so if not being on top and controlling everything? 

yeonjun used the opportunity to lie down when you got up to pull your pants off—almost eagerly, as he noted—and that confused expression on your adorably cute face was so sweet and just as arousing. especially so, when it slowly became this charming pout and almost pleading tilt of your brows, when you realized what was your punishment for being a brat—he only shook his head with a little smirk, resting his arm behind his head, another patting his thigh.

you complied—maybe if you were a really good girl now, it’d make him change his mind—crawling over the bed to him, differently now—less teasing, more gentle, like a cat who messed up and got especially obedient to not get scolded. “please?” you whispered, sitting on the balls of your feet next to his legs, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt, but he just shook his head again, patting his thigh one more time, firmer this time. “pretty please?”

it was adorable—yeonjun knew that just a few more ‘no’ and there’d be nothing left from this cute good girl who was looking at him so pleadingly. pulling this little brat out was his intention now, because it was fun when you tried to good-girl your way out of consequences so fakely only to make your fall worse and help him brat-tame you in the end. he patted his thigh again, pretending he was getting impatient. 

you sighed and got up on your knees, hooking your fingers into the waistband of your underwear and tugging it down—you’d left it on because it wouldn’t be a problem if he was on top, but if he was going to make you ride him… it’d be a pain in the ass. you shoved the piece into his hand in a half-tantrum as you pulled it off, and he smirked, fingers finding the wet spot before tucking the fabric into the front pocket of his pants. “perv,” you muttered, swinging your leg over his waist and settling down, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. 

yeonjun let one hand rest on the bed, watching you hang your head low—the rough denim of his jeans probably felt insane against your bare pussy, especially since it barely took you a second to adjust, his cock now resting between your folds, pressing against your clit. your legs were already trembling, and his little game was going to end too soon, because it was getting harder for him to hold back too. “undo my pants, mouse,” he rasped, licking his lips.

you nodded shakily, trembling fingers fumbling with his belt—you weren’t sure if you were obeying or just desperate to feel him properly inside, but whatever it was, it was enough to make you work faster, tugging his pants and underwear down just enough for his cock to spring free, hovering above his stomach, pre-cum dripping onto his skin so, so deliciously. fuck, he was going to turn you both around and fuck your brains out, right?

but the answer was no—your question was written all over your face, and while yeonjun couldn’t deny how cute you looked, so desperate and needy, already half-begging, he also knew you were so close to snapping out of being a good girl, and when it happened… that was when he’d accept your begging, flip your position and fuck you so well, you wouldn’t leave his room until morning. “ride me, baby,” he singsonged lowly, but already felt his voice getting tighter—he wanted to be inside you just as much.

the gaze you had when your eyes flicked at him was somewhere between ‘please’ and ‘are you serious’, but you bit your lip, rising over him, hands on his chest—maybe, if you complied now… you blinked when he didn’t wrap his fingers around his cock to angle it like he usually did, and you cursed—really? he wanted to go this far? you gritted your teeth, reaching for his shaft under you, pumping it a few times clumsily before aligning it with your entrance, bumping it against your clit a few times, hand on his chest trembling—fucking…

yeonjun watched you struggle, watched this fake good girl behaviour finally slowly leave your body—you were getting frustrated with him. it wasn’t like he wanted this frustration directed at him—god forbid—you were just cute when you were mad and he loved toying with his favourite girl, because she was the prettiest when she was trying so hard not to cry from wanting him so badly and cover it with anger. poor thing. 

despite these thoughts, his hand that was resting on the mattress next to your leg was already tensed—half from being ready to help you if you suddenly truly needed it, half from holding himself back from doing it already. it was just a little punishment for fun, not a torture session, after all; and he wasn’t a sadist—at least when it came to things you didn’t enjoy. 

you finally succeeded, tip of his cock parting your folds and catching on the entrance before you started lowering yourself slowly, your slick running down his already wet shaft and onto your fingers around it. you didn’t even think about him probably having to go back to your families later, placing the messy palm on his chest, needing more support now, his white shirt getting a little darker under your hand.

yeonjun barely cared too, gritting his teeth, forcing his eyes to stay open and on your face—they way you frowned, the way your teeth sank into your lower lip, making the sounds that still escaped you even more whimpery and high-pitched. so fucking cute—he was losing his mind. “so you can be a good girl, huh?” he breathed out, arm under his head flexing. 

you clenched fabric of his shirt in your hand tighter, holding yourself from talking back—maybe he was going to fucking get on top finally? maybe it was time for a reward already? your legs were already trembling and you only sat down on him properly, how were you supposed to ride him? especially when you had to look at him, and each glance on his new hairstyle and how breathtaking he looked with it were making you weak. 

yeonjun moved his hand up, fingers brushing your calf, making you think he was going to at least touch you properly—or maybe even hold your hips to guide you, or pull you down to lie on him to fuck up into you, or, god, maybe even flip you both and fuck you so, so good that you’d feel him for days after it. ah, he knew what you were thinking so well—but no, he only placed this hand behind his head next to the other one. “are you going to move, baby?”

a curse escaped through your gritted teeth before you could stop it, and you rose a little to lower yourself slowly. your thighs shook, already barely holding you up, and your hands slid up his chest in search of something to ground you—until they curled into the fabric of his shirt again, knuckles white with strain. it wasn’t just the stretch, it was him—looking like that, smug and so still beneath you, like he wasn’t the one making your breath hitch and your legs go weak. 

you whimpered as you bottomed out again, hips stuttering in a shallow attempt to move, already failing, already melting under the weight of that gaze he mastered, oh, so well. a little mocking, a little pitying, a lot attentive even in his current state. in case you needed to stop, needed praise, needed to hear the truth—how much of a good girl you actually were. just a little more, baby, he thought. can’t stop now. so close.

his quiet, but cocky murmur of ‘it’s getting hot in here, isn’t it?’ barely made any sense to you as you tried to ride him as he told you—he wanted you to undress?..—until he rose absolutely nonchalantly, just enough to slowly shake his cardigan off his shoulders and pull his arms out of the sleeves. you wondered if his core muscles had always been this strong—at least until he lied back down, arms behind his head, and you realized why he’d done it.

you clenched around him—fucking clenched—a pathetic little whimper slipping past your lips. this—you gritted your teeth—man had the audacity to wear a fucking tank top underneath the cardigan instead of at least a t-shirt like any other decent human would. you forced your gaze away from his arms—those stupid, showy arms, a little veiny, a lot smug, but still looking pleasantly soft and just lying there as if he wasn’t insufferable enough already—only to land on his even smugger face. fucking chasers…

yeonjun watched your face with as much self-satisfaction as never—from the second you clenched around him, your lips parting to let out a tiny whimper, eyes glued to his arms and your nails catching his skin on his chest a little even through the fabric, legs getting tighter around his hips as if you wanted to rub your thighs to get just a little more pressure; to the moment your eyes trailed to his face, your jaw clenching as well as you pussy, brows in a frown. but how could he not have a cocky smirk when you were looking at him like this?

you fisted his stupid tank top on his chest, your hips rising as you tightened your muscles around him as hard as you could before lowering yourself slowly, trying to make him pay, but yeonjun’s smirk only got wider and he tilted his head a little, flexing his arms. “you’re such a fucking slut, choi yeonjun,” you gritted through teeth, legs shaking around his hips. he was so fucking hot, and when he giggled—eyes scrunched, grin too wide—you had to close your eyes to calm yourself at least a little. 

“me? a slut?” yeonjun giggled again, watching you try to breathe the image of him out of your mind—his cute, cute girl, always so weak for him. “i’m just lying here, baby,” he murmured, holding himself back from digging his fingers into your flesh, from rolling his hips up into you. just a little, just one tiny ‘please’. “you’re the one doing all the work here,” he pulled one hand away from under his head, letting his fingertips caress your knee. “and the quality of it…” he added, having no intention to finish the thought.

“fuck you,” you hissed, trying to do your job properly—but your movements stuttered more often than not, legs trembling and sore, pace uneven, arms barely holding you upright anymore, and you kept needing just a few too many breaks. and more than the fact that it was barely bringing any pleasure to you, you hated that for yeonjun it was probably just as unsatisfying. you groaned, another ‘fuck you’ leaving your lips—in defeat this time. 

yeonjun hummed—he saw this tiny slip. you were so close to asking him like a good girl, you just needed one little push, didn’t you? he chuckled—warmly now—thumb rubbing little circles on your knee. “that’s the idea, mouse,” he breathed out, the corner of his lips quivering. 

your movements stuttered again—fuck him and fuck this and, please, fuck you too, so you both felt good. “please,” you whimpered, head hung low, fingers on his chest not gripping the fabric anymore, sprawled and flat, his heartbeat erratic against your palm, and his ‘please what?’ sounded tight. “please, be on top. can’t—” your words were cut by his shallow thrust up and you choked out a moan. “can’t do it,” you whimpered, voice high. 

“‘course, baby,” yeonjun rasped, head spinning just a little—fucking finally. his good girl, so, so good for him. you were so tight around him and so fucking restless—hips twitching, walls fluttering at absolutely nothing, little sounds escaping your lips even without you noticing them. and he was dying to wrap his arms around you and fuck you properly. and you were such a good girl for finally letting him do it.

you barely caught a praise coming from his lips into the skin of your neck, your arms shooting to wrap around his shoulders, holding tight as he flipped you both, your back hitting the mattress even before you could understand what was happening. his hold was firm, no silly tipsy grin on his face anymore—it was something close to devilish now, making you clench around nothing and realize he slipped out. 

yeonjun didn't give you time to breathe out, his hand covering your mouth at the same time with him pushing back inside—rougher, sharper—and you arched your back, pressing your face harder into his palm with a muffled moan. you reached for it with trembling hands, fingers wrapping around his to pull his hand away. “since when you're sober?” you hissed, your legs wrapping around his hips properly nevertheless.

he chuckled, showering your neck with soft kisses, letting you hold his hand where you wanted. “hmm, not completely yet, but…” he chuckled into your skin again, quickly leaving a few more kisses as if apologizing for neglecting you for even half a breath. “but the audacity you put your underwear into my hand with was truly sobering.” 

you turned your head to look at him and he rose a little, his lips quivering as he threw you a cheeky gaze from the corner of his eye, and you narrowed your es, huffing. eyes, huffing. “ass,” you murmured, almost slapping his hand back onto your face back where it had been—he eased the movement, though, tching at you and digging his fingertips into your cheek for a moment as ‘behave’. you muttered another ‘ass’ into his hand, though.

“and a slut too,” yeonjun laughed, voice low, almost warm, but the way his hips rolled was anything but teasing now—slow, deliberate, reminding you how good his cock always felt inside of you, thick and heavy, stretching just enough to make you wish you could feel it for longer. he couldn’t believe you were acting up again. “just like this, babygirl, yeah? so good for me.”

your hips jolted under him at the sarcastic praise on their own accord, thighs clenching tighter around his waist like it could keep him closer, deeper, forever—but the rhythm he found was too calm, too steady, and you could feel it in every slow drag of his cock that he was holding back. on purpose, not to savor it—no, this was calculated. he was taming you, and you hated how much you loved it.

yeonjun felt you whine softly into his hand, squirming underneath him, but he only tutted again, still wearing that half-lidded, lazy gaze like he wasn’t working you apart from the inside—after all, you only asked him to get on top, not to go hard. “what’s that, little mouse?” he asked gently, but his hips snapped forward just a little harder, just enough to steal your next breath. “you want it faster now?”

you nodded quickly, desperate, your fingers curling around his wrist again, not to pull his hand away but to ground yourself as the burn built deeper in your core, and you tried to rock your hips up into him—useless with the way he pinned you down so easily. his chest was warm against yours, whole body caging you in, skin damp, the scent of shampoo, his cologne and faint sweat dizzying.

“mm-mm,” yeonjun hummed, shaking his head slowly, his nose brushing yours as he leaned in, kissing your temple, then right under your eye, above his hand on your face, sweet little affections that he knew made you more desperate for him to go rougher. “say please, baby.” he smiled against your skin at the way your walls clenched around his cock, his breath hitching for a moment. “come on. been waiting so long for you to break.”

you clenched your teeth—you wanted to be a brat just for a little longer, make him snap just a little harder, but you were desperate to give in, be a good girl, to hear him praise you so sweetly and filthily at the same time, to see this little glimpse of pride in his eyes. but another slow thrust had your body trembling again, the knot in your stomach tightening, making the decision for you. you pulled his hand away from your mouth for half an inch. “please,” you whispered. “please, yeonjun. need you to be rough so much.”

yeonjun groaned—fucking finally—he was sure you could feel the way it rumbled through his chest against yours. “that’s my girl,” he breathed, and before you could even catch your breath again, he pulled almost all the way out—and snapped back in so hard your moan was ripped from you without warning, muffled against his palm, the slap of his hips against yours loud and wet and fucking perfect.

you nodded desperately beneath his hand, your back arching off the mattress as he started to fuck into you with a rhythm that was no longer teasingly slow or shallow—each thrust deep, perfectly angled, so fucking purposeful you saw white behind your eyelids. yeonjun didn’t say anything for a moment, didn’t need to—just pressed his body down over yours like a weight, muffling your shaky little gasps and sobs into the soft press of his palm.

“shh, baby,” yeonjun murmured low against your ear, the drag of his voice almost slurred with how drunk he was on the way you clenched around him now, not beer or soju. “just lie down and be pretty for me,” he felt shivers run down his spine at your little whimper into his palm, and a few certain nods. “i’ll make us both feel so fucking good…”

you mewled, fingers gripping the back of his tank top, trying to pull him closer, like it’d help you stay quiet—like it’d stop the sounds from tearing out of your throat with each thrust. you couldn’t help it—it was too much, he was hitting too deep, too good, not giving you time to think between strokes, only feel. how the hell had you managed to go for two days without his cock inside and body against yours? 

“you want your parents to hear how good i’m fucking you?” yeonjun hissed suddenly, voice sharp and hot in your ear, making your walls flutter helplessly around him. “or mine?” his hand pressed tighter over your mouth when your hips jerked up to meet his. “yeah, i didn’t think so,” he murmured, hips snapping harder against yours. fuck, you weren’t even this loud, used to fucking in old classrooms in the middle of the day, but could he deny how hot you looked with his palm on your mouth? how hot it was?

absolutely fucking crazy, flashed in your mind as if you could read his thoughts and answer it. why he had never done it before for fuck’s sake? your hand covered his before you could think about it, your fingers trembling across his firm ones, your eyes almost pleading as you looked at him, not even sure yourself what you were begging for. 

yeonjun rocked into you rougher, harder now, just like you wanted, the slick sounds of your bodies barely masked by the shiver of bedsheets and the low groans he couldn’t quite swallow down anymore, letting them soak into your neck. your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, thighs trembling, the heat in your core cresting so fast it terrified you—everything was too much.

“god, baby,” yeonjun gritted out, voice cracking as he tried to keep it quiet, “you feel—fuck, you feel too good. so warm, so wet for me, all for me, yeah? only for me,” he rasped, feeling you nod frantically, tears pricking your eyes from how overwhelming it probably felt for you—your pussy clenching down harder and harder with every roll of his hips. he didn’t even give you a warning—just bit out your name, voice suddenly breathless.

you arched your back, your stomach tightening with each thrust, your skin oversensitive, thighs and calves rubbing against his jeans, socked toes curling against the fabric. each snap of his hips was making his pelvis rub against your clit, making you twitch and tighten your hold around him. so close—so, so fucking close.

“cum for me, babygirl,” yeonjun panted, finally pulling his hand off your mouth so he could hear you, really hear you, and you sobbed his name—soft, broken, something more of a plea so unholy close his ear, nails digging into his shoulders as you shattered under him with a cry, hips locking up and pulsing around his cock so tight he cursed—and gripped your jaw with trembling fingers to tilt your head, his lips hungry on yours, swallowing each sound.

and when your hand, shaky and clumsy, found the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair, as you tried to respond to the kiss despite waves of pleasure going through your body, he followed you. hips slamming deep one last time before stilling, his body curling over yours with a deep, guttural groan as he spilled inside, your name caught in the kiss.

you could feel it, hot and perfect, filling you so well, leaving you so full, every twitch of his cock, and your arms, still wrapped around him, tightened out of your last strength, as you both breathed hard against each other’s lips, panting, your eyes closed and foreheads pressed, his room spinning, hearts pounding. fucking hell…

‘okay. now i’m sober’ and ‘you taste like beer’ mingled between your lips, and your eyes snapped open only to find him already looking at you, eyes narrowed in a breathy laugh. “m’sorry,” yeonjun murmured, smile still on his lips, as he lowered his head to rest on the pillow beside you—he really, really didn’t want to get up, too tired for it. “will use mouthwash next time,” he whispered, with a soft chuckle. 

you hummed, adjusting your legs around his hips a little for easier hold, nails grazing the back of his neck half-midlessly as your eyes fluttered shut again—it was too difficult to keep them open, and what was the point if you were only looking at the ceiling and not yeonjun and his new offensively hot hairstyle? “s’okay… used to,” you murmured, foot rubbing the back of his thigh without your control. 

yeonjun chuckled again before letting out a sigh, hips moving just enough to give you a hint, and you whined softly, clenching around him, the action making him hiss quietly. he knew you didn’t want him to pull out—he wanted to stay inside just as much. gosh, he still sometimes thought of this morning when you cockwarmed him on the christmas morning, too tired to move away. “should go downstairs, baby,” he murmured. 

you scrunched your nose, grudgingly unwrapping your legs and arms from around his body, giving him space to move away. “you’re a butt,” you muttered, as he pressed a kiss to your jaw—not taken as an apology—and eased out of you carefully, making you flinch and exhale sharply in-between your quiet grumps. you tried to close your legs instinctively, but he caught them, sitting on the balls of his feet between them.

just a minute, yeonjun thought. one minute won’t change anything. his thumbs rubbed your inner thighs, watching his cum slowly flowing out of you—he could swear he’d never get bored of it. “damn, i ruined you so well again, huh?” he murmured, throwing you a teasing glance, a little cocky smirk on his face turning into a toothy smile as you tried to grab the pillow from under your head. 

but your hand was quick to catch his instead, fingers wrapping around his wrist as you felt them get closer to your pussy. he looked at you with a little frown, and you licked your lips, nervous—too late to back out now. “can it…” you cleared your throat. “just this time, can it stay?” your voice was quieter than you expected, much more uncertain than you thought it would be.

yeonjun’s eyes widened for a second, breath catching halfway between a chuckle and a surprised sigh, before he smiled, thumbs continuing rubbing small soft circles on your thighs . “‘course, mouse,” he murmured, low and warm, leaning forward just a little. “you can clean it up when you feel like it. or i’ll wake you up when i’m back, ask if you want me to.”

you nodded, letting out a little exhale of relief—at least he didn’t look at you like you were a freak… he got up, tucking himself in, and you turned on your side, facing him, even before you could think twice about it, your cheek resting on your arm as you watched him clean himself up—after pointing at each and every messy spot you left on his clothes with raised eyebrows before the cleaning spell. you only rolled your eyes at each of them—shouldn’t have made you ride him. or, pfft, could tie your hands.

yeonjun crouched down next to you when he was done, his fingers pinching your cheek and shaking it a little. “by the way. what in the world ‘used to’ means?!” he exclaimed, his other hand leaving a flick between your frowned eyebrows. “forgot already? ‘you taste like beer, but it’s okay, i got used to it’,” he reminded you in a mocking high-pitched tone. “you make it sound like i’m an alcoholic!”

your lips parted before closing again—what were you supposed to say?! why did he even think ruining a perfectly blissed out moment was a good idea—with that messy, half-bleached, disrespectfully sexy head of his? “you said it, not me!” you pushed his head away, palm flat against the side of his face. “i only meant that we’re fucking so often that i can say i know your meal plan and what you drank throughout the day.”

“you just made it worse, for your information,” yeonjun flicked your forehead again, grabbing his cardigan still lying under you where he took it off and trying to tug it out—you rose just enough to give him space to do so, before flopping back with a dramatic sigh. he shook his head with a chuckle. “it’s cute that you check if i eat properly and am hydrated enough, but doing it through making out is gross.”

a giggle escaped you as you plopped on your back, arms spread—his fake nagging tone was hilarious. “maybe you just fucked my brains out completely and i can’t control what leaves my mouth?” you stretched your arms above your head before relaxing, a little yawn slipping past your lips before you could cover your mouth. “thought about it?” 

yeonjun’s gaze softened at your yawn—hadn’t he done a great job, huh? if he had to admit, he loved tiring you out or fucking you so well that this little filter in your head stopped working and you were left as… just you—a little unhinged, a little silly, and even your little kitten teeth you tried to bite him with were cuter. you admitting he was this good? oh, he was going to write it down in his mind. “sleep, gremlin,” he replied, tugging the blanket over you.

you nuzzled into the cloudy fabric, wrapping it tighter around your body, your eyes fluttering close for a second. the room was a little chill—you noticed it now, without yeonjun’s body warming you—and the blanket was so warm and just a little heavy, and it seemed like the room was getting dimmer with each second, so slow that you could barely notice it. and, yeah, you were tired. 

he left quietly, after warning you to not toss and turn around like a bug in his bed because he wasn’t going to sleep on the floor or the couch and needed his bed well made—if you did, he’d wake you up and make you stand half-asleep while he made the bed—and you hummed, your hand waving him away lazily, eyelids already too heavy. as if you’d stand—you’d sit on the floor and demand him to carry you back to bed once he was done.

you shifted closer to the center of the bed—messing up the sheets a bit in the process—and sank back down with a soft breath, ready to doze off again. but something bunched awkwardly under your thigh and lower stomach, annoying enough to pull you back to reality. frowning, eyes still closed, you reached blindly to tug it out from under yourself, groaning as you had to lift your hips and twist a little—whatever it was, it was annoyingly big.

it was soft and thick and…ah. yeonjun’s hoodie. the one he’d worn when he returned home earlier—you’d managed to notice it before he tugged his beanie off, approximately half a second before your life was turned upside down. oversized and warm, and now just a lumpy heap trapped beneath your sleep-heavy body. had he just thrown it on the bed? did he know wardrobes existed?! what an idiot… a messy one.

you scrunched your nose, pulling it closer automatically, almost hugging it, before cursing him again for leaving his outside clothes where you slept—well, on his own bed and obviously worn just once—but your grip didn’t loosen. your eyelids fluttered shut before you could finish the thought, and you felt your body sink even deeper into the mattress, the hoodie bunched up under your cheek like a makeshift pillow, smelling like ocean and something woody.

yeah… you’d scold him later. when he woke you up. if he didn’t bribe you with yakgwa. or ggultteok. god, his mom had been baking them and only let you steal two before dinner—shouldn’t have given this messy butt the second one… they were so tasty, you could only hope there’d still be some left by morning. you yawned, body relaxing—later. everything could be dealt with later.

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when your period finally completely ended a few days later, you were straddling yeonjun’s waist even before he woke up properly, his morning wood nestling against your ass—it was his fault for sleeping in your room when he had his own, he should’ve expected it. he did—he groaned covering his eyes with forearm from the enchanted ceiling and you tugged the canopy to shield you both. he muttered that you were getting underneath this time.

you did—and yeonjun flipped you over, your face down in the pillow, another pillow under your hips as he shoved up your shirt—his shirt that you snatched months ago—and braced himself on one arm over your body, tugging his underwear down. you whimpered into the pillow when his knee pushed your legs apart and wrapped your fingers around his wrist next to your head to ground yourself when he pushed inside so forcefully, his hold tight in your hair.

it was exactly what you needed—your whole body utterly spent and completely boneless in the early morning, thighs trembling and burning, neck sore from the way yeonjun’d tilted your head to kiss you, his and your saliva mixed, drying on your lips and chin, and gushes of his cum leaving your pussy with each clench you couldn’t control. your face was buried in the pillow as you tried to catch your breath, when you felt him shift, tips of his fingers slipping between the folds to gather leaked out cum to push it back inside.

the moan that left you was broken, mixed with a whimper and maybe even a sob, and yeonjun shushed you, his other hand caressing your ass to soothe you. there really was more than usual, thicker too, and he heard you choking out a ‘g-gods, i feel it—’ as he was spilling into you—he couldn’t pretend he didn’t love it. and judging by the way you were arching your back now, tilting your hips for easier access… you were loving it just as much. 

and you were—there was no way in the world you’d go back to the previous state of his cum unless he wanted to. you felt so full, absolutely stuffed, it was leaking out slowly, staining your sensitive skin, and if yeonjun didn’t enjoy playing with it… there was no need to look at yeonjun—not like you had any strength to do so—to know how engrossed he was in getting it back inside. you wondered if one day he’d want you to walk around like this—you had a feeling it was meant to happen some day. 

yeonjun left a little later—alone, as you decided to just skip classes today because you were too fucked out to walk or think or function in any way except sleeping and being lazy. he only shook his head, slapped your ass and pulled the blanket over you, closing the canopy to shield you from the bright enchanted ceiling—you hummed a barely coherent ‘thank you’, eyes already flattering shut. 

a warm lunch was waiting for you on the bedside table—of course, your favourite food charmed to stay hot, and dinner too—when you woke up a few hours later, a little note ‘who knew a simple morning stretch would knock you out for the day? eat up before i come check if you’re still breathing’ attached to the bowl. ‘a simple morning stretch my ass’ you muttered, grabbing the tray and placing it on the bed—breakfast in bed was for weak people. true pillow princesses got lunch in bed. 

when you turned to place the tray back, you noticed a book lying there—‘reading minds: an introductory guide to legilimency’—you hummed, taking it. did yeonjun leave it for you to entertain yourself?.. it started looking like you were gravely ill and he tried to make your last days better—on the other hand, given the ‘simple morning stretch’ it wasn’t too far from the truth. you shrugged and opened the book. 

the mind is a maze of images, scents, echoes, and fleeting sparks—a place where even the most skilled legilimens may lose themselves without careful study and patience. this guide aims to offer… you yawned, but continued reading stubbornly—it wasn’t like you’d ever thought much about legilimency or occlumency and if you had to choose between two you’d probably choose occlumency, but, well, it was still a book and you were bored and too lazy to go to the library to get something new.

yeonjun got back an hour before night patrol, a little after finishing with his quidditch practice only to find you still lazying—but you moved to the couch next to the fireplace, tossing little charmed papers into the fire, changing its colour instead of rotting in your bed so it could be considered a win. well, at least you weren’t dead and still could move—though, he wasn't sure if it was good or meant that he’d done his job in the morning badly.

you barely paid any attention to yeonjun, preoccupied with finding a way to make fire have a different colour for longer, even though you probably should’ve asked him if he was here, in your room to ‘check if you were still breathing’ or to bother you. the answer came quickly—he made a long way to the desk, passing between you and the fireplace only to hike your shirt up, uncovering your ass and slapping it before heading to the desk without adjusting the fabric, and you rolled your eyes, pulling it in place and muttering ‘idiot’.

yeonjun almost fucked you on that couch—bent over the armrest, or pressed into the backrest, or face down in the cushion, or with your thighs forced to your chest, or even missionary but with his fingers tangled in your hair, slipped into your mouth, or wrapped gently but firmly around your neck. he had too many ideas, each more delicious than the last, but there was also a much, much better one.

when the night patrol was almost over and you both felt the weight of every teasing glance and near-touch, he suddenly grabbed your wrist, dragging you through the hallways without a word, pulling you into the nearest empty classroom. he didn’t even bother to look around, throwing an anti-alochomora spell over his shoulder so quick it almost sounded like a sigh.

you blinked at him, taking a little step back—he followed immediately, changing the pace in no time, making another step forward, and now he was leading. one step after another until you felt the back of your thighs hit the edge of the professor’s desk, cold wood seeping even through thick fabric of your pants, but you barely had time to shiver—yeonjun’s palms landed flat on the desk, caging you in without even touching you. 

his eyes locked onto yours—deeper and darker than you'd ever seen them, lit only by the cold moonlight cutting through the tall windows and painting quiet patterns across his face. you felt shivers run down your spine—you weren’t scared of him, he’d probably look so ridiculous in the daylight, but now he was… intimidating. hot. you still rolled your eyes at him half-heartedly, telling him he looked like an idiot. 

yeonjun would surely believe you if your voice wasn’t so shaky and your eyes weren’t so wide, boring into his—not exactly with fear. he knew you well enough to see the way this fear was mixed with excitement and arousal, to feel the crazy way your heart was beating even without his chest pressing to yours. he tilted his head just slightly, gaze flicking down to watch the way you parted your lips and licked them. cute.

you had no idea what had gotten into yeonjun today, but you loved it—he felt more like a fox in the darkness of the classroom, eyes narrowed, lips curled in that sly way that made you think if he parted them, sharp little fangs would sink into your neck and drag you off to his den. it was the first time you wondered what his animagus form would be—it was easy, though. a fox, undoubtedly.

the little staring contest was slowly getting on your nerves—the longer yeonjun was studying you, the smaller, the weaker you were feeling. and what was worse? you were enjoying it more and more with each passing second. so you met his eyes confidently, ready to bite, but the moment you opened your mouth you regretted it—‘are you gonna do something or just stare at me?’ was supposed to sound sharp, daring, challenging, but the words stumbled, cracked right between the syllables, and instead of taunting him you only made his smirk widen.

“was waiting for you to break first, baby,” yeonjun murmured, voice low, breath warm on your lips, as he reached out slowly, gently brushing a lock of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear, all while keeping the eye contact, enjoying the way the unexpected softness made you nervous, as if you didn’t know what to expect of him. “you’re such a good girl, giving me exactly what i want.” 

you wanted to talk back, you really did, but words not just refused to leave your lips, they simply weren't forming in your mind, and all the risks of any coherent thoughts forming were gone when you felt yeonjun’s hand on your neck—not just resting this time. holding. fingers wrapped around your throat with just enough firmness, and he pressed his lips to yours—soft, barely there, no tongue, no teeth, just his lips and the tightening hold on your neck, nails almost digging into the gentle skin. 

but you still almost melted into the kiss, your fingers twitching and aching to hold onto him, but before you could even respond properly, yeonjun pulled back, his thumb sliding up to rest against your bottom lip, pressing on your chin to open your mouth—he slipped the digit inside the moment your lips were parted enough. you sucked on it almost instinctively, earning a breathy ‘good girl’, as he pulled his thumb out, smearing a trace of saliva over your cheek. 

you barely caught your breath before he bent down, pressing gentle, almost apologetic kisses along your jaw, down to the curve of your neck—sweet enough to make your knees buckle, distracting enough to steal all of your attention from the way he pushed you up to sit on the desk, getting comfortable between your legs. you felt the tiniest sigh slip past your lips—right before he snapped his hips forward, grinding against your pelvis, the sudden pressure stealing all air from your lungs.

then, just as you started to shiver under his mouth, his name escaping you in a half-whine which he swallowed greedily, his fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your head to the side, tilting it roughly, exposing more skin, and his teeth scraped over your pulse point. another soft kiss. a low chuckle against your skin. a smack on your ass that stung even through your pants so sharp it sent a jolt up your spine. a soft press of his lips under your jaw as an apology. a harsh bite right there, hips grinding into yours. 

you could barely predict what yeonjun would do next—his hands roamed everywhere, one moment ghosting down your sides under your shirt, the next grabbing your hips hard enough to bruise. he squeezed, rolled his hips into yours, then returned to tracing featherlight circles on your lower back as if he hadn’t just threatened to break you apart seconds ago. he was soothing bites with his lips and sinking his teeth into spots he was just peppering with the smallest kisses. 

every shift made your mind blurrier. would he bite down? would he kiss you? would he—finally—turn you around and bend you over the desk, whisper something sweet, or something filthy? you didn’t know—and that was exactly what made you arch into him, beg him for more whatever it was, hands roaming over his chest and shoulders and back, unsure if you wanted to push him away or bring him closer, your whole body burning for the next move you couldn’t see coming.

yeonjun savoured it—the way his every action was making you shiver or tremble or catch your breath not just from the way he touched you, but from the way you were surprised by the way he did it. he shifted slightly, enough to make you think he might kiss you again, but instead his hand slid to your jaw, forcing your gaze up to his—your eyes were half-leaded, barely focusing on his already, lips parted and wet from how often you licked it. beautiful.

his fingers trailed down from your jaw to your neck, then lower, slipping past the hem of your shirt and skating over the dip of your waist—slow enough to make you squirm, enough to make you wonder what he’d do next. then, with one smooth motion, he stepped back just far enough to break the heat between your bodies, his hands still hooked in your waistband. “stand up,” he murmured.

you weren’t sure you even needed him to say it—your body tried to chase him on its own, and you obeyed before you even realized, legs shaky as you slid off the edge of the desk. he pulled you forward by the waistband, your hips bumping into his before he spun you around effortlessly, guiding you until your thighs hit the desk again, caging you between it and his body again, his boner pressing into you, making you whimper quietly. 

yeonjun didn’t let you brace yourself before his hands slipped under your shirt higher, hands a little cold against your heated skin, making you shiver. he cupped your breast, squeezing it as his lips found your neck again, hips grinding into yours. his kisses were soft, but his fingers slipped under your bra, brushing against your nipple before pinching it, a choked out moan escaping you as your head fell back on his shoulder, his other arm wrapped around your middle, nails digging into your skin. 

you didn't even notice when his fingers tugged at the button of your pants, too dizzy from the way his hand felt on your breast and his cock felt pressed to your lower back—gosh, you needed him inside so badly already and you were shamelessly close to begging. you sucked in a sharp breath, as he pulled the zipper down slowly enough to make you clench around nothing, then tugged your pants and underwear in one practiced move—he didn’t bother to shove them all the way down, just far enough that they gathered messily at your knees.

yeonjun pressed his body flush to yours even before you could react to the cool air hitting your skin—you flinched at how rough the fabric of his jeans was against the back of your bare thighs, the feeling of his clothed cock on your skin even more intense now. you braced on your arms, your upper body leaning forward just enough for his hand to slide up your spine, flattening between your shoulder blades, pushing you forward so your chest pressed into the cold surface of the desk. 

he listened to your little gasp at the chill, watched you arch your back—out of instinct, probably, to give him easier access, a better angle—and he chuckled, breath hot against your ear as he leaned over you. “stay like this, mouse,” he whispered, and your knees almost gave out at the way he said ‘mouse’, his palm heavy on your back, his hips rolling against your bare ass in one slow, deliberate drag that left you breathless.

soft, almost pathetic whimpers were leaving your lips half-mindedly—‘please’, ‘yeonjun’, ‘need you inside’—and he couldn’t refuse you when you were begging so beautifully. he was petting, squeezing and gently slapping your ass—to not let you relax while he was busy—as his other hand was fiddling with the button of his pants and zipper. teasing you was fun, but playing with you when you were trembling on his cock was much, much more entertaining.

yeonjun tugged his underwear down, fingers wrapping around the shaft the moment his aching flushed cock sprang free, and the soft groan that escaped him made you turn your head—try to at least, with his other hand still between your shoulder blades. he moved it to your hair, fingers tangling in it, palm flat on the back of your head as he angled his cock, its tip parting your folds and teasing you.

he waited for you to start saying something, be it his name, ‘please’, ‘need you inside’, ‘will chop your dick off if you don’t fuck me now’—anything—and when the first syllable left your lips he pushed inside, breaking his name on your tongue in two parts separated by your whimper. fuck, how much he loved getting these sounds off your lips, you would never be able to imagine what they—you did to him.

yeonjun stayed still for a moment, fully sheathed inside you, his chest pressing into your back as he let out a long, trembling breath, his fingers tightening in your hair. your walls fluttered around him in desperate clenches, your hips twitching against your will as if trying to drag him deeper, and he only chuckled—low, dark, almost mocking. “so fucking eager,” he murmured against your ear, his lips brushing the shell so softly it made you shiver. “you act like i don’t give you what you want.”

before you could snap back, his hips rolled forward, slow and deep, the kind of thrust that left you with no breath to even curse him. your forehead hit the desk, a whimper clawing its way up your throat as he pulled back, almost all the way out, before slamming in again—you jolted, the loud slap of skin echoing in the empty classroom, the sting sharp and electric, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your lower back, ‘you’re doing so great, baby’ and ‘it’s okay, mouse’ soft in your ear. 

yeonjun set a punishing rhythm then, hips snapping into yours with bruising force, but every few thrusts he slowed—dragging himself out painfully slow, as if savoring every inch, every clench and tremor, before burying himself again so hard it felt like he’d split you in half. and when you started to tremble, when your fingers curled against the desk, he would press sweet, fleeting kisses to your nape, your shoulder, your hair, murmuring everything soft like he was rewarding you for falling apart so perfectly under him.

you didn’t know if you were sobbing or whimpering or begging or just moaning his name anymore, your voice so wrecked you barely recognized it as yours. the sharp snap of his hips, the teasing softness of his lips between sharp bites, the burn of his fingers gripping your hair turning into the gentlest caresses on your scalp—all of it blurred into a hot, overwhelming haze.

“impatient,” yeonjun teased, when you pushed your hips back against him in search for more, his voice low. his hand slipped from your hair down your spine, tracing it slowly before gripping your waist so tight you almost felt his fingers in your bones. “look at you, so fucking desperate to be ruined.” 

yeonjun snapped his hips forward again, sharp and sudden, forcing a strangled moan out of your throat that echoed around the empty classroom. you tried to move—maybe to get away from the overwhelming pressure, maybe to get more, you weren’t sure yourself— but his hand held you exactly where he wanted you, fingers digging into your skin, controlling every little shift. “don’t run,” he hissed, leaning down so his lips ghosted over your ear, breath hot and sweet and almost infuriating. “take it. you can take it all, can’t you?”

your answer was a choked sound, your mind splitting between the sharp pain and the dizzying pleasure, your body trembling under the force of it all. you felt so full, so stretched, every nerve burning, and each new thrust drove you closer to that edge. he started to lose his rhythm—thrusts turning erratic, harder, deeper, his groans mixing with the wet slap of skin. you could hear the curse words slipping past his lips between your name and praises, breathy and broken, each one carving itself into your already shattered composure.

your legs began to shake, your elbows, already weak, almost giving out as you pressed your forehead to the cool desk, searching for something to anchor you, something solid, but there was nothing but yeonjun—his voice, his hips, his scent, his heat flooding all of your senses until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began, and you weren’t sure you needed anything else in this moment. perhaps yeonjun felt it, and his hand covered yours on the desk surface, finger slipping between yours, anchoring you a little. 

the action made your walls clench around him, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter with each thrust, every nerve screaming, every broken and quiet sound tearing from your throat without your permission. your fingers clawed at the desk, nails dragging helplessly over the surface, your mouth open in a silent cry as the pleasure climbed impossibly higher—higher than you could take.

“that’s it,” yeonjun growled, his fingers sliding from your waist to your clit, rubbing in tight, filthy circles that sent another jolt up your spine, his pace stuttering at how tight you clenched around him. “fuck, that’s it—look at you. gonna cum for me? gonna make a mess for me? on me?” he leaned over, chest pressed to your back as he peppered soft kisses over your shoulder. “gonna make me so proud, babygirl,” he murmured, feeling the way you tightened around him at the praise. “yeah, that’s right.”

your voice cracked, a sob tearing free, your hips jerking back into him in frantic, stuttering movements, and you could barely breathe, could barely think, your mind going blank except for his name, his touch and his voice. you tried to tell him you were close, but nothing except broken whimpers left your lips—you could feel tears gathering in the corners of your eyes and running down your cheeks.

yeonjun reached to press his lips to your wet cheek, fingers working tighter on your clit. “go on,” he breathed out, voice rough, strained, as he fucked into you harder, faster now, but much less controlled, more erratic, barely any thought put into his movements. “cum for me, baby. wanna feel it—f-fuck—” he choked out, “—all of it.”

your vision went white when you broke, your body seizing up around him, your hips jerking back into his desperately as your climax crashed over you, one hand still pressed to the desk by his while the other reached back to hold him close, fingers digging into the back of his thigh—you needed him inside, you were sure you wouldn’t survive him pulling out.

yeonjun felt your walls clench down so tight around him, he nearly collapsed forward crashing you under his body—it stole the air from his lungs, the last pieces of his restraint vanishing into thin air. fuck, you were squeezing him so perfectly, so desperately, and the sound of your choked cries of his name and pleas, the way you reached back for him, nails digging into his thigh—it was all too much. 

he swore under his breath, forehead pressing to the nape of your neck, his hips stuttering and grinding deeper as he was barely pulling out anymore, chasing the heat wrapping him like a vice. his mind was a mess—all he could think was mine mine mine, some mantra that he had no idea where it came from was echoing so loud in his head that he could barely remember where he was, who he was, anything but you coming apart under him. 

the feeling of you breaking first, of your body trembling and locking him in, the way his name tumbled off your lips again, broken and sweet—it clawed at every nerve, until there was nothing left except the need to fill you, to mark you inside the same way he’d been marking your skin. 

the thought about it snapped the last thread of control he had—a strangled moan ripping from his throat as he slammed deep one last time, spilling into you so hard he saw stars, every muscle in his body going tight as he emptied himself inside, rope after rope of cum flooding you, stuffing you so full you’d probably feel it for days—and when you stopped, he’d make sure to fill you again. 

your mind short-circuited the moment you felt him pulse deep inside, warmth spilling into you in heavy, dizzying waves—your body arched instinctively, as if it was trying to suck him even deeper, your walls clenching around his cock, milking him. all you could think was full, so full—you couldn’t form words, couldn’t even beg or praise him properly; the only thing leaving your lips was a ragged, broken moan that sounded more like a sob, your hips pushing back into him desperately as if afraid he'd pull away too soon.

yeonjun held you through it—as if you’d even think about trying to move away when he was filling you like this, as if you weren’t fucking yourself back on him mindlessly—his fingers still trembling against your clit, hips pressed flush, chest shaking against your back as he let the orgasm drag every thought from his head. his hand slipped under you, palm flat on your stomach—maybe he wanted to feel how full you were, he wasn’t sure himself. 

you whimpered, your body shuddering, legs trying to close when he pulled out slowly, and a shaky breath escaped you hitting the desk. yeonjun shushed you, his palm rubbing your ass and the back of your thigh gently, murmuring something you couldn’t quite hear or recognize—maybe, he was telling you it was okay, maybe, it was something about you being a good girl, maybe, he was asking you to stay still. you weren’t sure, but you still relaxed, shoulders curling in and resting on the desk. 

yeonjun straightened up with a soft groan, hands rubbing the back of your thighs, his eyes glued to the gushes of his cum flowing out with each clench of your pussy, running down your inner thighs and leaving white sticky traces. he held your legs, fingers digging into the gentle skin when you tried to close them and hide this beautiful sight from him. “no, baby. just give me a second, okay?” he whispered, thumbs rubbing soft circles on your skin.

it wasn’t ‘okay’ that was a reply—you weren’t exactly capable of saying much at this moment, honestly—but you forced your legs to relax, shame and embarrassment at the position and situation you were in teetering somewhere at the edge of your mind, but too far for you to care about it much, not when you were so spent. it earned you a ‘such a good girl’, and you sighed, relaxing a bit more, eyes flattering shut. 

but just watching wasn’t enough for yeonjun—his hands were itching to gather it and push it back inside, to leave you stuffed so full, you would be leaking for days, just not now. now he wanted you to have it inside. two of his fingers ran up your inner thigh, scooping his cum before he pushed them inside, making you squirm. he paused, his hand stopping completely, as he watched your legs tremble. “what’s the colour, baby?”

“green,” you squealed, trying to relax again. “just a little embarrassing,” you added quieter, feeling your cheeks warm up. “in a hot way…”

yeonjun’s low laugh vibrated against your back as he leaned in closer, breath fanning over your shoulder. “such a good girl… you’re so honest for me,” he murmured, fingers starting to move again, pushing his cum deeper, twisting just enough to make your hips twitch. “you look so perfect like this. taking all of me, staying open, letting me see everything…” he trailed off, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of your spine, lips soft but voice still sharp. “fuck, you’re too good to me.”

you whimpered, another tremor running through your legs as your walls fluttered around his fingers, making obscene wet sounds every time he pushed in deeper—it was so embarrassing, but so, so fucking hot. you could only arch into his touch, fingers scrabbling weakly at the edge of the desk, mind already slipping again under the weight of his praise and the way he didn’t let you hide—you wanted to be good so badly…

yeonjun whispered another praise against your burning skin, feeling you clench tight around his fingers in response, and straightened up—what was he…—before sinking down behind you, crouching low. before you could even ask what he was doing, his fingers wrapped firmly around your trembling thighs, spreading you open again as his tongue darted out, warm and slick, tracing a line up your inner thigh, scooping his cum.

you slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the sharp, high sound that almost tore from your throat, your whole body jolting forward from the shock of it—not even the touch itself, but it happening in the first place. but yeonjun only hummed against your skin, sending vibrations all the way up your spine, his hold on your thigh unyielding as he kept you right where he wanted. 

cute, yeonjun thought. you were so, so cute. slowly, he pulled back, his tongue giving one last teasing lick before he straightened up again, towering over you. his fingers flexed on your thigh before he finally let go, and he pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to your shoulder, almost too gentle for the way your heart was hammering. his hand slid up, curling around your jaw, fingers pressing into your cheeks as he guided your head back, forcing you to look up at him when he leaned in. 

he looked at you in expectation, lips pressed together. you already knew what that meant—he would say something dirty if he could open his mouth—and what he expected from you: to obey or to stop him. you tried to catch your breath, mind still barely believing what was going to happen, but when his thumb pressed against your lower lip, urging it open, you obeyed without a second thought.

yeonjun let out a soft, pleased sound—almost a purr—as he leaned down further, his breath ghosting over your face. he pressed his lips to yours, but it wasn’t just a kiss—you felt it immediately, the warmth, the weight of what he’d collected with his tongue slipping into your mouth, pushed inside with his tongue. your eyes fluttered shut, your hand curling helplessly against the desk, and he swallowed your muffled whimper eagerly, his thumb still holding your jaw steady, not wanting to let you escape a single drop or single sound.

you moaned into his mouth, your hand somehow finding his where it still gripped your jaw, your fingers curling over his knuckles, clinging to the last thread of sense you had barely left. your tongue tangled with his just as desperately, matching every hungry push and swirl, and when a sound—something low and broken, half-whimper, half-groan—spilled from him, you swallowed it down eagerly, whimpering back into him as your fingers dug into his hand.

yeonjun only tore his mouth from yours when you were both gasping for breath, lungs burning, and there was nothing left to share. he stayed close, though, his forehead dropping heavily onto your shoulder, his chest shuddering against your back. for a moment, the room was filled with the sound of your harsh breaths, both of you still trembling, heads spinning. then—at almost exactly the same time—a small, breathy laugh slipped out of you.

he snorted softly against your shoulder, his body shaking with his own quiet chuckle, and before you knew it, you were both giggling helplessly, the sound bubbling up between sharp breaths. you rubbed your forehead, turning to look at him over your shoulder. “so that’s the shit that gets you going, huh?” you chuckled, nudging his calf with yours—the only thing you could when you were pressed into the desk with his whole body. “you’re such a fucking freak, choi yeonjun.”

he braced himself over you, planting his hands on either side of you before giving your thigh a sharp little pinch that made you flinch and yelp. “me? a freak?” he scoffed, leaning closer again, voice dropping low, teasing. “you were sucking it off my tongue and swallowing it like you hadn’t eaten in days, baby. if i’m a freak… what does that make you?”

you scoffed right back, arching your back a little as he finally cleaned you up with a quick flick of his wrist and a quiet whisper, then helped you tug your underwear and pants back into place. “a perv, obviously,” you muttered with a little smirk, rolling your eyes as you shifted your weight to test your shaky legs—that damn man was going to leave you with jelly limbs permanently one day, god bless him. 

yeonjun followed you to your dormitory without hesitation, hand on your ass all the time until the door closed behind him—only to slap it when you asked him if he forgot he had his own room. he said you did it constantly, treating his room like your own, and when you reminded how it ended a few days ago, he simply leaned in closer, breath warm on your lips, and said ‘be my guest, baby. unless i get into your bed before you crawl into mine’. he plopped onto his bed like he didn’t care.

neither of you was going to let the other win, and when yeonjun stirred awake a little before sunrise, he cursed everything because he needed just a little time because nature was calling— but he was going to slip into your bed after returning. it was just a few minutes, not much, and he’d win—lips on your neck, hand slowly tracing your skin under his shirt before going lower… he couldn’t wait already.

except, you stirred awake when he shut the bathroom door despite how careful he was trying to be, and used the opportunity to get on his covers in a silly pose on your side, one arm thrown above your head, shirt pushed up to your waist, thighs bare, and the first thing yeonjun heard when he returned was ‘draw me like one of your french girls’ with your barely contained giggles between the words. 

he knew you expected him to be caught off guard, so he simply couldn’t give you the pleasure—he placed his knee on the edge of the bed, hovering over you, fingers trailing up your thigh as he hummed. “no other girls of mine, baby,” he murmured, palm flat on your knee for a mere second before he nudged it, and you obeyed, spreading your legs. “as if you don’t know already.”

you licked your lips, your breathing getting heavier as yeonjun settled over you, his body hot and so firm on yours, lips brushing against your neck so teasingly that your mind already started to fog slowly. “y-yeah?” you choked out, voice so much smaller and weaker than you intended, and you felt his lips curl against your skin—he was such a fucking ass. you still tilted your head and spread your legs to give him more space, though—you were stubborn, but not an idiot.

yeonjun’s hand found your thigh to bring it closer to his waist, and you wrapped your legs around his body, pulling him closer with your arms too. “yeah,” he murmured into your collarbone, his kisses getting lower and lower, and he watched you throw your head back, feeling you arch into him. “why would i need anyone else when i have such a good girl right at my fingertips?” his hand slipped between your bodies, fingertips caressing your folds through the fabric of your underwear. “in every meaning.” 

he made you cum with his mouth again and again until your only answer to ‘who’s making you feel so good’ was ‘yeonjun’ and ‘you’re the only one, oh god—’. only then he finally pushed into you, swallowing every last moan on your lips, leaving you with no words except his name over and over again, until you were absolutely spent, falling back asleep right there, in his bed without caring about anything else in the world. 

yeah, maybe you’d beaten him in the little competition of who gets into whose bed earlier, but in the end… yeonjun threw a glance at you completely blacked out on another side of the bed before settling down on the mattress himself, his palm finding its place on your thigh squeezing a little before letting it just rest there. i’ve definitely won, he thought with a little smug smirk, his eyes flattering shut. it was you who was a sore loser—in every meaning once again. 

yeonjun was definitely right, because in the morning—a few hours later—you woke him up not by straddling him and his morning wood, but by hitting him square in the chest with a pillow, calling him a shameless sadistic ass. a stupid cocky smirk appeared on his lips even before he opened his eyes, and he asked you in annoying soft, mockingly care murmur if you were going to skip classes today again. 

you rolled your eyes, nudging his leg with your knee, saying that you most probably would—at least the ones before lunch. maybe you’d sleep a little more or work on the reports or finally finish the legilimency book you were reading—the last one made yeonjun tilt his head asking if you were suddenly interested in it. you frowned—not really, but he brought it himself. turned out, it was his book—he’d forgotten it in your room last week, had been looking for it ever since, but when he’d found it after bringing you lunch the day before… it slipped past his mind again.

you got up—cursing him again for making you walk funny with his stupid mouth and cock—and took the book from the shelf to hand it to him. but before yeonjun even touched it, you suddenly moved it out of his reach, tilting your head at him. “are you learning legilimency?” it was a stupid question, given you were holding the book on it which he called his, but, well, you were curious.

yeonjun sighed, looking up at you as you stood by the edge of the bed almost between his spread legs—he could easily snatch the book from your hold, but… okay. if you were so eager to know. “i learned the basics a few years ago, but got almost no practice, so just dropped until better times,” he said, almost bored. “but i stumbled upon the book around… november? decided to refresh my knowledge, i guess,” he shrugged, expecting you to give him his book now. 

you did—but of course not without sinking your little ‘gremlin kitten teeth’ as yeonjun called them, into him. “so you’re still mid, huh?” you flicked his forehead and he pinched your thigh without wasting a second, making you yelp. “such an ass! and here i thought about offering to be a training dummy for this ‘unpracticed legiliment’, as he says,” you waited for him to say something but he only smiled up at you, squeezing your thigh and waiting for you to offer properly. you rolled your eyes. “wanna?”

yeonjun hummed. “maybe. would be great, i think,” he paused for a second—should he explain further?..—before continuing. “i’ve practiced with taehyun a few times. he offered first, actually. no one really asks for this shit, you know? like—imagine going ‘hey, can i dig around in your head for fun?’” he snorted softly. “it sounds insane. and doing it without consent is even worse. so i never really tried with anyone else,” he shrugged. 

was it the reason why he wanted you to say it instead of making him guess and assume?.. you bit your lip before mirroring his shrug. “yeah, no problem. just hit me up when you want to practice,” you plopped back down on the bed. “but don’t forget to explain to me what to do. i don’t know… try to hide something from you, or, umm, push it up for you to see, or… do nothing?” you scrunched your nose. “but don’t expect much. especially when it’s about hiding.”

he blinked at you a few times—you were sprawled on the bed so casually, like you were just inviting him to steal a blanket, not to dig through your mind like it was his own. was this… a love confession? an ‘eternal devotion’ type of shit? was this some grand, poetic ‘my soul is yours’ speech in disguise? were you about to hand him a ring too? he almost snorted at the thought. “well, if you’re ready for me to know all your dirty little secrets…”

you rolled your eyes. “not gonna find anything deep there,” you reached to take the book from his hands—it wasn’t that you needed it for anything particular, just wanted to annoy him, perhaps. “no hidden confessions, no diary pages. just a mess of horniness and snack cravings and, like, half of a transfiguration equation in the middle of half-formed to-do list,” you frowned pretending to be deep in thought. “mostly horniness, yep.”

yeonjun really thought the ‘horny necklace’ he’d given you on christmas was malfunctioning with how often it was shining, but, well… he wasn’t the best legiliment. yes, he was kind of exceptional for how much practice he had been able to get in the past, but it was too little to even barely make half a step above ‘mid’. he couldn’t do it without his wand or saying the spell out loud when most of the regular charms he could cast wandlessly and unverbally—with ‘legilimens’ he need to be loud and clear and utterly obvious. 

honestly, even getting properly clear pictures wasn’t easy— he could maybe catch a flicker of a mental image if it was strong enough; it was a little easier to get a general vibe of a person's emotional state or the surface intention, if it was right under their skin. he wasn’t getting any clear images with you either—unless you were pushing them up your mind for him to see—but the buzz in your lower stomach was nearly constant and strong enough for him to catch, and he wasn’t even sure if it was because of the training sessions or just in general.

maybe… it was both? could you really deny that the feeling of yeonjun wandering around your mind—so careful, so feather-light it felt almost like a shy fingertip tracing your spine—was turning you on? it wasn’t just about what he could see or not see; it was about how he felt in there. a warmth on the edges of your thoughts, a presence that wasn’t invasive but so intimately close it made your chest tighten.

he was always hesitant, never pushing too far, his presence more like a hush of warm breath on your neck than a knife cutting through layers. maybe he didn’t understand every chaotic fragment you had up there—snack cravings, stupid to-do lists, half-formed fantasies—but the way he lingered, gentle and patient, almost reverent… it made your heart stutter. or maybe it was your pussy. who knew. because being out in the open for him like this even when you knew there was nothing to hide was exposing and hot as fuck. 

it became a way to pass the evenings before sleep or make those mind-numbing night patrols and other head students duties less boring. of course, it ended with sex half the time —and it didn’t matter where you were. a classroom? already tested. an alcove behind a tapestry? excellent echo and his hand on your mouth. sometimes you pulled him to you openly, greedy and shameless, other times he pushed you into the nearest surface a little too affected by the flicks of the filthy images in your head to pretend he wasn’t.

but after some ‘trainings’ yeonjun needed a break—your mind was a swirling mess even when you weren’t desperately horny, and being inside it for too long made his head pound, even if you tried your best to keep your thoughts as clear and transparent as possible. he’d end up going to bed annoyed and grumpy, you’d do the same frustrated—still in the same room, of course. who knew when exactly one of you would get suddenly horny?

legilimency was only for evening and night, though—you found other ways to get under each other’s skin throughout the day. you’d crawl into his lap in this hidden nook behind the library fireplace—the one you’d been fighting for years ago—or sit on the floor between his spread legs, resting your cheek on his thigh and staring up at him the way he just couldn’t resist. his hand ended up in your hair against his will, because this face was feeding his ego into a food coma.

yeonjun’s hand started wandering more and more, slipping under your skirt to squeeze your ass, nails grazing your skin, sometimes smacking it just to watch you jerk. his expression was always bored—annoyingly blank, as if you were an afterthought—yet his palm always stayed exactly where you wanted it. you’d never admit you started wearing skirts more often just to feel that sharp heat on your skin, the way it sometimes ended in you bent over a dusty desk or dragged into a dark corridor.

and yeonjun was even more insufferable in the privacy of your rooms—he’d pull your clothes up with no warning, uncovering your ass, sometimes half your back, just because some stupid thought flickered through his head. sometimes you rolled your eyes and ignored him, preferring to stick to whatever you were doing; but most of the time you’d throw him a look over your shoulder, butt wiggling, pout heavy on your lips. ‘that’s it? i thought we were gonna do something fun…’. there wasn’t a single time he managed to resist. 

you were just as annoying—testing his patience just to get that one look. unimpressed, patient, head tilted as if to say really? that’s all you’ve got?. but sometimes, he’d reward you with a tiny smile, fingers sliding into your hair or tapping your forehead lightly. “so cute,” he’d murmur, tone laced with lazy warmth. “you want attention that bad, little gremlin?” it drove you insane, how calmly he called your bluff every time.

as your period crept closer, your brattiness reached a peak. every eye-roll, every shove, every sly glance—it all escalated until yeonjun finally clicked his tongue and said if you could be a good girl, there would be daily blowjobs for your whole period. it was the fastest transformation into a good girl he’d ever witnessed—and probably the first time he’d seen a woman eagerly waiting for her period to start, just for an excuse to take him into her mouth every single day.

and, oh, you did—even twice a day sometimes. yeonjun knew your period started when one morning he was stirred awake by you shaking his shoulder and repeating his name in a whisper like a broken record—it was ‘can i suck you off, please?’ what he heard first the second he cracked his eyes open with a quiet, hoarse groan. he rubbed his eyes and nodded, but you only nudged his shoulder harder, demanding an explicit ‘yes’ or ‘no’. 

yeonjun almost felt bad for leaving you so desperate for blowjobs—but never bad enough to say no when he wasn’t in the mood. it wasn’t even that he constantly refused it—it became something more or less regular after the new year—but you still acted like every ‘yes’ was a blessing, nearly too eager to get to work before he took his ‘yes’ back.

of course, he wasn’t guilt-tripped into it—he loved seeing your on your knees, your mouth full, little whimpers escaping around his cock, eyes wet and even glassy sometimes, your fingers trembling against his hips or—oh, god, that one was his favourite—sneaking between your legs. he just happened to love making you go dumb in other ways a little bit more—eat you out until you were trembling and sobbing, torture you by the slowest pace he could manage until you were begging him to go faster. the simple joys of life as he called it. 

you were an absolute menace—a hungry, starving one too—becuase your mouth was on his morning wood even before he pushed his underwear down properly. fuck, was there anything hotter than you being so desperate for him while trying to stay so, so good? yeonjun doubted—and he had enough things to compare it with. he brushed hair away from your face to see your needy eyes properly—okay, maybe the look you gave him was just as hot. 

yeonjun had too little strength to hold himself back properly, when barely any time had passed since he’d woken up—his hand was on the back of your head in almost no time, not pushing you down, but giving you enough sense of him being able to take control of your movements if he suddenly wanted to. his hips bucked into your mouth too, making you lose your already not too stable rhythm and drool more, covering your hand around his cock and the base of his shaft in your saliva. 

he threw his head back into the pillow, hold on your head getting firmer, when he felt his whole body tense. you tried to take him as deep as you could, moaning around him softly, without any other unnecessary moves, eyes glued to his face—yeonjun preferred when you stayed still at the very edge, letting him move the way he needed to, be it fucking your face or not moving at all. it made it easier for him to lose himself completely, to spill down your throat without thinking, just feeling.

you swallowed everything almost greedily—as usual—licking off his cock and your hand everything that managed to escape. yeonjun hissed—he was still sensitive—and tugged your hair a bit, showing you he wanted you to crawl up. you crawled up carefully, settling on his thighs, palms pressing flat against his chest, feeling the slight tremble of his breath beneath the damp tank top, and watched him tuck his softening cock in before pulling you down with his hand on the back of your head, his lips crashing into yours. 

yeonjun groaned when you parted your lips, your tongue flicking out just enough to brush against his lower lip in invitation, in this unholy ‘please? need your tongue inside my mouth’—he granted your wish without hesitating. his fingers tangled in your hair, other hand cupping your ass before pulling you up his body, and you let out a broken whimper as your clit rubbed against his cock—he caught the sound with his lips almost greedily.

you wanted to move away—he had just come, it’d been mere seconds from as he’d hissed at how sensitive he still was—but he didn’t let you, his hold on you firm, as he rolled his hips up into yours nearly making a statement, murmuring ‘don’t even think about it’ in the kiss. you mewled something in response, fingers slipping under the hem of his tank top, sprawling on his side. 

a second later, he stopped, though, a flicker of clarity going through his mind even before you realized the problem. “wait—fuck, baby, hold on.” he pulled his hand from your ass, spitting into his palm—messy, careless, so him—before slipping it between your bodies, rubbing your clit roughly, making sure you were soaked enough to keep going. you nearly sobbed at the sudden wet warmth, your hips stuttering down against his. “better now, yeah?” he rasped, his voice a little smug because of your reaction.

yeonjun was still sensitive—only a little, though, not enough to rob himself of witnessing you come undone on top of him, grinding so cutely, desperately and almost pathetically. how could he say no to feeling your body tremble on his, your heartbeat crazy against his ribcage? to your little mewls and whimpers and whines into his lips or neck where you’d try to hide eventually. to your fingers flexing weirdly to not sink your nails into him because you didn’t want to hurt him—the cutest thing ever.

you arched when you felt him start to harden again beneath you, his hips twitching as if on instinct, rubbing against your clit. you tried to warn him, to tell him that if you leaked out around the tampon it’d be his fault—he didn’t let you finish, hold in your hair tightening a bit as he rasped ‘i don’t give a fuck’ even before you finished, his hips picking pace as he held you down against him. 

it didn’t take long for you to start shuddering, moaning into his lips—you tried to hide in his neck, but yeonjun didn’t let you, thirsty for your sounds and your lips. you could barely understand what he was saying—it was probably a filthy mess of degrading praises, your name and curses, and maybe he couldn’t really understand what he was saying either. maybe it was just whatever came to his dazed mind—but you both loved it and nothing else mattered. 

the friction grew overwhelming, your panties soaked through and sticking to your folds, his boxers equally ruined with his precum. you felt him twitch beneath you again, his groan cutting into your whimpering moans as you rocked harder, chasing the last high you both teetered on. and then, almost at the same time—you clenched down, trembling violently, a broken moan escaping as your hips stuttered; yeonjun’s head fell back, a strangled growl ripping from his throat as he came, the heat of it seeping through the thin cotton. 

he cleaned both of you quickly, before the fog in your mind cleared enough for you to try to check if you leaked out on him—he didn’t care about it, but he knew it could be embarrassing, so it was better to deal with a possible problem before it became a real one. you only murmured something, your lips brushing against his neck and he sighed, his eyes flattering shut. “you’re so horny.”

you pinched his side weakly, mumbling something about him being the one who came twice, and his gasp sounded as offended as he could master in his sleepy, tired state—he asked you if you needed him to make you cum a few more times because he still had his hand and enough spit for nice friction, and you rolled off him with a quiet groan, calling him a sadist for even proposing something like this to a woman on her period.

but you didn’t leave the bed nevertheless, settling down next to yeonjun with a tired, content sigh. your body relaxed into the soft mattress, surrounded by his warmth and the faint, comforting scent of him as he pulled the blanket over you. you mumbled something incoherent, already half-asleep, tugging the edge of the blanket closer to wrap yourself tighter, and your muscles finally loosened, a quiet, relieved little sigh slipping from your lips.

yeonjun chuckled and shook his head—cute—before closing his eyes too, his hand slipping down almost instinctively to rest on your thigh. his fingers curved around it, thumb dragging lazy, comforting circles into your skin, and he gave a small, satisfied hum when you shifted closer, your leg leaning just a bit more into his touch. skipping morning classes for just one day wasn’t such a big deal, was it? nah, not for head students with official permission to do so, at least.

at the same time head students also had duties, and night patrol this time was unbearably long—you tried to pull yeonjun into any remotely quiet and hidden corner but he, being the ass he was, only tugged you back to him, shaking his head with an annoying little smirk. you huffed and pouted and frowned and cursed him under your breath, but still followed his lead until you stumbled upon yet another little space behind some old dusty tapestry and tried to tug him there. 

honestly, yeonjun just wanted to sit down. he barely had time to take a shower after quidditch practice—that was too intense this time as the next match, first for slytherin since october, was happening in less than two weeks—before he had to run to the common room entrance, where you’d already been waiting for him to go patrolling. now his whole body was sore, and while he didn’t want to decline a blowjob, he needed to at least sit or he’d just collapse before cumming even.

you were all grumpy—really cute in yeonjun’s opinion—when you were back in the common room. your steps looked more like comical stomping when you turned to the area by the grand stairs that led to seventh-year dormitories, but yeonjun wrapped his fingers around your wrist, tugging you in the opposite direction—to the huge windows going out into the lake. 

you followed him like a curious puppet, but when he sat down on that big old couch, the one that turned away from basically the whole common room with his legs spread, you got the hint and didn’t waste any time on pretending you hadn't been thinking about sucking him off the moment you swallowed the last drop this morning. well… it wasn’t that he sat with legs closed too often, so the presence of the ‘hint’ was questionable, but he put his hand on your head the moment you settled on the floor. 

it was past midnight, everyone was asleep, but it still gave a feeling of a little danger, shivers crawling up his spine when you moved closer, nudging his crotch with your nose, looking up at him with huge, almost worshipping eyes, expecting praise, perhaps. he gave you it—of course, he did. “such a good girl…. you look good down there," he murmured, voice low, almost lazy, his fingers tangling just as lazily in your hair. 

yeonjun barely needed any foreplay, the danger of being in the shared area where anyone could come in, making him hard embarrassingly fast, and soon your hand was wrapped around the base of his cock and you leaned in to leave kitten licks along the underside, tracing the veins in-between them or pressing your lips to the side or the tip, making his thigh tense under your hand, fingers in your hair tightening as if to tell you to not tease. 

you were about to take him into your mouth, your lips already parted, breath warm on the head of his cock, when a sharp sound—someone stumbling—cut through the silence. yeonjun’s eyes shot open, head turning so abruptly it almost hurt just in time to see a sixth-year creeping out of the boys’ dorm corridor, eyes wide, clearly trying to sneak past but too distracted staring at the top of yeonjun’s dark hair poking over the couch.

the poor guy collided into a suit of armor, the loud clang echoing. yeonjun jolted, nearly bucking forward, his fingers tightening in your hair as you jerked at the unexpected sound too, looking up at him absolutely frightened. you definitely shared one thought—good thing you hadn’t taken him fully into your mouth yet, because you’d either choke or bite his cock off. 

yeonjun cursed in a hiss, immediately yanking a blanket off the back of the couch and throwing it over your head and shoulders, his palm pressing you down to hide you completely against him. he straightened up as if nothing had happened, voice suddenly sharp. "you! back to your dorm. now," yeonjun barked, his head boy tone slipping out effortlessly, making you clench around nothing, and the sixth-year froze mid-step, face pale, before practically sprinting back down the stairs without a single word.

you shifted under the blanket, your warm brushing over his thigh, and yeonjun glanced down once he was sure the little… he took a deep breath—the sixth-year was away, his lips twitching despite the situation—you two certainly would have to be more careful when it came to choosing activities for public intercourses. “you okay under there?” he muttered, lifting the blanket just enough to see your face. 

you popped your head out, eyes big and mock-innocent. “good thing i hadn’t started properly, huh?” you whispered, lips curling in a smile, a little giggle threatening to escape you—it was so fucking ridiculous, you couldn’t believe it really happened. you shook your head, lips pressed together as you struggled to stay serious. 

“yeah,” yeonjun breathed out, his hand slipping back into your hair. “fucking lucky,” a breathy laugh slipped out this time, and he massaged your scalp gently, his thumb brushing hair away from your forehead. “still in the mood or wanna go and sleep and pretend nothing happened?”

of course, you were still in the mood—additionally to all of his regalia, choi yeonjun was also the king of the stupidest question humanity had ever come up with. your mouth was on him instantly, and neither of you could even think about some stupid sixth-year who decided to sneak out in the middle of the night, too engrossed into some other activity—much more enjoyable one. 

when you were done, his cock clean and shiny with your saliva, he tugged you up on his lap and crashed his lips against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth even before you could react. you responded, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, but the moment your lips parted just for a second, you breathed out that you weren’t in the state to dryhump now, but yeonjun only pressed his lips to the corner of your lips for a moment before mumbling that he wouldn’t get hard again either despite all the nice things. 

you smirked a little, asking him if he was so into the taste of his own cum then, and he chuckled, his voice in a quiet whisper as he told you he was just loving how much of a good girl you were for swallowing everything—and the taste-improving draught wasn’t the cheapest thing in his potion stocks, he just simply was too greedy to let you enjoy it on your own without sharing. 

“ah, sharing is caring even if it’s about cum?” you asked ‘innocently’, and yeonjun hummed against your lips in agreement. “makes sense…” you took a little pause, pretending to think. “your cum… it’s like an all-in-one anti-period deal. chocolate, heat pad, painkillers—all replaced,” you said, half-realizing it sounded like absolute nonsense—fully unbothered by it, though. 

yeonjun lifted his eyebrows at your words before letting out a chuckle and letting his head fall on the backrest—he used to wonder what was happening in your head, and, funny enough, legilimency training barely gave him understanding on it. but seeing the results of your thought process only was still amusing and he didn’t complain. “just hope it won’t come with a nine-month long ‘anti-period effect’ instead," he mumbled through a smile.

you slapped his chest, saying jokes like this should come with a content warning—in huge red flashing letters. yeonjun slapped your thigh, ignoring your remark, as he warned you that he was going to be eating you out almost on schedule once your period was over. and he’d start the very first morning, before you even woke up—he was serious about it, and you gave him a small nod with a soft, almost shy ‘yeah. you can’.

so a few days later you didn’t wake up slowly, you were dragged out of sleep, sharply and shamelessly—a warm wet tongue slipped up your folds, slow and deliberate, as if savouring every inch, and you let out a broken moan before your eyes even opened. your fingers twitched on the sheets, your head pressing back into the pillow as your thighs tensed instinctively around the source of that heat.

yeonjun was already there, firmly settled between your legs like he belonged there—he’d been waiting for this for days, nearly starved. his hair was a mess, sticking to your inner thighs, forehead, his forearm was on your lower stomach, pinning your hips down like you might run away—you couldn’t even if you wanted to, and, gods, you didn’t—his fingers digging into your thigh on his shoulder, sure to leave little bruises he’d worship with his lips later.

“f-fuck—” you gasped, voice breaking into a strangled whimper when his tongue flicked sharply at your clit, so sudden your back arched off the mattress. your hands flew down, clawing at the sheets first, then helplessly burying into his hair, fingers curling tight enough to sting, and his groan against your pussy made you arch even more, one of the hands finding his on your side to interlace your fingers.

yeonjun’s low chuckle rumbled against your skin, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck—slow at first, then harder, sharp, making your thighs tremble. “missed this pretty pussy so much,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips shiny and flushed. “missed tasting you. missed making you cry first thing in the morning…” his eyes flickered up at you, and then he dove right back in without waiting for a reply, tongue flattening against your clit before sliding down to fuck into you, wet and messy.

your entire body jolted, your breath shattering into a broken moan, high and desperate, and you clutched at his hair harder. “y—yeonjun—fuck, fuck, please—” your voice dissolved into a sob when he pressed two fingers inside you, curling them up just right, like he knew exactly how your walls would spasm around them—fuck, you hated and loved how he knew your body as the back of his hand. 

“what’s the color, baby?” yeonjun rasped, his thumb rubbing slow, infuriating circles at the edge of your clit as his fingers moved inside you, stretching you so deliciously. maybe—maybe—it was stupid to ask it out of nowhere, but it was the first time you tried proper somno, the one without waking the other up, so… and maybe he also wanted to hear you try to talk—your broken syllables were cute.

you barely heard him, head thrashing weakly from side to side, eyes squeezed shut, as your mind was as fogged as never before. “g-green,” you finally forced out when your brain found sense in his words, your voice breathless and trembling. “please… don’t stop… please—”

yeonjun smirked, dark and so fucking pretty, like some god of sin or shit like that, before dropping his head again and sucking your clit so harshly that your sob punched out of you, sharp, raw and broken. your hips bucked, but he held you down, fingers driving deeper, tongue relentless, until you broke.

your vision went white at the edges, your whole body locking up and then convulsing with violent shudders, a sob catching in your throat as you came, gushing around his fingers, your slick dripping down his hand and chin, and yeonjun didn’t stop—only eased the pressure just enough to help you ride it out, licking and teasing until your sobs of his name turned into weak, breathless hiccups.

when you finally slumped back into the sheets, boneless and shaking, yeonjun pressed gentle kisses to your inner thigh, the tenderness a sharp contrast to how utterly ruined you felt. he didn’t say a word yet—just watched you with sly, but patient eyes, fingers still idly stroking your swollen folds as he waited for you to recover. but only for a moment. 

yeonjun let your legs twitch and your hips jerk away from his mouth, before he leaned in again, his tongue tracing slow teasing circles around your clit, deliberately light at first, almost comforting—it still felt like lightning sparking under your skin. your thighs threatened to close again, muscles clenching at the sweet overstimulation, but his hands held them apart firmly, fingers tight around your thighs, anchoring you down.

“ah—n-no, jun, too—” the words stumbled out in broken pieces, your voice high and already cracking, but your hips betrayed you, lifting up to chase his mouth despite your protests. “fuck—g-god, green—green,” you sobbed out even before he asked for the color, eyes squeezed tight, as your hand found his once again. 

yeonjun only hummed, the sound dark and low, sending vibrations right into your core, and dipped back down—tongue dragging in a slow, deliberate line from your entrance all the way up before circling your clit again. he didn’t even give you a moment to catch the air that left your lungs. your hips were rolling helplessly against his mouth, thighs shaking in his grip, desperate for more even as your mind screamed it was too much.

he sucked on your clit, not harshly but firmly enough to make your head spin, to make the already sharp pleasure twist into something unbearable. every slow lick felt like a spark bursting under your skin, making you sob. “fuck—fuck, jun, please—” you managed, each word breaking into a drawn-out moan as your hips arched again, your back peeling off the bed like your body was trying to escape itself.

your chest heaved, breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps, the air too heavy; your vision blurred with tears spilling freely now, dripping down your temples and into your hair, but yeonjun didn’t stop—he pressed closer, tongue relentless and hungry, savoring every tremor and every twitch. when your thighs started to close, he only forced them wider, his hands strong and warm, thumbs stroking soothing little circles into the trembling muscles—a cruel contrast to the intensity between your legs.

the world narrowed to the wet sounds echoing in the room, the heat of his mouth, the cruel gentleness of his grip, and your whole body tensed, legs going rigid around his shoulders as another orgasm tore through you, harsher and sharper than the first, making your toes curl so hard they cramped. you let out a sob, voice raw and high, nails digging into his hand—but he didn’t stop, not even when you shivered and tried to squirm away.

your hips stuttered, your body twitching helplessly as the waves rolled through you, your walls clenching around nothing, stomach tightening and fluttering, your whole body on fire until you collapsed back down, your chest heaving, every breath shuddering through you like a sob. your hand slipped weakly from his, flopping to the sheets beside you as you sucked in air, mind buzzing and white.

yeonjun’s lips moved against your inner thigh, his soft kisses soothing you, grounding and anchoring you, gentle and aiming to calm you down, help you come down from your high, except… his mind still buzzed with the way you looked, the sound of your sobs echoing in his head, how your body was trembling under him. you could take one more, right? just one more. you were so pretty like this, eyes glassy, breath shivering, voice broken. you were just too, too pretty to stop now. a man can have a weakness, can’t he?

and yeonjun knew you—knew every flutter of your stomach, every tremble of your legs, every arch of your back, every clench of your walls, every sound you could make, everything that betrayed you. he knew you could take one more—just one, it’d be the last one for today, the last one that would still bring more pleasure than pain. and he knew you were teetering on the edge already, even when your head was too far gone to realize it. you were close again, your body betraying you.

he pressed his lips higher again, tongue slipping out to taste you once more, and your hips twitched, a small, pathetic jerk that only encouraged him—he hummed low in his chest, the vibration rolling right into your overstimulated nerves. his fingers dug into your thighs, thumbs pressing gentle, coaxing circles, telling you to give in—to stop fighting, to just let it crash over you. "so good," he murmured against you, words slurred into your soaked skin. "my pretty girl… you can give me one more, right? you can do that for me."

your head rolled weakly on the pillow, a helpless, choked noise slipping from your lips—you could barely understand what he was saying, his words not making any sense to your poor brain that felt more like a mush now. but your hips lifted again, so slight it barely counted as movement, but it was enough for yeonjun—it was a sign, a yes in the language only the two of you shared.

he latched onto your clit again—more carefully this time, more controlled, not wild or hurried, but steady and precise, knowing exactly how to push you over. your hands flew to his hair on instinct now, you were too far gone to control yourself, to stop yourself from hurting him in any way, your fingers trembling, nails scraping at his scalp without any strength.

you didn’t even realize it was coming—too fogged, too lost—until it was crashing over you, a sudden blinding snap that sent your legs locking around his shoulders again, your mouth falling open in a silent scream before it finally broke out as a sob. your whole body arched off the bed, your mind slipping into white sparks behind your eyelids, tears spilling fresh down your temples as the third orgasm tore through you, fiercer and rawer than either before.

yeonjun didn't stop until he felt the last of your tremors subside, until you slumped boneless under his hold, your fingers slipping helplessly from his hair. he finally lifted his head, breathing hard, his lips and chin glossy with you, eyes drinking in the mess he made of you—your flushed skin, the wetness glistening between your thighs, the way your chest heaved as if you'd run miles.

he crawled over you, fingers brushing along your inner thigh, and your whimper melted into a broken sob, more tears spilling down your cheeks. yeonjun only cooed at you softly, promising he was just cleaning you up, praising you for being such a good girl, telling you how proud he was, how strong and brave you were for letting him take you this far, how thankful he was for your trust.

you could barely understand his words—everything blurred into a gentle, comforting hum. but his voice was so soft, so lulling, that your mind began to drift, your body relaxing despite the little aftershocks that still made you twitch and shiver. warmth spread through you, every touch sinking you deeper toward sleep. he lifted a bottle to your lips, and you drank obediently, almost on instinct, your hand too weak to even tilt it yourself—your fingers merely curling around his wrist, the only place they could reach.

yeonjun wiped away the stray drops that escaped the corners of your mouth, then brushed the tears from your temples and cheeks with his thumb as you rested your head on his shoulder, your uneven breaths warming the skin of his neck. he hummed something close to a lullaby, not exactly sure himself what exactly the melody was, lowering you on the pillow and brushing hair away from your damp forehead. 

“skipping classes… today…” you mumbled, your lips barely moving. it took yeonjun a few seconds to understand before he let out a soft chuckle, telling you it wasn’t a problem—it was saturday, after all. you murmured a quiet ‘okay’, relaxing into the sheets, your fingers still loosely wrapped around his wrist—not tight enough to hold him if he moved. he lowered himself next to you carefully.

you trusted him so much… it was the first time yeonjun realized it, and he couldn't even remember when it started. october? when you barely undressed for sex not because of limited time but because neither of you was ready for it? november, when you only kissed when anger or exhaustion were too strong to hold it inside and needed at least some way out? december, when you slept in the same bed for the first time and even that felt like too much? 

yeonjun glanced at you, your face relaxed, eyelashes still a little damp but not flattering anymore, breaths slow, your chest rising and falling against his arm. it wasn’t possible, but it was almost like you felt him looking at you, thinking, because your hand slipped lower, fingers interlacing with his until your overstimulated subconsciousness decided it wasn’t enough and you moved closer, your forearm resting on his stomach, fingers clenching the fabric of his tank top as you rolled over his arm clumsily to lay your head on his chest. 

he tugged you a little closer, making sure it was comfortable for you, his chest rising in steady, unbothered waves beneath your ear. he chuckled—you were out of it enough to do something like this—which meant he did his job exceptionally—and you surely wouldn’t remember it when you wake up if you moved away from him in your sleep. “ridiculous clingy little thing,” he mumbled with a smirk, putting his other arm behind his head, his eyes flattering shut, fingers on your waist slipping under your shirt and giving you a gentle squeeze.

‘half-asleep’ was an understatement—when you ‘woke up’ an hour or so later, it was only because the stupid bed canopy had been opened again, letting the sun spill in, and you stood on your knees to tug the damn fabric to its place with your eyes barely open and you brain still mostly asleep. when you were done, you plopped back on the bed with a soft groan, your back turned to yeonjun. 

he only chuckled at you—your clumsy fidgeting with the canopy and the quiet curses you grumped under your breath at every living thing in a few miles radius had stirred him awake and he watched you suffer, enjoying the sight of your butt peeking out from the shirt that lifted. you flopped back before he could squeeze it, though, and he laughed—even your back looked a little grumpy. clingy, then runs away, he thought, covering you with a blanket and letting his eyes flutter close again. 

you started packing that afternoon, after a slow breakfast and a round of pointless bickering about who stole whose sweater again—lunar new year was in a few days, and you both had two days off to spend at home. your moms had been best friends since they were kids—so naturally, your family always ended up at yeonjun’s house for the holiday dinner, and this year wasn’t any different. 

yeonjun had tossed the news at you casually a few weeks ago, halfway through writing your monthly duty summary. “by the way, mom said you’re coming over again,” he’d said, not even looking up from his parchment. you only rolled your eyes, telling him he should feel blessed his mom actually liked you more than him—he muttered ‘you wish’ and threw a paper ball at your head.

now, your bags lay half-packed on the floor, a small mountain of clothes, random snacks, and spare school things scattered around—more mess than actual necessity. you didn’t even need much; you had everything at home already, but between pausing to complain, throwing stray socks at each other, and spacing out every two minutes, the whole thing was taking way longer than it should.

yeonjun kept flicking rolled-up ties at your head every time he caught you zoning out, and you retaliated by tossing books into his bag while he wasn’t looking—half of them charmed to be heavier, half replacing things he’d already packed, which you fished out with accio or wingardium leviosa to toss onto his bed. or to hide under it when he annoyed you too much. at some point he threatened to tie you up, and you just batted your eyelashes at him, asking if it was a promise. 

it took you both at least twice as long as it should’ve to pack a single sports bag each—you kept starting little duels with charms, and he insisted on checking every single thing three times, as if he hadn’t been packing and unpacking his bag since he was a child. at some point you found your own underwear folded neatly among his sweaters—‘in case i miss you, baby,’ he said as if you weren’t freaking neighbours—and you replied by charming his shampoo bottle to scream every time someone opened it.

somehow, despite the distractions, the sabotage, and the unholy number of curses exchanged—some whispered sweetly, some shouted with a pillow thrown straight into each other’s faces—you still finished packing before dinner. you didn’t forget to smuggle in a few extra chocolate frogs or a new deck of exploding snap cards either—habits die hard, even if you were going home. so, monday evening, you both flooed home in one piece and with more or less packed bags—miraculously.

you spent that evening with your families—quiet dinners, warm chatter, parents fussing over you both in their own ways. yeonjun was just next door, but for the first time in months, there were walls and two sets of parents between you—no shared eye rolls at the table, no hidden kicks under the bench, no easy excuses to slip away together. and you felt it—in the way your mind flickered to him whenever your parents mentioned something about hogwarts, and you wondered if it was the same for him.

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it was almost lunch when yeonjun stirred awake with a quiet groan, his body still a little sore. he tried to stretch without disturbing your sleep, but it was nearly impossible with how you were basically stuck to him—almost literally in some places—and you shifted on top of him, lashes fluttering as you frowned. “good afternoon, mouse,” he rasped, watching your face with a little smirk. “you made a mess on me. should i call it—”

you groaned before he could finish and rolled off him, falling on the mattress. “don’t you dare call it ‘mousse’,” you grumped, covering your eyes with your forearm—the enchanted ceiling was too bright, telling you it really was afternoon. “mouse and mess do not make ‘mousse’ no matter how desperately you want them to,” you rubbed your face, yeonjun’s little chuckle letting you know that you were right. “and you’re the one who came in me!” you exclaimed, grabbing the pillow and hitting him with it. “where did you expect it to go?”

yeonjun only laughed, easily snatching it from you with a laugh and a little pinch to your ass—he stopped wondering how you could guess each one of his stupid puns long ago. “dunno. somewhere,” he shrugged. “should probably plug it in next time, huh?” he tried to wink, and while it obviously looked ridiculous, he saw something like curiosity flicker in your eyes. “you’re gross,” he announced, making sure you understood he didn’t really mean it.

you huffed, rolling your eyes. “you are gross, choi yeonjun,” you sat up and nudged his shoulder with your knee, as you grabbed your underwear that was lying on the mattress where you left it a few hours ago. “i’m sure you add this… cum affecting shit to your birth-control potions,” you scrunched your nose. “for more of it or, i don’t know, to make it thicker,” you shrugged, getting up. “shortly, you’re a perv. and a freak.”

but yeonjun only hummed, falling back on the bed, one of his arms under his head already as he watched you walk around butt-naked but at least in a long enough shirt. “nope. all natural,” he said, staying quiet for a moment. should he… yeah, fuck it. “but can start adding it. if you want to try, of course,” he watched you pause your movements before clearing your throat and shrugging with a nonchalant ‘yeah’ and he smiled, murmuring, “great. should kick in just in time for when your period’s over.”

there was no reply from you, but the glare you shot him at the mention of the upcoming torture was enough. yeonjun grinned, stretching like a satisfied cat, unbothered by the way your eyes narrowed at him—your glare was absolutely harmless, and especially so, when you were half-dressed and still sticky between your thighs, dragging yourself around his room like a grumpy kitten-gremlin who hadn’t caffeinated yet. 

the silence between you settled into something easy, filled with soft rustling and occasional thuds of drawers being pulled open. you were moving slowly, grabbing clean underwear, not questioning for a second that there was one in yeonjun’s room, and pulling them on with that little grimace he recognized—discomfort and laziness. your legs were still a bit shaky, and he could see it even through the practiced way you moved—he should have probably felt bad about it, but that dark, stupid satisfaction bloomed in his chest again instead.

yeonjun watched from the bed with that lazy sort of pleasure written all over his face. his eyes followed you the way one watches their cat knock something off the table—not surprised, not stopping it, just quietly entertained. eventually, he rolled onto his side, reaching for his pants with zero urgency, muttering something about how you were the one who kept crawling on top of him every time your hormones twitched even a little.

you answered that by ‘accidentally’ throwing one of his hoodies at him while rummaging through his dresser, not even trying to hide your smirk when he trailed his fingers along your thigh. you tugged another hoodie on, wincing slightly at the reminder of what your poor muscles had gone through, and muttered something under your breath about yeonjun fucking you into atrophy.

he snorted, finally sitting up to tug on his pants. he was almost sure he prepared a christmas sweater yesterday—a little ugly, but the kind only he could pull off despite it; red of the same shade as the suit he’d worn on halloween, the shade that made you say that red was his colour. where was it now though… you threw it at his head when you found it, letting him wrestle it on while you fussed with your socks.

there was no rush, really—neither of you had plans, and most students, including the boys, were still off with their families—but you both moved with this lazy synchronicity, brushing past each other without a word, sharing space effortlessly like you had been constantly doing for weeks now. it wasn’t soft, it wasn’t romantic. it just was… natural? though, the word was slowly starting to feel overused even in your own mind. 

you were almost done when you noticed yeonjun crouched by the bed, fumbling with small glass bottles—birth control base, you recognized the shape and label immediately, but there were more than usual—draughts to affect taste, texture, maybe even volume. so he was serious about that filthy little idea of his. you hummed and turned back to your own bag, a bit grumpy now—it reminded you your period was due any day, and odds were he’d once again refuse to let you suck him off ‘for your own good’, whatever that meant. ass.

yeonjun, meanwhile, paused with the taste-altering vial still in hand. technically, it didn’t mean he expected anything—oral or not. but… if it happened? if he finally let you? it wouldn’t be awful for you. he rolled the bottle between his fingers, gaze flicking briefly to you across the room, frowning just slightly. yeah, he thought. better safe than sorry. especially as he was going to start adding other draughts too.

when you both finally stepped out of his dorm, the common room was empty—lunch hour meant even the few students who stayed for the holidays had made their way to the great hall. the christmas tree still stood proud in the center, surrounded by a mess of colorfully wrapped boxes. the presents were mostly for those who went home for the holidays, but at least four had your name on them and four had yeonjun’s—because, obviously, the boys couldn’t just leave without making sure you were spoiled at least a little.

except you counted again. five. five for you. and five for him. you instantly regretted everything you’d ever done in your life that led you to this point—you hadn't thought he'd actually get you something. definitely not in a way that looked real, wrapped in that annoyingly neat way, meaning he had put effort into wrapping it—he was hopeless with wrappers. you wanted to vanish—because you knew what you’d gotten him. absolutely unserious. borderline stupid. and the idea of watching him open it was... hell.

it wasn’t even a real present—just a stupid idea you’d giggled about and then committed to, too proud to back out, and now you couldn’t remember why you thought it was funny. you were already calculating escape routes when you noticed yeonjun pausing too, brow arching at the box you were cursing yourself for, wrapped in screaming red paper, same shade as his stupid halloween suit, with a tag that said ‘a present. or whatever.’ and underneath, your even messier scrawl: ‘it’s cursed. maybe. i didn’t check’.

yeonjun blinked at it like it might bite him—please, don’t be anything serious, because mine is an absolute joke, was the only thing running through his head. he hadn’t expected a gift from you at all—he’d just wanted to see your face when you unwrapped the disaster he’d put together. something stupid, thoughtless on purpose. the kind of thing that made sense only between the two of you. the last thing he expected was something from you. and definitely not something wrapped like a threat.

you both side-eyed each other across the tree like a pair of guilty raccoons who’d just caught each other stealing from the same trash can. still… you sat doоwn anyway. you reached for the stupid presents. and when you both started unwrapping—at the same time, because of course you did—you swore your ears went hot just at the crinkle of the paper. and then—relief. snorting, muffled laughter, actual chuckles. thank god it wasn’t serious. it was exactly as dumb and cursed as you hoped—and it made everything easier.

it was just a bunch of little chaotic things. a mug that said ‘head girl, but not in the way mcgonagall thinks‘—especilly cruel when he refused getting head from you; a little book, the title appearing in silver letters the moment you took it into your hands—‘the official choi yeonjun dick appointment planner’ each page scheduled with fake entries, all ridiculous, all about you (‘9:00 pm – surprise her by not touching her. watch her unravel.’, ‘9:07 – give in because she whimpered.’); a strange necklace that started glowing faintly the second you touched it—yeonjun was smug, ‘so you are constantly horny and call me a pervert?’, because turned out that it had been charmed to shine when you were aroused. 

but your presents for yeonjun were just as bad. a mug too, that changed depending on liquid temperature—‘mr. perfect’ for cold and ‘mr. pathetically obsessed with the head girl’ for hot; a stupid silver keychain with a ‘world’s okayest dom’ engraved on it, glowing in red and blue in his hands—probably, same charm as he’d used on the ‘planner’; magically tightening handcuffs with the cringest note attached—‘for when you actually want me to behave. won’t work, tho’ (yeonjun loved it); and even worse—‘sex coupons’ with the most cringe options imaginable—they weren’t charmed against being copied and he was already flipping through them with far too much interest.

so you both sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the tree, empty wrapping paper scattered around. yeonjun was sipping from his new mug—he cheated on his favourite all-year iced americano with cocoa and marshmallows to have ‘mr. pathetically obsessed with the head girl’ glow boldly on the surface—while you flipped through the pages of the ‘planner’, trying not to die of embarrassment as the necklace on your chest blinked softly like some stupid desperate little alarm.

"only a perv like you would charm jewelry to detect arousal,” you muttered, already noting the funniest entries in the dick appointment planner—not like you were going to tell him this, though. “and log fake meetings with stupid shit like ‘2:09 am – let her ride me so she shuts up’ and ‘2:13 – jk. she'll get whiner lol. whiny butts stay underneath’.”

“first of all,” yeonjun said smugly, holding up the keychain. “‘world’s okayest dom’ is rude. second, you literally made me sex coupons with an option titled ‘1 (again, one!) free-use hour. yes, i said hour. not day.’ or ‘yes, you can spank me. no, i won’t say thank you.’. and they can be copied magically. who’s the perv again?” he leaned in a little, voice dropping with a grin. “also… which one do i redeem first?”

you scoffed, tossing a crumpled ribbon at his face, telling him that he should perhaps redeem his humanity first, and he laughed, flipping through the coupons before telling you that there was no coupon for this, so you would have to deal with what there was—you only rolled your eyes, reaching out to snatch it back but he simply moved it behind him on the stretched arm, making faces at you like he was five. 

the teasing stopped only when your stomach growled loud enough to almost echo off the walls. yeonjun placed all the presents of you both into one box to bring it to his room, still grumbling about being the one who deserved breakfast in bed with the kind of coupons you made, while you pulled your slytherin cardigan over the hoodie and muttered that he could eat crumbs if he wanted it in bed so badly.

you left the common room together, him tugging your sleeve as annoyingly as he could whenever you walked too slow, you stepping on his heel on purpose at least twice. the halls were empty, and yeonjun could freely keep flipping through the fake planner like it had actual appointments in it, pointing out one of the entries and smirking to himself as if he wasn’t the one to write them in the first place. you didn’t look, only yanked it out of his hand and threatened to burn it.

the great hall was warmer than the rest of the castle and smelled like cinnamon and roast chicken. beomgyu sat alone at the slytherin table, hair a mess, sleeves rolled to his elbows like he got into a fight with wrapping paper and lost first thing in the morning after returning early and decided to give up on making himself look presentable even by the lunch. 

beomgyu noticed you before you noticed him—sat up straighter with a grin, waved like he hadn’t seen you in years and not just a couple of days. his voice carried the second you were close enough, loud and cheerful, something about you two looking suspiciously well-rested for head students on duty—he didn’t mean anything by it. or maybe he did. it was hard to tell with beomgyu.

you dropped down beside him without reacting, grabbing toast straight off his plate, but only after giving him the warmest hug you could—maybe it was just a few days, but you missed this warm little chaos so much. yeonjun took the seat across from you both, bumping your knee under the table before nudging your ankle with his to annoy you. beomgyu didn’t stop smiling, narrowed his eyes like he was onto something, then passed you the butter without asking.

he talked nonstop through most of the lunch, bouncing between how boring his cousins were and how one of them tried to copy his haircut again. yeonjun listened with a lazy grin, chiming in only to make fun of him, and you mostly hummed in agreement with your mouth full, just happy to listen to whatever beomgyu had to say—nothing new, nothing different, just comfort and coziness of a happy friend who had just returned from holidays. 

of a very happy and very mischievous friend—beomgyu pushed his plate aside, dug into his robe pocket, and pulled out a tiny mistletoe charm, definitely spelled, like he’d been waiting all morning to use it. he held it up with a grin that needed no explanation, and you sighed, telling him if he even tried it on you and yeonjun, you’d start making out just to ruin his day. yeonjun added he’d make sure it’d be burned into beomgyu’s memory forever and he’d be crying himself to sleep until his last days.

it only made his grin worse—he held the mistletoe above his own head and made exaggerated kissy faces at you. yeonjun rolled his eyes and looked away, already knowing you were doing the exact same. you didn’t need to speak to come to the same conclusion: he got you—a smug little gryffindor menace backed two slytherins into a corner, and now he was thriving.

you pecked beomgyu’s cheek before pinching it, your other hand snatching the mistletoe charm from his hand so he ‘stopped forcing people to love him’—he ignored the remark completely, telling you he won’t tell anyone that you two were dating. yeonjun sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose and telling beomgyu you weren’t dating, and you nodded, patting his shoulder in ‘don’t be upset, honey’ gesture. 

he squinted at the two of you, eyes narrowing like he was solving a case—perhaps, the memory of being inspector clouseau for halloween still hunted him. “sure. not dating. just exchanging longing glances and finishing each other’s sentences. got it,” he said, voice deadpan, but the corners of his mouth twitching—you knew he wasn’t serious, especially as you weren’t exchanging any glances and reading each other’s thoughts. he just wanted to mess with you both. 

yeonjun didn’t even bother looking up from his iced americano when beomgyu squinted at the both of you, all fake-detective seriousness. he just sipped slowly, casually saying ‘not dating’ like it wasn’t the millionth time someone assumed it. you nodded, already reaching for a second toast, calmly adding that you were allergic to labels. yeonjun, without missing a beat, muttered something about also being allergic to communication, and you shrugged, smiling sweetly as you announced that commitment was another allergy on the list.

beomgyu groaned dramatically, slumping onto the table like you’d both stabbed him with your combined nonchalance. he flailed an arm in protest, mumbling something about being gaslit in real time, but the exaggerated way he dragged his face across the table made it clear he didn’t believe a word he was accusing you of, he just was a brat, so you let him sulk in peace—you too busy buttering your toast and yeonjun too interested in sipping his iced americano from his new ‘mr. perfect’ mug.

a few days later the rest of the boys returned too, each one with endless stories of everything that had happened on the holidays, funny stories about dinners, silly gifts they had given and gotten, the way they had spent time with their families. and you all even waited for everyone to return to unpack your presents for each other without discussing it beforehand—this evening the room of requirement was almost just as messy as when it was the room of hidden things: torn wrappers, crumpled ribbons and empty boxes everywhere.

and of course the room of requirement ended up being the place to celebrate new year. you were still surprised no one else had tried to claim it, but then again, perhaps it was because at least one of you had practically lived there these past few days. it was never empty—someone was always inside, wandering around the cozy cottage you all came up with, adding extra decorations here and there out of boredom, or napping by the fire, making sure it stayed yours until the last moment.

you couldn't keep your excitement in, when it was finally dinner of new year eve—there wasn't a grand party planned in hogwarts, as there was one on christmas and barely anyone had returned to the castle from holidays, so it was just small gatherings in the common rooms. unless you were two shameless headstudents and four just as shameless prefects who cared so much about the rules they had to make everyone else follow.

none of you had eaten properly even, keeping your stomachs empty for the main meal of the night—all your favourite food, lots of it homemade even (bless your mothers for loving extra five children as much as they loved initial ones) by the cozy fireplace, with all the chaos, loud laugh and trying to catch candies with mouth and not let others do the same, while it was snowing outside so heavily, you could barely see anything except white in the windows, glowing with colourful lights.

the dinner was unexpectedly short, half of the food staying on the plates charmed to keep it warm—everyone was too excited to go and finally play in the snow and not to get into a food coma and lie on the couch groaning every few minutes with hands on full tummies instead of having proper fun. the room of requirement had even given you warm clothes to put over your holiday sweaters just so you six didn't freeze out your limbs and other sticking out parts—and how could you dare ignore its generosity and stay inside?

and of course it couldn’t start as something peaceful and calm like making snowmen or snow angel army—the second yeonjun stepped out of the cottage with sounds of someone who regretted eating so much, the door still ajar behind him, a rather big snowball hit him square at the head, followed by evil giggles of kai who quickly jumped behind you, his hands holding your shoulders as he shielded himself with you—‘you wouldn’t attack a woman, yeonjun, would you?’ he yelled through laughter, hunching behind you.

buy yeonjun’s moral compass was a little shaky now, affected by the taste of the snow on his lips and white flakes on his lashes messing with his eyesight, so he crouched down to gather snow into his hands before slowly—and intimidatingly, with this evil smirk of his—heading to you and kai, eyes glued to you both as he shaped the snow into a ball just as slowly.

you squealed and broke out of kai’s hold the second yeonjun was just a few steps away and his gaze flicked to you for a moment—the gaze that said that it was a bad idea to stand between him and his revenge—and you flighted to the side with a loud laugh and ‘good luck, kai!’, your body colliding with taehyun’s who immediately caught you, and you both watched yeonjun push kai to the ground and straddle his stomach, too much snow already under poor boy’s collar.

you had to be careful too, because it only took beomgyu a few seconds of you getting distracted to sweep you of your feet and make you fall into the snow with him, his laughter bright in your ears as you tried to crawl away from him, your cheeks already hurting from smiling so much. he caught you anyway, holding your ankle and whispering about creating team up against yeonjun and soobin. you knew alliances in this friend group were as short-living as they could but perhaps… maybe your distracting abilities were valuable enough for beomgyu not to betray you the second you say ‘deal’? 

no. he teamed up with soobin and taehyun a few minutes later, three of them chasing you and throwing so much snow over you that you looked like a figurine in a constantly shaking snow globe—they weren’t pushing it under your clothes at least, and opted to not throw hard snowballs at you, but kai still hugged you from behind, shielding you with dramatic ‘i’ll protect you! i’ll sacrifice myself!’ making your eyes water from laughter. 

they had crazy stamina—quidditch players, for god’s sake—and you were already lying in the snow, unable to get up, while they were still running around, throwing each other into snow, knocking each other off their feet and wrestling like their lives depended on it. they even tried to include you into it—yeonjun already grabbing your ankles to drag you closer when you threw your white mitten at his face as an impromptu white flag with ‘i surrendered! you can’t kick a person who’s down!’.

eventually, when no alliances were forming anymore because no one trusted anyone and one-on-one fights became too slow and messy, they plopped on the ground, tired, but still from time to time snorting bodies scattered around the front yard of the cottage. beomgyu was the first one to turn on his stomach and start building a small snowman in front of him—you weren’t sure where he got such tiny tree branches, but he made little angry eyes on the snowman's head, happily announcing it was yeonjun.

barely a second had passed before kai turned around too, building another snowman—a little less stable and much messier—while telling beomgyu that the latter had absolutely no idea how to make yeonjun and shouldn’t embarrass himself with his skills in front of everyone. kai was so proud to show the three-dot yeonjun snowman—his ‘muse’ was still too out of breath to do anything about it and only promised to kick his ass later. 

of course it became a snowman building competition, and while your, soobin’s and taehyun’s snowmen were basic but neat—standing proudly in the snowy meadow—the other side was an absolute chaos. except beomgyu whose snowman was already starting to look like a masterpiece, and he barely started!

kai’s ones were just as messy and yeonjun-like as the first one—some of them already half-ruined without anyone touching them, their three-dotted heads lying nearby, but he didn’t care because quantity was over quality and they were absolutely terrifying, and just as hilarious in the way yeonjun was huffing and pouting each time he looked at them, followed by evil giggles of kai.

but soon yeonjun stopped glancing their way so often, busy with his own creation. you couldn’t see what exactly he was doing, as the snowman was turned with its back to you, but yeonjun looked deeply focused—brows frowned, eyes narrowed, tongue poking out in concentration like he was sculpting a masterpiece, the venus de milo out of snow, no less. and in the end your curiosity got the best of you, and you headed to him to see what exactly had stolen all his attention.

you were almost right about the venus de milo—boobs. two snowballs of slightly different sizes were in his hands, a few more scattered at his feet, as he compared them to the snowman’s chest one after another like he was selecting the perfect fruit at a market. you couldn't keep your laugh inside, and yeonjun huffed dramatically telling you to either leave or help him with his dilemma. you pointed at the snowball in his right hand, saying this one was more like yours and he rubbed his chin before nodding a few times—approved. 

you watched as yeonjun finally pressed the chosen snowball to the snowman’s chest adding the second one of the same size, proud like he’d solved an ancient puzzle. but before he could admire his work for too long, his gaze slid to where beomgyu was quietly shaping a snowman of his own a few steps away. his movements were careful, almost precise—and before yeonjun could take a step to him with this evil smirk, you caught his ear like his mom did so often, tugging him back with a ‘don’t even think about it’. he huffed, but returned to his own snowman, muttering that as you hadn’t let him ruin beomgyu’s snowman, he was going to ruin you—you couldn’t pretend it didn’t send shivers down your spine.

choosing a winner was impossible, because each snowman—or snowman army—was perfect in its own way. taehyun’s picture-perfect snowman looked ready to be posted on a stock site under the title ‘perfect snowman’; soobin’s was a little messy but adorable, with uneven arms and a crooked smile that only made it cuter; kai’s chaotic army of half-ruined mini yeonjuns had everyone laughing until they cried; beomgyu’s snowman wore a flower crown, and everyone felt dumb for not thinking to ask the room for extra props like he did; yeonjun’s booby masterpiece and finally, your little group of six snowmen that all had happy smiles on their faces.

it was almost midnight when you returned to the cottage, took the wet clothes off and wrapped yourself in blankets to meet the midnight on the terrace. you grabbed butterbeer—maybe, someone grabbed just beer, because it looked like it and smelled like it, but you couldn’t be sure it was one without tasting it and the headboy had it too, and how could you not trust him to follow the rules of no alcohol in hogwarts? 

you all shouted the countdown together, voices echoing into the snowy meadow, breath turning into puffs in the cold night air. the warmth of the blankets and shared laughter wrapped around you more tightly than any scarf. the final ‘one!’ burst out with a mix of laughter and cheers, kai’s butterbeer nearly spilling, yeonjun’s head tipping back in a happy howl. it wasn’t neat or perfectly in sync—just messy, loud, and exactly right.

the fireworks coloured the dark sky in every possible shade, crackling above you in bright shapes of anything that could come to mind of you six—you were sure there were a few pokemons even. you felt the echoes of each burst deep in your chest, warmth buzzing through your veins, mixing with the aftertaste of butterbeer on your tongue. for a moment, no one spoke—just a quiet awe settling over the terrace, the lights painting your friends’ faces in shifting, shimmering hues. 

it was probably the happiest new year celebration in your life—shining eyes of the boys, their happy smiles and laughter and shouts, the way they tugged you in their hold, nearly suffocating you with their tightest group hug. you’d probably shed a tear—most probably, it was your last new year celebration together like this—if it wasn’t for someone’s hand on your ass. you pinched yeonjun’s side and his ‘what did i do?!’ wasn’t even a little believable. 

you all returned to the cottage, hungry after laughing and running and shouting and wrestling in snow, and five of them occupied the table in less than a second probably, mouths already stuffed full of still warm food. you watched yeonjun close his eyes and frown at the mindblowing taste of samgyeopsal his mom sent, and you could feel bad for robbing him of it, but you took the time turner and dangled it before his face. 

soobin tilted his head, asking you what it was, and you explained you needed to check the clock and bell towers so there weren’t any students, because it was the night when the rings were the loudest—therefore, you needed a time turner to be there before midnight. soobin and beomgyu, already tipsy, looked like you just confessed you’d call your first-born after both of them, and not just said you decided to prioritize meeting the new year with them over your duties. 

yeonjun groaned and got up, mouth still full as he looked over everyone at the table with as intimidating expression as he could, pointing at each one with his index finger and warning them to not eat his food and preferably to not look at it even or he’d find some headboy way to get revenge. you knew he was just joking, but—just in case—you turned to them by the door, holding your hands in a pleading gesture and mouthing ‘please, don’t eat it’ before following yeonjun who was already out of the cottage. 

he perfectly knew there wasn’t a duty like this, but it sounded so believable that he was impressed. you’d begged him to finally let you suck him off and refused to listen to his reasons anymore—he just didn’t want you to feel like you had to, but you were too stubborn and bratty, and it was always so hard to say no to you when you begged, and even harder when you were getting grumpy after refusal, and basically impossible when you said you wanted it as your new year present. so he’d given in and said he’d even let you do it right at midnight if you found a good enough excuse for the boys—and you did.

the moment you left the room of requirement your steps became bigger, more urgent, and you even wrapped your fingers around yeonjun’s wrist, tugging him after you—you really weren’t going to waste time on anything and furthermore to lose the rare opportunity you’d finally got after begging for it for so long. you didn’t even head to the clock or bell towers—astronomy one was much, much closer, basically over the corner. 

you stopped just a few feet away from the stairs, right beside a huge telescope draped in old dusty fabric—it was a perfect spot for you two to hide on your way back to avoid running into your own past selves. or… future present you. or past you from the future. or—you cursed quietly, dragging yeonjun closer as you looped the time-turner chain over both your heads, ‘tying’ you two together, and a quiet giggle floated from behind the telescope, followed by a hurried hush that only turned into another giggle. 

yeonjun—the one before you—threw a quick glance in the direction of the sound, a smug smile curling on his lips. “so it was good, as far as i can judge,” he whispered, tilting his head a little to gesture at future versions of you hiding from the present you. “or will be good?” 

you followed his gaze before frowning a little and turning the time-turner to send you twenty minutes back—fifteen minutes before midnight. “time travelling still confuses me,” you muttered, fiddling with the delicate silver device—it was given to you with the headgirl title for ‘emergency cases’, but you’d never really used it. yeonjun did, though—he mentioned it a few times—so his gaze was glued to your fingers checking that you were doing everything right. 

he murmured a soft ‘here we go’, and you looked up watching the blurry figures, your blurry figures ‘unhiding’ from behind the telescope, running up the stairs with their backs, you ‘tugging’ yeonjun up before disappearing from your sight behind the stairwell. it was mere seconds before the blur returned, running down now, their backs to you before their ghostly bodies collided with yours—and just like that, they were gone. you were alone again.

yeonjun slipped the chain off your necks, tucking the time-turner into his pocket—you barely noticed him take it from your hands, brain catching up on what you’d just seen—and his fingers wrapped around your wrist next, tugging you up the stairs, exactly where your future versions had just run from. you hurried after him, legs suddenly working faster than your brain, laughing as you asked what had gotten into him. he only muttered something about their giggles sounding disgustingly stupid, and that he had to know what had happened—or was going to happen. fuck talking about time travelling.

he only stopped at the very top of the tower, just a floor under the battlements, a little dusted, a little cluttered, but you only needed a three feet square next to the empty wall and there were a few options. and yeonjun pressed you into the one closest to the stairs, unable to waste time on going deeper into the room—it was too close to midnight for anyone to be wandering around here anyway—his lips on yours even before his own brain caught up. 

you responded eagerly, instinctively, lips parting to welcome his tongue, when your mind stopped you, and you pressed your palms against his chest, pushing him away a little. “yeonjun,” you whispered, as he moved back just enough to let you speak. “do you still want it?” your fingers curled gently into the fabric of his shirt. “i know i seem pushy, but i promise i’ll never bring it up again if you say ‘no’ now,” you whispered, gaze shifting between his eyes, hoping to catch the truth. “i want to, but i don’t need it if you don’t.”

yeonjun felt his already half-hard cock twitch in his pants—what was it with your… whatever it was, gosh. why in the world you caring about his feelings like this was so fucking hot? he wanted to ruin you as ‘thank you’, but more than that he wanted to give you what you wanted, especially when he wanted it just as much. “i do,” he whispered against your lips, thumb caressing your cheek. “but i’ll be against the wall so you have space to move away, okay?”

he watched you nod before spinning you two around, his back against the cold stone, lips pressed under your jaw, holding you here just a little longer as he was shaking his cardigan off his shoulders—he’d rather chop his dick off than let you kneel on the old wood floor with your bare knees, because it was hard, dusty and most probably had concerning amount of splinters.

yeonjun folded the cardigan as best as he could without moving you away before letting it fall on the floor between you, his hand finding yours to help you lower yourself before him. you got down carefully, placing your knees and calves on the soft, tickly fabric, adjusting it a little in the process before finally sitting down properly on your shins, his crotch right in front of your face.

you blinked a few times at the tent in his pants and your gaze flicked to his eyes uncertainly. no, of course you knew what you were supposed to do—undo the belt, unbutton and unzip his pants, tug them down, tug his underwear down too and… get down to business. gosh, you’d wanted to do this since freaking october, when you’d seen his morning wood for the first time. you couldn’t even pretend you weren’t imagining it—but now your hands were lying lifelessly on your knees and you were looking at him like you had absolutely no idea what to do. 

yeonjun needed a bit of time to return to his senses—you looked so breathtaking on your knees before him, looking up at him like this, that he needed to grasp reality. and the reality was, it was your first time. he cleared his throat, but he knew it barely helped. “want me to help?” he rasped, his hand already moving to the belt, fingers wrapping around the buckle. 

but you shook your head, tips of your fingers slipping under his hand, metal a little chill on your fingerpads, drastic contrast to yeonjun’s hot skin. “no,” you whispered, licking your suddenly dry lips. “just… tell me if i’m doing something wrong, please,” you brushed the buckle unconsciously, trying to ease the nerves at least a little. “don’t wanna hurt you in any way.”

he nodded, moving his hand just an inch to the side—giving you freedom to do everything at your own pace but staying nearby to help you if you needed it. except… the clock was ticking and you had to be behind the draped telescope in about fifteen minutes, and while he didn’t want to hurry you… “do you want me to tell you what to do?” he watched your gaze flick to his eyes almost hopefully. “will guide you.”

you bit your lip and nodded—you knew you didn’t have all the time in the world, and just staring at his boner instead of doing the very thing you came here for was at least stupid. you whispered a soft ‘yes, please’, and started unbuckling his belt without waiting for him to tell you—you assumed you were able to deal with pants without guidance. 

yeonjun whispered ‘good girl’, hand finding its place in your hair before he could think twice about it, when you were done with the belt, but it turned to a hiss when your hand brushed against his boner as you reached the button, his head tipping back just for a moment—fuck ticking clock, he won’t last long—before he looked down at you, already watching his face with a worry. he only shook his head, whispering that you were doing great, his fingers playing with your hair to assure you a bit.

doing great what? almost flicked through your mind—you hadn’t even done anything yet, but the warmth of his praise and his hand on your head were already nudging you into some hazy, eager space, making you want to keep hearing it, to keep being good, and you could feel yourself getting wetter at the thought of hearing more praises. so you were already a little more certain, undoing the button and zipper. 

you still froze at the sight of his cock covered by the thin fabric of his underwear only—there was already a patch forming, the white fabric damp, turning slightly translucent. not completely see-through, but a bit more than usual and just enough for you to see the shape, to make your head spin at the image of finally having a taste forming in your mind. you probably looked so pathetic, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

yeonjun smirked despite how turned on he was—and how fucking hot he found your fascination with something like his cock. you were so cute, maybe just a little pathetic—but only a bit, just enough of it to make him feel like he had you in the palm of his hand. he threaded his fingers through your hair gently, parting his lips to praise you, but it was only a choked out moan that escaped him, his widened eyes finding yours.

you just couldn’t hold yourself back—maybe you barely even tried to, but the damp fabric seemed so alluring, it was already so close to your face and you were going to suck him off anyway, so what could be the harm in just giving it a little lick? only a taste, nothing more—and your tongue flicked out, palm flat on yeonjun’s thigh as you leaned forward, leaving a shy, but curious lick on the already wet fabric. you looked up when you heard a broken moan, blinking a few times at his shocked expression. “shouldn’t have?..”

it was probably the moment yeonjun knew for sure that you were going to drive him absolutely crazy. “no,” he stuttered. “should have. hot as fuck, baby,” he wasn’t sure himself how much sense his words made, because no matter how many blowjobs he’d got in his life, this one—that hadn’t even started yet, for fuck’s sake—was already the best.

it was almost embarrassing how you clenched around nothing at this—but it was addicting in the worst and best possible ways. you licked your lips, fingers sliding under the waistband of his underwear and pulling it away from his skin—a little farther than needed, maybe, but your mind was too hazy to measure anything precisely. you eased it lower, slow and unsure, breath catching as his cock finally sprang free in one quick motion, flushed and heavy and impossibly hard, the tip glistening slightly in the dim light—and you whimpered.

yeonjun leaned his head on the wall, breathing getting heavier already—the air was cool against the hot and wet skin of his cock, contrasting with the warmth of your breath and unsure brush of your fingertips against the shaft. “spit in your palm, mouse,” he breathed out, trembling fingers threading through your hair. “then wrap around me. gonna feel better… for both of us.”

you swallowed and nodded, doing what he said, nose scrunching a little at the feeling of your own saliva in your hand. could you maybe ask him to spit into your palm next time?.. you wrapped your fingers around his cock gently, feeling it twitch in your hand before pumping a few times, your saliva mixed with his precum making the movement slick and easy. you barely cared, though, eyes glued to the little bead of precum forming on the tip, and before it became too heavy and fell, before you could think twice, you leaned forward, catching it with your tongue. 

“fucking hell,” yeonjun breathed out, fingers curling in your hair just for a second—how the hell just a simple fucking kitten lick was making him feel like this? your curiosity, your eagerness, your ‘i do it because i want to and i can’t think straight enough to stop myself’ were the hottest shit in the world. “doing great, baby,” he rasped, voice shaky as he forced his fingers to relax. “so, so great. keep going.” 

you nodded almost eagerly, sticking your tongue out to leave another little lick, and then another one—a bit more certain, bolder than the previous one. you could feel yeonjun’s thigh tense under your palm, his breaths shallow—clear signs of him wanting you to take it deeper, but holding back. not today—too little time for you to be careful enough—but, maybe, some other day… you moaned a little, and wrapped your lips around the tip, sucking tentatively, eyes glued to his face.

yeonjun cursed under his breath, fingers twitching in your hair as his eyes found yours, ‘please, tell me i’m good. am i doing it right?’ written all over you face and he let out a shaky exhale. “doing so great, baby,” he rasped, massaging your scalp gently trying to encourage you and ground himself. “so good, fuck—”

it worked—at least for you—and you sucked more eagerly, hand spreading his precum and your saliva along the shaft in a bit more precise motion now. you tried to keep your eyes on him, somehow knowing he wanted to see them, but it was so hard when you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes back at how freaking good his cock felt between your lips and against the tip of your tongue. how had you waited for so long? and how were you supposed to not think about it constantly now?

it so wasn’t enough, though… your fingers slipped under your skirt, thumb brushing the inside of your thigh before you pressed your fingers to the damp fabric of your underwear, moaning around yeonjun’s cock at the touch, but frowning a little in frustration—still not enough, you needed more, gosh. and the tips of your fingers moved the damp fabric away, parting your folds to brush your clit. 

yeonjun swallowed as he felt your palm leave his thigh, looking down to check if everything was okay, if you moved because something felt wrong, and nothing in the world could prepare him for the sight of your hand disappearing under your skirt in the dim light. “fuck, mouse—” he breathed out, hips bucking against his will, making you take him just a little deeper. “you’re touching yourself?”

he felt your soft ‘mhm’ vibrating on the head of his cock, and a string of curses amidst your name left his lips as he felt himself twitch in your hand and on your tongue—it wasn’t about the little vibration at all. you were touching yourself, while giving him head. how could he not believe you all these months that you wanted it, for fuck’s sake? idiot. his fingers tangled in your hair, and he felt you moan again, eyes flattering close as you rolled them back, movements of your hand getting faster. 

fuck, i want more, flicked in yeonjun’s mind. want to feel her deeper. but he couldn’t—no, fuck, he couldn’t. not this time. you were so fucking careful, licking the head, tracing the vein with the tip of your tongue, sucking gently at the head without taking it deep as your fist made up for the rest—he didn’t need to ask to know you didn’t want to hurt him with your teeth, and every second of your clumsy, but caring and eager devotion was already enough to finish him off faster than any perfect technique ever could, and hearing your soft whimpers, seeing your fingers on yourself was only making it worse for him. 

you knew you were getting closer—your hips twitched, close to humping your own hand, and it was getting harder to keep whimpers and mewls inside and to focus on what your hand and mouth did. and you could feel that yeonjun was so close too, hips bucked more and more often, the hold he had on your hair getting tighter despite how bad he tried not to grip it—and it was only pushing you closer to the edge.

‘close’ was an understatement for yeonjun—he was teetering right on the edge, vision blurring, every muscle in his body so tense he thought he might snap. his hips stuttered, a helpless shudder wrecking through his frame, fingers buried in your hair like an anchor. he barely managed to gasp out your name, voice broken and hoarse, he didn’t even warn you, couldn't say you didn’t have to swallow before his mind blanked completely.

and right then, as if the universe itself decided to mock or celebrate you, the first firework cracked sharply across the sky outside—a bloom of ironically slytherin-like silver and green, loud enough to echo in the tower. the shock of it ripped through your already trembling body, and you came with a choked-out moan against him, your hips jolting forward, hand pressed between your legs to ride out the wave.

yeonjun spilled into your mouth with a strangled cry, head falling back against the wall, and you did your best to swallow—some of it spilled down your chin, your hand too shaky to catch it properly, and it only made his head spin more. you looked so wrecked and beautiful and so full of him and of yourself, but, fuck, did he feel bad for making you swallow it… there were more than usual because of the potion add-ons and while it was supposed to taste okay already, it was still thick and sticky and could be gross. 

but you so didn’t care—you pressed your forehead against yeonjun’s thigh, breath fanning against his skin, as your fingers dragged messily along your chin, scooping up what you couldn’t swallow fast enough, your tongue darting out to lick it up without a second thought. you were probably still a little high from coming just now, brain barely working, but this weird thickness and faint taste of something fresh and salty felt… nice on your tongue. 

you suddenly cursed breathlessly, withdrawing a little crumpled mistletoe from your sleeve—you wanted to make a joke out of it, swing it above his cock or attaching it to the hem of his shirt or something before getting to work, but everything was so heated that you’d completely forgotten about it, and now the perfect opportunity was lost. you pressed your forehead back to his thigh, putting the crumpled mistletoe into his palm, and let out a breathy giggle, tickling his skin, your hand falling down on your knees.

yeonjun looked down at you and the mistletoe in his palm before leaning his head on the wall, lips curling into a smile on its own, and his next exhale sounded like a soft laugh. how ridiculous it was, to cum exactly on the new year midnight, with fireworks in the sky matching the ones behind your eyelids? it’d be even worse in the best possible way with the fucking mistletoe dangling above his cock. he covered his eyes with forearm, letting out a little laugh—it was absolutely comical. 

your own giggles became a bit more frequent too and you shut your eyes as they turned into breathy laughter. “so… so, now that it’s tech­ni­cal­ly jan­u­ary first—twice…” you giggled, scrunching your nose and looking up at him. using the time-turner for the first time in four months just to give a blowjob… ‘emergency case’ indeed. “does that make it a yearly tra­di­tion? monthly? weekly?”

yeonjun brushed hair away from your forehead, his fingers still trembling slightly, his smile a little dazed, as he lowered his hand, the warm base of his thumb pressing over your mouth in a half-hearted attempt to shut you up before you could continue. “weekly good. daily… wouldn’t survive,” he mumbled with a chuckle, giving you his hand to help you get up and tucking his softened cock in once you were standing. 

you bent down to grab his cardigan off the floor, almost tripping on absolutely nothing while straightening up and quickly balancing yourself with your hand on yeonjun’s shoulder and another silly giggle. he looked up at you, his smile just as blissed out, gaze dropping to the little drop under the corner of your lips. he caught it with his thumb, and you leaked it off eagerly before he even pressed it to your lips. 

“now i understand why they sounded so disgustingly stupid,” yeonjun muttered—the realization crashing into him like a train the next moment. you clearly hadn’t reached the same conclusion yet, because the next second he had your wrist in one hand, his cardigan bunched in the other, already half-turning as he dragged you down the stairs. you barely had time to breathe before your feet caught up, stumbling after him as he all but sprinted toward the hiding place—the same spot you’d heard your future selves giggling at almost twenty minutes ago.

it was just at the last step when you heard the door of the room of requirement open, and yeonjun turned to you with wide eyes, practically scooping you up and pushing you behind the draped, dusty telescope. he crouched down with you, faces inches apart, his index finger pressed to his lips, shushing you before you could even think of making a noise—after all, it had been your giggle first that gave you away earlier.

you slapped a hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh, already knowing the clueless little dummy you were hiding from—past you—had no idea how stupidly happy she’d be in just a few minutes. but a tiny giggle still escaped you, and yeonjun hushed you quickly before bursting into a quiet laugh himself, almost forgetting your past selves were so close.

but you didn’t. after a pause—past yeonjun’s head turning in your direction—you couldn’t help but mouth, so it was good, as far as i can judge, your expression exaggerated to match his voice perfectly. yeonjun covered his mouth, shoulders shaking, and when you bit your lip to hold back, your cheeks already hurt from smiling. he only made it worse, mimicking your ‘time travelling still confuses me’ with exaggerated frown and pout.

you had to cover your mouth with both hands, knuckles brushing against yeonjun’s nose as he leaned forward, trying to stifle his own giggles. it felt like you were kids, hiding in some old wardrobe after sneaking half a tray of cupcakes, trying not to give yourselves away while your moms searched everywhere. the greatest mischief of all—both stolen cupcakes then and using the time-turner to do dirty stuff and hiding from your past selves now. 

you both peeked out from behind the telescope once it felt safe enough, eyes wide and breaths held like two kids about to burst. the second your past selves disappeared into thin air, you stumbled out, laughter spilling out of you so loudly it echoed up the staircase. neither of you even knew exactly what was so funny anymore—maybe it was the absurdity of hiding from yourselves, maybe it was the leftover rush of what you'd just done, or maybe it was just the way you always pushed each other over the edge, in every sense.

and you didn’t bother to figure it out—you just let yourselves laugh, leaning on each other like you might collapse, grinning so hard your faces ached. it felt natural, stupidly easy, exactly like you both had been made for this kind of mischief together. you slapped his shoulder telling him he had to quickly come up with an excuse for the boys to explain what got you two like this, and he looked comically surprised, saying it was your new year present and your excuses. 

yeonjun pinched your ass under the skirt right before you opened the door of the room of requirement, and you hushed him, slapping his ass before going inside, the room meeting you with shimmering under the moonlight white snow and welcoming warm windows of the cottage, waiting for you to return. you sprinted to the entrance, daring yeonjun to outrun you, which he did easily, palm colliding with your ass as he passed by with a loud laugh. 

you shouted his name, chasing him and crashing into his back as he stopped right after the entrance, looking back at you over his shoulder with this annoying foxy smirk. the boys looked at you two concerned, as if you lost your minds, and yeonjun turned to them, coming with the nonsense right on the spot. about the way ‘this idiot’—he gestured at you standing behind him—got startled by the clock striking midnight and fireworks, and jerked so hard that he had to catch ‘that dummy’ to not let her fall off the stairs.

you groaned, rolling your eyes, and shoved him inside, informing everyone it wasn’t like this at all, and yeonjun was just a show off, forgetting that everyone perfectly knew how huge of a scaredy cat he was. he huffed and rolled his eyes too, saying that unlike someone here, he hadn’t forgotten it was going to be loud there. you only narrowed your eyes, gaze falling on his plate on the table, completely untouched, and you signed dramatically, asking the boss why they hadn’t eaten everything—there were four of them, two minutes of your absence would be enough. 

they all laughed, four hands reaching out to the plate at the same time, and yeonjun rushed to grab it, shielding it from everyone with his body, muttering something about heartbreak, betrayal, everything you two had been through and home-made samgyeopsal being the only thing in the world he could open his gentle and fragile soul to. you tugged him back to the table by his collar and sat down too—face still aching from grinning so hard, heart light from the way no one questioned anything, content with witnessing your chaotic improvisation. 

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