☾Luna☽

your back was tight against his chest, thighs locked over his, every inch of you pressed into him. the heat of him inside, the weight of his arms pinning you there, the way he moved—it blurred your thoughts into pure nothingness. every movement made your stomach coil tighter, every press of his thumb over your hard nipple sent burning heat straight to your core.

your eyes drifted down. god. his biceps—thick, veined, flexing with each thrust—moved under your palms, alive, impossibly perfect. without thinking, your teeth sank into one, muffling a whimper that had risen in your throat. his low, ragged groan vibrated through you, chest pressing into yours with a force that made your knees tremble.

he leaned forward, chest against your shoulder, lips grazing your neck, voice rough and teasing. “shit… look at you. can’t even keep quiet?”

you whimpered, dragging your teeth lightly over him again, fingers gripping his forearm, knuckles white. your core clenched around him with every roll of his thumb, the sting and heat impossible to think past. “i—” your voice broke on a gasp, barely a whisper.

he chuckled, thumb flicking your nipple with maddening patience. “biting me like you’re starving. don’t tell me you don’t mean it.”

another pulse of his arm flexing under your teeth had you shivering, reflex biting again, hiding a moan, heat rushing through you in a way that made every nerve alive. every thrust, every roll of his hips, every teasing flick of his thumb made your body shiver and tremble uncontrollably. your thighs squeezed him tighter, your back pressed closer, fingers digging in as you clung to him, needing every inch, needing all of him.

“hoon…” you breathed, broken, almost pleading. “feels… s’good…”

his hand was steady on your hip, the other moving down your side, and lower–slowly circling your clit, dragging you impossibly closer. “losing your mind on me,” he murmured at your ear, voice low and rough. “every bite, every sound… it’s all mine. my pretty girl can’t even hide it.”

you arched into him, grinding without thinking, teeth dragging along his bicep again, muscles pulsing under your mouth as your core clenched around him. every circle of his thumb around your clit, every deliberate thrust of him inside you, pushed you even higher. you pressed flush against him, teeth sinking again, trying to stifle the moans and whines that kept slipping past your lips.

your hands dug into his arms, nails grazing skin, holding on while your teeth met the curve of his bicep again and again. the bites were both desperate and grounding, a reflex that kept you from losing your mind completely as he rolled you closer into your orgasm. the heat, the slick between your bodies, the way he flexed under you—it was impossible to think, only feel, only react to him.

he groaned, leaning closer, hands tightening on your hips, thumb circling your nub in a slow, relentless rhythm. every thrust, every pulse under your teeth, every small, hidden whimper from you fueled him. “that’s it… don’t hide a thing from me,” he muttered.

your thighs squeezed tighter, grinding against him, back pressing hard into his chest. the reflexive bites continued as your core clenched around him again and again, every movement sunghoon did sent sparks through you, pushing you higher until your vision blurred. you were trembling, shivering, utterly consumed, teeth locking onto his biceps as if it could anchor you while you unraveled. then you felt the overwhelming yet familiar sensation of the coil in your stomach threatening to snap.

“h-hoon—i’m gonna–“

“what, you’re gonna cum for me? give it to me baby.”

and then it happened—your body tensed impossibly, shattering as you came around him, hips clenching, squeezing, trembling, letting out the small sounds you’d been hiding against his arm. every flex of his biceps under your teeth, every pulse of him inside, every teasing roll of his thumb had driven you to the edge, and now you spilled, holding him like you couldn’t let go.

he groaned, low and ragged, hips snapping into yours as if to match your release, smirk softening just slightly as he murmured in your ear, “fuck… look at you. mine, completely. so fucking pretty like this.”

you pressed your teeth lightly one last time into the curve of his arm, trembling, thighs still tight around him, chest pressed to his, sweat and warmth mixing. his arms tightened around you, holding you impossibly close, the only sounds left in the quiet room being your panting breaths mingling.

you whimpered against his shoulder, chest rising and falling, teeth still grazing his bicep reflexively, and for a moment, nothing existed but the two of you—heat, pressure, his teasing, your need, and the slow, delicious realization that you were utterly his.

you saw it before you could react. a massive chunk of cement was hurtling straight toward you, fast and unstoppable. your legs refused to move. time stalled, every second stretching thin with the awful realisation that this was it. this was how it ended—for no reason, on a thursday, because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

but just before it hit, something yanked you backward, hard.

you cried out as the world blurred around you, a blur of wind and sound and pressure crushing into your chest. you were flying. 

your brain screamed that it wasn’t possible, that none of this made sense, but your body was already curled tight against something solid and warm. it took a second to understand that it was a person. no—not just any person.

the red and blue suit. the stupid mask. the goddamn glowing web.

spider-man.

your stomach flipped violently as the city skyline whipped past, your legs dangling uselessly. his arm was locked around your waist, firm and annoyingly confident. a glowing thread of web tech was attached to your wrist, pulsing faintly as it connected you to his suit like a leash. below you, the chaos on the street was a distant noise. above you, the clouds were streaked orange from the setting sun. around you, the wind roared.

and you hated all of it. you had always hated spiderman. he was a self-righteous, cocky, reckless menace. always showing up to destroy half the street in the name of “saving” it. and now here you were, clutched to his chest like some helpless civilian in a comic book.

“put me down!” you screamed over the wind, squirming against his grip. “what the fuck are you doing? put me down, you freak!”

“you’re welcome,” he yelled back, voice muffled through the mask.

“i didn’t ask you to save me!”

“i noticed!” he shot back, and the smirk in his voice made your blood boil.

you struggled the entire way up—clawing at his suit, kicking your legs, swearing every curse you knew under your breath—until finally, he landed with a smooth, practised thud on the rooftop of some high-rise building. your feet hit solid ground again, but your balance didn’t catch up in time. your knees wobbled, and you stumbled forward, dizzy from the whiplash and adrenaline.

“i’m going to throw up,” you groaned, doubling over.

“do it away from the suit, thanks,” he muttered.

but before you could stagger farther, a sharp tug pulled you back—your wrist yanked mid-step until your body collided with his chest again. his arm caught you instinctively, steadying you, but you immediately shoved him away, heart still racing from the fall. that’s when you noticed it.

the thread was still glowing and your wrist was still tethered to it.

“what the hell is this?” you shrieked, holding it up. 

the web stretched and shimmered faintly in the light, a sickly silverish glow like it was straight out of some alien movie. it wasn’t even sticky anymore, just fused into your, skin buzzing faintly where it made contact. 

“why is this still on me?! get it off!”

“working on it!” he snapped, kneeling to inspect where it fused into his own suit. “it wasn’t supposed to... uh... attach like that.”

“attach like what?” you cried, tugging violently at it. it didn’t budge. “is this a leash? did you just fucking leash me like a dog?”

“you think i wanted this?” he shot up again, exasperated. “i was in the middle of stopping a building from collapsing when you ran into the line of fire!”

“i was just trying to take the subway!”

“and i was trying to stop a criminal from levelling the station! sue me!”

the shouting echoed across the rooftop, both of you standing there like idiots with a literal glowing string binding your bodies together. your breath came out in shaky huffs. your heart was still racing—not just from fear now, but fury, embarrassment, complete disbelief that this was actually happening.

he let out a long sigh, suddenly sheepish. “look... it’s an experimental prototype. a bio-thread. reacts to certain electrical signals. and, apparently, to heartbeats.”

you blinked. “you’re kidding.”

“wish i was.”

your eyes widened as the realisation sank in. “you mean this thing is connected to—”

“your heartbeat, yeah,” he said grimly, arms crossed now.

you stared down at your wrist, horrified. “that’s disgusting.”

“that’s science,” he corrected.

you gave the web another tug, desperate and annoyed. “so how do i get it off?”

he hesitated.

“no,” you said, already dreading it. “no, don’t tell me—”

“we wait,” he muttered. “should dissolve naturally in... seventy-two hours.”

“seventy—?” you choked. “seventy-two HOURS?!”

he raised both hands in defence. “give or take. the tech’s a little moody.”

“you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“i’m really not.”

you groaned so loudly it echoed. then you slumped down onto the edge of the rooftop, cradling your head in your hands, trying not to scream into the skyline.

 this couldn’t be real. it was some fever dream. you were probably still on the subway, passed out from exhaustion, hallucinating everything. because there was no way you were actually tethered to the city’s most annoying masked menace for the next three days. you refused to believe it.

but the soft glow from your wrist said otherwise.

“take me home.”

he groaned the second you said it, but you didn’t care. you crossed your arms and tilted your chin up, staring at him stubbornly as the wind from the rooftop whipped around the both of you, the glowing thread still tethering your wrist to his suit like some ridiculous sci-fi leash.

“no way,” he snapped. “i still have to go after that guy. he bombed the train platform—he’s probably already halfway across the city.”

you gaped at him. “are you dumb? you're gonna go fight a criminal—with me attached to you?”

he made a guilty little noise and glanced at the still pulsing thread between you. “...i mean. maybe.”

“maybe?” you hissed. “the police can handle him! you’re not dragging me into some vigilante war zone.”

he hesitated, shoulders slumping, and finally, with a sigh of defeat, muttered, “fine. but where the hell are we gonna live for the next three days?”

you blinked. “we?”

“we,” he said firmly, pointing between the two of you. “we’re literally bonded now. unless you wanna cuddle on a fire escape all weekend, we need somewhere to stay.”

you narrowed your eyes. “there’s no way i’m going wherever you stay. i don’t even know you. you could live in a sewer or like… some creepy underground lair.”

he looked genuinely offended as his mask scrunched up. “i don’t live in a sewer. and it’s not a lair. it’s a… small apartment. cozy, even.”

“yeah, no,” you said flatly. “you’re coming to my place.”

his shoulders sagged even further. “ugh fine. but we’re walking. i’m not swinging again with you screaming in my ear.”

and that’s how you found yourself dragging spider-man—spider-freaking-man—down the street by your wrist like some weird, reluctant pet. you ignored the way people looked. it was late, and luckily, his suit was mostly covered by the hoodie you’d given him. though he kept trying to duck into shadows, mumbling under his breath like a sulking child. the glowing thread shimmered faintly between you, pulling taut every time one of you stepped too far away.

when you finally reached your apartment building, he stared up at it with a kind of wary awe. “damn. you got a high paying job or something?”

you snorted as you opened the door. “i’m a uni student. my parents are just rich.”

he tilted his head at you as you stepped into the elevator. “what uni?”

you told him your school name without much thought, and immediately, his whole body stiffened.

“...wait,” he blurted. “me too.”

you turned to look at him slowly. “what?”

his eyes widened behind the mask. he cursed under his breath and looked away, like he’d just admitted state secrets. “shit. i didn’t mean to say that. ignore that.”

you were about to push him further when the elevator doors opened. just then, your phone buzzed. “takeout’s here.”

he startled like you’d just hit him. “you ordered food?”

“yeah,” you said, tossing your keys onto the counter as you entered the apartment. “i was starving and figured you’d eat too, unless you’re part spider and eat bugs.”

he didn’t dignify that with a response.

you handed him a pair of clean sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt you figured would fit—he disappeared into the bathroom and returned a few minutes later, looking annoyingly good in your clothes. he was tall, broad-shouldered, sleeves pushed up his forearms as he sat across from you at your dining table.

you opened the takeout boxes and passed him one. “pad thai. extra spicy.”

he didn’t move.

“uh, you’re gonna have a hard time eating that with your mask on.”

his arms crossed defensively. “i don’t take off my mask in front of people. especially not people who hate spider-man.”

you scoffed, twirling a noodle around with your chopsticks. “i don’t hate you. i just think you're an annoying menace who causes more problems than he solves.”

“...that’s literally what hating me is,” he muttered.

you rolled your eyes. “look, i don’t care. you saved my life, remember? i won’t tell anyone. just… do it. you won’t survive three whole days eating through the mask.”

he was quiet for a second too long, but then hesitantly spoke up.

“...you won’t tell anyone?”

“swear on my meal,” you said solemnly.

he hesitated one last time, and then with a reluctant sigh, his gloved fingers reached up. you watched as he peeled the mask off in one smooth motion—and everything inside you short-circuited.

because holy. shit.

his face was devastatingly pretty. sharp cheekbones, soft pouty lips, golden skin that caught the light in all the right places. his hair was ruffled and messy, sticking out a little from the mask, and his eyes—big, brown, framed by thick lashes—blinked at you nervously.

“i… did not expect you to be that hot,” you blurted, mouth full of noodles.

he choked on air. “what—”

“no like—i was expecting some weird nerdy guy with maybe a beard.”

he blinked. “wow. thanks.”

you pointed at him with your chopsticks, narrowing your eyes. “wait. i know you.”

he froze at that.

“you’re… that guy from my discrete math lecture. choi yeonjun. you’re always sitting in the front row. you literally answer every question like a damn TA.”

his mouth parted slightly. “you’re the girl who sits in the column next to me. with the giant water bottle and all the highlighters.”

you paused. “...so you’ve noticed me.”

he blinked fast. “uh. yeah. i mean—you stand out. not in a bad way. just—pretty. you’re pretty. not that i notice or anything. well obviously i noticed because i just said it but—”

you snorted. “you’re really awkward without the suit.”

“i’m not—” he groaned, face turning pink. “okay maybe a little. it just gives me a different type of confidence you know?”

you grinned down at your food, heart ticking slightly faster. you didn’t know what was more surreal—sitting across from spider-man, or discovering spider-man was the hot math nerd who sat fifteen feet from you every tuesday and thursday. either way, it was going to be a very long seventy two hours.

you had come to terms with the fact that you were never going to get any real sleep. not when you were forced to lie right at the edge of your own bed, arm dangling pathetically over the side like some kind of human offering. 

the glowing web tether was still stuck to your wrist, stretching toward the air mattress yeonjun had flopped onto with a dramatic sigh of exhaustion. you could barely move without yanking his entire body with you, so the only position you could settle in was an awkward sideways curl, with one arm constantly pulled down like gravity itself was trying to remind you of your very stupid, very spider-shaped problem.

you tried to sleep. really. but around three in the morning, right as your eyes were finally starting to blur at the edges, you felt a sudden hard tug on your wrist and then you were falling. 

you yelped as your body was jerked right off the mattress, falling with a startled oof directly onto the unsuspecting man on the floor. yeonjun barely even stirred. he let out a sleepy little grunt and instinctively wrapped his stupid, warm, surprisingly toned arms around you like you were some oversized body pillow. 

you struggled, wriggling against his grip like a bug under a glass, but it was useless. his arms were locked around your waist, one of his hands now tangled in your shirt, and you could feel the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing against your neck.

you hissed his name, trying to peel his fingers off you, but all you got in return was a sleepy pout and a grumbled, “five more minutes.” it would’ve been cute if it wasn’t so infuriating. 

and okay, maybe it was a little warm. and his chest was kind of…comfortable. his stupid heartbeat was strong and slow under your ear, and you were so damn tired from the chaotic whirlwind of your spiderweb-tethered day that you just…gave in. your body melted into the warmth of his, cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his borrowed hoodie, and for the first time in hours, your eyes slipped shut. surprisingly, it felt safe and grounding. like being held together by something solid in the middle of all the mess.

the next morning though, was...less cute.

“you pulled me off my bed,” you deadpanned as you sat up, pushing off his chest with an elbow. your wrist still glowed faintly, the web tether warm between your skins.

yeonjun blinked up at you, hair sticking in every direction, a blanket half-kicked off the mattress. 

“huh?” he said groggily, then sat up fast as memory caught up with him. “wait—shit, did i yank you down?”

you narrowed your eyes. “yes. and then you cuddled me.”

his entire face flushed red. “i did not cuddle you.”

you crossed your arms. “you were purring.”

“that’s slander.” but he looked horrified.

the next twenty four hours were a disaster.

you tripped over the tether so many times that you started to wonder if it had a personal vendetta against your toes. brushing your teeth was like a weirdly synchronised dance of tangled arms and accidental elbow jabs. showering was even worse. 

he stood frozen outside the bathroom door, your glowing lifeline stretched taut through the crack, his voice drifting through like a very flustered ghost. “i’m not peeking, okay?!”

“you better not be!” you snapped as you held up a towel like a makeshift curtain while trying to lather shampoo one-handed. “don’t test me, spiderboy, i will kill you.”

“this is humiliating for me too!” he yelled back. “i’m an icon of justice!”

“you’re an icon of annoying!”

you fought like bickering siblings who had never met before yesterday and yet were somehow stuck together for life. every time you tried to do anything, you’d hear him mutter something under his breath like, “why couldn’t i have been bonded to someone normal?” and you’d throw a couch pillow at him.

it was exactly at the point of your worst argument—over whether or not he could eat directly out of the peanut butter jar—that his watch beeped. he glanced down, cursed under his breath, and without any warning, leapt off the couch.

“wait—what the fuck—!” you screamed as your body was yanked clean off the floor.

“shit, sorry!” yeonjun called back mid-air, swinging out the open balcony door like it was a tuesday stroll. “emergency call!”

“emergency call your ass, PUT ME DOWN!”

“can’t! you’re tethered! my bad!”

you flailed helplessly as you were flung through the air, wind screaming in your ears, the skyline of the city blurring past. each time he swung, your body would arc toward him, face practically slamming against his as you bumped into him with every motion. your nose brushed his chin, your cheek scraped his jaw, and one time—one time—your lips accidentally brushed the side of his mask.

you shrieked. “stop swinging like a lunatic and hold me!”

“oh? now you care about being close to me?” he teased, voice gleeful, mask slightly lopsided.

you scowled. “if i throw up, it’s going straight into your face.”

he just laughed, and then like a showoff on steroids he flipped mid-air, feet planting against the side of a glass building, body upside down. the web between you tightened instantly, pulling you forward until your face hovered just inches from his. he didn’t move. neither did you. the air thinned between you, your breath catching as your eyes flicked to his masked face.

your lips were right there.

he grinned.

then dropped you very unceremoniously onto a nearby rooftop with a thud.

“careful, pretty,” he drawled, voice smug. “you almost kissed me.”

you gaped at him. “what the hell?”

“what?” he said innocently, crouching on the edge of the roof like the cockiest bastard alive. “don’t blame me. you’re the one who’s all over me lately.”

“you pulled me into the sky like a rag doll!”

he tilted his head. “and yet, you’re still clinging to me. hmm.”

you chucked a loose brick at him, but he dodged it and just laughed again, sunlight catching his suit as he rose higher on the building’s edge. the way he stood, so confident and self-assured, was almost unrecognisable from the shy, stammering boy who slept in your apartment and accidentally blurted compliments with red cheeks and soft eyes.

because here, like this, in the suit, yeonjun wasn’t flustered. he wasn’t awkward. he was bold and flirtatious and impossible to pin down. and it was beginning to drive you crazy.

“god,” you muttered under your breath, trying to smooth your wind-tangled hair. “your split personality is insane.”

“you like it,” he said with a wink and leapt off the rooftop again, dragging you behind him with a scream echoing into the morning air.

he was heavy in your arms—well, technically you were mostly dragging him, but still, he made a pretty pathetic sight with one arm slung over your shoulder and his mask balled up in your fist. 

yeonjun winced with every step as you practically hauled him down the hallway to your bathroom, grumbling under your breath about superhero idiocy and your web-chained fate. his face was pale but smug, which made it hard to feel too bad for him, even with the deep gash on his side bleeding through the slick fabric of his suit. 

“could’ve just let me bleed out on the roof,” he joked weakly, slumping down onto the toilet seat. you shot him a look and flicked the bathroom light on.

“how could i? we’re attached to each other because of your stupid web.”

he groaned dramatically as you rifled through the cabinet for your tiny first aid kit. “god, i forget how mean you can get.”

“you’ve known me for two days.”

“and i’ve never known peace since,” he mumbled, hissing when you unzipped the top of his suit. it peeled down like a second skin, sticking slightly to the dried blood at his side, and then it was suddenly just there—his torso, sculpted and gleaming faintly with sweat, all defined lines and soft curves where his skin dipped between muscle. he was flushed down to his chest, breaths short and laboured, and you hated yourself for noticing. your eyes stuttered somewhere between his collarbone and the trail of blood slashed across his ribs. he was stupidly attractive, in that way people weren’t supposed to be when they were bruised and bleeding and shirtless in your bathroom.

you blinked hard to cover it up. “you’re disgusting.”

he grinned. “you’re staring.”

“i’m assessing the wound,” you snapped, even though your voice cracked embarrassingly halfway through. 

you knelt beside him, pulling out antiseptic and gauze, trying very hard not to notice the way his thigh brushed your knee. he was warm and so very there, and the web tether between you pulsed quietly, glowing with soft light that gradually brightened as your hands made contact with his skin.

you swore under your breath as the tether suddenly shortened, dragging you even closer until you were practically perched on his leg, trying to clean the gash with shaking fingers.

“stop moving,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“you’re literally sitting on me.”

“and you’re literally whining like a baby,” you shot back.

“sorry, i didn’t realise getting stabbed meant i had to also deal with you sitting on me and insulting me,” he grumbled, but there was no bite to it. his voice had dipped lower and softer, with a strange edge of tension beneath the banter, which curled around your lungs and squeezed.

you froze when he tilted his head to look at you, eyes dark and voice barely above a murmur.

“you gonna kiss me or just keep staring?”

you froze at that, heartbeat thudding louder making the web glow brighter. you stared at him, caught between the heat of his skin under your hands and the dare in his voice. 

but then your hand shot up and smacked his chest, hard enough to jolt him, and you scrambled off his lap, trying to hide your flaming face behind pure rage.

“get dressed, freak!”

he laughed as you stormed out of the bathroom, muttering something about how you were the weirdest civilian he’d ever met. you didn’t respond with youe usual snarky response as you were too busy pressing your hands to your face and praying the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

later, the both of you ended up back in your bed this time, lying stiffly on either end like two strangers forced to share a lifeboat. the air mattress plan was abandoned mutually,  after both of you admitted it had been a disaster the night before. this was... better. except for the thing between you. the glowing thread, taut and warm, stretched like some cursed lifeline from your wrist to his. you turned to your side, glaring at the ceiling.

“this is insane,” you muttered.

“you think?” he sighed. “i was testing a prototype, not... roping myself to a civilian.”

you glanced over at him. his face was turned toward the ceiling too, dark in the low light, jaw sharp and brows furrowed in thought. then he spoke again, voice quiet and strange.

“it’s supposed to sync with biological emotion markers. that’s what the tech does. it connects based on stimulus—heartbeat, adrenaline, whatever.”

he then paused as both of you looked down at the web connecting your wrists. it was glowing again.

brighter.

“is it—” you swallowed, suddenly aware of how fast your heart was beating. “—is it reacting to me… or to you?”

his eyes flicked toward you. something unreadable settled into his expression as he shifted, leaning slightly closer. the tether pulsed, light blooming a little brighter between your wrists. you felt your skin heat where it touched the sheets, the air between your bodies shimmering with something you didn’t want to name.

his hand moved, slow and hesitant, fingers brushing your cheek like he was afraid of scaring you off. it was the first time he touched you that gently. like he wanted to. like this was something he wasn’t allowed to want.

your breath hitched.

but then he blinked, the moment cracking in half as he leaned away quickly and gave a sheepish laugh.

“sorry, i’m being so weird,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “goodnight.”

you stared at him as he rolled to his side, facing away, shoulders tense.

your hand drifted to the tether between you which was glowing faintly now. like it, too, was pretending none of that happened.

the next morning, you woke with a heavy feeling in your chest, the warmth of yeonjun's body pressed against your back where he'd somehow started spooning you during the night. 

the cursed bio-web glowed faintly between your wrists, its light weaker now but still stubbornly connecting you to the sleeping superhero whose arm was currently crushing your diaphragm. you tried to shift away, but the movement yanked yeonjun's wrist sharply toward you, jolting him awake with a grunt.

"mmph—w'shappening?" he slurred, blinking sleepily as his free hand came up to rub his eyes. then he froze, suddenly very aware of how his body was molded against yours, his nose buried in your hair. 

"oh. uh. morning."

"morning," you muttered, refusing to acknowledge how nice his sleep-rough voice sounded this close to your ear. the web pulsed between you, responding to your elevated heartbeat like the traitor it was.

yeonjun cleared his throat and attempted to roll away, only for the tether to snap taut, dragging you both into an awkward mid-air collision of limbs. 

"right. forgot about that," he mumbled, his cheeks pink as he untangled himself. "three days can't end fast enough."

the words shouldn't have stung, but they did.

the day passed in strange pockets of silence and unexpected intimacy. making breakfast was, again a clumsy dance of coordinated movements—you cracking eggs onehanded while he reached across you for the spatula, his chest brushing your back in a way that made the web flare brighter. 

by afternoon, you'd developed an unspoken rhythm. studying on the couch meant yeonjun's legs thrown over your lap, his toes occasionally flexing against your thigh. you told him about your classes, the professors you loved and hated, the little things that made you feel like home. he told you about his family, his friends’ relentless teasing, and how sometimes being spider-man meant missing out on the simplest moments. you laughed more than you expected, but the heavy feeling in your heart didn’t go away.

as sunset painted your balcony in gold, you stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the web's glow grow fainter. 

"think it'll hurt when it breaks?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

yeonjun flexed his wrist. "dunno. never stuck myself to a pretty girl before."

"shut up," you said without heat, your traitorous pulse making the thread brighten.

right as you said that, without any ceremony it suddenly dissolved. one moment the connection was there, thrumming with energy. the next, there was nothing. your wrist felt strangely light, the skin unmarked as if the tether had never existed. the sudden freedom was more disorienting than the fall from the subway platform three days ago.

yeonjun cleared his throat, rocking back on his heels. "so. uh. guess i should..." he gestured vaguely toward the skyline.

"yeah," you agreed too quickly. "crime to fight. people to save. all that."

an awkward beat passed before he suddenly pulled you into a stiff hug, his hands patting your back like he was unsure of what he was doing. "see you in class," he mumbled into your hair before releasing you like you'd burned him.

you nodded, a little breathless. “yeah.”

you watched quietly as he slipped the mask back up, eyes meeting yours one last time before he waved goodbye and launched himself into the air with a graceful swing. the sight left a hollow ache in your chest, the cool evening breeze whispering around you as you leaned on the balcony railing and closed your eyes.

just as you were wondering how the hell you were going to say hi to him on campus, a shadow suddenly blocked the fading sunlight in front of you. you opened your eyes and smiled. there he was—spider-man, hanging upside down right before you. the mask’s white eyes blinked slowly, hesitating.

"miss me?"

you let out a startled yelp which turned into a punch that sent him swinging backward with a laugh.

"you absolute asshole!" you hissed, heart hammering. "what the hell are you—"

"forgot something," he interrupted, catching himself on the railing. his voice was oddly nervous as the white lenses of his mask stared at you. "the web's gone but... my chest still feels kinda tight? like there's still a tether there. that's... not normal, right?"

you blinked. "your... chest?"

"yeah." his gloved hand came up to rub at the black spider emblem. "right here. it's weird. hurts a little. think i need you to check—"

"you're such a terrible liar," you breathed, but your hands were already reaching for his mask. this time, you pulled it all the way off.

yeonjun's face was flushed, his lips slightly parted as he stared at you with an expression so open it made your knees weak. there was no smugness behind it, just nervous hope. 

"so?" he whispered. "you gonna check or what?"

your fingers curled around his jaw. "shut up and kiss me, spider-boy."

he didn't need to be told twice.

the first kiss was messy—yeonjun still upside down, your hands fumbling with his hair as he gripped your waist to keep you both from toppling over. your upper lip brushed against his lower one first, that plush swell of his mouth impossibly soft against yours, and then he was kissing you back properly, his lips moving with a desperate hunger that made your head spin. the contrast was intoxicating—the way your upper lip caught slightly on the perfect curve of his lower one before he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that had you clutching at his shoulders for balance. when you bit his lower lip, he actually whimpered, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

"fuck," he panted when you broke apart, his pupils blown wide. his lower lip glistened where you'd nipped it, that perfect pout even more swollen now. "was that—are we—"

"if you don't kiss me again in the next three seconds, i'm pushing you off this balcony."

he grinned, wild and bright, before surging forward. this time, he flipped mid-kiss, his body twisting until he was pressing you back against the railing, his thigh slotting between yours. your upper lip caught on his again in that delicious way, the sensitive skin tingling where it dragged against the fuller curve of his lower lip before his tongue swept into your mouth. 

the heat of him was everywhere, his hands roaming your back with none of the hesitation he'd had while tethered. when you moaned into his mouth, he swallowed the sound greedily, his lower lip catching on yours as he pulled back just enough to tease before diving in again.

"still think i'm a nuisance?" he murmured against your lips, his teeth scraping your jaw, his lips brushing yours with each word.

"shut up," you gasped, arching into him. your lips dragged against his as you spoke, the fleeting contact making him shudder. "just because i want to make out with you doesn't mean i approve of your reckless vigilantism."

yeonjun laughed, the vibration travelling straight through your chest as he lifted you effortlessly onto the railing. your legs locked around his waist on instinct, his hands gripping your thighs as he kissed you again, deeper this time. his lower lip slotted perfectly between yours, that plush softness yielding to your teeth when you bit down gently, and the groan it tore from him was better than any sound you'd heard in your life. 

"good thing i don't need your approval," he teased between kisses, each brush of his lips against yours more deliberate now, his upper lip catching on yours in ways that made your toes curl. "just your mouth. and your hands. and maybe—"

you cut him off with another kiss, your fingers tightening in his hair. the city stretched out below you, endless and bright, but all you could focus on was the way yeonjun shuddered when you tugged him closer, the way his heart pounded against yours —no web needed this time to prove you were connected.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

“I’m the one losing and yet,” he drawled, clicking his tongue, “you’re the one sitting there with your nipples hard and thighs clenched shut.”

“Confidence doesn’t suit losers, hm?” You said, rolling your eyes, though you were painfully aware of the wetness pooling in your panties. 

“It’s not confidence y’know? It’s experience. I know how it’s gonna end.” He took another sip of his beer, eyes fixated on you. 

You shifted on the rug, refusing to give him the satisfaction of reacting, “yeah? Tell me, psychic, how does it end?”

“With you naked,” he said simply, using that deep sultry voice of his, “and sitting on my lap.”

Your stomach tightened at the casual certainty in his voice, he was way too overconfident for his own good, which had you scoffing. You tossed him his cards and dealt the next round before you could think too hard about how right he probably could be, only for him to lose—again. 

“Wow,” you said, dragging the word out. “That’s four in a row. This might be your new record, Jakey.”

He simply stared at you from across the table, bottom lip bitten and red now. You knew that look so well—the very one he used to get when he was right on the edge of snapping, of fucking you dumb.

You nodded at his jeans, the last thing he had on, well, besides his boxers, “guess that confidence’s wearing pretty thin now, huh?”

He said nothing, just reached down and undid the rest of his fly, eyes locked on yours. The sound of the zipper was enough to make your stomach flip. Then he stood up, sliding the denim down over his thighs, kicking them off without breaking eye contact.

You wondered why you even let him into your apartment, your obsessive ex. With a gulp, you looked away, especially after staring at his body, the one you’d seen endless times. What’s worse was that Jake caught it, the way your gaze dropped, something that boosted his already inflated ego as just sat back down, spreading his legs even wider, letting you look. Letting you see how much you’d already fucked with him.

“Deal,” you muttered, trying to sound unaffected, however, this time, your hand was trash and Jake’s grin turned wicked when you set your cards down.

“Off,” he said simply.

You sighed, “be specific.”

His eyes drifted to your waist, then back to your face, “panties.”

Heat cascaded across the expanse of your skin. Still, your fingers slipped beneath the waistband and eased them down, letting them fall at your ankles before stepping out of them. You sat again, bare, pretending this wasn’t already getting out of hand.

Jake exhaled like he’d just had an orgasmic experience, “fucking knew it.”

“Knew what?” you snapped, though your voice came out softer than intended.

“That you were already soaked,” his tone deeper with satisfaction, “that you wanted me the second I walked in.”

You opened your mouth to deny it—then shut it again because your body betrayed you anyway with the way your breathing changed, the way your thighs shifted again. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, close enough now that you could feel the heat of him.

“One more round, yeah?” He murmured, “winner calls the shot.”

“And if you win?” you asked.

He smirked, “you sit on my lap while we finish the game.”

Your heart hammered, “and if I win?”

“You can keep pretending you don’t want to.”

You dealt again, and to your absolute bad luck, you lost, looking up at him now, while he just crooked a finger, voice full of lust and satisfaction, “c’mere.”

It was really infuriating how cocky he was, how he always came back and you let him, despite everything that happened. God, you really hated him, “I’m not your dog.”

“You sure about that, pup? Come here.” He gave you a look, making the whole situation worse, but a bet was a bet, so you simply ignored his comment, moving forward. 

His hands were on you instantly, dragging you down so your bare cunt settled right against the thick length beneath his boxers as you bit your lip to prevent any sound from coming out.

“Fuck,” he muttered, chuckling, “there she is, good girl.”

“Don’t—” you started, but your voice faltered when he rolled his hips slowly, pressing your clit right against him. 

He smirked, “yeah, exactly that.”

His mouth brushed your jaw as his hand slid lower, fingers parting you like he always did, “another bet,” he murmured, “if you fall apart on my fingers before the next shuffle, you admit you still want me.” 

You scoffed, ready to argue, but then he pressed two fingers inside you, and the breath left your lungs in a rush. His thumb circled your clit lazily, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you, and he probably did. 

“Still tight,” he whispered, thrusting again, knuckles nudging that soft spot he’d always known how to find. You tried to glare at him, tried to hold onto your hate—but your hips chased every curl of his fingers, slick sounds reverberating the room.

“Tick tock,” Jake teased, kissing the corner of your mouth while his fingers worked you open, faster now, thumb grinding down until your thighs trembled against his. You clung to his shoulders, nails digging into skin, swallowing little gasps you refused to give him. 

“There she is,” he said softly, “go on, lose to me again.”

And you did—falling apart on his hand, body pulsing around his fingers while he watched you fall, smug and so pleased with himself.

“Told you, darling,” he murmured against your lips, “experience.”

you turn to him, placing the mugs on the counter, kuromi and hello kitty ones, for some reason. “and then it happened— are you even listening?”

he flinches at your words, half surprise and half nervousness because your eyes are on him now and he feels his face grow hot. he blinks before looking at you, and then looks away immediately.

even after living together for three months, jungwon can’t hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds.

“uh— yes,” he says, an awkward chuckle follows. he pushes up his glasses. “sorry, i kind of zoned out,”

he feels a little bad, really. you could very well ignore him— who even is he, if not a mere man in love. you don’t however.

evenings are always filled with chatters about your day. you talk, he listens. you laugh, he melts. you ask him something, he gulps in nervousness. and when you look at him, eye to eye, jungwon falls in love all over again.

you shake your head with a smile and he looks down in embarrassment. he’s fumbling so bad, he could dig a grave and disappear.

“i’m saying my friend from work is getting married. her boyfriend proposed to her yesterday,” you repeat and he makes sure he listens to you this time even though his gaze reverts back to your lips.

and all jungwon heard are two words— marriage and proposal.

his heart speeds up. proposal, he would do that soon. it sounds crazy, even to him, you aren’t even his girlfriend.

and marriage, it sounds like a dream come true. you give the orders, he has it all sorted out in the head.

tired from work? he would draw you a warm bath with the cinnamon scented candles. everything your eyes land on shall be yours, it’s a norm. you can wake him up at three in the morning and he would make you a cusine.

he is learning to cook for you anyway. the pamphlet of cooking classes lies tucked in his drawer, he simply needs to make a call to join.

you look at him with a spoon in your hand. “honey?”

“yes?” and he responds instinctively, like it’s the most natural thing. it’s quiet for a while, he looks in your eyes a little longer. there’s a jar in front of you and his face burns up, a dusk of pink adoring his cheeks. “oh. . .i just realised you meant the flavour,”

you giggle at his small slip and the butterflies flutter in his chest at the sound. it’s music to his ears, something he would probably hear at the pearly gates of heaven.

he is dancing somewhere between embarrassment and fondness. well— at least he made you giggle. he would make a fool of him again, just to hear that sound again.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters— slow, quiet.

you can only say “don’t be. it’s cute,” putting the cup of honey lemon tea in front of him. you look him in the eye for the third time this evening, he feels his knees go week. “you’re cute,”

and his cheeks bloom a deeper shade of red. he doesn’t look away this time, despite every nerve in his body firing like crackers. words die on his tongue, mind in a daze when his fingers brush against yours.

maybe he will tell you tomorrow, when he is a little more courageous. for now, jungwon will just sit and admire you in the name of drinking honey lemon tea, even if he doesn’t like it.

You arch your back at his touch. The sounds of both your and his soft moans fill the space of your room. His hands slide up to your hips and slip under, squeezing the skin between your ass and back as a soft “fuck,” leaves his lips with a breath. 

Your hands are in his hair, fingers gently tangling and pulling at the dark locks. You slowly lift your head to look down at him, seeing his eyes already staring back at you. He makes eye contact as he slides his tongue into your heat, his nose rubbing gently against your clit. 

A moan escapes your mouth at the sight of it. Of your beautiful boyfriend between your legs, tongue pushing against your walls, and hands exploring every part of your naked body. 

“Jake,” you breathe out his name, feeling his body shudder against your thighs and the vibrations of his soft moan in reply to his name rolling off your tongue sending goosebumps up your body. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered between the short few seconds he gave himself from lifting away from your soaking cunt, eyes glossing over the slick pooling out. Tongue stretching out his mouth and licking a stripe up to your clit, lips wrapping around the sensitive bud and sucking gently. 

You could feel your orgasm slowly approaching. And as badly as you wanted to cum all over his pretty face, you want this to last so much longer. 

“Thank you for this baby,” Jake mumbles against your clit, lifting his face and rubbing soft circles against it with his thumb, “I really needed this so bad.” 

You think back to the text messages you received from him just an hour ago: 

Jake: Can I eat you out, please? Jake: Just real quick.  Jake: It’s been a rough day at work and I am pacing in the middle of the dorm and all I can think about is my mouth on that pretty pussy of yours to release this stress.  You: Of course, babe. The door is already unlocked for you <3 Jake: Baby :( Jake: omw

He was at your front door not even fifteen minutes later, opening the door and letting himself in. Already finding you naked and spread out on your bed all ready to go for him. And he thanked every god possible for giving him a girlfriend like you. 

Jake adores you and loves how you take care of him and his needs in every way possible. He loves you so much and even though you’re doing this to take care of his stress, he sure as hell will make sure you’re taken care of too. 

Jake slides two of his fingers down to your lips, spreading them open, “You have the prettiest pussy I have ever laid eyes on, YN,” he groans, kissing your cunt softly, tongue kitten licking your clit as his two fingers slip between your gummy walls. 

The grip you have on his hair tightens as his long fingers rub against your spot. Jake is soft with his touches but still so very good at making your orgasm rush out faster. 

Your walls clench his fingers, jaw slack as you feel your pending orgasm threatening to snap at any moment, “Jakey, please,” 

“I know, baby,” he kisses your clit, shifting his fingers a tad bit faster in your cunt, “Want you to cum on my tongue, can you do that for me, baby?” 

You nod quickly, arching your back even more off the bed, toes curling once you feel his tongue enter you along with his fingers. Then you saw stars. 

You squeeze your legs against his head, panting as your cum coats his tongue and fingers. Jake slurping every ounce of it up and moaning at your taste.

You didn’t even realize Jake was squeezing your hips until you came down from your high, looking down at him and seeing your juices covering his mouth and jaw, hooded eyes down staring back at you. 

The corners of his lips curl, “You always know how to ease my mind.”

—tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @vixialuvs @onlyhyunjin

@enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng

@moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae

@kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

@moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @surrik-i

“Idiot, yourself!” You threw some snow at him as he tried to help you up. While he tried to make sure you hadn’t hurt yourself, you took the opportunity to get a head start. “Last one up’s a rotten egg!” You shouted back to him.

“Hey!”

“Soobin! Y/n! Hot cocoa’s ready when you’re done playing!” Soobin’s mom called out from a distance. Your mom laughed and continued to record the moment on the video camera. 

Pause.

Rewind.

Play.

“Race you up the-”

Pause.

You couldn’t hold back the endeared giggle that left your mouth at the paused frame. It was a low quality video given when it was taken, but Soobin had the biggest smile on his face, and you melted just looking at him.

“Babe, where are you? I finished putting away the kitchen equipment. Should we do the bedroom next?” Your husband of 3 days called from downstairs.

“I’ve already started on the boxes!! Come look at this.” You shouted back, smiling as you rewinded the video again.

“This is why it always takes twice as long for you to clean anything.” Soobin commented quietly, walking into the empty bedroom to join you on the floor. 

You had both managed to set up the bedframe with some difficulty deciphering the model pictures on the instruction, but that was the only thing currently set up in the bedroom. You had tried to do it the night before, but had ultimately been too tired and had crashed on mattresses on the floor next to each other.

There were many things you were getting used to now that you had moved out of your parents house and into your new home with Soobin. You had grossly underestimated how long it might take to actually unpack everything. 

You were glad that your honeymoon trip wasn’t scheduled immediately after the wedding. You still had 3 days to get the house ready so you wouldn’t have to worry about it when you returned.

“I found my mom’s old video-log.” You showed him the camera eagerly, pressing play on the grainy video once again. “Look at your cheeks!” You cooed.

“What? How do you still have this?” Soobin giggled, “You were taller than me.”

“That was a short lived era, you giant.”

“Being tall lets me hug you easily.” He pointed out, demonstrating by wrapping his right arm around you.

“But you complain about your neck hurting when you kiss me.” You reminded him.

“I should take the chance now while we’re both at the same level.” He smiled, leaning in slightly for you to kiss him. You laughed before obliging, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“We need to finish the bedroom before dinner.” You said, placing the old video camera back in the box. Soobin groaned at the reminder. He had been working on the downstairs all day, unpacking and organising everything.

“Can’t we just take a little break?” He suggested, using the arm he had wrapped around you to pull you down to the lie on the floor, your head resting on his chest.

“We can’t put this off for much longer, baby. We need to sleep on a proper bed tonight.” 

“Just 10 minutes, okay?” He had already closed his eyes, relaxing completely into the floor. He rubbed his hand back and forth across your back, hoping to get you to relax as well.

“Fine. Just 10 minutes to cuddle with my husband.” You kissed his cheek and Soobin smiled at that. He was your husband. Only yours. And though he had only tied the knot 3 days ago, he felt as if he had been yours since he was little.

And with a yelp, you trip over the bag that you've carelessly tossed to the floor some hours before, and stumble forward – straight into Heeseung's chest. Not wasting any second more and risking the chance of you backing away, he takes the opportunity of having you this close to him and cups your chin with his long fingers, only to lean down and plant a kiss right on your lips. You freeze in your place, stunned with the sudden new feeling as you heart nearly beats out of your chest.

He pulls away to check up on you, hoping he didn't cross any of your boundaries, but when he sees your sparkly eyes looking at him with such astonishment, face flushed so fucking adorably, he can't help but mold your lips back together again. He nibbles at the plush of your lip gently, thumb sliding to your chin to tug it down slightly and allowing him to deepen the kiss a little more.

There are no thoughts present on your mind other than Heeseung and his stupidly charming smirk and his stupidly confident attitude and his stupidly handsome face that never seems to leave your mind for even a second.

When he pulls away, he's met with your stunned face, eyes fluttering open and gaping right into his. He bites back a laugh as you remain speechless, a fat blush arising on your cheeks.

"Was that your first kiss?" He ends up asking, hand reaching up to brush the stray strand of hair out of your eyes. When all you do is nod your head sheepishly, eyes desperately avoiding his, he lets a wide grin spread on his lips. "Yeah? I was your first?"

You smack his arm gently and feel your ears burning when he catches your hand and intertwines it with his one.

"Shut up." You say and the quiet mutter squeezes at Heeseung's heart mercilessly.

And, god, he's so pathetic. So in love with you that if his teammates caught him in such state, he probably wouldn't hear the end of it until the day of his graduation.

"So you'll come? Right?"

With a roll of your eyes you close the distance parting your faces and mumble into his lips, "Yes, you idiot."

Jungwon snorts from your ridiculous thought. "That's crazy. C'mon, everyone knows I've always liked you." His confession does little to pacify your already pounding heart and just when you think about letting it slide, he goes on almost as if someone treated him with an honesty potion. "No, scratch that. Actually, I think I've always loved you."

The quiet, almost embarrassed mumble just can't go past your ears this time, completely disregarding Jungwon's deepest wish that you didn't actually hear his words. Your body tenses up as you halt your steps, head shooting to the side to cast a shocked glance at Jungwon.

Did you hear that right or are you just this far gone into your delusion?

"What?" You manage to stumble out. His arm wrapped around your shoulders all of sudden leaves a nearly burning trace behind and you shiver slightly. "You really must've gotten it hard in the head, huh?"

Jungwon strangles a groan that bubbles up in his throat, knowing well that this slip up was no one else's fault but his. Oh God, he's really doing this. Running his free hand over his face, he unsuccessfully tries to shake off the sudden nervousness spreading over his system like some kind of a parasite.

"No, what? I wasn't- Okay, fuck, whatever," he breathes out quickly, stumbling over his words and slightly loosening his grip on you to face you better. "I'm in love with you. I mean it. I've been ever since you barged into my class and hit Riki's head with this brick-ass notebook of yours."

You flush at the mention of the memorable momentum from over four years ago. With ears burning, you forget about his injury for a hot moment and step away from his touch, the sudden movement catching Jungwon off guard and causing him to stumble forward with a whine, right back into your smaller frame.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," you rush out the apology, arms instinctively finding their way around his middle again, keeping him steady.

You're left breathless, feeling absolutely each and every emotion striking your heart one by one. And in this moment, looking up at his ever so pretty face, cheeks slightly flushed with pink and eyes wide with nerves; you decide to show your answer through actions rather than words.

So you raise to your tippy toes and capture his lips with yours without even a hint of hesitation. Even if Jungwon's heart literally jumps out of his chest, all hair rise up on his arms and world nearly halts to a stop – he never lets you know any of these things as he dips his head down, allowing you to get more comfortable and settle back on your feet, kissing you twice as intensely as he finally lets go of all the pent up tension in his body.

He presses his lips deeply to yours, drinking every quiet sound that you make as his hand makes its way up to your face, fingers brushing your skin so gently in the total contrast to his relentless mouth biting and bruising yours.

And fuck him for not growing the balls to confess to you sooner.

You let his desperate lips do anything and everything to yours right now, ignoring the tingling that guarantees they're gonna be swollen and burning after he pulls away. But you're way too infatuated and greedy to loosen your grip around his neck.

You're unwillingly forced to break the kiss when your lungs feel as if they're about to collapse, so with one, two, three more pecks to his wet lips, you take a step back, yet not far enough from him to not feel his heavy breath on your face.

"I might like you a little too," you can't help but tease quietly, now finally content with your feelings and watching giddily as a fond smile makes its way to his red lips.

He hums, hands moving to your hips. "Only a little?"

"A tiny bit," you keep the banter up, squirming with a squeal when his fingers dig into your sides in a tickle.

you kneel between his legs on the cold tile floor, bowl of warm water beside you, and begin to clean him up. soft cotton to the corner of his lip. fingertips gentle under his chin.

“you’re too sweet for this,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

you blink up at him. “what?”

his thumb brushes your bottom lip. “you always take such good care of me.”

you try to answer, but his hand slides into your hair and you freeze.

he’s still looking at you — soft but steady, like he’s making a decision he’s already committed to. “hurts less than wanting you does.”

your breath catches.

“sunghoon…”

“been thinking about you all night,” he says, voice low. “in the ring, between rounds. thinking about how good you’d look on top of me.”

you don’t mean to whimper, but you do — quiet and caught off guard. his grip in your hair tightens just slightly.

“you like hearing that?” he asks. “tell me.”

“i do,” you whisper, cheeks hot. “i like it.”

his jaw clenches. “fuck.”

he leans down to kiss you, and it’s messy and slow and claiming. he tastes like blood and sweat and need. you sigh into it, hands curling in his lap as he deepens the kiss.

“can i touch you?” he asks against your mouth. “or is this too much?”

“please,” you say instantly. “i want you to.”

his eyes soften, just for a second. “then get on my lap, baby.”

you straddle him carefully, knees on either side of his thighs, hands braced on his shoulders. his hands are warm when they slide up the back of your shirt, palms splayed flat.

“take this off for me,” he says gently, tugging at the hem. “wanna see you.”

you nod, skin prickling as you lift your shirt and drop it behind you. you feel exposed — bare from the waist up, straddling his bruised frame — but the way he looks at you melts the nerves.

“so fucking pretty,” he breathes. “you always this shy?”

“just… with you.”

his gaze darkens. “good. don’t want anyone else seeing you like this.”

his hands drift down your sides, thumbs teasing the waistband of your shorts. “can i?”

you nod again, lips parting, and he smiles — soft, proud. “use your words, sweetheart.”

“yes,” you whisper. “please.”

he pulls your shorts and underwear down slow, letting you step out of them completely. he shifts his own sweats down just enough to free his cock — hard, flushed, leaking already.

you stare, breath hitching. he catches the look in your eye and strokes himself slowly, eyes locked on yours.

“you ever done this before?” he asks gently.

you nod, a little shy. “not like this.”

“you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he says, voice lower now, more serious. “just tell me.”

“i want it,” you say quickly. “i want you.”

his breath shudders out. “okay, baby. come here.”

he guides you with both hands, helps you sink down onto him slowly — inch by aching inch — until he’s buried inside you and you’re both gasping.

“fuck,” he groans. “so tight. you feel so good.”

your nails dig into his shoulders. “it’s so big—”

“i know,” he soothes. “you’re taking me so well. just breathe. you’re doing perfect.”

you nod, trying to relax around the stretch, your body adjusting slowly. sunghoon’s hands never leave your waist, thumbs rubbing little circles into your skin.

after a moment, he lifts your hips gently and brings you back down. slow, careful. again. and again.

you gasp, thighs trembling, pleasure blooming sharp and slow in your belly.

“you like that?” he asks, voice breathy.

“mmh—yes,” you whimper. “feels so good—”

he starts guiding your pace — helping you move, bounce, roll your hips just right.

“that’s it,” he praises. “you ride me so well, baby. look so pretty fucking yourself on my cock.”

your head falls forward onto his shoulder. he wraps his arms around your waist, starts thrusting up into you now — slow but deep, controlled.

“feels so good, can’t—can’t think—” you gasp.

“don’t need to think,” he murmurs into your neck. “just feel. let me take care of you.”

you cling to him, body shaking as the pressure builds. he’s relentless now — dragging you down with every thrust, cock hitting deep, perfectly, over and over again.

“gonna come for me?” he breathes. “want you to make a mess all over me, pretty girl.”

you nod, eyes shut tight. “yes, yes—sunghoon, please—!”

you come with a cry, body jerking, clenching hard around him. he holds you through it, whispering praise, fucking you through every wave of it until he’s groaning against your neck and spilling inside you, hips stuttering, cock twitching deep.

for a moment, you just breathe — tangled together, hearts racing, bodies trembling.

then he lifts your chin, kisses you slow.

“you okay?” he murmurs. “was i too rough?”

you shake your head, smiling sleepily. “felt good. you were perfect.”

he kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then your lips again.

“next time,” he whispers, “i’ll take my time.”

you laugh softly. “that wasn’t you taking your time?”

he grins, bruised and beautiful.

“baby,” he says, voice low, “that was me holding back.”

. . .

this term, you swore, would be different. you’d focus on your studies, on your friends, on anything but him. you’d stop daydreaming about what it would feel like if he looked at you the way he looked at the quidditch pitch—like it was the only thing that mattered. you’d stop wondering if he ever thought about you when you weren’t there.

because ni-ki wasn’t yours. he never would be.

and yet, when he slid into the seat beside you at breakfast, his knee pressing against yours under the table, your resolve crumbled all over again.

damn it.

   . . . 

you should’ve known better than to think this term would be easy.

the common room was its usual mess of noise and warmth—crackling fire, hushed gossip, the occasional shriek of laughter as someone recounted their latest mishap in potions. you were tucked into your favourite corner of the couch, a well-worn copy of advanced arithmancy open in your lap, though you hadn’t turned a page in at least twenty minutes. your friends were bickering good-naturedly beside you, debating whether transfiguration or charms was the more practical subject, but you weren’t really listening. your mind kept drifting, as it always did, to the one person you were desperately trying not to think about.

then the door burst open.

a group of seventh-years stumbled in, grinning like they’d just pulled off some grand scheme, and dumped a tray of shimmering, unnaturally bright sweets onto the low table in the centre of the room. the candies pulsed faintly, shifting colours like liquid trapped in sugar shells, looking clearly enchantwd. a few curious hands reached out, but the seventh-years just smirked and said, "dare you to try one," before sauntering off, leaving behind a ripple of nervous excitement.

you barely had time to roll your eyes before the common room door swung open again, and there he was.

ni-ki.

your breath caught.

he was still in his quidditch gear, his hair damp and tousled from the showers, his cheeks flushed from the chill of the evening air. your brother trailed behind him, complaining loudly about some foul during practise, but ni-ki wasn’t listening. he was laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his whole face alight with that effortless joy that made your chest ache.

then his gaze flicked to the tray of sweets.

"what’s this?" he asked, already reaching for one, his fingers closing around a candy that glowed a dangerous shade of pink.

something in your gut twisted.

"ni-ki, don’t—" you started, scrambling to your feet, but it was too late. he popped it into his mouth without a second thought, chewing once before his entire expression shifted.

his eyes, sharp and playful, always so alive suddenly went soft and unfocused. then they locked onto you, wide and wondering, like he was seeing you for the first time. 

"you’re beautiful," he breathed, voice low and awed, as if the words had been pulled out of him against his will.

the common room went quiet. your friends stopped mid-sentence. your brother blinked, confused. and you? you couldn’t move.

ni-ki didn’t hesitate. he crossed the room in three long strides, and before you could even think to step back, his arms were around you, pulling you into a hug so tight it stole your breath. his cheek pressed against the curve of your neck, his exhale warm against your skin. his hands were tentative at first, fingers brushing your waist like he wasn’t sure he was allowed—then, as if something in him snapped, they fisted in the fabric of your sweater, dragging you even closer.

you froze.

his heartbeat thudded against yours, rapid and unsteady. his scent—fresh grass and something faintly sweet, like strawberries—flooded your senses. you could feel every shift of his body, every unsteady breath he took, and it was too much. your hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure where to land, but your traitorous heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it.

"ni-ki," you managed, voice embarrassingly shaky. "what are you—"

he didn’t let you finish. he just nuzzled closer, his nose brushing your jaw, and murmured, "you smell nice."

your brother choked on his drink. someone giggled. your face burned.

this was bad. this was so bad.

because even as your brain screamed at you to push him away, to laugh it off like it was nothing, your body betrayed you. your fingers curled into his quidditch jersey, clinging just a little too tightly. your breath hitched when his thumb brushed your hip, absentminded but deliberate. a tiny, reckless part inside of you never wanted him to let go.

the candy was obviously cursed. it had to be. there was no other explanation for the way ni-ki was holding you like you were something precious, like he’d been waiting years to do this.

but then his lips brushed your ear, his voice so soft only you could hear it.

"i’ve wanted to do this for so long," he whispered, and your stomach dropped.

because what if it wasn’t just the candy?

what if, underneath the enchantment, some part of him meant it?

your brother’s voice cut through the haze. "alright, what the hell did you give him?"

laughter erupted around you, but you barely heard it. ni-ki’s arms tightened around you, his breath warm against your skin, and you realised with terrifying clarity—

this was only the beginning.

the next few minutes passed in a blur. your friends were howling with laughter, your brother was torn between amusement and concern, and ni-ki—ni-ki wouldn’t let go. not when you tried to gently pry his fingers from your sweater, not when your brother clapped him on the shoulder and said, "mate, you’ve got to snap out of it." he just held on tighter, his face buried in your hair, murmuring things that made your cheeks burn.

"your hair’s so soft."

"you’re perfect."

"i love the way you laugh."

each word sent a fresh wave of panic through you. because this wasn’t just some silly, fleeting crush anymore. this was ni-ki—your brother’s best friend, the boy you’d spent years pretending not to adore—holding you like you were the only thing that mattered, saying things you’d only ever dreamed of hearing.

and you had no idea what to do.

"we should get him to madam pomfrey," your brother said finally, though he was grinning like this was the best thing he’d seen all year.

ni-ki made a noise of protest, his arms tightening around you. "no," he mumbled against your shoulder. "stay with y/n."

your heart skipped.

your brother sighed. "alright, fine. but you’re coming with me, lover boy."

ni-ki whined—actually whined—but your brother was relentless, peeling him off you with a strength born of years of dealing with his antics. ni-ki’s hands lingered, his fingers brushing yours as he was dragged away, his eyes never leaving your face.

"i’ll find you later," he promised, voice still thick with whatever enchantment had taken hold of him.

your stomach flipped.

as the common room door swung shut behind them, the room erupted into chaos—laughter, theories about what kind of spell had been on those candies, bets on how long it would take for ni-ki to recover. but you just stood there, your skin still tingling where he’d touched you, your heart racing like you’d just run a mile.

when madam pomfrey had examined him the night before, her lips had pursed in that particular way that meant trouble. 

"this isn't your standard amortentia variant," she'd muttered, her wand tracing glowing patterns over ni-ki's dazed expression. "it's one of those experimental brews the seventh years keep inventing. it'll have to run its course naturally." 

you'd nearly choked when she'd added, "could be a day, could be a week," just as ni-ki blissfully unaware of your internal crisis, chose that moment to nuzzle his face against your hand like an overgrown puppy, his lips brushing your knuckles in a way that sent electric jolts up your arm.

"my moonbeam," he sighed dreamily, completely ignoring madam pomfrey's exasperated eye-roll. "your skin is so soft. are you made of clouds? you must be made of clouds."

your brother, the absolute traitor, was filming the entire thing on his enchanted camera.

but nothing, not even the humiliation of the hospital wing visit could have prepared you for the absolute nightmare that was the next morning.

the morning light filtering through your dormitory curtains was soft and golden, promising a slow, lazy day. you were still half-buried in your blankets, caught in that hazy space between sleep and waking, when the first sign of trouble came.

a faint creak of the door. the rustle of fabric. you assumed it was just one of your roommates returning from an early shower, until—

thud.

a muffled "oof" that you'd recognise anywhere.

your eyes flew open just in time to see ni-ki picking himself up from where he'd tripped over someone's abandoned shoes, his hair sticking up in every direction, still wearing yesterday's rumpled clothes. when he saw you looking, his entire face lit up like you'd cast the sun itself.

"good morning, sunshine!" he chirped, already climbing onto your bed before you could process what was happening. 

the mattress dipped under his weight as he settled at the foot of your bed, beaming at you like this was completely normal. 

"i waited outside for two hours. did you know the stairs turn into a slide if you're a boy? so rude. i had to bribe a first-year to tell me the password instead."

you sat frozen, your sleep-addled brain struggling to catch up. behind you, one of your roommates choked on her toothpaste. another pulled her blanket over her head with a groan.

"ni-ki," you hissed, acutely aware of your messy hair and the fact your pyjama top had slipped slightly off one shoulder, "you can't just—"

"but i missed you," he interrupted, as if this explained everything. his fingers found yours, lacing them together with a reverence that made your pulse stutter. "the second you left last night, my heart started aching. is that normal?" 

he brought your hand to his chest, pressing your palm flat against the steady beat beneath his shirt. "it feels normal when it's you."

you were going to find those seventh-years and strangle them with their own shoelaces.

his thumb traced the arch of your eyebrow, then drifted down to the curve of your cheek. you stopped breathing. the early morning light gilded his features in soft gold, catching on the tiny scar above his lip from that quidditch accident last year. you'd never been this close before, close enough to count his faint freckles, to see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes.

before you could react, he was leaning in, pressing a feather-light kiss to your temple. then another just below your ear. then another along your jawline—each one lingering just a second too long, his breath warm against your skin.

"ni-ki—" you gasped, but he just hummed and continued his lazy path of destruction, his lips brushing the sensitive spot behind your ear that made your toes curl.

"you're so soft here," he murmured against your skin, his free hand coming up to cradle your face, thumb stroking your cheekbone as his mouth continued its devastating exploration. "and here." another kiss, this time to the corner of your jaw. "and here." his lips grazed the pulse point beneath your ear, and you swore your heart stopped.

when you tried to squirm away, his arm slid around your waist, pulling you back against him with embarrassing ease. 

"where do you think you're going, snugglebug?" he teased, nuzzling into your neck. "i just got comfortable."

you were going to die. actually die. right here in your pyjamas with ni-ki's stupidly perfect lips tracing nonsense patterns across your skin.

"this isn't—you can't just—" you stammered, but your traitorous body was already melting into his touch, your hands fisting in the sheets to keep from reaching for him.

ni-ki pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark with something you couldn't name. 

"can't just what?" he challenged softly, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. "can't tell you how pretty you look in the morning? can't kiss every single mole on your face?" to demonstrate, he pressed his lips to the tiny one near your eyebrow. then the one by your nose. "can't adore you the way i've always wanted to?"

your breath caught. that couldn't be—he didn't mean—

before you could overthink it, his mouth found yours in a kiss so sweet it made your chest ache. just a brush of lips, barely there, but it shattered you completely. when he pulled away, his smile was brighter than the sunrise streaming through your windows.

"pancakes?" he asked, as if he hadn't just rewritten your entire universe with one kiss.

you could only nod, dazed.

as ni-ki helped you up (his hands lingering at your waist, his lips stealing one last kiss from your cheek), you caught your dormmates' wide-eyed stares in the mirror. one mouthed "holy shit" while another gave you a thumbs up.

you were so, so screwed.

. . .

breakfast in the great hall was nothing short of a public execution.

the moment you sat down, ni-ki was there, sliding onto the bench so close his thigh pressed flush against yours, his arm immediately curling around your shoulders like a possessive, overly affectionate scarf. when you reached for the pumpkin juice, his hand shot out, intercepting yours with a delighted gasp.

"let me," he insisted, pouring it for you with the kind of exaggerated care usually reserved for handling ancient, fragile artifacts. 

he even made sure to wipe the rim of the glass with his napkin before handing it to you, his eyes sparkling. "you shouldn’t have to lift a finger, my precious little pumpkin."

you choked on air.

across the table, your brother was already losing it, his spoon clattering into his porridge as he doubled over with laughter. tears were actually streaming down his face. 

"oh, this is too good," he wheezed, slapping the table. "this is the best day of my life."

you kicked him under the table hard enough to make him yelp. "stop encouraging him."

"encourage him?" your brother gasped, wiping his eyes. "merlin’s beard, i’m taking notes!" to your absolute horror, he pulled out an actual notebook and scribbled something down. "'my precious little pumpkin'—that’s gold."

ni-ki, blissfully unaware of your suffering, was now meticulously cutting your toast into heart shapes with the precision of a master chef. 

"you need proper nutrition," he informed you, deadly serious, as if this were a matter of life and death. "how else will you stay as perfect as you are?"

you buried your face in your hands, willing the ground to swallow you whole.

it only got worse. when you tried to take a bite of your eggs, ni-ki intercepted your fork, holding it up to your lips himself. 

"say 'ah,'" he coaxed, grinning when you glared at him. "come on, sweetheart. you’ll waste away if you don’t eat properly."

"i can feed myself," you hissed through gritted teeth.

"but where’s the fun in that?" he pouted, leaning in until his nose brushed your cheek. "let me take care of you. just for today."

you caved, because apparently your willpower had abandoned you the second ni-ki decided to turn your life into a romantic comedy. as you reluctantly took the bite, his entire face lit up like you’d just handed him the moon.

"good?" he asked, thumb brushing the corner of your lip to catch a crumb that wasn’t even there.

you were going to combust.

your brother, the absolute traitor, was now narrating the entire ordeal to jake like it was a quidditch commentary. "and ni-ki goes in for the kill—oh! he’s wiping her mouth! ladies and gentlemen, we are witnessing history!"

you threw a piece of toast at his head.

ni-ki, meanwhile, had moved on to rearranging the fruit on your plate into what appeared to be a smiley face. "you didn’t eat enough blueberries yesterday," he informed you, as if he’d been keeping track. "they’re good for your brain. and your eyes. and—"

"my soul?" you deadpanned.

"exactly," he said, completely serious, popping one into your mouth before you could protest.

by the time breakfast was over, half the great hall was watching your personal nightmare unfold with varying degrees of amusement and envy. ni-ki, still glued to your side, was now insisting on carrying your bag for you, despite your protests.

"you’re ridiculous," you muttered as he slung it over his shoulder, his free hand immediately finding yours again.

"ridiculous for you," he corrected, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

your brother fake-gagged behind you.

you were going to murder them both.

classes were somehow worse. in charms, ni-ki kept whispering ridiculous compliments every time the professor turned his back. 

"your eyelashes are like tiny works of art," he sighed, resting his chin on your shoulder. "do they sparkle in the sunlight or is that just magic?"

when you shushed him, he pouted so dramatically that even the professor noticed. "mr. nishimura, is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"just that y/n is the most brilliant witch in hogwarts," ni-ki announced proudly, as if this was a perfectly normal answer. "and possibly the universe."

the class erupted into giggles. your face burned so hot you were surprised your hair didn't catch fire.

by lunchtime, you'd developed a new survival strategy: complete and utter surrender. when ni-ki insisted on carrying all your books (stacked precariously in his arms because he refused to use a charm that might "strain their delicate pages"), you stopped protesting. when he fed you bites of his treacle tart ("you need the sugar, my little sugarplum"), you accepted it with minimal grumbling. when he held your hand everywhere you went, his thumb tracing absent circles on your skin, you stopped trying to pull away.

it was easier this way.

(and if part of you secretly thrilled at the warmth of his hand in yours, well, no one needed to know that.)

the common room was warm, the warmth making your eyelids heavy and your thoughts slow. the fire crackled softly in the background, casting flickering shadows across the scattered books and half-finished homework. you were trying to focus on your essay, really trying, but it was hard when ni-ki kept shifting beside you, his arm draped over the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally playing with the ends of your hair.

every time you moved, his hand would tighten just a little, like he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on. when you reached for your pen, he intercepted your hand, lacing his fingers through yours with a quiet hum. 

"your hands are cold," he murmured, bringing them to his lips to blow warm air across your skin. the gesture was so tender it made your chest ache.

across the room, your brother and his friends were playing some loud card game, but you could feel their eyes darting over to you every few seconds, their grins barely hidden. you shot them a glare, but it only made them laugh harder.

"are you comfortable?" ni-ki asked suddenly, his free hand brushing a stray hair behind your ear. his touch lingered, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone like he was memorising it. "you seem tense."

you swallowed. "i’m fine."

he frowned, his dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks as he studied your face. then, without warning, he pulled you sideways until your back was pressed against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away. 

"better?" his breath was warm against your ear, his voice low and sleepy.

"ni-ki—"

"shh," he interrupted, nuzzling into the space between your shoulder and neck. "just relax. i’ve got you."

one hand traced slow circles on your stomach, the other playing with your hair, his fingers moving in a rhythm that made it impossible to think straight.

it was too much. the warmth of him, the way he smelled like fresh laundry and something sweet, the steady beat of his heart against your back—it was all so dangerously comforting. against your better judgement, you felt yourself sinking into him, the tension leaving your shoulders one breath at a time.

until he spoke again.

"you smell amazing," he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear. "like vanilla and... something else. just you." 

his arms tightened slightly. "i could stay like this forever."

a choked noise escaped your throat. the entire common room seemed to be watching now, their conversations forgotten in favour of your humiliation. even the portraits on the walls were leaning in, their painted eyes wide with amusement.

"ni-ki, people are staring," you hissed, trying to squirm away.

he made a soft, wounded sound, his grip tightening. "let them stare," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. then, quieter, just for you: "you’re perfect. why wouldn’t they want to look at you?"

your face burned. "that’s not—"

"i mean it," he continued, undeterred. his chin rested on your shoulder, his voice dreamy. 

"the way your eyes get all squinty when you’re trying not to laugh. how you bite your lip when you’re thinking." his fingers found yours again, lifting them to press a kiss to each knuckle. "the little noises you make when—"

"okay!" you lurched forward, nearly falling off the couch in your haste to escape. "i think i left my—my astronomy book in the library!"

ni-ki’s face fell. "i’ll come with—"

"no!" you stood too fast, your vision swimming. "i mean—you should stay. here. with my brother." you shot your brother a desperate look, but the traitor just grinned and raised his drink in salute.

for a long moment, ni-ki just stared at you, his eyes suspiciously shiny. then his lower lip actually trembled. 

"you don’t want me to come," he said quietly, and it wasn’t a question.

the entire room went silent. even the fire seemed to pause.

you opened your mouth. closed it. the words "it’s not that" died on your tongue when his expression crumpled, like you’d just kicked a puppy.

your brother sighed dramatically. "just take him with you," he groaned, rubbing his temples. "before he starts crying and ruins my winning streak."

ni-ki’s face lit up like someone had flipped a switch. he was on his feet in an instant, gathering your books and pens with single-minded determination. 

"i’ll carry your stuff," he announced, already stacking your papers neatly. "and your sweater. and that water bottle you forgot yesterday. and—"

you buried your face in your hands as the room erupted into laughter. somewhere to your left, someone whispered, "ten bucks says he proposes by friday."

as ni-ki proudly handed you your neatly stacked belongings, beaming like he’d just won the lottery, you came to a terrible realisation:

you were so, so screwed.

the afternoon sun was warm on your skin as you sat on the weathered wooden bench near the greenhouses, your textbook propped open in your lap for the quiz you had in next period—or at least, it had been, before ni-ki decided your lap made for a much better seat. the spell still hadn’t worn off.

once again he was all up in your personal space, sprawled across you now, his long limbs tangled with yours, his arms curled tightly around your waist like he was afraid you might vanish if he loosened his grip even slightly. his head was nestled against your shoulder, his soft hair brushing your jaw, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing against your collarbone, warm and familiar.

his fingers traced absent, lazy circles on your arm, his touch feather-light but enough to send tiny sparks skittering across your skin. you tried to focus on the page in front of you, really tried, but it was impossible when ni-ki kept nuzzling closer every time you shifted, his lips brushing the curve of your neck in a way that made your pulse stutter. it was ridiculous. embarrassing, even. and yet—despite yourself—you felt your body softening into his, your free hand coming up to card through his hair almost without thinking.

just then, the crunch of footsteps on gravel made you glance up. your brother stood a few feet away, eyebrows nearly in his hairline, a slow grin spreading across his face. 

“wow,” he said, crossing his arms, “you two might as well get a room already.”

ni-ki lifted his head just enough to flash him a cheeky smile, his arms tightening around you. “we tried,” he said, voice dripping with faux innocence, “but she said she had class.”

your brother barked out a laugh so loud it startled a nearby group of first-years, who scurried away like frightened mice. you, on the other hand, felt your entire face ignite. 

“ni-ki,” you hissed, smacking his shoulder, “stop being a weirdo.”

but he only chuckled, low and warm, the sound vibrating against your chest. before you could scold him further, he pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just a second too long. “you’re too warm to resist,” he murmured, his breath tickling your ear.

you wanted to protest. wanted to shove him off and tell him to quit messing around, to stop saying things that made your heart do stupid, traitorous flips in your chest. but the words died in your throat when he tilted his head up to look at you, his dark eyes soft and crinkled at the corners, his smile so fond it made your ribs ache.

your brother whistled. “yep, i’m definitely telling mom about this.”

“don’t you dare,” you snapped, but your voice lacked any real heat—especially when ni-ki shifted in your lap, his nose brushing yours, his fingers threading through yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“let him,” ni-ki said, grinning. “i’ve got nothing to hide.”

you groaned, dropping your forehead against his shoulder. this was a disaster. you were a disaster. and yet—when ni-ki’s laughter rumbled against you, when his thumb brushed over your knuckles in that stupidly gentle way of his—you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

that same evening you decided to sneak off to the library to finally get some studying done, but ni-ki had caught you in two minutes with a pouty look on his face. so, here you were now—at the library which had always been your sanctuary, a quiet place where you could escape everything—until now. the flickering candlelight made the words in your potions textbook blur together, but you hadn't registered anything in front of you in at least fifteen minutes. not with ni-ki pressed against your back like a second shadow, his chin hooked over your shoulder as he lazily flipped through your notes with one hand while the other traced mindless patterns on your thigh.

"you're skipping the good parts," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, his breath warm against your neck. his finger landed on a passage about amortentia variants. "this is where it gets interesting."

you swallowed hard, forcing your voice steady. "we're supposed to be researching counters, not reading about how love potions work."

ni-ki hummed, nuzzling closer until his lips brushed the sensitive spot behind your ear. "maybe i like knowing how it works," he whispered. "maybe i want to understand why i can't stop thinking about you."

the book nearly slipped from your hands. "that's—that's just the potion talking."

"is it?" he shifted suddenly, turning you to face him with surprising gentleness. the candlelight caught in his dark eyes, making them glow. "then why did i watch you all last term? why did i always find excuses to sit by you in the great hall? why—"

"shh!" you glanced frantically at the librarian, who was glaring from her desk. "you're going to get us kicked out."

ni-ki only grinned, unrepentant, leaning in until his forehead rested against yours. "worth it," he breathed. his fingers tangled with yours, squeezing gently. "you're so pretty when you're flustered."

"you're impossible," you muttered, but the protest was weak—especially when he brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle with exaggerated care.

"only for you." his thumb brushed over your racing pulse. "your heart's going crazy. is that the potion too?"

you couldn't answer. not when he was looking at you like that—like you were the only thing that mattered. not when his free hand came up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering at your jawline.

the moment stretched, fragile and breathless, until ni-ki suddenly yawned, the spell breaking as he slumped against you with a quiet groan. 

"m'sleepy," he mumbled, his words slurring as he nuzzled into your neck. "your hoodie smells nice. like... like vanilla and that lavender soap you use."

you stiffened. "how do you know what soap i use?"

he didn’t answer, already half-asleep against you, his arms slipping around your waist like living seatbelts. you tried to return to your research, really tried, but how could you focus when every other page was punctuated by ni-ki's soft murmurs of "love you" and "so warm" against your skin? when his fingers would tighten unconsciously whenever you shifted, as if afraid you'd disappear?

frustrated, you turned another page with more force than necessary, your eyes scanning for anything about countering experimental love potions. that's when you saw it—a faded footnote nearly obscured by water damage:

"when the subject already harbours affection for the potion's target, the effects intensify tenfold, blurring the lines between enchantment and genuine feeling. in such cases, the potion acts not as creator, but as catalyst—removing inhibitions and amplifying existing emotions that the brewer may have otherwise concealed."

the words hit you like a bludger to the chest. your hands trembled as memories surfaced—ni-ki always volunteering to be your partner in potions, his laughter a little too bright when you brushed against him. the way he'd show up in the library "by coincidence" whenever you studied alone. how his teasing had always carried an edge of something warmer, something deeper you'd been too afraid to name.

"y/n?" ni-ki's voice was thick with sleep, but his gaze was startlingly clear as he lifted his head. "you okay? your heart's going crazy again." 

"i found something," you whispered.

he leaned in, his nose brushing yours as he peered at the book. too close. always too close. you could count his eyelashes from here, see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. 

"huh," he said after a moment, surprisingly lucid. "so you're telling me i didn't stand a chance?"

"what?"

ni-ki smiled, slow and devastating. "even without the potion," he murmured, his breath mingling with yours, "i was already gone for you. this just... made it harder to hide." 

his thumb brushed your lower lip, feather-light. "do you hate that?"

you couldn't breathe. couldn't think. the library, the book, the world outside this moment—none of it mattered. not when ni-ki was looking at you like you were his entire universe. not when his confession hung between you, raw and terrifying and beautiful.

the librarian's sharp cough shattered the moment. "if you two can't keep quiet," she snapped, "i'll have to ask you to leave."

ni-ki didn't even glance her way. his eyes stayed locked on yours, his fingers still tracing nonsense patterns on your wrist. "well?" he whispered, so quiet only you could hear. "do you want me to stop?"

that was the problem. you didn't. not really. not when every touch set your skin on fire, not when his sleepy "i love you"s had started to sound like home.

your silence was answer enough. ni-ki's grin could have powered the castle lamps as he tucked you back against his side, pressing one last kiss to your temple before nuzzling into your hair. "knew it," he murmured triumphantly.

and as you sat there, surrounded by dusty books and the steady rhythm of ni-ki's breathing, you realised with terrifying clarity that you had no idea how you would deal with this once he gets back to his normal self.

because somewhere between his whispered confessions and the way his hands always found yours, your heart had stopped questioning whether his feelings were real—and started wondering when yours had become so painfully obvious.

the next morning, you stirred awake to the unfamiliar weight of someone pressed flush against your back, their arms locked securely around your waist like living chains. for one disoriented second, your sleep-fogged brain couldn't process why your bed felt smaller, warmer—until ni-ki nuzzled into the nape of your neck with a sleepy sigh, his lips brushing your skin in a way that sent immediate sparks down your spine.

you stiffened, memories flooding back - last night's study session in the library that had stretched too late, your reluctant agreement to let him walk you to your dorm, and then...oh. then his pleading eyes in the dim torchlight, his fingers playing with yours as he'd whispered, "just five minutes? i'll be good." and like the weak-willed fool you were, you'd caved, cracking the door just enough for him to slip in before anyone noticed.

except apparently "five minutes" had turned into him sneaking under your covers when you'd fallen asleep, his body curled around yours like a second shadow. even now, his knee was wedged between yours, his chest rising and falling against your back in a steady rhythm that suggested he'd been awake for a while, just...holding you.

"morning," ni-ki murmured, his voice gravelly with sleep as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear. you shivered, feeling his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. 

you tried to turn, to protest this ridiculousness, but his arms only tightened, pulling you back flush against him with surprising strength.

 "don't move," he whined, his breath hot against your neck as he scattered kisses along your shoulder. 

his hand slid up from your waist to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. "so perfect."

"ni-ki," you started, but the protest died in your throat when his teeth grazed the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting down just enough to make you gasp. he soothed the sting with his tongue, then did it again slightly lower, his free hand slipping under your sleep shirt to splay across your stomach possessively.

"mine," he murmured against your skin between kisses that were quickly turning into something more. 

his lips travelled up the column of your throat, sucking deliberately until you knew without looking he was leaving marks—dark, unmistakable hickeys that would be impossible to hide later. when you squirmed, he pinned you gently but firmly, his thigh sliding more firmly between yours as he continued his devastating path along your collarbone.

"ni-ki, stop—" you gasped, but it came out breathless, unconvincing even to your own ears.

he lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, his own dark with something that made your stomach flip. "make me," he challenged, voice low and rough. when you didn't respond, too busy trying to remember how to breathe, he grinned that stupid, heart-stopping grin before ducking back down to worry another bruise into your skin, this time high enough that no collar would hide it.

"you're terrible," you managed, but your hands had somehow found their way into his hair, fingers twisting in the soft strands as his mouth worked magic on your throat.

ni-ki hummed, the vibration against your skin making you shiver. 

"your terrible," he corrected, punctuating each word with a kiss. he shifted suddenly, rolling you onto your back so he could loom over you, his hands framing your face as he took in the damage—the blooming purple marks scattered across your neck, the flush creeping down your chest.

his expression turned unbearably smug, "pretty."

before you could respond, he was kissing you properly, slow and deep and devastating, his fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head just how he wanted it. when he finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he pressed his forehead to yours with a quiet sigh.

"how are you even real," he murmured, the ridiculous nickname paired with the way his thumb traced your swollen lips making your stomach swoop. "my perfect, perfect y/n."

you should've pushed him away. should've reminded him this wasn't real, that it was just the potion. but as the morning light painted gold across his features, as his hands moved over you with a reverence that stole your breath, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

. . .

you didn’t hear it from ni-ki.

it was your brother who told you, somewhere between transfiguration and charms, like it was nothing. like it didn’t matter. he was shoving books into his bag, not even looking at you when he said it. 

“potion wore off last night,” he muttered, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

your hands froze around the strap of your bag. 

“ni-ki didn’t say anything?” you asked, your voice too light, too careful. your heart was suddenly pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

your brother just shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “he seemed kind of… weird about it.”

and that was it. no grand moment, no dramatic shift. no lingering looks or whispered explanations. just—over. like none of it had ever happened. like you hadn’t spent a week tangled up in him, learning the shape of his laughter against your skin, the way his hands always found yours like they belonged there. like he hadn’t looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

so you did the only thing you could. you pretended.

the next two days you acted like nothing had changed. like you hadn’t once been his entire world. when you passed him in the corridor, you nodded politely, your face carefully blank. when he held the door open for you, you gave him a stiff smile and nothing more. in charms class, you sat two desks away, your eyes fixed stubbornly on your parchment, even when you felt his gaze lingering on the side of your face. and when his shoulder brushed yours by accident in the crowded hallway, you barely let yourself flinch, barely let yourself remember how those same hands had traced every inch of you like you were something precious.

it was fine. it had to be fine. this was just how things were supposed to be—back to normal, back to before. it was safer this way. less humiliating.

(because what if he remembered everything? what if he remembered the way you’d melted into his touch, what if he knew—)

you swallowed the thought down like acid.

it was just the potion, after all.

except—

except sometimes, when you weren’t paying attention, you’d catch him staring. his expression unreadable, his fingers flexing at his sides like he was stopping himself from reaching out. and once, just once, when you turned a corner too quickly and nearly collided with him, his hands came up instinctively to steady you—just for a second—before he remembered himself and let go like you’d burned him.

you told yourself you imagined the way his breath hitched.

you told yourself a lot of things.

but then the same evening after class you were heading towards the common room, nearly at the fat lady's portrait when you felt it—the familiar prickle at the back of your neck that always meant ni-ki was nearby. you quickened your pace instinctively, but before you could turn the corner, arms wrapped around you from behind in a hold so warm and familiar it made your breath stutter. his chest pressed flush against your back, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he exhaled shakily against your neck.

"why have you been ignoring me?"

his voice was softer than you'd ever heard it, barely above a whisper, but it resonated through you like thunder. your hands hovered uncertainly over his arms where they were locked around your waist, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer.

"i haven't," you lied, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.

ni-ki hummed, the vibration travelling through your back and settling somewhere deep in your chest. 

"you have," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear in a way that made your knees weak. "you stopped talking to me. stopped looking at me like..." his voice cracked slightly, "like i matter to you."

you swallowed hard, staring resolutely at the wall ahead. "i just figured... things went back to normal. this is how we were before."

his arms tightened almost imperceptibly around you. "i thought you were embarrassed," he admitted quietly, his breath warm against your neck. 

"when the potion wore off, i didn’t know how to face you. i thought—i thought you hated how i acted. how clingy i was. how much i—" he cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "but then you started avoiding me, and i couldn’t just sit there and do nothing."

your heart pounded so violently you were certain he could feel it. "ni-ki..."

"you do know that i like you, right?" his voice dropped lower, more vulnerable than you'd ever heard it. 

"you know how love potions work. when someone's already..." he hesitated, his grip on you shifting slightly, "when someone's already in love, it makes everything stronger. more intense. everything i did, everything i said to you—i meant all of it."

slowly, so slowly, you turned in his arms. he let you, his hands sliding to your waist to steady you as you faced him properly for the first time in days. his eyes were darker than you remembered, full of something raw and open that made your breath catch.

"so you actually liked me before the potion?" you whispered, your voice barely audible even in the quiet hallway.

ni-ki sighed, one hand coming up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face with trembling fingers. 

"i've liked you since third year when you hexed that sunghoon kid for stepping on my broom," he admitted, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. "i just... never thought you'd look at me that way."

your hands found purchase in the front of his robes, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you upright. "so all that time... the cuddling, the stupid nicknames, the way you'd kiss my forehead when you thought i was asleep—"

"things i've wanted to do for years," he interrupted softly, his other hand coming up to cradle your face. his touch was feather-light, reverent, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he pressed too hard. "the potion just... gave me the courage to actually do them."

you could feel his pulse racing where his wrist brushed against your neck, could see the nervous hope shining in his eyes despite the confident set of his jaw. it was this—this vulnerability from someone usually so self-assured—that finally broke you.

ni-ki's breath hitched when you leaned into his touch, his eyes darting between yours. 

"can i kiss you now?" he asked, his voice rough with barely restrained want. "properly? without any potions or excuses?"

your answer was to rise up on your toes and close the distance between you.

his lips were softer than you imagined, moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache. one of his hands slid into your hair while the other pulled you flush against him, eliminating what little space remained between you. you could feel the way his breath stuttered when your fingers tangled in his hair, could taste the quiet sigh he let out when you kissed him back with equal fervour.

it was slow and sweet and so devastatingly perfect that you forgot to breathe. ni-ki kissed you like he was memorising you, like he'd been waiting his whole life for this moment and wanted to savour every second. when you finally pulled back, foreheads resting together, his cheeks were flushed and his lips were kiss-swollen and he was looking at you like you'd hung the moon.

"no more pretending?" you whispered, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

ni-ki grinned, bright and unrestrained, before capturing your lips again in a kiss that left no room for doubt. "never again," he murmured against your mouth, his arms tightening around you.

"i'm done hiding."

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

you wiggle just enough to look at him—messy hair, puffy eyes, lips curved into a lazy smile— and your heart melts at the warmth embracing the two of you.

you smile into your pillow, reaching out to play with his messy locks. “i didn’t even do anything,”

“yes, you did,” he mumbles, voice raspy with sleep. he squints his drowsy eyes at you and you can barely hold back a laugh at how adorable he looks. “you thought about getting up. i felt it,”

and jake feels it all, even in the depths of his slumber. his hands reach out for you even in the dead of the night— just one touch. he needs to have you close, closer in the mornings, when the duvet is warm and your arms feel like the heaven he has been yearing for.

you laugh softly and press a kiss on his forehead, hoping it will do the convincing. “jake. it’s almost ten,”

“exactly, almost. and it’s ‘darling’ for you,” he insists, not missing the opportunity to correct you even when he’s barely awake, voice muffled against your skin. “five more minutes,”

“you said that thirty minutes ago, darling,” you feel his smile against your skin, the way he shifts closer when you call him that. it’s true, he is darling, all yours.

“and they were the best thirty minutes of my life,” and jake is stubborn, really. he shifts on top of you to prevent you from leaving. he can feel your heart beating against his— racing at the proximity despite your resistance.

you turn to face him, and he pouts like a child caught mid-nap. hair messy, cheek creased from the pillow, eyes barely open—but he still looks at you like you hung the stars.

“please,” your boyfriend is quick to peck your lips, looking at you with puppy eyes. “for me?” he tilts his head with a mock frown and you can feel your resolve crumbling. “just five minutes more, please,”

you know you can’t say no when he is being so cute. it’s impossible, jake knows exactly how to tug at your heart strings. he has you weak and you can only surrender to his demands.

“you’re lucky i love you,” you grumble, try to, but he knows you’re only pretending to be mad. you can roll your eyes as much as you want but you know you will stay.