#sieun

pairing : yeon sieun x reader

warnings : none, pure fluff

word count : 1.4k

summary : even though Sieun wasn’t the boyfriend to openly hold your hand on the street or hug you in the school hallways, he showed you love in the most unspoken ways. And you cherished these moments more than anything.

a/n : i just finished watching whc2 and i’m so happy with the ending. I loved this kdrama so much.

—

Sieun’s house was always a little too quiet, but you never minded. It made moments like this feel more intimate. The low hum of his desk lamp he specially moved to the living room, the occasional rustle of pages, the soft clicking of pens—it was a quiet kind of closeness you grew to love. And truthfully, you’d grown used to this silence ever since the two of you started seeing each other.

Today wasn’t any different. You sat cross-legged on the floor across Sieun who was flipping through a practice exam booklet with furrowed brows, highlighter in hand, fully immersed in the quiet rhythm of studying. His brows always furrowed when he studied, and something about that little detail made you want to stare longer than you should.

You had your books open too, a pencil twirling between your fingers, but most of your focus was on him. You weren’t even pretending to study at this point—just watching how his eyes moved, how his lips pressed together in concentration and how his hoodie sleeves were pushed up to his elbows.

“Is something wrong with the exercise?” he asked suddenly, catching your gaze without even looking up from the page.

You blinked, caught, but you nodded anyway. “Mhm.” you replied, nodding even though you hadn’t read a single question. “Totally confusing.”

He closed his book gently and moved beside you, taking your textbook without waiting for permission. You scooted a little closer, heart racing more from his closeness than from any actual academic confusion. You leaned in, resting your chin on your palm and you lips tugging into a small smile.

“What part?” he asked, eyes scanning the question.

“All of it.” You answered.

He started explaining, quietly, patiently. His voice was smooth, his finger moving across the page as he broke down each step. But you didn’t catch a word—your focus stayed fixed on him, not even glancing at the formulas.

“You’re not listening,” he said flatly after a few seconds, eyes flicking to meet yours.

“I am,” you lied, grinning.

He narrowed his eyes just a bit, not annoyed, but definitely unamused. “Then tell me what I just said.”

“…Something about the square root of something?” you blurted out, leaning slightly closer with a dramatic sigh.

Sieun exhaled, almost a laugh, but not quite. More like a breath caught between amusement and surrender. He didn’t respond. Just shook his head softly and went back to explaining.

Your story hadn’t exactly started with a confession. There were no butterflies-in-your-stomach speeches or dramatic realizations. It just… happened.

You weren’t even sure when it shifted from one-sided pestering to a relationship. Maybe it was all those late library study sessions, or the times you shared your snacks during break, or how you always waved at him even when he never waved back—at first.

The truth was, you’d kind of forced yourself into his quiet little world. Bit by bit, like sunlight creeping in through half-closed blinds. You didn’t knock, you just sort of let yourself in—loud, bright, and annoyingly persistent.

He resisted, of course. Gave you those flat stares, dry responses, and more than once told you to stop talking so much. But then came the little moments—how he started waiting for you outside class, the way he sat just a bit closer at lunch, how he texted you first just once and never really stopped.

So when he kissed you for the first time, it didn’t feel like a surprise. It felt like something that had been waiting to happen all along. Quiet, slow, and certain.

Sieun had long returned to his side of the table, diving back into his book with the same silent intensity he always carried. His eyes flicked across the lines, and the only sound in the room was the soft scratching of his pen as he scribbled notes.

You, on the other hand, lasted a solid thirty minutes before your patience cracked.

With a loud sigh, you dropped your pen and slid down until your back hit the floor. You sprawled out like a starfish, letting your arm flop to the side as you stared up at the ceiling.

Sieun glanced over, pen paused mid-word, looking completely dumbfounded. He didn’t say anything at first, just raised a brow and blinked slowly like he was trying to process whether you had actually just given up and collapsed on his floor.

“…What are you doing?” he finally asked, voice flat but clearly confused.

“I’m tired of studying,” you groaned, throwing an arm over your eyes. “I didn’t come here to write equations till my brain melts.”

“Then why did you come?”

You peeked at him from under your arm, a small smirk curling on your lips. “To spend time with you.”

Sieun blinked again, this time his gaze lingering on you a little longer before looking away. You thought maybe he was going to ignore it like he always did, brush past your teasing, but his hand paused on the corner of his page, like something in your words stuck.

“You could've just said that,” he muttered, eyes back on his book—but you saw the way his ears tinted just slightly pink.

You grinned, crossing your arms over the table now from your seated spot on the floor. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

“You’re annoying.”

“But you still love me” you teased.

He looked at you then—deadpan as always. “Delusional.”

You just laughed. It was so easy being around him, even with his wall up. Maybe especially because of it. Each word he gave you felt earned. Each look, every small shift in expression—it all meant something.

“So what exactly does that mean? How do you want to spend time with me?” He blinked, leaning his back slightly against the couch.

You looked at him for a second, then without a word, stood up and moved around the table. He followed your movement with his eyes, and before he could say anything else, you plopped down beside him. Close—closer than usual.

Then, gently, you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting out the smallest content sigh. Both of your arms wrapped around his, holding it close like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Like this,” you murmured. “This is enough.”

There was a beat of silence. The kind that hung heavy, not uncomfortable, but full of something else. Sieun didn’t move, didn’t say anything right away. You could hear the soft click of the clock on the wall, the hum of the fridge in the kitchen.

And then—you felt it.

A quiet shift.

His shoulder barely moved, but you felt it. A small pull at the corner of his lips.

You turned slightly to look up at him.

“Are you… smiling?”

Sieun exhaled through his nose, subtle but unmistakable.

“You’re imagining things,” he said.

But the faint curve on his lips betrayed him.

You grinned and tightened your grip on his arm just a little. “You so are.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, eyes flicking away, his smile not leaving his lips.

You stayed like that for a while—curled up beside him, your head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his. At first, it was quiet—comfortable, easy. But it didn’t take long before you started talking. Random stories, the kind that didn’t need a point.

Sieun wasn’t the most talkative, and you still carried most of the conversation, but he listened—really listened—and when he spoke, it was warm, thoughtful, a little dry but always sincere. He’d answer with a soft laugh, or a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Sometimes he’d shake his head at your teasing remarks, and other times, he’d quietly add his own take, making you laugh.

It was one of those moments where time didn’t feel real. Just the two of you, tucked into the corner of his quiet world, talking about nothing and everything.

Even though Sieun wasn’t the boyfriend to openly hold your hand on the street or hug you in the school hallways, he showed you love in the most unspoken ways.

WARNINGS/TAGS MDNI 18+, explicit content, mentions of p in v sex, clit stim, grinding, oral m!receiving, mean Sieun

════════════════════════

It all started when you were trying to tease Sieun in his room.

Climbing into his lap, grinding against his thigh, whimpering and whining, you were doing everything to get him to pay attention to you. Sieun was determined at first, focusing on his literature report whilst he tried to hold back his moans, but when you had gone as far as unzipping his pants and taking his length into your mouth he completely broke his resolve, grabbed you by fistfuls of your hair and fucked your throat, just using your mouth like it was his personal fleshlight.

From then onwards, he was addicted to you.

even in death, I search for you

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘ Weak Hero Class 2 | Ep 7 (2025)

→ PAIRING: Yeon Sieun x fem!reader (18+)

→ SYNOPSIS: Studying with Sieun at his house turns into you riding him in his chair

→ CW: straddling, kissing, riding, unprotected piv

→ WC: 1.2k

→ A/N: Finally writing for Sieun, yayy !!

The fluorescent desk lamp cast a warm glow over Si-eun's cluttered study table, textbooks and notebooks spread out like a battlefield. You sat on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, while he occupied the worn office chair, his back straight as he scribbled notes in his precise handwriting. Studying with Si-eun had become a routine these past weeks—quiet sessions after school where you'd quiz each other on math problems or history dates. He was focused, almost obsessively so, but tonight, the air felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.

You leaned forward to point at a equation on his paper, your arm brushing his shoulder. He stiffened slightly, his pen pausing mid-stroke. "That one's wrong," you said teasingly, tapping the page. "You forgot to carry the one."

Not On Purpose

baku version su-ho version hyun-tak version seongjae version yeongbin version wooyoung version beomseok version

Pairing: Si-eun x fem!reader POV: 3rd person, reader-insert Tone: Softly filthy, restrained tension, quiet dominance Content Warning: Grinding, accidental orgasm, possessive behavior, mild overstimulation, soft dom Si-eun, filthy language —----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N was always touching him. Always climbing into his space like it was hers to claim.

He never said anything. Not when she sat too close. Not when her hand found his arm, his wrist, the hem of his shirt. Not when she kicked her legs over his lap while he studied.

She was affectionate like that—obnoxiously soft. He was not.

So when she clambered over him that afternoon and plopped herself right down on his lap like it was the couch cushion, he didn’t react.

Didn’t even look up from his book.

"You’re so warm," she murmured, leaning into him.

"Hn."

She wiggled a little.

That got his eyes to flick up. Barely.

"Y/N."

"What?" she said, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You’re comfy. I’m cold."

"That’s not my problem."

But he didn’t push her off. Didn’t tell her to move.

So she stayed there, straddling one of his thighs. She leaned forward just enough to hook her chin over his shoulder and let her body melt against him. Her cheek rested against the slope of his neck. She could feel the quiet, steady way he breathed.

Everything about him was calm. Controlled. Still.

It made her want to ruin it.

She shifted again, slowly this time, grinding her hips just enough to feel the seam of her shorts drag against the denim of his jeans.

A sharp inhale. Barely audible.

His fingers tightened around the edge of the book.

"Are you serious?" he asked quietly.

She blinked, innocent. "Serious about what?"

He turned his head slightly, just enough that she could see his eyes. Flat. Dangerous.

"Don’t play with me."

"I’m not," she said softly. “I’m just—sitting.”

"That’s not what you’re doing."

Still, he didn’t stop her.

Maybe that’s what made her bold enough to do it again. A slow, tentative roll of her hips, just once. And again.

It wasn’t even about getting off. Not at first. It was the feeling of it. The friction, the heat, the fact that Si-eun wasn’t moving at all—but his jaw was clenched tight, his hands stiff, his breathing sharper by the second.

She wasn’t sure when her breath started catching. When the ache between her legs turned real. When her fingers dug into his shoulders just to steady herself.

Si-eun didn’t help. Didn’t guide her hips, didn’t touch her, didn’t even shift to let her grind easier. He just watched—eyes pinned to her like he was memorizing the way she moved. The wet, shameful drag of her soaked panties against his thigh. The way her lashes fluttered and her mouth parted, panting.

She started trembling.

“I—fuck,” she whispered.

Her forehead dropped to his shoulder. Her thighs were clenching tight around him now, her hips chasing that friction desperately. His thigh was soaked. She didn’t care.

One more grind. And another. And then—

Her whole body seized. Heat burst low in her stomach, and she moaned against his neck—soft, broken, and shocked.

She came.

Right on his lap.

She didn’t even realize what happened until she collapsed against him, breathing hard and trembling, hips still twitching with the aftershocks.

There was a long silence.

Then his voice—low, calm.

“You came on my lap?”

Her heart dropped. She jerked her head up, horrified.

“I—I didn’t mean to—Si-eun, I swear, I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t trying to?” he asked, still staring at her. His voice was unreadable. Flat.

“No— I mean yes— I mean I was just—fuck,” she breathed, cheeks burning.

She moved to climb off him, but his hand caught her thigh. Firm. Heavy.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Y/N froze.

His eyes dropped, scanning the mess between them. Her soaked shorts. The dark spot staining the denim of his jeans. He pressed his fingers against her core, slow and deliberate.

She choked out a gasp.

“…Still sensitive?” he murmured.

Her thighs twitched.

He slid his hand between her legs, brushing over the soaked fabric with featherlight touches. Teasing. Mean.

"You really couldn’t help yourself," he said quietly.

"I—I didn’t mean to," she whispered.

"But you did." He leaned in, voice like a whisper against her ear. "And now you’re going to do it again."

Her breath caught. "Si-eun—"

He hooked his hands under her thighs and pulled her closer until their hips were flush. She could feel the heat of him beneath her now—hard, barely restrained. She hadn’t even noticed how turned on he was until now.

"You think I’m just going to let you make a mess like that," he said softly, "and not take it personally?"

She squirmed. His grip tightened.

"You’ll sit still," he murmured, voice cool. “And you’ll come again.”

“But—”

“Do you want me to fuck you right here?”

Her mouth opened. No sound came out.

He watched her. A flicker of something darker in his eyes.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said, gaze fixed to her face. “Me, pinning you right here, making you cry all over my lap.”

Y/N whimpered.

“But not yet.” He leaned closer. “If I fuck you now, it won’t be gentle. You’re already shaking. You’ll get overwhelmed.”

His hands shifted under her thighs, lifting her slightly and then guiding her hips back down—right against his thigh.

She gasped. Her clit throbbed. The contact was so much worse now—better—after coming once.

“Grind,” he ordered.

“What?”

“You heard me. Move.”

She swallowed.

Her hands found his shoulders again. Slowly, she rolled her hips. One circle. Another.

She was soaked. It felt obscene.

“Faster.”

She obeyed. Her breath was coming in gasps now, little whimpers spilling out with each thrust. Si-eun didn’t move, just watched her fall apart, his hands gripping her waist, keeping her steady.

When her thighs started shaking again, his hand slid between them. Fingers rubbing her through the damp cotton. Unforgiving. Precise.

She broke with a sob—her whole body curling forward as she came again, harder this time. Her nails dug into his back. Her vision went white.

By the time she collapsed against him, she was trembling, soaked, ruined.

He tilted her chin up. Made her look at him.

“You’ll clean this up,” he said, gaze flicking down to the mess between them. “With your mouth.”

She whimpered.