#Yeonbin match | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ev3rm0re-q · 27 days ago

Text

fire & ice ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

desc: basically the hotel room scene in challengers (with a twist!) but with yeonbin!!

pairing: tennis player!Yeonjun x tennis player fem!reader x tennis player!Soobin

genre: challengers AU, spicyy

warning/s: lots of swearing, smoking, 18+ content (suggestive)

wc: 5.1k

a/n: okay, okay.. i know i did promise a part 2 for half a spell, but i just couldnt help myself ITS A CHALLENGERS AUU I MEANN. i feel like u guys are getting fed as much w this one bc this one is scrumptious as fuckkk HELPPPAKSHBFAJS anyway, pls comment if u guys want more from thiss (part 2??) bc i doo have a very fun dynamic planned for these three!! hope yall enjoyyy <33

"She’s not coming, Yeonjun."

"She’s coming."

Soobin lies the wrong way across the bed, his bed technically, but both mattresses had been shoved together hours ago in a half-assed attempt at a bigger one.

His bare feet rest on the pillows as he tosses a tiny rubber ball against the wall—thunk, thunk, thunk—watching it rebound into his palm again and again.

“You don’t know that,” he says, flicking his wrist. His voice isn’t bitter, just worn out.

Yeonjun doesn’t answer right away.

He’s slouched in the wooden chair at the foot of the bed, one leg propped up, elbow draped over his knee. The dim light from his phone screen casts a pale blue shine over his face. A lit cigarette hangs loosely from his mouth as he scrolls through social media.

"She said she’d think about it," Soobin mutters, catching the ball mid-air and letting it sit in his hand for once. "People don’t usually show when they say that they'll 'think about it.'"

Yeonjun stops scrolling. His eyes flick toward the door.

“She’s coming.” He says it with quiet finality.

Then, just as easily, he scrolls again.

Thunk. Thunk.

The ball hits the wall.

✧˖° earlier that day °˖✧

The game was still in full swing, the bright yellow ball cracking sharply against the court with every controlled hit.

Yeonjun didn’t flinch or clap.

He simply sank deeper into his seat, a popcorn bucket left forgotten on his lap as one hand loosely held onto the container. His eyes flicked back and forth across the court, tracking the steady rhythm of the ball.

Soobin, on the other hand, leaned forward slightly, lips curled softly around the straw of his iced tea, sipping with quiet focus.

His eyes were only locked on her, sharp and unreadable, like he was silently memorizing every flick of her wrist and every subtle shift in her stance.

Moments earlier, Yeonjun had practically dragged Soobin into the stands, insisting he watch the women’s finals—raving about this tennis prodigy who, in his words, was "the hottest woman he’d ever seen."

Sure.

Soobin had taken it lightly at first, figuring Yeonjun was just exaggerating again.

But now, watching Y/N move across the court with that rare blend of grace and fire, he couldn’t look away. She wasn’t just a prodigy.

She was easily the most captivating girl he’d ever laid eyes on.

Just then, Y/N sent a sharp hit of the ball, skimming right at the edge of the court, just out of her opponent’s reach. The point was hers, and a soft murmur rippled through the crowd.

She made her way back to the baseline, casually bouncing the ball in her hand. Her hair was tied back loosely in a ponytail, her wrist completely relaxed—no tension, just precise control.

A small twitch ran through her fingers as she lined up the serve, fully absorbed in the rhythm of the game. Still, her expression remained soft—effortless and sweet, yet deadly in its own grace.

With calm focus, she tossed the ball into the air.

Her serve sliced through the court.

Her opponent reacted almost instantly, matching her pace with barely a pause. The ball returned with equal force, flying through the court with razor-sharp precision.

The rally stretched on each shot smooth, deliberate, and packed with skill. And with every return, quiet grunts slipped from her lips as the scoreboard crept closer to the final point.

“Holy… fuck…” Soobin breathed out, his voice barely more than a moan.

Yeonjun let out a soft groan and shifted in his seat. Both of them subtly adjusted their jeans, trying to stay composed despite the rising tension.

On the last shot, her opponent lunged but missed—the ball slipping just past their racket, out of bounds.

The crowd’s applause swelled, growing louder with every second.

“Match point. Y/N,” the announcer said, calm and clear.

Her breath slowed, every muscle tightening and then releasing, moving like clockwork. The ball bounced once, then twice.

Y/N tightened her grip on the racket, eyes locked on her opponent—ready for the final play. Without a second thought, she sprung into action.

Her racket cut through the air as she launched the last serve. The ball blasted across the court with deadly speed, landing just out of her opponent’s desperate reach at the far edge court.

The crowd held its breath as the ball slammed into the baseline, the sharp crack echoing across the outdoor court.

Her opponent lunged once more, the tip of the racket barely grazing the ball—but it was too late.

The match was hers.

And for a split second, everything stood still.

Then—

Y/N lets out a soft breath.

Not a loud battle-cry shout or a booming cheer—just a quiet sigh that slipped through the silence of the court. For the first time all match, the composed mask she’d been wearing slipped just enough to let the fire underneath peek through.

Then, the crowd erupted in thunderous applause.

Soobin blinked, like he’d just been snapped out of a trance, lips parted in something between awe and disbelief. Even Yeonjun was uncharacteristically speechless—until he let out a low whistle and leaned back with a small, impressed smile.

Down on the court, Y/N didn't move. Her feet were kept grounded to the floor as her shoulders held loose but steady, chest rising and falling with quiet, measured composure.

Like the match hadn’t taken everything.

Like she still had more to give.

Then, as the cheers grew louder, she smiled.

It was soft yet bright. Almost too dazzling to look at. It wasn’t the kind of smile that begged for attention. It just had a way of drawing you in.

Y/N had won.

Not with noise. Not with theatrics.

But with grace, control, and a fire that didn’t need to roar to be felt. And in that moment it was undeniable:

She didn’t just belong on that court.

She fucking owned it.

Later that evening, Yeonjun and Soobin somehow ended up at a celebration party thrown in her honor—despite the fact that Soobin had only learned of her existence a few hours earlier.

Between the pop of champagne and the buzz of congratulatory chatter, both boys just stood off to the side, looking completely out of place. They almost resembled two lost puppies who were simply basking in the glory of her ADIDAS sponsorship, the swarm of rich kids in sleek designer outfits… and, of course, her.

Neither of them really mingled. They just kind of… hovered.

Close enough to see her laugh, talk, and dance. But far enough to not be too obvious about it.

Which, of course, made it almost glaringly obvious.

Eventually, Yeonjun couldn't take it anymore and worked up the courage to cross the room over to Y/N. Soobin trailed closely behind him, carrying an expression that looked like he wanted to turn back with every other step.

And when finally they reached her, the nerves hit. But to their surprise, the girl didn’t wave them off.

She smiled. Laughed even.

Teasing them back just enough to make it hard to tell if she was being polite… or genuinely flirting back.

Then Yeonjun, bold as ever, just went for it.

“You know,” he said, feigning casual, “since we’re all staying at the same hotel. If you’re free later, you could… swing by our room?”

She looked at him with that soft, unreadable smile. The kind that said absolutely nothing and everything all at once.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, voice sweet as honey.

And then she was gone—off to greet another guest who had just arrived at the party, leaving both boys staring after her like they’d just been hit by a truck.

A beat passed.

Then another.

And then, suddenly, they bolted—straight back to their hotel room, scrambling to clean their mess like their lives depended on it.

Pillows were deliberately fluffed. Scented air fresheners and personal colognes were deployed.

Soobin even wiped the windows.

Just in case.

✧˖° Cut back to the present °˖✧

The hotel room, once spotless in a frenzy of panicked cleaning, has now slowly returned to its natural state of chaos.

Pillows and blankets are, once again, tossed haphazardly across both beds, and clothes lie scattered in every direction. It’s the same mess Yeonjun had promised—multiple times—that he’d “get to later.”

And honestly? It’s really starting to seem like she’s not coming after all.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Soobin huffs, “I’m telling you, she’s not—”

A knock cuts through the room.

They both go still.

The rubber ball slips from Soobin’s fingers and hits the floor with a soft thud, rolling just beneath the coffee table.

Another knock. Then one more.

And then all hell breaks loose.

Yeonjun quickly flicks the cigarette out the window, exhaling the last bit of smoke through his nose as they both rush to fix the room—again. Blankets are yanked back into place, clothes shoved under the beds, pillows re-fluffed in a frenzy, like they hadn’t just trashed the place twenty minutes ago.

Soobin, caught up in the chaos, reaches for a pillow but missteps.

He rolls right off the bed with a surprised yelp, landing with a soft thud on the floor. He immediately scrambles to get back up as Yeonjun stifles a laugh.

On the other side of the door, Y/N presses her ear lightly against the wood, biting back a laugh.

She hears frantic footsteps, whispered scolding, and then the unmistakable sound of someone tripping over something. Her grin spreads wider with each passing second.

Without warning, the door swings open. Y/N quickly straightens, slipping into a calm, indifferent expression.

Inside, both boys freeze in awkward poses.

Soobin 'coolly' leans against the doorframe, trying to look casual. Except, his elbow is positioned too high, making him seem more like he’s mid-flinch than striking a cool pose.

Yeonjun stands in front of him, attempting a smooth, effortless smirk, but the panic in his eyes and the messy hang of his half-untucked tank top ruin the effect completely.

Y/N lifts an eyebrow, visibly amused.

“…Hey,” Yeonjun says, breath just a touch uneven.

Soobin gives her a slight nod, pretending that his shoulder isn’t starting to cramp from that ridiculous pose.

She just smiles. Innocently. As if she hadn’t heard every second of their panicked scrambling.

"Hi."

Her voice is soft, but it cuts right through the thick cloud of tension hanging in the air.

For a beat, no one moves.

Soobin, still awkwardly leaning against the doorframe, blinks like he forgot how to function. Yeonjun opens his mouth, then closes it again. Neither of them speak. The silence stretches—long enough to feel heavy, too short to recover.

Somewhere behind them, a sock slides slowly off the bed and lands on the floor with an audible flop.

Y/N tilts her head, lips twitching like she’s fighting a smile.

"Soo… are you guys gonna let me in?"

Soobin jolts upright so fast he nearly knocks into the door.

“Yeah, s-sorry...come in!” he stammers, quickly stepping aside to give her space.

Yeonjun clears his throat, suddenly standing straighter as he tries to kick away a wrinkled shirt behind him with one foot.

“Make yourself at home,” he says, stepping aside as well as he flashes what he hopes is a cool, effortless smirk. But it’s mostly just nervous.

Y/N steps inside, eyes sweeping the room with a knowing look that says she’s already seen everything she needs to.

But, she doesn’t comment on the grey t-shirt poking out from behind the curtain or the suspiciously empty chip bag sticking out from under a pillow. Instead, she just walks in like she belongs there, comfortable, unfazed, and completely in control.

Yeonjun and Soobin glance at each other behind her back, both silently mouthing what now? like two idiots in over their heads.

Y/N turns around to face them, arms crossed and one brow raised.

“Well?” she says, playful. “You two gonna stand there all night or offer me a drink?”

A beat of silence—Soobin blinks like he’s short-circuited, and Yeonjun jumps in, a little too loudly, “Right! Yeah. Of course!”

-------˖⁺. ༶ ❤︎ ⋆˙⊹ ෆ ⊹˙⋆❤︎ ༶ .⁺˖-------

Now, they’re sitting on the floor, legs either stretched out or curled up, passing around a half-empty beer can between them.

A few crushed cans lie scattered nearby—a quiet reminder of the nerves they’d been carrying just moments before. Soft music plays from Soobin’s phone, propped up on the table beside him, blending seamlessly with the warm glow filling the boys’ hotel room.

The earlier tension has now melted away, replaced by easy chatter, casual laughter, and quiet—sometimes not-so-subtle—glances exchanged between them.

“Wait, wait—so you guys started a band back in middle school? That’s how you met?”

“Yeah. We started this little garage band with three other friends. Instruments and everything,” Soobin says, taking another sip of the beer. “I played guitar, and Yeonjun here was the lead singer.”

“Wow, that’s really cool,” she says, tilting her head with a soft smile.

Then, after a beat, she adds smoothly, “But how did you guys become… this?”

“This..?” Yeonjun raises a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Tennis,” Y/N says, gesturing vaguely between the two of them. “You know, Fire and Ice.”

Yeonjun leans back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him, tank top loose against his frame. “Oh, we always played. Not seriously at first—just with our dads, sometimes after school.”

“Yeah, our dads were friends,” Soobin says, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, beer in hand. “They used to take us to their country clubs and let us mess around on the courts for hours.”

He lets out a soft laugh. “But we were pretty awful back then. I’d swing like I was trying to murder the ball. And Yeonjun kept trying these dumb trick shots on the court.”

“Sounds about right,” Y/N giggles, curled up across from them in a sweater and black shorts, knees pulled to her chest. She watches them with quiet amusement.

A pause. She tilts her head again, voice soft but clear.

“When did it get serious?”

“Tennis camp in Jeju,” Yeonjun says, running a hand through his raven hair. “It was the summer before high school. Our parents shipped us off for like three weeks—thought we needed discipline or whatever.”

A beat.

“And?” she prompts.

Yeonjun exhales. “And, it was the first time anyone really pushed us.”

"We also got placed in the same dorm room,” Soobin says, glancing at her. “Tiny-ass bunk beds, shitty air conditioning, and we shared it with like six other kids.”

“I swear we almost killed each other the first night,” Yeonjun says, grinning at Soobin. “Then we both realized we hated everyone else more.”

“That’s cute...” Y/N laughs, eyes crinkling. Her gaze flickers briefly to the beer in Soobin’s hand as he lifts it for a sip.

A quiet beat later, Y/N leans forward with graceful ease, fingers brushing his as she takes the can. Then she leans back again, her movements smooth and unhurried, and takes a slow sip.

“The training must’ve been intense,” she says, voice still light.

“Oh it was brutal,” Yeonjun adds. “Drills before sunrise. Coaches who didn’t give a shit if you puked in the grass.”

The room quiets for a moment.

“But,” Soobin shifts slightly, “it was also the first time we realized we were pretty good at tennis.”

“Yeah, like maybe-we-could-actually-do-this kind of good,” Yeonjun echoes.

“So.. you’ve been playing together since then,” she says, almost to herself.

“Yeah,” Yeonjun nods. “Always doubles. Sometimes singles, but… you know, it’s different when there’s someone you trust on your side of the court.”

Soobin glances at him, then at Y/N again. His expression softens, but there’s something else there too. It was subtle and unreadable.

“I guess you kind of start to know different things too,” Soobin says. “How they move. How they think. When they’re gonna overhit or choke a serve. It’s like…”

“Muscle memory,” Yeonjun finishes quietly.

Y/N’s gaze lingers on the both of them. Then, with that same casual ease, she leans forward again and takes another sip from the can, eyes still on them.

“But this camp,” she asks, voice smooth and nonchalant, “was it co-ed?”

“Yeah,” Soobin says, eyes still on her. “But they split the dorms—guys and girls.”

Y/N nods slowly, a small curve playing at the corner of her mouth.

“Is that where you met your girlfriend?” Y/N asks, pointing at Yeonjun with the can still in her hand.

“Oh, she’s not my, uh…” Yeonjun starts to trail off, eyes flicking away as he thinks. Soobin smirks as he crosses his arms, clearly enjoying watching the other boy squirm.

“…Yeah. I guess.”

Y/N grins, amusement shining in her eyes.

“And you,” she shifts her gaze to Soobin, taking another sip of the beer, “why aren't you pretending not to have a girlfriend?”

"Oh no, I don't—"

“Soobin’s got this whole 'no strings attached' thing going on right now.” Yeonjun smirks, taking the beer from Y/N’s hand.

“What? No—no, that makes me sound like—”

“A player?” Y/N offers, eyes twinkling with quiet mischief.

“Yeah, Soobin does fine for himself.” Yeonjun says, smirking. “I mean, come on—look at him.” He reaches over and gives Soobin’s cheek a light tap before Soobin swats his hand away.

Y/N smiles, the corners of her lips lifting as she shifts slightly from her postion.

“Alright then—how about this? Right now… how often do you guys go after the same girl?”

And just like that, both of them freeze, caught off guard.

Soobin finally looks away, eyes dropping to the carpet, cheeks flushed. Yeonjun chuckles softly, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Were we that obvious?”

Y/N shrugs, taking the beer can back from Yeonjun. “It’s like looking through a glass window.”

A beat passes.

Soobin clears his throat, still a little pink. “Not very often…”

“We usually have different types,” Yeonjun adds with a smirk.

Y/N takes a slow sip of the beer. Her voice is velvet-smooth, but there’s a glint behind it now.

“Soo you’re saying I’m supposed to be.. flattered?” Y/N teases.

Soobin takes the beer from her, holding her gaze a beat too long, then looks away, lips twitching like he’s holding back a smile.

“Depends.”

“On?” she presses, brow raised, as if she doesn’t already know.

Yeonjun answers, voice low, teasing. “On whether you mind being the exception.”

Y/N leans back, arms draped over her knees, calm and in control, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. “Hmm,” she hums, eyes flicking between them. “I don't mind the view from here.”

Then, silence. The boys don't utter a word, they just watch her.

Tension slowly filling the air around them.

Yeonjun finally speaks, tone softer. “Alright then, since you’re so curious about us… how about you? What’s your experience been like—navigating this kind of attention?”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully at Yeonjun’s question, but there’s a gentle light in her eyes that feels almost unguarded.

“I’ve had a few boyfriends here and there,” she says softly, voice steady but with an easy warmth. Then, after a brief pause, she adds quietly, “Most of them just didn’t know how to handle someone like me, though.”

Her smile is calm, almost innocent. “So, I simply didn’t stick around long enough to teach them.”

Yeonjun blinks, clearly surprised by the quiet honesty. Soobin’s grin softens, his gaze thoughtful.

Y/N tucks her hair behind her ear, looking down briefly before meeting their gaze again.

“I’m usually the one who holds it all together,” she says gently. “But sometimes… I feel like it’s okay to just let things be.”

Yeonjun’s leaning back on his hands now, but his eyes stay on her—curious, like he wasn't expecting this moment of such raw honesty.

Soobin, on the other hand, grows quieter now, fidgeting with the tab on the beer can as his knees slowly brush against hers.

“You know, you guys talk a lot,” she says, voice soft, teasing. “But you’re kind of terrible at this kind of thing.”

“Oh?” Yeonjun lifts a brow.

“You two keep looking at me like I’m going to break,” she says, voice soft but charged.

“If you’re going to keep staring… you might as well do something about it.” Her eyes lock onto them without flinching.

...huh?

This makes their brains completely short circuit.

Soobin freezes, fingers hovering over the can, eyes snapping up to meet hers—wide and caught completely off guard. Yeonjun breathes out a low, incredulous laugh. He seems to be struggling to conceal the smile tugging at his lips as his head briefly dips.

But, when he looks up, his eyes are darker now. Focused.

The silence stretches, but it isn’t awkward. it’s fucking electric.

That's when he makes his move.

With careful movements, Yeonjun pushes off his hands, shifting from his seated position and slowly closing the distance between him and Y/N.

He kneels tall, just right above her, his eyes darkening with lust as they roam over her figure beneath him.

Y/N’s breath hitches ever so slightly as she tilts her head up to meet Yeonjun's gaze. But her expression remains calm, unbothered, as she tries to casually brushing past the subtle tremble in her fingers.

She looks at him with soft, doe-like eyes. The picture of pure innocence—almost. Because beneath that softness, there’s something else entirely.

Hunger.

She looks at him as if this moment was always meant to be—from the second she stepped into the boys’ hastily cleaned hotel room. Like she’d known all along and was just waiting for them to catch up.

His eyes linger on her face a moment longer, quietly drinking in her soft, perfect features—like he’s trying to memorize every detail, unwilling to let a single part of her slip from his memory.

Carefully, his gaze drifts down to her lips.

Then, he reaches out, fingers brushing along the side of her face, gently caressing her soft skin. She leans into it, calm and steady, her eyes never leaving his.

Soobin sits cross-legged just across from them, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst from his chest. His palms grow clammy, and his lips part slightly in stunned anticipation, unable to tear his eyes away from what’s unfolding right before him.

Yeonjun leans in slowly, his movements soft but charged with an unmistakable hunger. Their lips meet in a gentle, lingering kiss—his soft, plump lips pressing against hers with sensual tenderness.

He moves closer, his body nearly pressing against hers as he settles between her legs, still kneeling. His tongue traces delicate, kitten-like licks along her pink lips, drawing a soft moan from the girl.

Then, just as Yeonjun parts his mouth slightly, Y/N takes the lead, slipping her tongue inside with practiced ease. She feels his warm breath tickling her face as she deepens the kiss, and he lets out a low, surprised moan, caught off guard by her sudden boldness.

Meanwhile, Soobin just sits there again, eyes wide, her moans sounding like gentle music in his ears. His cheeks flush a soft pink as he bites down on his bottom lip, trying to hold back a low groan from slipping past his lips.

He shifts uncomfortably in his spot, struggling to ignore the tent growing in his shorts as he tries to figure out what to do next.

Does he leave?

Does he stay?

Fuck, what do I do now? Soobin thought to himself.

Then, Y/N breaks the kiss, before slowly leaning in again. Her lips brushing Yeonjun's in a teasing whisper of contact—just enough to leave him breathless—before pulling away completely.

Her eyes don’t stay on him for long.

Instead, she tilts her head to the side, gaze drifting over to Soobin.

God, he looks so cute, she thought.

He continues to sit there cross-legged, the beer can he previously in his hand is now discarded on the floor beside him.

One hand rests over his lap—not subtle, but not exactly trying to hide it either. It makes her wonder if he’s shielding himself… or just chasing a bit of friction through the fabric of his shorts.

He looks up at Y/N, eyes wide and darkened with a mix of jealousy and lust.

"Come here, baby. Don’t be shy," she says, her voice soft and inviting as she gestures him over with a crook of her finger.

Soobin’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t hesitate—scrambling forward so quickly that he knocks over the empty beer can with a soft clatter. Yeonjun slowly leans back, hands braced against the carpet, watching them with lust-filled eyes.

Soobin finally settles beside her, sitting like an obedient puppy waiting for his owner's command—eyes fixed on her, breath shallow. He's practically vibrating with nervous energy now, the need in his gaze impossible to miss.

Y/N leans in, effortlessly straddling his lap as her arms drape around his neck. Her breath fans against his face, their lips now just centimeters apart.

By now, Soobin wants to individually thank every single person who has led him to this exact moment.

His parents, for pushing him into tennis camp. His coaches, for their brutal training schedules. And, of course, Yeonjun—for convincing him to come watch that match in the first place.

Because right now, in this moment, Soobin feels like the luckiest man alive.

“Don’t be scared, baby, okay?” she whispers, gently brushing his hair away from his face as she leans in even closer.

“I’ll take care of you,” she adds softly.

Soobin melts under her touch, every feeling of doubt and hesitation dissolving into the warmth of her words.

He places his hands on her waist carefully, his gaze still locked onto hers, almost like he’s afraid to blink and miss it.

Then she leans in, her lips meeting his.

Soobin lets out a quiet, surprised moan, caught off guard by the contact, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment without even realizing it. (It’s not his first kiss, but god, it might as well be.)

Her fingers tangle into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp, and Soobin groans again, louder this time, completely at her mercy.

Slowly, Y/N begins to rock back and forth in his lap, the soft friction sparking heat between their lower areas. The kiss deepens naturally. Their lips parting just a bit, tongues brushing softly against one another—growing a small pool of wetness in her core.

Holy. Fuck.

Soobin softly tightens his grip around her waist, carefully slipping his hands beneath the fabric of her sweater, resting them on her bare skin.

Y/N slowly withdraws one hand from Soobin’s hair, tilting her head just enough to catch Yeonjun’s gaze—her lips never parting from Soobin’s.

Yeonjun’s gaze is fixed on her, jaw clenched, eyes filled with lust and desire as they trace the scene before him. His hand moves quietly over his clothed member, fingers stroking with a slow, measured rhythm, searching for some quiet release.

Then, Y/N reaches over slightly, taking Yeonjun's his hand and gently pulling it closer to herself and Soobin.

Yeonjun leans in from behind her, softly brushing her hair aside before pressing his plump lips to the tender curve of her neck.

She lets out a soft moan against Soobin's lips, pulling him in closer, as her kiss grows hungrier and heavier. His grip on her waist tightens, unaware of the faint bruises forming on her delicate skin.

But she couldn’t care less—in fact, it only made everything feel even better.

Then, Y/N slowly pulls away from Soobin, her breath still shaky as she turns to Yeonjun. With a gentle touch, she takes his face in her hand and leans in, pressing her lips greedily against his.

Soobin sits there, mouth slightly open, arms still locked around her waist. Then he inches forward a bit, pressing soft wet kisses to her neck.

If it weren’t for her sweater, god knows he’d be trailing even lower.

Instead, he tightens his hold on her, gently rocking her hips in his lap, building the friction and heat between them as she stays locked in a kiss with Yeonjun.

Her free hand slides up to the front of Yeonjun’s neck, fingers curling tight around his throat, making him moan loudly at the touch. His hands follow, slipping slowly beneath her sweater, settling over her clothed breasts.

She groans into his mouth before shifting one hand to guide Yeonjun’s hand beneath her bra, her fingers intertwining with his as he cups her bare breast, playing with her soft nipples.

With her other hand still clenched tightly in Soobin’s hair, she draws him closer, encouraging his sloppy, desperate kisses on her delicate skin and the blooming purple marks forming on her neck.

Slowly, her grip eases on both of them, and the kiss slows, losing its urgency and settling into a slow, lingering rhythm.

Then, without warning, Y/N pulls away from Yeonjun, their lips parting with a soft, breathy sound and a thin string of saliva stretching between them for just a second.

She catches her breath, her chest rising and falling slowly as her eyes flicker between Yeonjun and Soobin. They both stare back at her, breathless. Then, she shifts, easing herself off Soobin’s lap. His hands linger for a moment as she pulls away from his grasp.

Soobin lets out a soft, almost involuntary whine at the loss of her warmth.

The room falls silent.

Both boys sit there, completely dumbfounded—caught somewhere between confusion and desire, unable to find the words. Y/N breaks the quiet with a soft, teasing tone, her voice low and playful.

“It’s getting late… I should probably head back.”

She stands in front of them, and they look up at her—flushed cheeks, heavy breaths, and lingering eyes.

And then—

That smile.

That same innocent, sweet smile, like she hadn’t just borderline orchestrated a threesome between the three of them.

She takes a step away, but Yeonjun’s voice stops her.

“Wait… that’s it?”

Soobin looks a little lost, his voice soft and hesitant. “Oh… I.."

Then he adds, hopeful, “C-can we at least have your number?”

There’s a brief pause—then Soobin’s voice lowers, almost pleading, “…Please?”

Y/N glances between them, a playful smile tugging at her lips, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You guys study at Eastmound, right?”