#bestfriend!seventeen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scarletwinterxx · 1 month ago

Note

LOVE YOUR FICSS AHHH got me kicking my feet🥰 could i req for a bestfriends to lovers with dino! maybe where the members keep teasing him lol tyyy if you take this🫶🏼

hiiiii ~ so.... i got.... carried away?? hahah i was suppose to make it a cute short scenario but i loved it way tooooo much ugh i'm a sucker for bff to lovers trope so here we are😅😅 it's like if you combine mary's song and the alchemy (by tswift), that's how i would describe this fic

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The neon glow of Seoul’s streets reflects off the café window as you stir your latte, the warmth of the cup pressing against your palms. Across from you, Chan is slouched in his chair, one hand lazily swirling his iced latte, the other casually flicking a stray sugar packet at you.

“You good?” you ask, nudging his shin under the table.

He grins, that boyish smirk you’ve seen a thousand times. “Yeah, just thinking about Wonwoo-hyung. He said something dumb again.”

You snort at what he said making Chan chuckle, shaking his head. “He said everyone’s just waiting for us to realize we’re in love.”

You almost choke on your drink. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah. Apparently, Wonwoo-hyung, Seungkwan, and Vernon-hyung are betting on when it’ll happen.”

You blink at him. “They need new hobbies.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Dino exclaims, looking far too pleased that you’re on the same page. “But it got me thinking”

“That’s dangerous”

“Shut up,” he laughs, bumping his foot against yours. “I just don’t get why they think that. I mean, we’re best friends. That’s it.”

“Right?” You lean back, crossing your arms. “It’s not like we’re that close.”

He scoffs. “Exactly! I mean, sure, I always make sure you eat and never let you walk home alone, and you always text me to remind me to bring an umbrella when it rains—”

“Yeah, and we always share food and buy each other coffee without asking…” you mutter, looking at the toast you were sharing moments ago, he called dibs on the strawberries and you let him have it. You hate strawberries.

“And I always know what you’re thinking just by looking at you,” he adds.

You frown. “Okay, that’s normal, though.”

“Super normal.”

“Totally platonic.”

“Exactly.”

Silence settles between you, the sounds of the café humming in the background. Dino is staring at you, and you’re staring at him, and suddenly you’re both squinting like you’ve just tried to read the fine print of a sketchy contract.

“…Do we sound like a couple?” you ask hesitantly.

Dino tilts his head, considering. “Nah.”

“Right?”

“Right.”

Another beat of silence.

“…But if we were a couple, I’d totally be the better half,” he says, grinning. You kick his shin under the table

“Oh, please if anything, I would be the better half.”

Dino just laughs, shaking his head, and you both go back to your drinks like the conversation never happened.

The university field is still buzzing with excitement after the match, but your attention is on one person—Chan. He’s grinning, sweaty, and full of energy as he jogs toward you, clearly eager to hear your praise.

“You saw that, right?” he asks, eyes sparkling.

He plays for the university's soccer team. And you being bestfriend, has never missed a single game. ever.

“You think I didn’t?” You cross your arms, pretending to be unimpressed. “You were alright, I guess.”

“Alright?!” He gapes at you like you’ve just insulted his entire existence. “I carried this game.”

Before you can react, he reaches out and flicks your forehead his usual way of showing affection. You swat at his arm, but he just grins wider.

From behind you, Seungkwan sighs dramatically. “Seriously, how do you both not see it?”

You ignore him, focusing instead on the way Chan’s hand lingers on your wrist a little longer than necessary.

The restaurant is buzzing with life, the scent of sizzling meat filling the air as you, Chan, Vernon, and Seungkwan settle into your seats. Chan is busy grilling, as usual, because he claims he “doesn’t trust any of you with the meat.” You let him, happily reaching for a side dish while Vernon sips on his iced tea.

“You were a little too into the game today,” Vernon comments, glancing at you

You shrug. “I always cheer for Chan.”

Seungkwan snorts. “Yeah, and only for Chan.”

You’re about to argue when someone steps up to your table. You glance up, only to see a guy in a jersey from the opposing team standing there, smiling at you.

“Hey,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, noticed you cheering during the game. You seemed really into it.”

Chan’s hand pauses mid-air, chopsticks still holding a piece of meat

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you reply, not sure where this is going.

“I was wondering,” the player continues, shifting on his feet. “Would it be okay if I got your number?”

Silence.

Vernon raises an eyebrow. Seungkwan’s mouth falls open slightly, clearly ready to cause chaos. And Chan? Chan sets his chopsticks down very slowly.

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh. Um—”

“She’s good,” Chan says before you can even process an answer. His voice is light, but you know him too well. There’s something sharp underneath it.

The player looks at him, then back at you. “Oh—are you guys…?”

“Nope,” Seungkwan answers way too fast. Then he smirks. “But go on. I wanna see how this plays out.”

Chan shoots him a glare before turning back to the guy, forcing a smile. “She’s not interested.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Excuse me?”

Chan doesn’t even look at you. “Right?” he prompts, acting like this is a completely normal thing to do.

You open your mouth, then close it. Then look at the player, who is now shifting awkwardly under the weight of whatever weird tension is happening.

“…I mean, I guess I’m not?” you say, though you’re still trying to figure out why you let Chan answer for you.

The player sighs, nodding. “Got it. Well, it was worth a shot. Enjoy your dinner.”

As soon as he walks away, Seungkwan loses it.

“Oh my GOD,” he cackles, slapping the table. “Did you see yourself, Chan? You looked ready to throw hands.”

“I did not,” Chan grumbles, picking up his chopsticks again.

Vernon hums thoughtfully. “Interesting.”

You turn to Chan, arms crossed. “Care to explain what that was?”

He shrugs, not meeting your eyes. “I just saved you from giving your number to some random guy. You’re welcome.”

Seungkwan whistles. “Possessive much?”

Chan glares. “I’m not possessive.”

“Dude, you almost turned that meat into charcoal the second he walked up,” Vernon points out.

You smirk, leaning closer. “Chan… were you jealous?”

He scoffs, eyes flicking to yours before quickly looking away. “Eat your food.”

You don’t push it, but as you take a bite, you notice his ears are very, very red.

Later when the four of you are done you leave the restaurant, full and still giggling from Seungkwan’s dramatic reenactment of Chan’s “alpha male” moment. Especially you. You're having way too much fun with this.

“So, Chan,” you drawl, walking beside him with a mischievous grin. “You never answered my question.”

He sighs, already looking exhausted. “What question?”

“The one about you being jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous.”

Vernon snickers. “Sure, man.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “So, if I had given that guy my number, you would’ve been totally fine with it?”

“Yep,” Chan replies too quickly, staring straight ahead.

Seungkwan gasps dramatically. “Liar.”

You smirk, stepping a little closer. “So if he had asked me out, you wouldn’t have cared at all?”

Chan exhales through his nose, his patience clearly wearing thin. You think you’ve won until he suddenly stops walking. Before you can react, he reaches for the hood of your jacket, yanks it over your head, and pulls the strings tight until only the tip of your nose is peeking out.

“CH—MMMPH!” You flail your arms, completely trapped in your own hoodie.

Vernon straight-up wheezes. Seungkwan is on the ground.

Chan steps behind you, places his hands firmly on your shoulders, and starts pushing you forward.

“There,” he says, smug. “Now you can’t tease me if you can’t see me.”

“LET ME OUT!” you shout, voice muffled.

“Nope.”

“I WILL END YOU.”

“Good luck with that,” he chirps, steering you like a malfunctioning shopping cart.

You struggle but Chan keeps a firm grip, easily guiding you down the street while you helplessly stomp forward.

“You’re such a child,” you grumble.

“And you’re annoying,” he replies. “So this is fair.”

You huff, but underneath it all, you’re grinning. Because no matter how ridiculous he is, no matter how much he denies it—Chan absolutely, definitely cares.

A couple of days passed and now you’re not speaking to Chan.

It started over something ridiculously small—so small that, if you really thought about it, you couldn’t even remember the exact reason it escalated. But what mattered was that it did.

One minute, you were bickering over something dumb, like him eating the last piece of tteokbokki when you clearly had your chopsticks ready to grab it. The next, you were snapping at each other, stubbornness clashing until you finally said, “You know what? Fine.” And then you stopped talking to him.

And because Chan is just as stubborn as you, he decided, Fine. Two can play that game.

So now, you’re both ignoring each other.

It’s been three days.

At first, it was just a cold shoulder situation. Him sitting on the opposite side of the group when you all hung out, you pretending he didn’t exist. But then, it turned into avoiding each other altogether. You didn’t text him. He didn’t text you. You saw him walking into a café the other day and literally turned around.

And now, everyone else has definitely noticed.

“Okay, what is going on?” Seungkwan asks, throwing his hands up.

You sip your drink calmly, acting unbothered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Vernon raises a brow. “You and Chan haven’t said a single word to each other since we all sat down.”

“And?” you say, playing with your straw.

Wonwoo, who’s been watching silently, smirks. “Oh, this is fun.”

From across the table, Chan scoffs. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”

Your eye twitches. Oh, so he does want to play this game?

“Same,” you reply smoothly. “Silence is peaceful.”

Seungkwan fake gags. “I hate this. I hate this. Fix it.”

“Seriously, what happened?” Vernon sighs, looking back and forth between the two of you

Chan shrugs, avoiding eye contact with you. “Nothing.”

You mimic his movement. “Nothing at all.”

Seungkwan claps his hands together. “Okay, I don’t know what kind of pride battle is happening here, but I hate being collateral damage. Fix. It.”

You ignore him, grabbing a fry from your plate. But as you do, Chan—who is apparently also reaching for a fry at the same time—accidentally brushes his fingers against yours.

It’s quick. Barely a second.

But it feels like a moment.

You both freeze.

Your brain says, Move your hand. But your hand? It stays right there. Chan pulls away first, clearing his throat. He grabs his drink and takes a very forced sip. The others are watching.

Wonwoo exchanges a glance with Vernon, who just shakes his head like he can’t believe this is happening. Seungkwan is straight-up vibrating with frustration.

“Are you guys seriously fighting over something dumb?” Seungkwan finally asks. “I swear to God, if this is about food—”

“It’s not about food,” you snap.

Chan scoffs. “Well, technically, it started with food.”

You glare at him. “I knew you did that on purpose.”

He crosses his arms. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Oh, so it was just a coincidence that you stole my tteokbokki right before I grabbed it?”

“Yes?”

The table erupts.

“OH MY GOD,” Seungkwan yells. “THIS WHOLE THING IS ABOUT FOOD?!”

Vernon leans back in his seat, covering his face. “This is a nightmare.”

Wonwoo actually laughs. “So, neither of you broke the silence first because of that?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “It’s the principle of it.”

Chan nods. “Exactly.”

Seungkwan groans, dragging his hands down his face. “You two are so dumb. Just apologize and move on.”

Silence. You glance at Chan. He glances at you but neither of you speaks.

“Oh, this is gonna take forever.”

Another day has passed. The silence is definitely something you're not used to but you went on with your life.

Today you had gym. The moment your gym professor announced that today’s class was going to be track, you felt impending doom settle in your bones. You were not built for this.

Running? Sure, in an emergency. But sprinting laps for fun? Absolutely not.

And of course, because life is so kind to you, disaster struck right when you were about to finish your second lap. One second, you were focused on not dying. The next, your foot caught on absolutely nothing (because the universe simply hates you), and you went down hard.

Pain shot up your ankle instantly, and you barely had time to process the embarrassment before your professor and a classmate rushed over.

"Are you okay?" your professor asked, already kneeling beside you

You winced, testing your foot. "Uh… no?"

Your classmate, a guy from your department, helped you up while you tried not to cry at how much your ankle hurt. Your professor sighed, already pulling out his phone. "Let's get you to the clinic."

So that’s how you ended up here.

Sitting on the clinic bed, holding an ice pack to your now-swollen ankle, wondering how you were going to get home later. Then, just as you were about to doze off from sheer exhaustion...

BANG!

The clinic door slammed open so hard it rattled on its hinges.

You nearly jumped out of your skin. The nurse at the desk let out a startled yelp. And standing in the doorway, panting like he’d just fought for his life, was none other than Lee Chan.

His hair was a mess, his hoodie was slipping off one shoulder, and he looked wrecked.

"Where is she?" he demanded between ragged breaths.

The nurse blinked. "Uh—"

Then he spotted you.

His eyes locked onto your ankle, wrapped in ice, and his whole body stiffened. In the next second, he rushed to your side, grabbing onto the edge of the bed as he caught his breath.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded, voice still breathless.

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned. "Chan?"

"Yeah, it's me, obviously!" he snapped, still trying to breathe properly. "I ran across campus! Ran. For you. So start talking—why are you hurt?!"

You stared at him. "How did you even—"

"Vernon," he answered immediately. "Somehow, he found out before I did and called me, and now I’m here. So explain."

You hesitated, suddenly feeling… weird. The two of you were still ignoring each other. You hadn’t spoken in days. And yet, here he was, looking like he’d just sprinted a full marathon with zero hesitation just because you got hurt.

Your heart did something stupid.

"... I tripped."

Chan deadpanned. "You tripped?"

"Yes."

"On what?"

You cleared your throat. "...Air."

"You tripped on air?!" He dragged a hand down his face. "Oh my God."

You scowled, crossing your arms. "Look, it happened, okay? You don’t have to be so dramatic about it."

"Dramatic?" He gaped at you. "You injured yourself! Of course I’m dramatic!"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't ignore the way your chest felt warm. The nurse cleared her throat. "If you're done yelling at each other, she just has a mild sprain. No fracture. She just needs to rest it."

Chan let out a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. "Okay. Good."

Then, without hesitation, he gently grabbed your ankle, adjusting the ice pack like it was the most natural thing in the world. You stiffened, watching him.

"You idiot," he muttered, shaking his head. "Who gets injured running on a track?"

"Me, apparently," you mumbled.

He sighed. "Of course it’s you."

Silence.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was, how he hadn't hesitated to come running for you even after all the ignoring.

"...You didn't have to come," you muttered.

Chan scoffed, finally looking up at you. "Don't be stupid. Of course I did."

And just like that, your stupid heart did another stupid thing.

After that, Chan refuses to leave your side. The moment the nurse gives you clearance to leave, he slings your arm over his shoulder and practically carries you out of the clinic before you can even protest.

“Chan, I can walk,” you grumble, trying to wriggle out of his hold.

“Oh, really?” He looks down at you. “Go on, then. Walk.”

You press your lips together. Your ankle still throbs, and you know if you put weight on it, you’ll probably just collapse. But admitting that out loud? Never.

Chan smirks, already knowing. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

You scowl. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he sing-songs, leading you toward the front of the campus.

You don’t know when he did it, but at some point, he called Wonwoo. Because by the time you both reach the parking lot, Wonwoo is already waiting by his car, arms crossed.

He looks between you and Chan, then sighs. “Do I even want to know what happened?”

Chan grins. “She tripped on air and almost died.”

You groan. “I did not almost die.”

“She has a sprained ankle,” Chan tells him, ignoring you completely. “So, obviously, we need a ride.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “We?”

Chan just nods like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. I have to make sure she gets home safe.”

You snort. “You just don’t want to go to your next class.”

Chan gasps, placing a dramatic hand over his chest. “How dare you? I am a devoted best friend who—okay, yeah, I also don’t want to go to class.”

Wonwoo sighs. “Unbelievable.” But despite all his complaints, he still opens the car door for you, because at the end of the day, Chan is his not-so-secret favorite.

As Chan helps you into the car, you glance up at Wonwoo, smirking. “You know you can say no to him, right?”

Wonwoo shuts the door and deadpans, “No, I can’t.”

From the driver’s seat, he glares at Chan. “And he knows that.”

Chan just grins, victorious. “I absolutely do.”

By the time Wonwoo pulls up in front of your apartment, you’re still trying to process the absolute insanity that is Lee Chan.

“You are not staying over,” you say firmly, already reaching for the car door handle.

Chan, completely ignoring you, hops out of the car and immediately rushes to your side to help you out because, despite how annoying he is, he still refuses to let you walk on your own.

Wonwoo rolls down his window, smirking. “Have fun dealing with him.”

You scowl. “You could stop him, you know.”

Wonwoo shrugs. “I could… but I won’t.” Then he turns to Chan. “Don’t burn her place down.”

Chan grins. “No promises!”

Wonwoo sighs like he’s questioning all of his life choices, then drives off, leaving you stuck with the human disaster next to you.

Chan slings your arm over his shoulder again, walking you toward the door. “Alright, let’s get you inside. Do you have food? Should I order something? Do you need pillows? A wheelchair? Life insurance?”

You groan. “Chan, you are not my nurse—”

“Yet here I am,” he says smugly, guiding you into the apartment. The moment you sit down on the couch, Chan kicks off his shoes and makes himself at home like he’s lived here his whole life.

Which, to be fair, he practically has.

He starts rummaging through your kitchen. “Okay, so what’s for dinner? Do you have anything edible?”

You glare at him. “How about you go home and eat there?”

He gasps, offended. “Wow. This is how you treat the person who ran across campus for you?”

You throw a pillow at him. “GO HOME.”

He catches it easily, tossing it onto the couch before coming over and sitting next to you. “Nope. Not happening.”

You sigh, leaning your head back. “Why are you like this?”

Chan shrugs. “Because you’re injured, and someone has to make sure you don’t do anything dumb again.”

You narrow your eyes. “You love calling me dumb, huh?”

He grins. “It’s because you are.”

You reach over to smack him, but he dodges, laughing.

Then, without warning, he stands up and claps his hands together. “Alright, let’s get you some food and then ice your ankle again.”

You stare at him.

And this is why everyone thinks the two of you are dating. Because, despite the relentless teasing, despite the arguing and the chaos that follows wherever you go—Chan is still Chan.

Caring. Attentive. There, always.

You sigh, finally giving up. “Fine. But you’re ordering.”

Chan grins, already pulling out his phone. “Knew you’d cave.”

You roll your eyes, but as he starts scrolling through food options, you can’t help but smile. Maybe having him around isn’t so bad.

Just as you’re about to get comfortable in bed, you hear Chan’s voice from the living room. At first, you assume he’s talking to himself—because honestly, he does that sometimes—but then you hear your mom’s name.

Your stomach drops.

Oh, no.

You push the door open just in time to hear him say “Yeah, she totally wiped out during gym class—sprained her ankle and everything.”

You gasp. “Chan, what the—”

He turns, holding up a finger to silence you while grinning like the menace he is. “Uh-huh. Exactly. She’s way too clumsy, Auntie. I keep telling her to be more careful, but does she listen? Nope.”

You limp toward him as fast as your injury allows. “Hang up! Right now!”

Chan dodges your grab like a trained professional and keeps talking. “No, no, she’s fine. I made sure of it. I called Wonwoo hyung to drive us home, wrapped her ankle properly, even made her eat dinner—” He pauses, then smirks. “Yeah, I am the best, aren’t I?”

You groan, flopping onto the couch in defeat. “I cannot believe you called my mom.”

Chan finally acknowledges you, holding out the phone. “She wants to talk to you.”

You glare. “I hate you.” You snatch the phone from his hand, pressing it to your ear. “Mom, I’m fine. I don’t know why Chan is making it sound like I barely survived.”

Your mother scoffs. “Because you’re you. Of course, I’m going to worry!”

You sigh. “I was going to tell you. Eventually.”

“Eventually?” she repeats. “If it weren’t for Chan, I wouldn’t have known at all!”

Chan smirks, leaning back on the couch. “You’re welcome.”

You glare at him, but your mom keeps going.

“You better listen to Chan and rest, okay? No unnecessary moving around!”

You groan. “Mom—”

“Promise me.”

You sigh. “Fine. I promise.”

“Good. Now give the phone back to Chan.”

“What? Why?”

Chan immediately reaches for the phone. “Because she likes me more.”

You slap his hand away but hand it over anyway. The moment he takes it, his entire tone changes. “Yes, Auntie? Oh, of course! I’ll make sure she rests. No funny business, I promise.”

You stare at him in horror. “You are such a suck-up.”

He waves you off, still charming your mother over the phone. “Yeah, I’ll stay over tonight just to make sure she doesn’t do anything dumb—”

“CHAN!”

He laughs but eventually wraps up the call, you scowl at him “I cannot believe you just did that.”

Chan shrugs, looking way too pleased with himself. “What can I say? Your mom adores me.”

You cross your arms. “You’re lucky my ankle is sprained, or I’d kick you out.”

A few days pass, and your ankle is mostly healed, which means Chan has finally stopped hovering like a mother hen.

Mostly.

(He still side-eyes you every time you walk too fast, but hey—progress.)

Now, though, you have another problem. Chan’s birthday is coming up. So is Valentine’s Day and because the universe apparently loves to make your life difficult, they’re only a few days apart.

You groan, flopping onto your bed as you scroll through your phone for ideas.

Something soccer-related? Too predictable.

Something music-related? He already has everything.

Something sentimental? Absolutely not.

You don’t even realize you’re pouting until you hear a familiar voice.

“What’s with that face?”

You jolt up. Chan is leaning against your doorframe, arms crossed, a very smug grin on his face.

You blink. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to see you looking miserable.” He tilts his head. “What, you failing a test or something?”

You scoff. “Excuse you, I don’t fail tests.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You scramble for an excuse. “Uh—thinking about what to eat.”

Chan snorts. “Wow. Must be so hard for you.”

"Fine I was thinking about what to get you for your birthday, what do you want?" You ask him

“A new soccer bag?”

“No.”

“Sneakers?”

“Nope.”

“A lifetime supply of banana milk?”

Chan actually pauses at that one, looking tempted. But then he shakes his head. “Nah.”

You groan, flopping onto his couch dramatically. “Chan. It’s your birthday. You have to want something.”

He smirks. “I do.”

You sit up immediately. “Okay, what? Tell me.”

He hesitates, then sighs, looking almost embarrassed. “You’re gonna laugh.”

“Oh, I’m definitely laughing now.”

Chan glares. “Never mind.”

“No, no, c’mon! Tell me!” You poke his arm. “What do you want?”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. Then, finally—after a ridiculous amount of dramatic silence—he mutters,

“Your brownies.”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

He shrugs, suddenly very interested in his hands. “Your brownies. The ones you bake sometimes.”

You stare at him, waiting for him to say more. That’s it? That’s what he wants? Not some expensive gift, not some rare collectible—just… brownies?

You snort. “You’re such a loser.”

Chan glares. “See? I knew you were gonna laugh!”

You grin. “I am laughing. But also—seriously? That’s all you want?”

He shrugs again. “Yeah. They’re my favorite.”

And okay, fine. Maybe that makes your heart do a tiny stupid little somersault. Instead, you stand up, stretching.

“Alright. If the birthday boy wants brownies, then the birthday boy gets brownies.”

Chan blinks. “Wait, really?”

You smirk. “Obviously. You think I’d deny you your wish for your birthday?”

“…Kinda, yeah.”

You grab a pillow and whack him with it.

Chan shows up at your place way too early for someone whose only birthday wish is brownies. You open the door, squinting. “Didn’t we agree on noon?”

He grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Yeah, but I got excited.”

You cross your arms. “You’re acting like I’m baking you a five-star gourmet meal and not just brownies.”

Chan gasps. “How dare you undermine the greatness of your brownies?”

You roll your eyes but step aside to let him in. He immediately makes himself at home, plopping onto the kitchen counter like he belongs there.

You narrow your eyes. “What are you doing?”

He shrugs. “Watching.”

“…Why?”

“Because I want to.”

You scoff. “Chan, it’s just brownies.”

“Exactly. My brownies. I need to make sure you don’t mess them up.”

You pick up a wooden spoon and point it at him. “You’re this close to getting kicked out.”

He grins. “No, I’m not.”

You sigh, shaking your head, and start gathering ingredients. The entire time, Chan stays glued to the counter, swinging his legs like an actual kid.

At one point, he even starts narrating. “And here we see the great baker in her natural habitat…”

You throw a marshmallow at him. “Shut up.”

He just laughs, completely unbothered.

But, honestly? The way his eyes light up every time you mix something, or pour the batter, or literally just exist is… kind of stupidly cute. You shove that thought way down.

Finally, after what feels like forever, you pull the brownies out of the oven.

Chan immediately tries to grab one.

You smack his hand away. “They’re hot, idiot.”

He pouts. “But it’s my birthday.”

You arch a brow. “And?”

He sighs dramatically, leaning back. “Wow. Some best friend you are.”

You roll your eyes but grab a fork, cutting off a tiny piece and blowing on it before holding it out.

Chan blinks. “Wait, you’re actually—?”

“Shut up and eat.”

He grins, leaning in to take the bite, and the second he does, his entire face lights up.

“Oh my God.” He looks so happy it’s ridiculous. “I forgot how good these are.”

You smirk. “Told you.”

Chan hums in satisfaction, still chewing. “Best birthday gift ever.”

And just like that, your stomach does that stupid flip again.

You ignore it. Instead, you grab a brownie for yourself and take a bite, leaning against the counter. “Happy birthday, loser.”

Chan, still grinning, nudges your shoulder. “Thanks, loser.”

You grab the brownies again, sticking a couple of candles in one. “Alright, birthday boy,” you say, lighting them up. “Make a wish.”

Chan chuckles but nods, clasping his hands together. He closes his eyes, his brows furrowing just slightly in thought. But then right before he blows out the candles his eyes snap open and land directly on you.

Your breath catches.

It’s only for a split second—just a moment of lingering eye contact—but it feels like something shifts.

Like maybe, just maybe, his wish has something to do with you.

And then the candles are out, the moment gone, and Chan is grinning like nothing happened. Chan leans back, watching the faint trail of smoke disappear from the extinguished candles. Then, with that smug-but-soft look of his, he says,

“This is the 26th birthday I’ve spent with you.”

You snort. “I mean, yeah. We’ve literally known each other since birth.”

Chan grins. “Exactly. That means I’ve never had a birthday without you.”

You roll your eyes. “That just means our moms were too obsessed with each other to celebrate separately.”

But Chan just shrugs. “Or maybe the universe knew I needed you.”

And just like that, your brain completely short-circuits.

You blink at him, your stomach doing that stupid flip again, and suddenly, you don’t know where to look. The worst part? He says it so casually. Like he isn’t out here dropping the most casually sentimental thing you’ve ever heard.

You clear your throat, forcing out a laugh. “Wow. That’s so cheesy. Who taught you that?”

Chan smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You grab a brownie and shove it into his mouth. “Stop talking.”

He just laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners, and chews happily.

And while he’s busy enjoying his food, you are left trying to process the very inconvenient warmth spreading through your chest.

After that moment with Chan, you tried to bury it in your mind and distract yourself with something else. So, naturally, you bury yourself in schoolwork.

Not that you want to—your professor kind of forces your hand when they assign a massive research project. But the only silver lining? You get partnered up with Mark Lee.

Yes, that Mark Lee.

The one who’s absurdly well-known on campus. The one who’s nice to everyone, always willing to help. The one who somehow juggles being an honor student, an athlete, and a musician all at once.

Basically, if people were ranked like K-pop idols, Mark would be in an A-list group with an unbreakable fanbase.

And now? He’s your project partner. Which is… fine. Great, even. Because Mark is cool, easy to work with, and always has some idea of what’s going on.

Somewhere across campus. Somehow Vernon found out maybe because he’s friends with Mark, but also because Vernon has a way of accidentally collecting information he never planned on having.

So, when he casually brings it up to Chan, he doesn’t expect a reaction.

“Yeah, I think they started their research today,” Vernon says, sipping his drink. “Mark was telling me they’re doing something on—”

“What?”

Vernon blinks. “Huh?”

Chan is frowning. “What do you mean they started their research?”

“I mean exactly that?” Vernon tilts his head. “Why?”

Chan crosses his arms, eyebrows furrowing. “She didn’t tell me about this.”

Vernon shrugs. “Maybe she forgot.”

Chan scoffs. “She doesn’t just forget things like this.”

Vernon watches him for a moment, then—because he is Vernon—he smirks. “Why? You jealous?”

Chan glares. “Shut up.”

But the way he immediately shoves a fry in his mouth—pointedly avoiding eye contact—tells Vernon everything he needs to know.

Meanwhile, you’re completely unaware of the conversation happening behind your back because, while Chan is sitting there having internal drama, you’re busy at the library, actually doing your work somewhere on campus with Mark.

Mark is surprisingly fun to work with. He’s got this easy-going energy that makes it impossible to be awkward around him. He listens, offers ideas, and never once makes you feel like you’re carrying the whole project alone.

At one point, while you’re deep in discussion, he suddenly grins.

“You know, I was kind of hoping I’d get partnered with you.”

You blink. “Wait, really? Why?”

Mark laughs. “Because you’re, like, insanely good at research. Plus, I figured it’d be fun.”

You tilt your head. “And how do you know I’m good at research?”

He shrugs. “Vernon”

Later Chan is walking around campus after his last class finished. Too lost in his own thoughts.

Chan is not the jealous type. Really, he isn’t.

But the second he hears Vernon say—so casually—that you and Mark have been spending time together, something in his brain just… short-circuits because why didn’t you tell him? You tell him everything. Even the stupid, mundane stuff like how your coffee order was wrong or how your neighbor’s cat was staring at you weirdly again.

So why didn’t this come up?

It’s not that he’s mad. He just… doesn’t like it and now, thanks to Vernon, he’s stuck thinking about it all day.

By the time you meet up with him after your classes, he’s already decided: He needs to casually bring it up.

(Casually.)

So, as you walk beside him, he tries to sound as neutral as possible.

“Sooo… how’s the research going?”

You glance at him, unaware of the ridiculous amount of effort he’s putting into sounding normal. “It’s fine. Why?”

Chan shrugs. “Just wondering.”

A beat.

Then, as if completely unaware of the landmine she’s stepping on, you say—

“Mark’s actually really nice. I get why Vernon’s friends with him.”

Oh, come on.

Chan swallows. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah. He’s easy to work with. He’s, like… I don’t know. Just a chill, friendly guy, y’know?”

Chan forces a smile. “Right. Chill. Friendly.”

You glance at him, frowning slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah! Totally!” (Lie.)

You squint. “You’re making that face.”

Chan panics. “What face?”

“That face you make when you don’t like something but don’t wanna say it.”

Chan scoffs. “What? No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You just stare. Chan sweats. Then... because he’s actually losing this battle... he finally gives in and mutters,

“…Why didn’t you tell me you got partnered with Mark?”

You blink. “Huh?”

Chan shrugs, too casually. “I mean, usually you tell me about this stuff.”

You tilt your head, genuinely confused. “I dunno. I guess I didn’t think it was a big deal?”

Chan scoffs before he can stop himself. “Right. Totally not a big deal.”

You narrow your eyes. “Okay, what is your problem?”

Chan exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t have a problem.”

“Really? Because you sound like you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t!”

A few seconds pass before you smile at him, “Oh my God. That’s what this is about?”

Chan scowls. “What do you mean ‘that’s what this is about?’”

You laugh. “You’re jealous.”

Chan chokes. “WHAT?!”

You grin. “Oh, this is amazing. You’re actually jealous.”

“I—no! I’m not!”

“You so are.”

“I’M NOT!”

You just keep grinning and Chan just keeps suffering. Because, yeah. Maybe he is a little jealous. Maybe he doesn’t like the idea of someone else getting your time and attention.

You nudge him playfully. "Chan, it's just schoolwork."

He scoffs, still not looking at you. "Still."

You grin. "Okay, okay, from now on, I solemnly swear to tell you about every single homework, every test, every research project I have."

Chan rolls his eyes. "You’re so dramatic."

You smirk. "Oh no, I'm serious. Next time I get assigned a two-page essay, you will be the first to know. If I have a pop quiz, you will hear about it immediately. If I even think about studying, I’ll text you."

Chan groans. "I regret saying anything."

You laugh. "Nope, too late. You signed up for this."

He shakes his head, finally glancing at you with the smallest smile. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” you say, looping your arm through his, “you’re still here.”

Chan sighs, letting you drag him along. "Unfortunately."

But the way his fingers lightly squeeze your arm?

Yeah. He doesn't mind one bit.

The next day, you meet up with Mark at the library as planned. He’s already there when you arrive, flipping through research papers with that easygoing, friendly energy he’s known for.

“Hey,” he greets with a grin. “Ready to be academically tortured?”

You laugh. “Oh, absolutely.”

The two of you get to work, sifting through sources, bouncing ideas off each other. You’re making solid progress when, about an hour in, your phone buzzes.

Chan: Having fun with your new research husband?

You snort so loudly Mark looks up. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, typing back a response.

You: Wow, someone’s checking in? Cute. Chan: I’m not checking in. I’m just making sure you didn’t forget your REAL best friend exists.

You roll your eyes, but your smile lingers as you turn back to work.

By the time you finish and say goodbye to Mark, it’s dark outside. Your legs are stiff from sitting too long, and all you want is food and maybe a nap.

You check your phone—no new messages from Chan since earlier.

Weird. Usually, he at least texts about what he’s doing. Without thinking too much about it, you head toward your usual café. And sure enough there he is.

Chan is sitting by the window, a drink in front of him, scrolling through his phone. He looks normal. Unbothered. But when you walk in, his eyes immediately flick up to meet yours, like he was waiting.

You grin, sliding into the seat across from him. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “Wow. You survived the date.”

You laugh. “It wasn’t a date.”

“Sure.”

You roll your eyes. “It was schoolwork, oh jealous one.”

“I am not jealous.”

“Mmm.”

Chan glares. “Didn’t you say you were busy tonight?”

“I was,” you say, “but now I’m free. So lucky you, I can spend the rest of Valentine’s Day with my real best friend.”

Chan blinks. His grip on his cup tightens for a fraction of a second. Then, casually, he mutters, “So you do care.”

You snort. “Obviously. I can’t let you wallow alone on the most romantic day of the year.”

He sighs dramatically. “And here I thought I’d finally be free from your annoying presence.”

You grin. “Never.”

Chan just shakes his head, but he gestures toward the counter. “Go order. I already know you’re gonna steal my food.”

You laugh and head up to order, feeling lighter. What you don’t see is the small, almost relieved smile Chan has as he watches you go.

After ordering you slide back into the seat, but instead of sitting across from him you plop down right beside him. Close enough that your arm brushes against his.

Chan pauses mid-sip of his drink, side-eyeing you. “…What are you doing?”

You blink up at him innocently. “Giving you attention.”

His eyes narrow. “Why?”

You grin. “Because I know you’ve been sulking all day.”

Chan scoffs, setting his cup down with an unnecessary amount of force. “I have not been sulking.”

You hum. “Mmm. And denial is river in Egypt” You shake your head, resting your chin on his shoulder dramatically. “Well, since my not-jealous best friend has been neglected all day, I’m here now.”

Chan rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the way his body relaxes slightly. “…Took you long enough.”

You nudge him. “Aww, you missed me.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I really didn’t.”

You grin, lifting your head. “So, what are we doing for the rest of the night? I assume you have no plans with some mystery Valentine?”

Chan gives you a look. “If I had one, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

“Ouch.”

He snickers, nudging your knee with his. “You’re the one who ditched me today.”

You sigh dramatically. “And I have seen the error of my ways.” You gesture to yourself. “That’s why I’m here now, making up for it.”

Chan hums, pretending to think. “…Alright. I’ll allow it.”

You giggle. “How gracious of you.”

He smirks, leaning back against the seat. “You do owe me, though.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Chan tilts his head toward you, eyes glinting. “Yeah. For every hour you spent with Mark today, you owe me double in quality time.”

Your jaw drops. “Double?!”

“Yep.” He stretches his arms behind his head smugly. “You better clear your schedule.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Chan, you’ve been hogging my time for the past 26 years and no one’s complaining.”

“That’s different.”

“Oh? How?”

Chan shrugs. “I have dibs.”

“Dibs?! On my entire life?”

He nods, completely serious. “Obviously.”

You laugh, nudging his shoulder. “You are ridiculous.”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You know, I could’ve had plans.”

You give him a look. “Chan. If you had plans, you wouldn’t be sitting in our usual café, waiting for me to show up.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Then he sighs, slumping in defeat. “…Okay, fine. Maybe I was waiting for you.”

You smirk in victory. “Knew it.”

Chan rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans back against the booth, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“You know,” he mutters, “26 years is a long time.”

You nod. “Yep. And you’ve had me all to yourself.”

He hums. “Guess that’s why it felt weird today.”

Your smirk falters slightly. “…Weird how?”

Chan shrugs, playing with the lid of his cup. “I dunno. Just—off. Like something was missing.”

You stare at him, heart doing something stupid. Again. Because it’s just Chan. Your best friend. The person who’s always been there, in sync with you like it’s second nature.

But right now, under the dim café lights, with his fingers absentmindedly fidgeting and his voice softer than usual…

It feels like something else.

Like something more.

You clear your throat, forcing a grin. “Well, lucky for you, I’m here now.”

Chan glances at you, then smiles. Small, but warm.

“Yeah,” he says. “You are.”

Chan is dying.

Okay, maybe that’s dramatic, but come on.

Coach ran them extra hard today, and his legs feel like lead. He barely had time to grab his stuff before running out of the locker room—because the moment he saw your text saying, “At the café near campus,” he was already out the door.

And now, standing outside the café, sweaty and exhausted, he immediately spots you through the window. You’re at a small table, sipping on an iced drink, scrolling through your phone.

And sitting across from you?

Mark.

Chan stops dead in his tracks.

Oh. It’s him again.

His grip tightens around the strap of his sports bag. He tells himself to be rational. You and Mark are literally just research partners. You even told him that but that doesn’t stop the annoyance bubbling up in his chest as he watches you laugh at something Mark says.

Taking a deep breath, Chan pushes the door open.

The little bell above the entrance chimes, and when you look up, your face immediately brightens.

“Chan!”

Mark turns to glance at him too, offering a polite nod.

Chan doesn’t even acknowledge him.

Instead, he plops himself into the empty seat next to you—not across, because that would leave Mark sitting across from both of you, and he refuses to make this feel like some group bonding activity.

You blink at him. “Wow. You look rough.”

Chan exhales heavily, dropping his bag to the floor. “Gee, thanks.”

You giggle, pushing your drink toward him. “Here, you can have some”

Chan takes a long sip, shooting a triumphant look at Mark over the rim of the straw. Mark, to his credit, looks completely unbothered.

Chan hates him.

“So,” you say, turning back to Mark, “you were saying?”

Mark nods. “Yeah, I was thinking we should finalize our thesis outline by this weekend.”

Chan immediately cuts in. “Oh, this weekend?” He tilts his head. “Didn’t you say you were busy this weekend?”

You frown. “Did I?”

“Yes.”

“No, I didn’t?”

“You definitely did.”

You stare at him for a second before realization dawns. “Ohhh. You mean your game?”

Chan shrugs. “Well, yeah. You always watch.”

That was not meant to sound like an accusation, but it kind of came out like one. Mark raises an eyebrow, but wisely chooses to sip his drink instead of commenting.

You sigh. “Chan, it’s just research. I can do both.”

Chan hums in response, taking another sip of your drink. He knows he’s being a little ridiculous. But the thing is Mark is too nice. Too polite. Too unbothered by Chan’s presence.

And for some reason, that pisses him off.

You, completely oblivious, nudge him. “Why are you acting weird again?”

Chan scoffs. “I’m not acting weird.”

Mark snorts.

Chan glares at him.

Mark glances between you and Chan, his expression unreadable. Then, casually, he tilts his head and asks, “Should I go?”

You blink. “Huh? Why?”

Chan, who was mid-sip of your drink, almost chokes. Yes, Mark. Please go.

Mark shrugs. “I mean…” He gestures vaguely at Chan. “Seems like I’m interrupting something.”

You frown. “What? No, you’re not—”

Chan, at the exact same time, goes, “Yeah, maybe.”

Silence.

You whip your head around to stare at Chan while Mark raises an eyebrow, amused.

Chan clears his throat, suddenly realizing he’s about to get murdered. “I mean, you know,” he backtracks quickly, “if you have to go, I wouldn’t stop you.”

Mark just grins, sipping his drink like he didn’t just blow up Chan’s entire existence.

Mark stands, grabbing his bag. “Well, I’ll head out then. See you in class.”

You nod, smiling. “Yeah, see you!”

Chan leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “Yeah, bye.”

Mark pauses just before turning away, glancing back at the two of you with a very amused expression. “Oh, by the way—if I don’t reply later, it’s ‘cause I’m picking my girlfriend up.”

Silence.

Chan blinks.

You blink.

Mark just smiles and gives Chan a little pat on the shoulder. “Take care, man.”

Then he walks off, leaving devastation in his wake. You slowly turn to look at Chan, eyes wide. “Did he just—”

Chan stares blankly at the table. Processing.

“…You were sulking,” you say, voice shaking with laughter. “You were jealous—”

“I was not,” Chan says immediately.

You cackle. “You were so jealous—”

“I was not!”

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, grabbing his arm. “And for what?”

Chan groans, dropping his head onto the table. “I hate him.”

You pat his back, still dying of laughter. “At least now you know you were literally competing with nobody.”

Chan lifts his head just enough to squint at you. “Shut up.”

You grin. “Make me.”

Chan groans again, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

You shake your head, beaming. “Not a chance.”

The walk home is quiet—well, mostly quiet, aside from your occasional giggles at Chan’s expense. He pretends not to hear them. It’s fine. He deserves this but as the two of you turn onto your street, you suddenly stop walking.

Chan takes a few more steps before realizing you’re not beside him anymore. He turns back and sees you standing there, arms wide open.

He squints. “What… are you doing?”

You tilt your head, like it’s obvious. “You looked like you needed a hug.”

Chan blinks. “What?”

You wiggle your fingers at him. “Come on.”

Chan stares at you.

It’s not like you’ve never hugged before—you guys grew up together. But something about you standing there, arms stretched out just for him, makes his chest feel… weird.

And maybe it’s because of how stupid he feels about the whole Mark thing. Or because you’ve been making fun of him all day.

Or maybe it’s just because you always know exactly what he needs.

Chan sighs. “This is dumb.”

You grin. “And yet, you’re already moving.”

He grumbles under his breath but steps forward anyway, letting you wrap your arms around him. Maybe he did need this.

Your warmth seeps through his hoodie, and without thinking, he buries his face into your shoulder, exhaling softly.

You squeeze him a little tighter. “See? Was that so hard?”

Chan rolls his eyes but doesn’t let go. “Shut up.”

You laugh, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Never.”

And just like that, the weight in his chest feels a little lighter.

Chan barely makes it through his front door before he’s pulling out his phone. He flops onto his bed, staring at the ceiling for a moment before dialing Vernon.

It rings twice before Vernon picks up. “What’s up?”

Chan sighs, rubbing his face. “I think something’s wrong with me.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, in the most casual, bored tone, Vernon goes, “So you finally realize it.”

Chan frowns, sitting up. “Wait, what?”

Vernon hums like he’s not just blowing up Chan’s entire world. “Took you long enough.”

Chan blinks. “Took me long enough for what?”

Vernon sighs, like this is painfully obvious. “To realize you like her, dude.”

Chan chokes. “I—what?!”

Vernon laughs. “Oh, come on. You sulked over Mark for days. You act like she’s your entire world. You’re literally on the phone with me right now calling me out of nowhere because don’t know what to do with yourself.”

Chan freezes.

Vernon keeps going, completely unbothered. “You like her, man. Have for a while, probably. Honestly, it’s funny you’re only figuring it out now.”

Chan stares at the ceiling. His brain is short-circuiting.

“Chan?”

Chan swallows. “...Holy shit.”

Vernon chuckles. “Yup.”

Chan groans, collapsing back onto his bed. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

Vernon hums, like he’s thinking. “I don’t know… maybe do something about it?”

Chan groans again. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Vernon laughs. “No, man. This is just the beginning.”

The stadium lights cast a bright glow over the field, illuminating the players as they jog back toward the sidelines for halftime. The crowd is buzzing with excitement, but Chan?

Chan is looking for you.

He spotted you the second you arrived—rushing into the stands, slightly out of breath, still in your meeting outfit, clearly freezing because of course you forgot your jacket.

Chan huffs, running straight past his teammates and into the locker room.

“Yo, where are you going?” one of them calls after him.

“Be right back!” he shouts over his shoulder, already digging through his locker.

He finds his jacket in a heap with his other stuff, grabs it, and runs back out before anyone can say anything. You’re sitting on the bleachers, rubbing your arms, trying to look like you’re not turning into a popsicle.

“Are you serious?” Chan says as he reaches you, already draping his jacket over your shoulders.

You blink up at him. “What?”

He sighs, crouching down in front of you so you’re at eye level. “It’s freezing.”

You grin sheepishly. “Yeah, but I made it.”

Chan scowls, zipping the jacket up for you. “You could’ve at least brought something.”

“I was in a rush!” you argue. “Didn’t wanna miss your game!”

Chan pauses.

He’s so busy being annoyed that you forgot your jacket, he almost forgets that you ran here straight from your meeting, just so you wouldn’t miss this.

His lips press together, and instead of scolding you again, he just pulls the hood up over your head, gently adjusting it so it covers your ears.

“…Just stay warm, okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, smiling. “Okay.”

He rolls his eyes but jogs back onto the field, suddenly way more determined than before.

Because now?

Now he’s really got something to win for.

You see it happen—one second, Chan’s dribbling up the field, focused, quick on his feet. The next, an opponent slams into him way too hard, sending him crashing to the ground.

Your heart stops.

“Hey!” you shout, already moving before you can think.

Chan's tough. He knows how to take a hit. But that was too much. your hands ball into fists as you march down the stands, ready to do God-knows-what to the other player, but before you can get very far, two hands clamp down on your shoulders.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Vernon says, physically holding you bac

You struggle against his grip. “Did you see that?!”

“Yes,” Vernon sighs. “And so did the ref, so sit down”

“Let me go, I just wanna talk,” you lie, glaring daggers at the guy who knocked Chan over

Wonwoo, sitting beside Seungkwan, lifts a brow. “Yeah, I don’t believe that.”

Seungkwan nods solemnly. “She’s about to ruin that man’s career.”

“Or his life,” Wonwoo adds

“I should!” you snap. “Did you see the way he slammed into Chan?! He didn’t even go for the ball!”

Vernon grunts as you try to lunge forward again. “Okay, nope, that’s enough violence for today.”

You huff, crossing your arms as you watch Chan sit on the bench, stretching his legs. He doesn’t look hurt. More annoyed than anything

“Relax,” Vernon mutters, finally loosening his grip on you. “Chan’s fine. He just needs a minute.”

You sigh, watching as Chan gets back up, shaking out his arms. He glances toward the stands, spots you, and gives you a little nod like he knows exactly what just happened.

You nod back.

He smiles.

Yeah. That guy is lucky Vernon was holding you back.

The game ends with a win, and as soon as the whistle blows, you’re already making your way down the stands. By the time you reach the field, Chan is grinning, sweaty, and very pleased with himself.

But before he can say anything, you grab his face, squishing his cheeks between your palms

“Are you okay?!” you demand, inspecting him like he’s a fragile antique.

Chan blinks at you, lips puffed from how you’re holding his face. “Mmmf—I’mm ffine—”

“Are you sure?” You narrow your eyes, turning his face side to side. “Nothing hurts? No bruises? No internal injuries?”

He pulls your hands off his face, laughing. “I promise, I’m fine.”

You scoff, unconvinced. “I almost fought someone for you, you know.”

“I know.” Chan grins. “I saw Vernon holding you back.”

Vernon, who’s just approaching with Seungkwan and Wonwoo, smirks. “Yeah, she was this close to committing a felony.”

Chan snorts. “I believe it.”

“I should have, honestly,” you mutter. “That guy slammed into you for no reason.”

“He’s just bitter we were winning,” Chan shrugs, tossing his arm over your shoulder. “Doesn’t matter now.”

“You matter,” you grumble, still clearly not over it.

Chan freezes for a fraction of a second.

Then, with the smuggest grin, he nudges you. “Aww, you care about me.”

You roll your eyes. “Unfortunately.”

Chan just keeps grinning, pulling you closer as the five of you walk off the field. “Let’s go eat. I think our future convict here needs to blow off some steam.”

You sigh. “If I ever do fight someone for you, you better appreciate it.”

Chan just laughs, squeezing your shoulder.

“Oh, I would.”

After the game and grabbing dinner with the others. You and Chan walk side by side, the night quiet except for the occasional passing car and the sound of your footsteps on the pavement. You can’t help but glance at him again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask for what has to be the tenth time.

Chan lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t believe me, huh?”

You shrug. “I just… I worry.”

His laughter dies down a little, replaced by something softer. Something fond.

“You’re cute when you do that,” he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Your face warms. “Shut up.”

“I mean it.” He grins. “But I promise—nothing hurts, I’m all good. Really.”

You study his face, searching for any sign of discomfort, any hidden pain he’s trying to play off. But there’s nothing. Just Chan, looking at you with that annoyingly charming smile.

“…Fine,” you mutter, finally giving in.

Chan tilts his head, watching you for a moment before he asks, “Do you need a hug?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Huh?”

“You’ve been worrying all night,” he says with a knowing smile. “Do you need a hug?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “I don’t—” nut before you can finish, Chan steps closer and wraps you up in his arms. Warm, solid, him.

Your face immediately finds his shoulder. “I didn’t say yes.”

He chuckles, his chest rumbling against yours. “Yeah, but you also didn’t say no.”

You stay like that for a second, the cold forgotten, the streetlights casting a soft glow around you. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

“…Okay, maybe I did need a hug,” you admit, voice muffled.

Chan laughs again, his chin resting lightly on your head. “Told you.”

Chan’s arms tighten around you just a little, like he knows you need this, even if you won’t say it out loud. The night air is cold, but he’s warm—steady in a way that makes your shoulders finally relax.

He leans down slightly, voice soft, just for you. “I’m okay,” he whispers.

You feel it more than you hear it—the quiet reassurance, the way he’s always quick to put you at ease. Your fingers tighten slightly on the back of his hoodie. “…You better be.”

He smiles against your hair. “You really like worrying about me, huh?”

You sigh dramatically. “I don’t like it. You make me.”

Chan chuckles, and you swear you feel his laugh more than you hear it. “Noted.”

He doesn’t pull away just yet. He lets you hold on, lets you breathe. And when you finally do pull back, he’s looking at you with that same too-soft gaze.

“Better now?” he asks.

You roll your eyes, but the small nod you give him doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Good,” he murmurs.

And just like that, with the weight of the night feeling a little lighter, you keep walking—Chan’s hand brushing against yours the whole way home.

“I’m fucked.”

Vernon, who had been peacefully scrolling through his phone, barely glanced up. “Uh… why?”

Chan opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

Then he groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Because. I like her.”

Now, that got Vernon’s attention. He locked his phone and turned fully to face him, eyebrows raised. “You just realized this?”

Chan threw his arms up. “I didn’t—I mean, I did, but not like—like this.”

Vernon stared. “Like what?”

Chan looked completely distressed, gripping his hair like the weight of the universe had just crashed onto his shoulders. “Like—I see her all the time and it’s normal. It’s us. But last night, when she hugged me—” He cut himself off, inhaling sharply.

Vernon’s lips twitched. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Shut up!” Chan groaned again. “It’s different now. I felt different. And I keep thinking about it and—” He turned to Vernon, his expression so genuinely confused. “Why the hell does my chest feel weird?”

Vernon gave him a look. “Chan.”

“What?”

Vernon sighed, shaking his head. “You’re so late to your own love story, bro.”

Chan frowned. “What—”

“Everyone knew,” Vernon continued. “Seungkwan, Wonwoo, me. Your moms, dude. Everybody saw this coming.”

Chan looked genuinely offended. “No one told me?!”

Vernon deadpanned. “Told you? You grew up with her. How did you not know?”

Chan was still reeling, sitting there like his entire life had just been rewritten in real time. His best friend. The girl who had been by his side for 26 years. The person he’d trusted more than anyone.

He liked you. No—he was in love with you.

And then, like the universe was out to personally ruin him, you appeared. Literally skipping across the courtyard, beaming like the happiest person alive, your eyes instantly finding his like they always did.

And just like that, the world slowed down.

Chan swore he stopped breathing.

The way the sun hit your face just right, the way your hair bounced with every skip, the way you waved like you hadn’t seen him in years when in reality, it had been less than 24 hours—

He was so done for.

"Chan!" you called, finally reaching them, breathless and so effortlessly beautiful it made his head spin.

And suddenly, all he could think about was—

How had he not noticed this before?

How had he been so blind?

You grinned, practically glowing. “Guess what?”

Chan blinked. Right. Words. He needed words.

Vernon, still beside him, smirked knowingly. That traitor.

“Uh—what?” Chan finally managed, his voice a little too tight.

You rocked on your heels, still smiling. “Mark and I finally finished our research paper! I am so free.”

Chan was barely processing the words. He was too busy looking at you, at the way your nose scrunched when you were excited, at how you were standing so close, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He swallowed hard. “T-That’s… great.”

You tilted your head, squinting at him. “You okay?”

Vernon snorted.

Chan stiffened. “I—I’m fine.”

Lies. He was not fine.

Because now, standing there, looking at you like this—like he was seeing you for the first time—one single, undeniable thought hit him like a truck:

He was completely in love with you.

And he was absolutely doomed.

He didn't say anything. He was still your Chan. Your bestfriend. But there are moments when he makes your heart skip a few beats, leaving you all flustered.

You’re standing between the tall shelves of the library, flipping through the pages of a book, when you feel it. Someone standing just a little too close behind you. Before you can turn around, a weight settles on your shoulder.

Chan.

His chin rests there like it belongs, his voice low and lazy in your ear. “Whatcha reading?”

You nearly drop the book.

“Jesus, Chan,” you hiss, pressing a hand to your chest. “Do you have to sneak up on people like that?”

He chuckles but doesn’t move away. If anything, he shifts just slightly, his warmth pressing against your back. “It’s not sneaking. You just weren’t paying attention.”

You glare at him over your shoulder. “I was focused.”

“Same thing.” He tilts his head, glancing at the book in your hands. “So? What’s got you so absorbed that you didn’t even notice your best friend coming to find you?”

You swallow, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he is.

“This,” you say, holding up the book between you.

He hums, reaching around you to take it, his fingers brushing against yours. Your breath catches.

“Boring,” he announces after a quick scan, grinning as he hands it back.

You scoff. “You didn’t even read it.”

“Didn’t have to. Your face says it all.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart is hammering. This is just Chan, you tell yourself. He’s always been touchy, always been playful.

But lately, it feels… different.

You clear your throat. “What are you doing here anyway?”

He shrugs. “Saw your text that you were studying, figured I’d come keep you company.”

You glance up at him, and for a second, something warm flickers in his gaze before he schools his expression back to his usual easygoing smile.

Chan doesn’t say much after that hr just follows you back to the table, plopping down beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You try to focus on your work, but it’s impossible when he’s right beside you, radiating warmth.

“What?” you finally ask, glancing at him.

He blinks, as if he hadn’t even realized you were looking. “What?”

“You’re just… sitting there.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. You said you were finishing up, so I’m waiting.”

You narrow your eyes. “And that’s all?”

He grins. “What else would I be doing?”

You don’t have an answer for that, so you roll your eyes and turn back to your notes. There goes your heart doing that thing again.

You keep it to yourself for a while. You don’t know how to bring it up, or if you even should. It’s just… a mess in your head—your best friend, your always-there person, and now this whole new feeling you don’t know how to deal with.

But Chan? He’s really not helping. He does things like when you’re crossing the street together, and he just grabs your hand. Or when you’re walking home late, and you don’t even get a chance to complain about the cold because he’s already draping his jacket over your shoulders. Then, without asking, he zips it up for you, tugging the collar up so it shields your neck.

“There,” he says, satisfied. “Better.”

You nod dumbly, gripping the sleeves.

You’re trying so hard to act normal, but he’s making it impossible. Because every time he does something like this, you feel it—the way your heart jumps, the way warmth pools in your stomach, the way you suddenly have to remind yourself to breathe.

And the worst part?

He does it so casually, like he has no idea what he’s doing to you.

That was one of the most intense matches you’d ever sat through.

Your fingers are still clenched into your jacket sleeves, your heart still hammering from the last few minutes of the game. It had been a close one—too close. The score had been tied until the very last moment, when Chan made the final play, twisting through defenders with the kind of sharp, practiced movement that had the entire crowd holding its breath.

And then—goal.

The stadium erupted. Cheers, chants, the entire team practically tackling each other in celebration. The air was electric, filled with so much adrenaline you could feel it buzzing under your skin.

But Chan?

He didn’t care about the noise, or the people, or anything else happening around him. Because the moment the whistle blew, the moment victory was secured he turned. His eyes searched the stands, frantic and determined, scanning every face, every row—until they found you.

And then he was running.

Your breath caught as he sprinted toward you, weaving past teammates and coaches like they weren’t even there. You froze for half a second—then melted.

His body was warm, even through his jersey damp with sweat, his heartbeat still racing under your cheek. He smelled like the field, like grass and effort and something distinctly him. His arms stayed firm around you, like he had no plans of letting go anytime soon.

“I knew you’d be here,” he murmured, his voice slightly breathless, and you felt his smile against your hair.

“Where else would I be?” you mumbled back, your hands gripping the fabric of his jersey.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, and the intensity in his gaze made your stomach flip. His eyes were shining, excitement and relief and something else swirling in them, something you couldn’t quite name.

You just stood there, still feeling the ghost of Chan’s hug around you, your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

You had no idea what just happened but you knew one thing for sure. It was getting harder and harder to pretend you didn’t feel the same.

Just as the team was pulling him into their celebration, just as you thought he’d be too distracted by the victory, Chan did something that completely knocked the air from your lungs.

He turned back.

His eyes found yours again, cutting through the chaos like nothing else mattered. He took a step closer, placed his hands on your shoulders then, softly, gently, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

The world stopped.

His lips lingered for a second longer than necessary, like he wasn’t in a rush to pull away. And when he finally did, he rested his forehead against yours for the briefest moment, eyes still closed, his breath warm against your skin.

Then, with a small smile, he whispered, “Thank you for always being here.”

And just like that, he was gone—yanked back into the mass of his teammates, laughter and cheers swallowing him whole.

But you?

You were frozen in place, gripping the front of your jacket like it could somehow hold you together, like it could somehow stop the way your heart was pounding against your ribs.

Chan had taken his time in the locker room, letting the adrenaline from the game settle. He changed into a fresh hoodie and sweatpants, ran a towel through his damp hair, and finally slung his bag over his shoulder.

He expected the field to be empty when he walked back out, expected the stands to be deserted and the night to be quiet—everyone had left by now but you were still there.

Standing alone in the middle of the field, arms wrapped around yourself against the chilly night air, looking up at the sky.

He took a deep breath and walked toward you.

“You’re gonna catch a cold standing out here,” he called out, his voice cutting through the quiet.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your expression unreadable. But when he got closer, he noticed the way your fingers were gripping your sleeves—the same way they did when you were nervous, or thinking too hard about something.

“You didn’t go with the others?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I… just wanted to stay here for a little while.”

Something was different.

The way you were looking at him—the way you weren’t looking away.

The way the silence between you wasn’t awkward, but heavy, like something was waiting to be said.

And then you took a small step closer.

“You really meant it, didn’t you?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Chan swallowed. “Meant what?”

You gave him a look—one that told him you weren’t going to let him play dumb.

“Everything,” you said. “The way you look at me. The way you act around me. The way you kissed me—” You stopped, visibly flustered, then corrected yourself. “—kissed my forehead.”

Chan felt his heart trip over itself.

“I—” He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. I meant it.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you. The girl he’d grown up with. The person who knew him better than anyone else. The one who had always been by his side, no matter what.

And suddenly, he felt like an idiot for ever thinking he could hide it. The world could’ve ended right then and there, and he wouldn’t have noticed.

Because you—you—were looking at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

And he knew, without a doubt, that he had never, ever been happier.

You took a small breath, looked at him, and softly said,

“I need a hug.”

His stomach flipped, he didn’t even hesitate he closed the distance between you in a second, arms wrapping around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head as he pulled you in.

Chan exhaled slowly, resting his chin against the top of your head. He felt you sigh against his chest, your arms tightening around his waist, like you weren’t planning on letting go anytime soon.

One second, he was looking at you, heart racing, the realization sinking in that this was real, that you were real, and the next—

He kissed you.

It was instinctive, like muscle memory, like something he was always meant to do. His lips barely brushed yours before he pulled back, eyes wide, breath shaky, as if he was waiting for you to push him away, to laugh it off, to pretend it never happened.

But you didn’t.

Instead, before he could say anything—before he could even process it—you grabbed the front of his hoodie and yanked him right back in.

Chan barely had time to gasp before your lips were on his again, firmer this time, more sure, like you had been waiting for this, too.

And God, if that wasn’t enough to completely wreck him.

His hands found your waist again, fingers gripping tightly as he kissed you back without hesitation, letting himself get lost in you, in the way you fit against him, in the way your lips moved with his like you’d done this a hundred times before.

Like you should have done this a hundred times before.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathless, foreheads resting against each other, the only sound between you the quiet hum of the night and the pounding of your hearts.

Chan let out a shaky laugh. “So… are we still pretending we don’t know what this is?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, but the small, breathless smile on your lips gave you away. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

Chan grinned. “Gladly.”

BONUS SCENE:

“Pay up,” Seungkwan whispered, holding out his hand expectantly.

Vernon groaned, fishing out a few bills from his wallet and slapping them into Seungkwan’s palm. “I really thought they’d take another year.”

Wonwoo, leaning casually against the bleachers with his arms crossed, smirked. “Nah. Chan’s been a goner since middle school. This was inevitable.”

Seungkwan grinned, smug. “Told you. The universe had this scripted ages ago.”

Down on the field, completely oblivious to their audience, you and Chan were still lost in each other, exchanging quiet words and stolen kisses under the stadium lights.

Vernon shook his head with a sigh. “Do we tell them we’ve been watching?”

Wonwoo gave him a flat look. “Do you want to die?”

Seungkwan snorted. “Exactly. Let’s just let them have their moment. We can make fun of them after.”

Vernon sighed again but nodded. “Fine. But just so we’re clear…” He glanced back down at you and Chan, who were still completely wrapped up in each other.

“…We are never letting them live this down.”

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woozivrsefactry · 27 days ago

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When the theme is "hating on other groups and idols to uplift your faves" and congrats every other k-pop fan is winning that nowadays because why the fuck did I just find an instagram page which is basically an svt (and occasional straykids and exo) hate account just because some army kid needs to do that to show that bts is better.

Because why are we comparing yoongi's and woozi's music it's literally two very different styles? Why are we laughing at some random dance mistake hoshi made just to show bts dance line is better? Why are we literally bodyshaming scoups wheelchair bod right after his surgery stage? Why are we calling shaming Jeonghan's feminine features and hairstyle? Why are we hating chinese line for literally just their ethnicity? Why are we calling mingyu a pick me for, oh my god, just being FRIENDS with Jungkook!?

Bringing down other idols ain't doing shit. And this is so annoying because there are so many accounts like this targetting other groups under the pretense of uplifting their faves.

Sincerely, fuck you.

#svt #seventeen #olietalk #kpop #bts #this post isn't about haring bts or armies in general #but #why are we srill doing this #can we not just stan our groups peacefully?#like armies and carats were literally supposed to be the bestfriend fandoms #worst thing is this person isnt some random 12 yo schoolgirl its a grown ass 25 yo #shame.

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 11 months ago

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X Marks the Spot - K.SY

🏴‍☠️Who; Kwon Soonyoung (Seventeen) x female reader 🏴‍☠️What; Humour. Bestfriends to lovers. I guess some tiny fluff? Adult themes. 🏴‍☠️Wordcount; 5.8k 🏴‍☠️Warnings; Profanity. Party typical alcohol mentions but neither SY nor reader are drinking. Kind of jealous/possessive Soonyoung. Making out in public places. The whole point of this story is Soonyoung in a costume marketed for women, so if that's not your vibe then this story is not for you, friend.

Summary; You stupidly left the job of buying your costumes for the party down to Soonyoung, and now you're paying for it and have to spend the night watching him dancing in those little shorts initially intended for you.

Although there isn't any smut, this is definitely an 18+ fic so Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N; this is all because I can't get the thought of Soonyoung in the pirate outfit from my "Sexy costumes for Seventeen to wear" post out of my head. made myself feral with that one.

Edited: 21/12/24

Completely out of the blue last week, Seungkwan decided to send a message in the group chat to say that he's throwing a costume party. No reason for it, nothing had happened to warrant a party; he had simply decided he wanted to do it and demanded the entire group be there and in costume.

Soonyoung had, unsurprisingly, already been by your side on our couch watching the latest episode of the drama you two were obsessed with, when the message came through. After the episode you both looked at your phones and Soonyoung immediately started to look for costume ideas excitedly. He soon found and fell in love with a pirate outfit and after showing you it, he said it's part of a couple costume and as besties, you have to match because “that's what besties do”.

In the year you have known Soonyoung, you have never truly said no to him and this was no different.

Though perhaps you should've at least looked at the female half of the matching costume before agreeing instead of blindly trusting your best friend.

Which leads us to here.

It's an hour before the party is due to start and Soonyoung has just turned up at your apartment to get ready together just like always. He has the parcel of costumes in his arms and a bright excited grin on his face when he hands it over to you to allow him to remove his shoes.

“I haven't opened it yet,” he informs, watching you walk over to the couch to lean the parcel against the arm and open it like you know he wants you to. Soonyoung knows you get an odd sense of joy from opening parcels, whether or not they're for you, so he often brings his orders over or invites you to his apartment to allow you to open them for him.

“So I see,” you muse with a little giggle.

Soonyoung appears at your back a moment later, leaning his chin on your shoulder to peer into the bag as you open it.

The first costume out is his; packaged in another bag, though this one is clear, revealing the cardboard insert with a picture of a man donning the costume on the front. He takes it happily when you offer it and bounces aside to start to open it excitedly.

There's only one more item in the bag; your costume, so you take it out, excited about your matching pirate outfits too. Up until you turn the packet over to look at the picture and realise that this truly is not what you expected; especially not from your best friend.

“What the actual fuck, Kwon Soonyoung?!” You demand flabbergasted.

“Uh-oh, the full name.” Soonyoung looks up at you in alarm, all sign of joy gone. “Did they send the wrong thing?”

“I hope so because if you saw this on the site and still ordered it, you and I are going to have some issues.” You turn the packet to show him the picture on the cardboard insert.

A picture of a woman in a tiny pair of high-waisted shorts, if they can even be considered that, with fishnet tights underneath. There's an attempt at a white top that honestly could be a lot worse; it's off the shoulder and cropped but it's honestly not as bad as it could be for a female-focused costume, but still far too revealing for your liking. To finish it off, she's wearing a striped bandana on her head with a plastic sword in her hands and you're very certain that the sword alone is the only reason the packet is this big because there's certainly not enough material creating the costume to require such a size bag.

Soonyoung stares at the picture for a second, then looks up at you with a confused little pout. “It's a pirate outfit.”

“Show me yours,” you demand with a sigh. He doesn't hesitate to move over and hand you his costume, still just about in the packet.

There's a very clear difference in costumes. The picture on this packet depicts a man in three-quarter, length vertically striped trousers and a simple white shirt with an open neckline revealing a thin triangular strip of skin down to his sternum, finished with the same bandana as your costume and a plastic sword. Though, the man's sword is a lot bigger than the woman's sword. Of course, the men get the big boy sword and the women get the toothpick.

“You seriously don't see a problem with this?” You ask, holding the two packets side by side so that he can see the photos together.

Poor, naive Soonyoung looks between the pictures rapidly in a desperate attempt to understand. Yet he winds up just shaking his head as he looks at you with such an innocent expression that you know that he seriously doesn't understand the problem here at all.

“Then you can wear this one,” you declare while handing him the woman's outfit before turning to stalk off to your bedroom.

“What?!” He sputters, scrambling to follow you down the short corridor. “This is for women!”

“You've said before; clothes have no gender!” You remind, turning at the threshold with a hand on your open door ready to close it and a sweet smile on your face. “If you want to match with me, Soonyoungie, you wear that and I'll wear this.”

He stares between you and the packet in his hand for a moment before agreeing with a nod and a simple “Okay.”

And that right there, is your second mistake.

When you had told Soonyoung to wear that outfit, you really had not been prepared for how fucking good he'd look in the skimpy little outfit. So now you have to spend the next hours at Seungkwan's bustling apartment pretending that your gaze isn't constantly locating Soonyoung in the dim lighting as he happily dances amongst other costumed bodies.

Sure, you've seen Soonyoung topless before so you know the man has a frankly incredible body usually hidden under the baggy clothes that he usually prefers to wear, but the sexy little pirate outfit highlights his strong torso and biceps so well.

The cropped top stops at his sternum giving full view of the top half of his defined abs, the bottom half hidden by the high waist of the shorts. And those shorts? They really do not leave a lot to the imagination at all, so Soonyoung has spent the entire night so far carefully doing his best to keep the sword strapped around his hips dangling in front of his crotch.

You had obligingly given him the bigger sword when you had realised that the 'woman's' sword wasn't exactly wide enough to cover him. Neither of you had made eye contact when you had handed it over without a word because you both knew what it meant and the fact you had obviously seen the bulge of his flaccid dick in the tight shorts.

Which honestly, had only made you wonder how big he is when hard, and that was a thought that you usually try to avoid; thinking of your best friend in a sexual situation.

Though his pure existence alone makes it very hard.

Kwon Soonyoung doesn't realise how attractive he is and you're kind of grateful about it. Because if that unfairly effortlessly attractive man knows how hot he is, then you know he'll be cocky and dress to show off more often than just for nights out or special occasions, and you would not mentally survive that.

As it is, you're not sure you'll survive the night.

“One day, you two are going to stop being stupid and just fuck it out,” Chan comments from your right where he stands in his doctor's outfit. Seungkwan's wearing a matching one somewhere else in the apartment and you really can't tell if it's intentional or not with those two. They're always bickering and acting like they hate each other but they're always the first the other goes to for any reason whatsoever.

“Please make it before the end of summer so I don't lose money,” Seungcheol requests from your left, leaning against the wall with you and dressed in a suit just like his own best friend and roommate, wherever she has disappeared to. She's likely with Junhui based on the way the pair have been eyeing each other for the past hour -and since they met really, but that's another story entirely.

“You assholes have bets on us fucking?” You gawp in betrayed disbelief at the suited man.

“Yup,” Seungcheol confirms shamelessly while Chan tries to sputter out a denial that makes you level the youngest with an unimpressed look.

However, it doesn't last because you hear Soonyoung's loud voice even over the music and automatically look over to where your best friend is trying to stop Seokmin from grabbing at his sword. No euphemism even if the plastic is in the right place.

“Looks like Seok's going to get further with your boy than you ever have,” Seungcheol sniggers. You shove his arm making him laugh harder.

“Swordplay,” Chan giggles to himself, then wanders off without another word to refill his cup after swallowing the last of its contents.

“Seriously though, you should like, go fuck him,” Seungcheol says a moment later when Soonyoung has successfully distracted Seokmin by grabbing the younger's hands to make him dance with him. Soonyoung shoots you a world-weary, wide-eyed look that makes you snicker and wave innocently at him.

“You really don't want to lose money, huh?”

“It's not even about that, just you two. This has been going on for over a year now; this gross pining shit. Just sit on his dick and ask him on a date, it's not that hard.”

“You can't say shit, Cheol,” you remind.

“Hey, I've fucked her, regularly,” he defends with a pout before sipping at his drink.

“Oh yeah, because fucking your best friend who you've been in love with since childhood while encouraging her to go after your friend who she's been mutually eye-fucking for the past three months is so much better,” you retort sarcastically and give him a look.

He can't refute it at all, it's entirely true and he's confided in you enough for you both to know that he's constantly making his own heartbreak worse by continuing to indulge his best friend, both in bed and when she comes home and whines over how good Junhui looks.

“We're as bad as each other,” he decides after a second.

“Don't lump me with you, I've never fucked him.” You scoff and turn back around to naturally locate Soonyoung where he's back to smiling away as he dances with Seokmin and some others.

“You want to.”

“Yeah, I really fucking do,” you exhale and swallow down the last of your drink only to frown down into the empty disposable cup. “I need a real drink.”

“You know you can't drink around him like this or you will ask to suck his dick,” Seungcheol reminds you of the very reason why you're always the designated driver when Soonyoung dresses up.

Because yes, you have come close to getting on your knees in the middle of a club for him. Luckily, Seungcheol had noticed and took you home before you actually acted on the urge to publicly defile your best friend. Unluckily, Seungcheol had noticed and has not failed to mention it at every chance. But at least it's stayed between the two of you.

“At this rate, I'll do it regardless,” you mutter, still frowning into your empty cup. “Back in a bit.” Seungcheol just grunts to show he heard before you slump off to the kitchen to refill your cup with one of the non-alcoholic beverages lining the counter.

You've barely finished filling your cup when a familiar hand reaches around you and picks it up to start gulping down. Even though you know it's Soonyoung, you still look over your right shoulder where he's chugging down the drink entirely unaware of your thirsty gaze watching the drop of liquid that escapes from the corner of his mouth trail down over his chin and jaw and down his neck to catch on his collar bone. You refrain from leaning in to slurp it up and lick your way up the trail it left all the way to Soonyoung's mouth.

Instead of staring at the way his throat bobs as he swallows down the last drops, you turn back around and wait for him to place the cup down so that you can refill it. And then he grabs it again before you can making you groan in complaint. “Seriously?"”

“M'thirsty,” he defends, barely pulling the cup away and accidentally dribbling some of the liquid from his mouth onto your shoulder. You look at him in disgust. He just grins sweetly and kisses your cheek in a sticky, apologetic way before leaning back up to get back to his task of once again, stealing your drink.

At least this time when you've refilled the cup, he doesn't steal it away and lets you actually lift it to your own mouth. You can feel his eyes on you as you drink, so you side-eye him questioningly without moving the cup away.

“Are you taking Seungcheol home again?” He asks, stepping closer to you as someone passes too close behind him; his left hand falls to your hip and his right onto the counter, sort of caging you in, though you know it's unintentional even if you wish it wasn't.

“He can take himself home, he's not drinking tonight,” you reply, distracted by the feeling of plastic pressing against you. “Your sword is digging into my ass.”

Soonyoung lets go of the counter to tug his sword belt around and lays the toy on the outside of his left thigh leaving him pressed directly against you. You genuinely can't tell if he's even noticed that as he seems to be focused on the conversation judging but the concentrated furrow of his eyebrows. “That's not what I mean and you know it.”

“If I know it, wouldn't I respond to what you mean?” You give him a look; puzzled by his words and hoping he understands that you seem to very much not be having the same conversation here and you are completely unaware of the conversation he's having with you.

“Not when you're both pretending nothing's happening.”

“What?” You nudge him back enough so that you can turn and face him, which admittedly, is not your smartest move when he moves straight back in. He doesn't press against you again, but his left foot is between both of yours as you lean your ass back against the counter. Any closer and his thigh will be very close to pressing to your crotch.

“Come on, I'm your best friend, I think you should at least be honest with me, even if you play ignorant with the others.” He frowns and leans heavier onto his right hand on the counter beside your hip, bringing him in closer so that he doesn't have to talk so loudly to be heard over the music. “You two often leave together when we go out. And even though his place is closer than mine, you drop me off first so it's just you two left. I'm not stupid.”

“Wait, you think that's so we can go fuck?” You realise with wide eyes.

“It's obvious; you always find each other when we're all together like this and spend the whole fucking night hiding off to the side whispering to each other.”

You can't help but laugh. “Do you all think we're fucking?” He nods in confirmation. You laugh again. “Oh man, I gotta tell Cheolie this.” You start to push off of the counter with every intention of going to find the older man knowing he will find it as hilarious as you do, but Soonyoung puts his left hand on your lower stomach to push you back and then he pushes himself against you to pin you there. “Soonyoung.”

“No.”

“What? No? No what?"”

“I'm not letting you go back to him. You came with me, you're staying with me and leaving with me, no one else,” he declares firmly.

You stare up at him trying to decipher what the fuck is actually going on right now; what prompted this sudden conversation and behaviour. Not that Soonyoung has never pinned you before but it's usually playfully as he whines and pouts cutely to get his way, or to just joke around. But he's entirely serious now and looking at you with something kind of dark in his eyes.

Admittedly, it's pretty fucking hot.

“Are you drunk?” You ask, even if you know he's not; you can't smell any alcohol on him and drunk Soonyoung gets cuddly and clingy, not whatever this is.

“You know I'm not.” He places his left hand on the counter on your other side, well and truly caging you in and causing him to lean down a little closer to reach comfortably.

“Then why are you suddenly acting like this?”

“It's not sudden.” You give him a look. “Okay, fine, acting on it is but wanting to, that's not sudden. I've wanted to do this for a long time.”

“Then why haven't you?”

“Because I care about you too much.” He frowns a little as he takes in your features from up close, gaze catching on your lips for a few seconds before lifting back up to meet your eyes. “There's a bet you know, about us fucking?”

“I just found out.” You pull a displeased expression. “Cheol's in on that, you know? He wouldn't bet on us fucking before the end of summer if he's fucking me.”

“He is?” He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “They made it sound like he's against the bet, said he's been trying to stop them from always talking me into it.”

“Yeah, no, he just told me to fuck you. He's always telling me to fuck you.”

“Oh.” He licks his lips as his eyes divert thoughtfully. “Guess I should stop being a dick to him then.”

“You've been a dick to him?” You ask genuinely surprised. You really haven't noticed Soonyoung acting badly towards Seungcheol at all.

“Mm, I always take his favourite snacks at movie night.” You can't help but burst into giggling laughter at his confession.

Of course, the man doesn't have a single genuinely mean bone in his body and would think purposely taking someone's favourite snacks would be a big dick move. You bet he's been feeling kind of guilty about it while no doubt Seungcheol hasn't even noticed.

“What? why're you laughing?” He pouts at you.

“Oh, Soonie, you're so fucking cute,” you coo and cup his cheeks fondly. He smiles a little dopily at the compliment; the same smile he reserves for you and your doting attention on him even if neither of you has noticed that. The rest of your friends have though.

“Nice ass,” you hear before Soonyoung's hips jerk into you when he yelps and tries to escape the slap that lands on his ass.

“Hyung!” He complains, looking over his shoulder to pout at Jeonghan as the man appears from behind your best friend.

You really can't tell exactly what Jeonghan is supposed to be; you think it's some kind of anime character, or something kinky. Maybe both. Either way, his costume is a strange mix of faux black leather and shimmery red lacey wings. And he pulls it off unfairly well considering that you know he hadn't been prepared for the party that morning at all.

“What? Don't look at me like I'm disturbing something,” Jeonghan scoffs, reaching around you to grab the same big plastic bottle you had been filling your cup from. Though he stops and looks at the way Soonyoung is very much pressed against you. Jeonghan grins after noticing that Soonyoung's crotch is definitely smushed against your upper thigh; something you have been doing your best to ignore yourself because yes you can feel everything through the thin material covering you both. “Or maybe I am.” He smirks at you both.

“What are you supposed to be exactly?” You ask in an attempt to change the topic to one that won't kill your last remaining dregs of sanity. Then again, with the things that come out of Yoon Jeonghan's mouth, you could still be rendered insane but for a reason other than feeling your best friend's dick pressed against you.

“No idea, just grabbed some shit from Hao's costume closet.” Jeonghan shrugs as he looks down at himself. “Kind of think this might be less about his costume designing and more about sex though.”

“He's definitely worn that harness while fucking someone,” you agree and reach out to hook your finger over the thick horizontal strap over Jeonghan's chest. You're pretty sure it's directly over his nipples, but the slightly sheer tank top he's wearing underneath the harness kind of obscures your view enough that you don't have confirmation.

“Mm, definitely,” Jeonghan agrees and smirks at you. “Want to take it home yourself?”

“And take it from you? I wouldn't dare, you look so handsome, Hannie,” you coo, playing along with the flirty banter you two have always partaken in. Not because anything has ever happened between you nor will it; you've discussed it plenty of times to make sure you're both on the same page still. But it's just fun to harmlessly flirt.

“Never said I won't be wearing it.” He licks his lips and gives you a suggestive look.

“You're not going home with her,” Soonyoung argues firmly, crowding up against you further though his gaze is on Jeonghan in warning, so he misses the way your eyes widen and dart down to where Soonyoung is now pressing his crotch against your hip with his own thigh pressing up between your thighs. Jeonghan doesn't miss it though and cackles, taking the bottle and his cup away entirely without another word.

“S-soonyoung,” you stammer, hands fluttering at his sides, wanting to push him back for your sanity but you think putting your hands on his exposed skin will just make you pull him closer.

“Do you have to flirt with him all the time?” He frowns at you, entirely unaware of the screaming in your mind; mostly just sounds with the odd yell of the word penis. He'd probably laugh if he heard it, to be honest, just because of the word penis. He wouldn't even realise it's his penis you're mentally screaming about. “And when I'm right here too. Did you forget I'm here or something?”

“No,” you choke out.

“Then why- are you okay?” He suddenly realises how wide your eyes are.

“I can feel your dick,” you blurt, unable to think of anything else.

He blinks at you for a moment, then looks down at where he's pressed against you as if he hasn't even noticed until now. “Oh.” He pulls his hips back and his thigh from between yours making you let out a heavy shaky exhale as your body relaxes a little. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Ha, not the word I'd use.”

“What word would you use?”

If he was any other man, you'd say the little quirk of his head and innocent eyes locked onto you is fake; just some kind of game, a way to flirt. But it's Kwon Soonyoung and you've seen this man miss the most obvious of flirtations since you've known him; the amount of times you or the guys have had to bluntly tell him that someone had been trying to take him home to fuck is frankly absurd.

“Stop touching my ass!” His sudden exclamation makes you jump a little while he looks over his shoulder in annoyance, glaring at Seungkwan who's giving him an innocent look.

“I'm very happy that you two are finally doing something about your consistent sexual tension and mutual pining but take it out of my kitchen, please. I don't want to have to burn my home down if you defile my counters,” the younger man speaks bluntly with a slightly sweet edge to his words. You can't even see him but you just know that he's got that too sweet smile on his face that always feels more threatening than anything.

“What?” Soonyoung blinks at him puzzled as the annoyance of his ass being grabbed melts away. “We're not doing anything.”

“Hannie told me you're being possessive and we all know that she likes that so-”

“Hey!” You exclaim offendedly, not because you can argue it, but just more that you're being talked about like you're not there. “She has a name!”

“Well take hyung home and he can moan it for the neighbours to hear.” Seungkwan gives you that sweet-threatening smile as he leans around Soonyoung to meet your gaze. “My neighbours don't want to hear it.”

“My neighbours won't hear that,” you scoff.

Soonyoung can't help but frown, he feels like he's just been rejected even though he hadn't even gotten to the point of actually asking to take you home and fuck you like he wants to, like your mutual friends had convinced him you want him to. But your firm dismissal of Seungkwan's words sounds like you putting that boundary securely in place before he can even ask to tumble over it into your arms.

“He's loud-” Seungkwan starts to point out, but you're not done talking even if you had taken a quick scoff break.

“I don't live in a cheap-ass building with paper for walls like you do, Kwannie,” you finish.

Both men stare at you for a second; Seungkwan at first just blinks in surprise at the fact you're not even disputing the Soonyoung moaning your name part, just whether or not your neighbours will hear. And Soonyoung is full-on gawping at you, mouth open and eyes wide, wondering if this means that boundary even exists between you.

“Does that mean you won't get a noise complaint? Hyung is pretty loud, you know? There's a reason we don't live together anymore.”

“I don't know,” you reply with a shrug.

“Then go fucking home already and stop humping against my kitchen counter!” Seungkwan grabs Soonyoung by his hips to yank him backwards away from you while the scantily dressed pirate yelps and flails a little at the unexpected action. Then he's shoved towards the kitchen exit while Seungkwan grabs your wrist to tug you along.

You're both too genuinely dumbstruck by Seungkwan's sudden forceful actions to do anything but stumble along until you're both outside of the apartment, shoes in hands and staring in shock at the door that's just been shut in your faces.

“Did we just get kicked out?” You mutter.

Soonyoung nods slowly and then looks at you. “I think we got kicked out for sex.”

“Is it still sexile if you're the ones getting kicked out and told to go elsewhere to fuck?” You muse, attention downwards as you focus on shoving your feet into your shoes with one hand on the wall behind you and the other out in the air pointlessly.

“Uh, reverse sexile?” He offers, dropping his shoes to shove his feet into.

“Sounds like a sex position.”

He laughs. “What would that even look like?”

“No idea.” You grin at him then figure that well, it seems like you've both been outed enough already seeing as all of your friends have stopped hiding the fact that they expect you to finally have sex, which really implies a mutual attraction. So you suck your bottom lip into your mouth for a second as he frowns down at his shoe that just will not accept his right foot for some reason. “Shall we go find out?”

Immediately, Soonyoung looks up at you with wide eyes. “What?”

“Shall we go find out what reverse sexile looks like?”

“Like...us?”

“Yeah, Soonyoung, us,” you confirm with an amused twitch of your lips. “You said you're the only one to go home with me, right?” He nods. “Then let's go home and find out, Young-ah.”

“Ye-no, wait.” He steps closer and takes your hand gently before you can start walking down the hall to the staircase. His fingers are barely holding onto your own. It's perhaps the most cautious he's ever taken your hand into his. Even the very first time you held hands he had boldly laced your fingers together and you had only met ten minutes previously.

“No?” You ask, feeling really kind of stupid all of a sudden. You had been so unusually confident in asking him to go home and fuck you.

“Not because I don't want to because I do seriously, I really want to fuck you,” he breathes out, sounding rather affected by the thought alone as he stares at you longingly and holds your hand a little more securely. “I just...I don't want it to wind up like Seungcheol.”

“Uh, what about Seungcheol?” You shuffle a little closer while giving him a questioning look.

“Regularly fucking his best friend who has a crush on someone else, while he...while he wants her as more than just company in his bed.” The way his expression turns serious and yearning makes your heart start to race a little with hope.

“While he...Are you saying you want more?” You ask quietly.

“Earlier when I said I care about you too much, I meant I care too much to be able to have sex with you if it means nothing. I really fucking like you and I don't want to go home with you like this if you don't feel the same. I can't do that.” He shakes his head a little. “As much as I've thought about this, about you and me doing all kinds of kinky shit all over your apartment, and mine when Jihoon isn't there. Or when he is if you're into exhibitionism, I don't know your kinks and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't even notice anyway because he never leaves his fucking room an-” He's rambling at this point, frowning down at your connected hands as he talks.

“Soonyoung.” He makes a soft hum of a noise as he looks back up at you with rounded eyes. “We can talk kinks later, I'd really like to get back to the matter of it sounds like you're confessing to me?”

“Oh, right yeah, I guess I am.” He chuckles a little and nervously scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “So uh, yeah, I really like you and uhm, I guess now comes the part where hopefully, you say you like me back but I really don't know if you do because the guys just really said you want to fuck me and-” You cover his mouth with your hand this time to shut up his second bout of nervous rambling.

“I really like you too, Soonie,” you confirm softly and giggle at the way his features light up adorably behind your palm. “Can we skip the trial dating bullshit and go straight to being together? I'd like to show you off as my boyfriend.” His eyes widen dramatically and then he's nodding rapidly in agreement without dislodging your hand. “You're so cute,” you coo and lean in just to press a kiss to the back of your hand over his mouth. He looks utterly betrayed and heartbroken when you lean back. “What?” You play innocent and lower your hand while backing up, lacing your fingers behind your back.

“You can't tease me like that, baby!” He whines, toddling after you and dragging his feet in a sulk as he moves along the carpeted flooring of the hall.

“Tease? Me? Never.” You grin at him, then stop as your back hits the door to the staircase.

“You are, teased me for the past year. Teasing me now,” he continues to mumble away as he nears, though cuts off when you reach out to grab the sword and yank on the plastic to pull him in right up against you. His hands automatically fly up to catch himself on the door above your head while his breath catches in his throat.

“If you're so worried I'm going to keep teasing you, Soonie, you better hurry up and take what you want,” you warn in a low voice, chin tilted up so your faces are only inches apart.

Soonyoung groans in the back of his throat before he leans down and seals his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. He presses his left forearm flat against the door beside your head so that he can firmly hold your jaw with his right hand and tilt you further into him with his thumb pushing on your chin to urge your mouth open wider and deepen the kiss in a manner much too filthy for a public hallway of your friend's apartment building.

“Oh for fucks sake!” The loud voice of the friend in question forces you both apart to peer over Soonyoung's shoulder to where Seungkwan is in the hallway with the cute neighbour he's recently started to date, their hands together and clearly with one intention in mind while sneaking away from his own party. They're standing outside of the neighbour's slightly open door but Seungkwan is staring at you and Soonyoung in disbelief. “I told you to go home! Not get your booty here!”

“Ha, booty, pirate joke,” you snigger and Soonyoung giggles; both at your amusement and the pun he honestly hadn't even noticed.

“You two are fucking useless,” Seungkwan decides and lets his neighbour tug him into the apartment. “You better be gone before I'm back!”

“90 seconds, right?!" Soonyoung calls as Seungkwan disappears.

The younger's head pops back out to glare at the other and flip him a very heartfelt middle finger before the door actually shuts behind him that time.

Soonyoung turns to look at you with a mischievous smirk. “Should we go fuck on his bed just to piss him off?”

“As tempting as that sounds, I'd rather only I hear you like that, Soonie.” You pout at him cutely. “I'm not very good at sharing my toys, you know.”

“Oh, I'm your toy now?” He muses, reaching down to open the door carefully to back you through it with his other arm wrapping around your waist.

“Mm, mine and only mine to play with when I want, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, yours and yours only, baby,” he agrees lowly. “And you're mine.” “I am,” you confirm and tilt up to kiss him teasingly. “Let's hurry and get home so I can show you everything that now belongs to you.”

A/N; There is more to this but I had to cut it all because it really was me mostly rambling with a sort of hand job thrown in there. The title comes from a conversation in the part I haven't included, by the way. Working title was "Yo ho hoe". But if I continue that part I removed from this, I guess there will be a part 2 as a direct continuation from this and it'll include smut.

#wkcnet #svthub #seventeen x reader #seventeen reader insert #seventeen fic #seventeen friends to lovers au #seventeen f2l au #seventeen hoshi x reader #seventeen soonyoung x reader #seventeen hoshi friends to lovers au #seventeen bestfriend au #seventeen hoshi bestfriend au #seventeen soonyoung friends to lovers au #seventeen soonyoung bestfriend au #seventeen hoshi f2l au #seventeen soonyoung f2l au #seventeen fanfiction #svt x reader

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gyupinkys · 2 years ago

Text

PLEASE?

JUN X FEM READER

Bestfriends to lovers since exclusive fairytale is driving me insane…

WC:1.6K

WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, switch jun, switch reader, oral (m receiving), fingering, creampie, begging, mentions of viagra, begging

Moving into college is hard. It’s your second year, yet every new dorm is equally as much of a hassle. You finally flop onto your bed after hanging up all your clothes only to be met with the rumbling of your stomach.

“God, I should've eaten breakfast.” you mumble to yourself, thankful your roommate is nowhere to be found.

You begrudgingly get up and walk out, head deep into your phone trying to find the nearest dining hall on the campus map. You find the closest one to you is only a few buildings over, just to crash into someone in front of you, making you stumble back.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry” you say looking up at the tall blonde.

“Nah, it's my bad. I was too into my phone, I'm trying to find a dining hall.” he says in a deep, smooth voice. Damn. He’s really fucking hot. The unnatural blonde suits him so well, and his cat-like eyes are incredibly attractive.

“I’m actually looking for one too. There's one a few buildings over, you want to go with me?”

“Sure.”

From then a beautiful friendship bloomed. You learned his name is Jun, he’s from china, he speaks mandarin, cantonese, and korean. He loves to dance. His best friend/roommate's name is Minghao who is also from China and has bright red hair so it would be hard to miss him on campus. He used to be a child actor, but got into business so he can take over his dad’s company, and most importantly he is filthy rich. He didn’t even bother to say he’s “Comfortable” like most rich people do, he just said “I can pay all four years of full tuition with no worries.” which told you everything you needed to know. You and Jun quickly became friends, attached to the hip would be an understatement. Wherever you went, best believe Jun would be there. He became your go-to person. If you needed something he would get it for you, if you needed help he would be there, he was even there to ice your nipples when you got them pierced. You lost all shame when it came to Jun, he was your person. So when you walk into your room one day, just to see Jun laying shirtless in your bed, covered in sweat, with his dick in his hands, and your panties to his nose, you’re beyond confused.

“Jun?” you say with wide eyes, quickly shutting the door.

“I’m sorry Y/N, Hoshi tricked me and gave me chocolate but it was some sort of fucking viagra and now I can’t stop thinking about you and I’m sorry if this is weird and ruins our relationship and i know I should’ve just went to my room, but I know your roommate and hao are in there and I really wanted to see you and I knew you could help me-”

“Jun, slow down what?”

“Y/N, please fuck me.” he says with a whine.

You feel like you could collapse right now.

You slowly walk up to him and take his chin into your hand, raising his face to meet your eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Y/N. Please.”

You straddle his thighs and kiss him and take his dick into your hands, beginning to stroke it making him groan. “Jun, how long have you felt like this?”

“Since you bumped into me in the hallway. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” he says and leans forward to kiss you again. He runs his hands across your body and squeezes your ass.

“Baby, please let me fuck you.”

“Jun, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Imagine how crazy you drove me every time you bent over only wearing one of my shirts, every time you wore a shirt with no bra, touched me in a certain way, looked at me with those pretty eyes, smiled at me. I’ve wanted to make you mine for so long, to be able to call you my girl.”

You smile at him, a bright, beautiful smile, making his heart skip a beat. You lean back and take off your shirt, his hands immediately flying to your chest, squeezing them.

“When I saw these tits for the first time I popped a boner. I had to pretend I was fine seeing your nipples pebble up from the ice.”

“I wish you did what you were thinking. You helping me made me sooo wet.”

He runs his hands to your sweatpants and pulls them down, helping you get off leaving you in just your panties. He sits up and kisses up your chest and around your face. He kisses your forehead, then your eyelids, the tip of your nose, your jaw, and finally your lips.

“Please fuck me, Jun.”

He flips the two of you over pulling off his sweats and boxers. “Where are your condoms?”

“You don’t need one.”

“Baby, are you sure?”

“Yes Jun! Just fill me up already.” you whine.

He groans into your neck, running his fingers through your folds, only to find you ridiculously wet. “All this just for me?” he smirks at you, slowly circling his finger on your clit.

“Yes, Jun”

“You flatter me, Baby.”

He runs his fingers down and plunges two straight into your hole, cutting to the chase and feeling around for your G-spot. He knows he found it when your back arches off the bed and you grab his hair, pulling his lips to yours. He continues thrusting up into your sweet spot, making your toes curl. You pull his hair and look into his eyes.

“I want to cum on your cock, Junnie.”

“And exactly when I think I couldn’t be more in love with you, you surprise me.” he says with a smile. “But no.” he says as his eyes darken.

“What the fuck do you mean no?” you say in shock.

“I mean, you’ll cum when I let you cum.”

“Jun, stop teasing.”

“I can show you what real teasing looks like, Baby.” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you and slips them into your mouth as you're about to rebuttal.

He pulls you up by your hair and pushes you to your knees. “You know what to do Baby, I’ve heard first hand about how much of a whore you are.”

You groan but lick his leaking tip while looking into his eyes. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, '' you say challengingly.

He looks into your eyes and shrugs. “I guess I’ll have to show you.”

He hooks his fingers into your mouth to widen it and shoves his dick straight into your mouth without giving you any time to adjust. He begins to thrust into your mouth and straight down your throat making you gag, but his fingers make you unable to close your mouth. You look at him with pleading eyes, but the tears running down your face only turns him on more. He decides he’s had enough. He needs to fuck that soaking wet pussy or he might actually die. He grabs your hand and throws you on the bed.

“Spread your legs.”

You obey but you're plotting. Is he forgetting he was the one desperate for you to touch him? Now he wants to be in charge? Not on your watch. As he bottoms out in you, you let out a loud moan to distract him and flip him over.

“Junnie, I think you’re forgetting you’re the one who's in desperate need of somewhere to dump their cum. You’d think you’d be a little nicer to me.” you say and grind your hips into him, making his eyes roll back.

“I want you to beg for me.”

Without missing a beat he starts to beg. “Please fuck me Y/N, I need it. I feel like I'm gonna explode. You're so warm and tight I feel like I’m in heaven. Please help me, baby.”

You raise your hips and his hips chase you, making it so you don't raise off his dick. “Jun, how am I gonna ride you if you don’t let me up.”

He groans and glues his hips to the bed, letting you begin to bounce. You feel like he’s in your guts, moving your insides around to accommodate him.

“God, Jun you feel so good.” you moan out as you bounce faster, ignoring the burn in your thighs. He thrusts meeting your hips as you bounce, pushing his dick deeper into you. His hands travel to your clit, pressing firmly and rubbing tight circles. “Please cum baby, cum on my cock, I’m so close.”

Seeing him so pathetic beneath you does something to you. You grind harder, feeling his tip hit your spot everytime, throwing you over the edge. As soon as he feels the first squeeze of your cunt he lets go, filling you up completely, causing some to spill out of you onto his thighs. He pulls you down for a kiss, holding you as you come down from your orgasm.

He looks you in the eye when he whispers “I love you” against your lips.

As the sun shines through your windows, you awake with a smile on your face. It feels so good to finally be in Jun’s arms as his girlfriend. You sit up and stretch making him get up with you. He wraps his hands around your waist. “I’m hungry,” he says.

“You want me to order you something?”

“No, I’m hungry for something else. I missed out on eating it yesterday” he smirks and drags you down onto the bed with him.

A/N: LMK if you want a part 2 with her roommate and how? I'm thinking a forced proximity kind of thing.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #jun smut #wen junhui smut #bestfriends to lovers #jun is driving me crazy

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renzieluvsvt · 2 years ago

Text

fall in you

pairing: bsf!joshua x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 1K

summary: you have been falling for your childhood best friend!joshua. you are sure that your feelings wont be reciprocated so what turns will it take when you decide to completely avoid and forget him?

warnings: reader losing pet dog, kissing (is that even a warning? lol)

a/n: tysm anon for this request!! i enjoyed coming up with the plot for this;)) but so sorry as it took me so much time to post it.

anw, hope yall enjoy this one too!! will keep on posting as much as i can :))

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"will you still not talk to me?", joshua asked you aka his best friend with whom he hadn't spoken to for several months because of some reason he wasn't aware of. the two of you had been friends since childhood, grew up knowing each other's secrets, grew up together even during the lowest points of lives but as of now, the both of you were standing in the living room of your dorm. you hadn't spoken to him for six months already. during the first month, he excused you by thinking that you were probably tired with the classes. during the second month, he was hurt that you didn't agree to meet him anywhere else whenever he tried to clear things out. it was the third month where you finally refused to even look at him in the uni. it hurt him to see you avoiding him.

whenever he tried approaching you, you always changed your path. it suprised him how his "best friend" started leaving him on delivered or sometimes on seen in the fourth month. his phone calls were totally ignored by you in the fifth month. and finally, in the sixth month you started treating him as a pure stranger.

he couldn't take this shit anymore. even if he spent hours in a day to reflect and look for some reasons that could have possibly got you upset— he still couldnt find one. that was when he eventually decided to go to your dorm and confront you. he had been refraining himself from visiting your dorm so that he wouldn't get in trouble for getting into a girl's dormitory but he was left with no choice afterall.

"can you fucking look at me atleast?", he said in anger as you tested his patience. you still continued folding your dried laundry. your actions hurt him. alot. being avoided by his bestfriend was already hurting him but the reason that hurt him the most was he couldn't have any sort of explanation about it.

"joshua, im asking you for the last time, can you please leave right now?", you spatted out with not much any emotions but one could surely hear the crack in your voice. you wanted to sink ten feet under the ground as you realised how your voice cracked. you wished that he didn't figure that out but you were wrong. he heard you and knew you were on the verge of breaking down. "please tell me y/n and i'll work on myself to not disappoint you anymore", he pulled you by your arms so that you could turn to his direction but you swatted away your arm from his grip. with anger.

as you finally faced him, he looked deeply into your eyes as if to find the answers you were hiding but all he could see was your tears welling up your eyes. he stared at you worriedly as a tear rolled down your face.

"why do you want me back in your life? just so you can hurt me again by telling me about your new flings?", you spoke out finally. yes, he heard that right. yes, he was understanding it right too. you saw him more than a friend. you wanted your relationship with him to be more than best friends. "yes! i go crazy everytime i hear you blabber about your crushes and dates", you said with tears in your eyes. you simply couldn't bottle it up today. "joshua, i fell for you even before i could know", you continued. "i dont know when it j-just happened. was it when you caressed my hair while appreciating me when i felt insecure about myself after i was cheated on by my boyfriend or was it when you didn't leave me alone when i was left heartbroken after i lost my dog? or was it when you spoke words you probably never meant with the eyes that seemed to be in love with me?", you managed to pour out your feelings in words finally.

"l-listen to m-me y/n....", joshua stuttered. he was speechless. not because of your sudden confession but because he finally knew that his feelings were reciprocated! "josh, im sorry but i cant stay friends with you. it hur-", before you could even complete your sentence he pulled you in for a kiss.

he cupped your cheeks and deepened the kiss with his eyes shut. you couldn't process what had just happened but when he bit your lower lip for a response, you gave in. it felt like heaven to kiss your best friend crush. he parted away from the kiss just to have you chase his lips. he chuckled. but soon he took a look at you as his big hands still kept your cheeks cupped.

"you have no idea how much i've loved you", you stare at him in disbelief. "y/n, i had already fallen for you since our middle school but never had the courage. i always ended up worrying about losing you if i ever got you as my lover. i was worried about not having you in my life if anything would go wrong", he continued. "you dont know how crazy you got me for yourself which had me to date a few times just to move on from you. but here you were, getting jealous of them", he said. "i wasn't jealous",you said as you hit him on his shoulders lightly in protest. the both of you laughed.

"y/n?", he called your name out with his sweet voice. "hmm", you responded while meeting his eyes. "will you be my girlfriend?", he asked you with your cheeks still cupped in his hands. as you heard those words, another tear rolled down your face but this time you had a smile on your face. "sure josh", you said with a smile and another tear rolling down your face in the same time. you were overjoyed.

he kissed you deeply to express the love that he had been hiding from you which had caused you so much pain. "i love you josh", you managed to say in between the kiss. "i love you more", he said while he pulled you closer to him by waist without breaking the kiss. the past six months were hard on you but all you could say was that it led to the best thing that could ever happen to you.

you felt lucky and so did joshua to have realise that you would always be by his side. forever. he promised to never let you go.

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

#joshua hong #joshua svt #hong jisoo #joshua hong fluff #seventeen fluff #kpop fluff #joshua hong angst #hong jisoo angst #seventeen angst #kpop angst #joshua svt angst #joshua x reader #joshua hong imagines #joshua x y/n #bestfriends to lovers

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seouljazzbar · 8 months ago

Text

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest.

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry.

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats.

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…”

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties.

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?”

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?”

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat.

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in.

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.” He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you.

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains.

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.”

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed.

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

#mark lee smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #nct smut #nct x reader #seouljazzbar

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honeyhae-svt · 21 days ago

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(🧸ྀི)🖇 ༘ ⋆"My Brother's Bestfriend"

' ╰┈ 'who would've thought you'd end up in a tangled mess with your brother's bestfriend?'

' .☘︎ ݁˖' '원우 x f!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Home (Seventeen) ♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: fluff, light angst, smut, established relationship, doting!boyfriend wonwoo, slightly possessive!wonwoo, light comedy, soft but intense makeout sessions, lap-sitting & straddling, emotional intimacy, domestic sweetness, wonwoo being obsessed with reader™, mild tension but nothing too serious, clingy!wonwoo (unintentionally), wonwoo official lipstick tester & lip plumper ੈ✩‧₊˚ warnings: NSFW WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT ! wonwoo being so whipped it's unfair, excessive cuteness & boyfriend material behavior, a little bit of yearning ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ nsfw warnings: oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, overstimulation, semi-public sex, reader doesn't get pregnant, heavy & passionate makeout sessions, straddling wonwoo’s lap, deep kissing, light grinding, soft!but still kind of desperate!wonwoo, possessive whispers, needy touches, some lip biting, breathy moans, heated tension but still very loving ੈ✩‧₊˚ wc: 11,809 ੈ♡ a/n: i'm never going to shut up about wonwoo fics. i love this one and yeah, it's my favorite now. i don't even know if i want to end it, so i made a part two cause i love this way too much. if you don't like it, DON'T READ>>>don't steal my happiness.

It was a Friday—a perfect day to go outside, breathe in the fresh air, and maybe even touch some grass. But Wonwoo? He was planted in his chair, fingers flying over his keyboard, eyes locked on his screen as he dove deeper into his game. Sunlight streamed through his window, but he barely noticed. His entire focus was on his mission.

Then, of course, his phone rang.

The sudden vibration made him flinch, just in time for his in-game character to take a fatal hit. A sigh slipped past his lips, long and resigned, as the screen dimmed to black. Game over.

Annoyed, he reached for his phone without checking the caller ID. "What."

"Hey, Wonwoo!" Mingyu's voice rang through, far too cheerful for his liking. "You remember that money you owe me?"

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. "I paid you back."

"Yeah, like, half. You still owe me ₩103,000."

Wonwoo scowled. "What do you want, Mingyu?"

"I'll cancel the debt if you pick up my sister from her hagwon."

Wonwoo blinked. He could practically see Mingyu's smug face through the phone. "...Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. Think of it as a fair trade. You get out of debt, and I don't have to leave my photoshoot early. Win-win, right?"

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, glancing at the gaming laptop he had been saving up for. A hundred thousand won wasn't something he could just brush off. And really, what was so hard about picking someone up? He'd just drive there, wait, and drop her off. No big deal.

"Fine. Send me the details."

"Knew I could count on you!" Mingyu cackled before promptly hanging up.

Wonwoo stared at his phone, regretting everything.

Later that evening, Wonwoo pulled up in front of the hagwon (cram school), resting his arm on the window frame as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone. The street was packed—students flooding out, parents calling names, engines revving. He ignored all of it, his attention on the notifications lighting up his screen.

A knock on the window pulled him out of his trance. He looked up.

There you were, bright-eyed and smiling. Mingyu's sister. You had the same features as him, Mingyu was handsome, there was no second guessing you'd be really pretty as well.

It really runs on the family huh, but your energy was a complete contrast. Where Mingyu was overbearing, you seemed naturally lighthearted.

Wonwoo unlocked the door, watching as you slipped inside. "Hey, thanks for picking me up! I could've taken the bus, but this is definitely an upgrade."

He put his phone down and shifted into drive. "Mingyu made me."

"Obviously." You laughed, buckling your seatbelt. "If it were up to you, you'd rather be home playing some game, right?"

Wonwoo glanced at you briefly before focusing back on the road. "...Something like that."

You stretched out in the passenger seat, completely unfazed by his short responses. "Figures. My brother said you never leave your house unless it's life or death."

"He exaggerates. I go out when I need to."

"Mmm-hmm. Like now?"

"Like now."

You laughed again, shaking your head. "Unbelievable."

You both drove in silence for a bit, though it wasn't uncomfortable. You hummed softly to whatever song played on the radio, while Wonwoo kept his eyes on the road, appreciating the fact that you weren't forcing conversation.

Then, after a few minutes, you turned to him. "So, what's the real reason Mingyu couldn't pick me up?"

"I told you. Photoshoot."

You raised a brow. "And you believe that?"

Wonwoo hesitated, then shrugged. "Not really, but it's not my problem."

You grinned. "Smart man."

He smirked slightly but didn't comment.

When you pulled up in front of your house, you unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to him with an easygoing smile. "Thanks again, Wonwoo. I owe you one."

"No, you don't. Mingyu does."

You laughed. "True. But still, I appreciate it."

Wonwoo just gave a small nod. "It's fine."

As you stepped out of the car, you waved. "See you around!"

He didn't respond, but after you disappeared into the house, he lingered for a second longer than necessary before finally driving off.

Maybe the day hadn't been a total waste after all.

A couple of days later, Mingyu called Wonwoo again, but this time it wasn't for any money or favor. Instead, he was inviting him over to his apartment for a casual hangout.

"Yo, you coming? I'm having a few friends over tonight, including Joshua, Seungkwan, Vernon, and Minghao. It's nothing special, just wanted to hang out."

Wonwoo was about to decline—he had a ton of work to do—but then Mingyu dropped the one detail that made him reconsider.

"Oh, and my sister will be here too. She's staying with me for the weekend, so I figured you could catch up with her."

Wonwoo didn't immediately respond. It wasn't the idea of seeing Mingyu's sister that stopped him—it was more the fact that he wasn't entirely sure how to act around you yet. The two of you hadn't really had a chance to talk much after that brief car ride. He had no idea what you'd be like outside of that moment, and Mingyu always had a way of making everything a little awkward when it came to his little sister.

"...Fine," Wonwoo finally relented, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll stop by."

When Wonwoo arrived at Mingyu's apartment, the atmosphere was relaxed. Joshua was already lounging on the couch, casually scrolling through his phone, and a few other friends were scattered around, chatting. Mingyu was in the kitchen, preparing snacks—probably to feed his giant appetite. The usual loud energy that always accompanied Mingyu's presence was alive in the air.

But there was no sign of you.

Wonwoo made his way to the living room, greeting Joshua with a nod, but the silence between them was noticeable. Joshua shot him a playful glance, but before they could talk much more, Mingyu called out from the kitchen.

"Yo, Wonwoo! Help me with these drinks!"

Wonwoo reluctantly walked into the kitchen, but as soon as he stepped through the doorway, he froze.

There, standing at the counter, was you—completely at ease, casually chopping vegetables as if you'd been there the whole time. You looked up at him, your eyes lighting up in surprise.

"Oh, you're here!" you exclaimed with a smile, your hands still busy at the cutting board. "I didn't think you'd be the first one to show up."

Wonwoo blinked, a bit caught off guard. He hadn't expected to see you in the kitchen, especially not so comfortable.

"You're... here?" he said, unsure of how to react. "I thought you were... uh, I don't know... staying in your room or something."

You let out a small laugh, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "I was, but then Mingyu didn't have enough snacks. He asked me to help out." You gestured to the plates you had already prepped, your movements smooth and confident, as though you'd done this a thousand times. "I figured you'd all be hungry."

Wonwoo was honestly impressed. The last time he saw you, you were cheerful and talkative, but he didn't expect this... domestic side of you. He felt a little out of place in the kitchen, but he didn't want to act awkward.

"I'm sure Mingyu can handle it," he replied, trying to mask his surprise with a nonchalant tone.

You smirked, clearly catching onto his tone. "Yeah, but I'm sure he'll make a mess of it. You know how he is." You shook your head, looking back at your brother as Mingyu popped his head around the corner, grinning.

"I heard that!" Mingyu called, sticking his tongue out before retreating back to the living room.

You chuckled at his antics before focusing back on the food you were preparing. "Anyway, I'm glad you made it. I figured we'd finally have some time to talk," you said, your voice light and welcoming, making it clear you weren't bothered by the sudden interruption.

Wonwoo nodded, still trying to shake off the initial surprise. "Yeah, I guess we never really got to chat much." He leaned against the kitchen counter, unsure of where to go from there.

"You're a bit of a man of few words, huh?" you asked with a teasing grin, raising an eyebrow as you slid the plate of veggies aside. "Mingyu always talks about how you're so quiet, but I didn't realize it was this bad."

Wonwoo gave you a half-smile, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I don't talk much unless I have to," he said, his usual dry tone creeping through.

You just laughed, the sound easy and warm, making him feel less self-conscious. "Well, I'll make sure to fill the silence then," you said cheerfully, as if you were on a mission to make him feel comfortable. "You're kind of a hard nut to crack, but I think I can manage."

The tension that had been there earlier started to melt away, and Wonwoo found himself talking a little more than he usually did. You asked him questions, talked about school, and even joked about how overprotective Mingyu could be at times. As the minutes passed, he realized how much easier it was to talk to you than he initially thought.

By the time he moved back into the living room with the snacks, there was no awkwardness between the two of you anymore. You had succeeded in doing what few could—making Wonwoo feel at ease.

A few days later, Wonwoo had stayed at Mingyu's apartment, slacking off on the sofa while playing some horror games on Mingyu's television.

"You're really bad at Identity V, Mingyu," Wonwoo teased, getting a little frustrated at how Mingyu had to be revived multiple times.

"Just switch the game already, this one's boring," Mingyu groaned, throwing the controller to the side.

Wonwoo just chuckled, not even pausing the game.

Then, the doorbell rang.

Mingyu groaned, dragging himself off the couch. "Ah, right. I forgot—my sister was dropping off some kimchi from Mom before she heads to cram school."

When you stepped inside, you flashed Mingyu a quick smile before handing him the containers. "Mom said to eat it while it's fresh."

Mingyu took them with a nod, already peeking inside. "Smells good." Then, without looking up, he asked, "You want me to drop you off at cram school?"

You shook your head. "Nah, I'll just take the bus. It's not that far."

Wonwoo, who had been watching from the couch, found himself unexpectedly... disappointed? He wasn't sure why, but he had kind of looked forward to talking to you again. You were easy to be around—bubbly, charming, and not at all fazed by his quiet nature. Not many people could handle his silence so effortlessly.

Mingyu, meanwhile, was still leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "You sure? It's getting late."

"I'll be fine," you insisted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. "It's just cram school, not a different planet."

Wonwoo hesitated for a second before speaking up. "Hey."

You turned toward him, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

He cleared his throat, feeling a little out of place but saying it anyway. "I can walk you."

You blinked, clearly surprised. "Oh? Why, so you can chat me up again?" you teased with a wink.

Mingyu snorted, looking between the two of you. "Since when do you offer to walk people places, Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo shot him a look but didn't bother responding. Instead, he turned back to you, waiting for your answer.

You grinned, clearly amused by the whole situation. "Alright, alright. But no awkward silences, got it?"

Wonwoo nodded, grabbing his jacket as he followed you out the door. Mingyu watched the two of you leave, shaking his head with a grin. "Well, that's new."

Mingyu leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene with growing amusement. Wonwoo wasn't the type to jump at social interactions, especially not when it came to people outside their usual circle. And yet, here he was, offering to walk you to hagwon like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Mingyu's brows furrowed, suspicion creeping in.

No way. Does Wonwoo... like my sister?

The thought nearly made him laugh out loud. He knew Wonwoo well—too well, in fact. His best friend wasn't the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, let alone make some grand romantic gesture. But still, the way he lingered, the way his gaze flickered toward you, even the fact that he was putting in the effort to talk—something was definitely up.

Mingyu smirked, but he kept his mouth shut. For now.

"So," he drawled, pushing off the doorway, "you two gonna be alright?"

Wonwoo shot him a look, equal parts unimpressed and knowing. Meanwhile, you just rolled your eyes. "We'll survive, Gyu."

Mingyu chuckled. "Alright, alright. Have fun, lovebirds."

"Bye, Mingyu," you deadpanned, grabbing Wonwoo's wrist and tugging him down the hallway before your brother could say anything else. Wonwoo barely had time to process it before he was matching your pace, hands stuffed into his pockets.

The air between you was light, easy. You glanced up at him with a grin. "Didn't think I'd ever get you to walk me to hagwon. Kinda fun, huh?"

Wonwoo huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Not what I expected to be doing today, that's for sure."

You nudged him lightly. "What, hanging out with me is that bad?"

He glanced at you—really looked this time. You were different from Mingyu's usual crowd. Where his friends were loud and chaotic, you had this effortless energy that didn't demand anything from him. You just... talked, and somehow, he found himself talking back. It was weird, but not in a bad way.

"You're different," you mused, tilting your head. "I mean, I knew you were quiet, but you're not as... closed off as I thought you'd be."

Wonwoo smirked slightly, gaze forward. "I'm still quiet."

"Mm, not with me," you pointed out, eyes twinkling. "Why's that?"

Wonwoo hesitated, not because he didn't have an answer, but because he wasn't sure how to say it. Instead, he settled for the truth, plain and simple. "I don't feel like I have to try so hard with you."

Your steps slowed just slightly, your expression softening. "Huh. That's kinda nice."

He exhaled a small chuckle. "Guess you're a special case."

"Ooo, so I'm special?" you teased.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," he muttered, but the faint smile on his face gave him away.

The conversation drifted into easier topics, laughter and playful jabs exchanged as the hagwon came into view. Wonwoo still didn't know what exactly made him want to be around you, but he didn't mind figuring it out along the way.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Mingyu leaned against the window, watching the two of you disappear into the distance.

Yeah, something was definitely up.

And as your older brother, he was gonna keep an eye on it.

A few days after that walk, Wonwoo found himself running into you more often than he expected. At first, it was innocent enough—quick encounters while he was out running errands or grabbing coffee with Mingyu. But soon, those moments stretched longer, turning into something he actually started looking forward to.

It didn't help that teasing you had become his new favorite pastime.

You'd be minding your own business, walking down the hallway in Mingyu's apartment building, when suddenly, you'd sense a presence behind you. Turning around, you'd find Wonwoo leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Going somewhere, princess?"

The nickname never failed to make you flush, though you'd gotten better at rolling your eyes in response. Still, it was the way he said it—so effortlessly teasing—that made your stomach flip, like you were missing the punchline to some inside joke.

At first, you chalked it up to friendly chatter. But the more it happened, the harder it became to tell if he was just being playful or if there was something else beneath it.

Then came the café incident.

You were sitting with your friends, chatting about classes, when one of them suddenly perked up, nodding toward the entrance. "Hey, isn't that your boyfriend?"

You blinked in confusion, following their gaze—only for your breath to catch slightly when you saw Wonwoo stepping inside, exuding that quiet, effortless confidence he always carried.

"What? No way," you sputtered, your voice catching as you waved off the idea.

Your friends exchanged knowing looks. "Come on, we've seen you two together all the time lately," one of them pointed out. "And let's be real, you'd make a cute couple."

Your face went hot. "He's not my boyfriend!"

"Then why do you look so guilty?" Another friend smirked.

Before you could form a coherent response, Wonwoo approached the table, sliding into the seat next to you as if he belonged there. "What's all this talk about me?" he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement.

"Nothing!" You nearly choked on the word, sitting up straighter.

Your friends weren't buying it. "We were just saying how cute you two look together," one of them supplied, grinning mischievously.

Wonwoo, the absolute menace, didn't even flinch. Instead, he leaned back lazily, his lips curving into that smirk that made your heart stutter. "Cute, huh?" he mused. Then, with a glance in your direction, he added, "She's already shy around me. You think she'd survive being my girlfriend?"

You gawked at him. "Wonwoo!"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you flustered so easily. "Relax," he murmured, leaning in slightly, just enough to send your brain into overdrive. "I'm just helping you out. You should be thanking me for making you so popular."

You shot him a glare, but your friends were eating it up, laughing as they nudged each other. "Honestly, you two are like an old married couple already."

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, half-expecting the ground to swallow you whole. Meanwhile, Wonwoo looked way too pleased with himself, the playful glint in his eyes only growing stronger.

And from that day on, it only got worse.

Every time he ran into you, your friends' words echoed in your mind, making you hyperaware of every smirk, every lingering glance, every low chuckle. You weren't sure if it was all just a joke to him, but the real problem was—you were starting to hope it wasn't.

Because, teasing aside, there was something about the way he looked at you lately. Something softer, something unreadable. And that? That was the most confusing part of all.

Over the next few days, it became a pattern—these little run-ins, the teasing, the way Wonwoo always seemed to appear right when you thought you'd get a break from his smug remarks. If you were being honest, it was starting to feel less like coincidence and more like... something else.

Like right now.

You had just finished your class at the hagwon and were walking home when you heard footsteps behind you. At first, you didn't think much of it. But then—

"Hey, princess."

You nearly tripped over your own feet. Whipping around, you found Wonwoo standing there, hands in his pockets, looking entirely too smug.

"Seriously?" you huffed. "Do you have a tracker on me or something?"

He chuckled, falling into step beside you. "Nah. Just good timing."

"Suspicious timing," you muttered under your breath.

He grinned. "What, you don't like seeing me?"

You opened your mouth, ready to give a snarky reply, but the words stuck in your throat. Because, truthfully, you did like seeing him. You liked how he always managed to sneak into your day, turning normal moments into something else—something charged with a kind of tension you weren't sure how to handle yet.

But you weren't about to admit that.

"Did you just happen to be in the area, or are you stalking me now?" you teased instead, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

Wonwoo made a thoughtful sound, tilting his head. "Hmm. I guess I should start charging for my services if I'm going to be your personal bodyguard."

You rolled your eyes. "Bodyguard? Please. What are you protecting me from? My own two feet?"

He smirked. "You almost tripped earlier. Maybe you do need me."

Your mouth opened, then closed. He had a point, but you weren't going to let him have the satisfaction of winning this round. Instead, you crossed your arms and shot him a playful glare.

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

"And yet, here we are," he mused, his voice low, almost amused. "Walking home together. Again."

You faltered. There was something about the way he said it—like he was reminding you that these weren't just coincidences anymore. That maybe, just maybe, he was seeking you out just as much as you were looking forward to seeing him.

The thought made warmth creep up your neck.

The walk continued, the air between you shifting—still lighthearted, but tinged with something heavier, something unspoken. At some point, you felt the faintest brush of his hand against yours. It was barely anything, just a fleeting touch, but it sent a jolt up your spine.

You glanced at him, half-expecting him to be smirking at your reaction, but instead, Wonwoo was looking ahead, his expression unreadable.

The silence stretched between you for a beat too long.

"You're quieter than usual," you finally said, your voice softer now.

Wonwoo hummed, glancing at you. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "You."

Your breath hitched. You blinked, caught completely off guard by the casual way he said it—like it wasn't something that would send your heart into a tailspin.

He must've noticed your reaction because his lips twitched into something close to a smirk. "Surprised?"

You scoffed, desperate to regain some control over the conversation. "You say that like I should just expect it."

"Maybe you should," he said, voice smooth, teasing, but with a weight behind it that made your stomach flip.

And just like that, the game between you shifted. It wasn't just harmless teasing anymore. It was charged, loaded with something more than just playful.

You were in trouble.

And worse? You weren't sure you minded.

Wonwoo should've seen it coming.

He was halfway through his iced americano when Mingyu—who had been rambling about his fantasy basketball team for the past fifteen minutes—suddenly leaned forward with a serious look. The shift in his tone was so abrupt that Wonwoo nearly choked on his drink.

"Don't date my sister."

Wonwoo blinked. "...Huh?"

Mingyu crossed his arms, leveling him with a look that was rare for him—stern, like he wasn't just joking around. "I'm serious. I know how you are, Wonwoo."

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. "How am I?"

"You don't do relationships," Mingyu shot back. "You flirt, you have fun, and then—poof—you're gone."

"That's not true," Wonwoo muttered, looking away.

"Dude. Jiwoo? Jiekyo? Mijin?" Mingyu listed off names, counting on his fingers. "You get bored too easily. My sister's not just some girl you can play around with."

That one stung.

Wonwoo clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. "You make me sound like some heartless asshole."

Mingyu exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I'm not saying you're a bad guy. I know you, Wonwoo. You just... don't take these things seriously. And I don't want her getting hurt because she thinks you do."

Wonwoo didn't answer. He could argue—say that things were different this time, that maybe he didn't know why, but the usual rules didn't seem to apply whenever you were involved. But he also knew Mingyu had a point.

Did he even know what he was doing?

Mingyu must've taken his silence as agreement because he nodded, looking satisfied. "Good. I just wanted to clear that up."

And that should've been the end of it.

Except... you had other plans.

The problem was, you were very aware of Wonwoo's usual avoidance tactics. And yet, despite Mingyu's warning (which you totally overheard, thank you very much), you weren't about to back off. If anything, it made things more fun.

So, naturally, you decided to corner Wonwoo after one of his gym sessions.

You found him outside, sitting on a bench, scrolling through his phone like he wasn't sweating buckets from lifting weights for an hour.

"Hey," you greeted, plopping down beside him.

He glanced at you, then back at his phone. "Hey."

Silence.

You smirked. "You're avoiding me."

His thumb hovered over the screen. "No, I'm not."

"You so are." You leaned in, trying to peek at his phone. "What, are you texting my brother to report my suspicious activities?"

He sighed, locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket. "Your brother would kill me if he knew we were talking right now."

You tilted your head. "Funny, I don't see Mingyu around."

He shot you a flat look. "That's not the point."

"You're acting like he owns me or something," you teased, nudging his arm with your shoulder. "What, are you scared of him?"

Wonwoo exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "It's not about that—"

"Then what's it about?"

He paused.

You took the chance to scoot closer. "Let me guess," you hummed, tapping your chin dramatically. "You think you'll break my heart? That you'll flirt, we'll have fun, and then poof—you're gone?"

Wonwoo visibly stiffened.

Bingo.

You grinned. "What if I told you I like a little risk?"

He groaned. "Don't say stuff like that."

"Why? Is it making things harder for you?"

He looked at you then, really looked at you—like he was trying to figure out if you were messing with him or if you actually meant it. And that's when you knew you had him.

"Relax, Wonwoo," you said, leaning back with a smug smile. "I just wanna grab coffee. Not a wedding ring."

He exhaled, shaking his head, but you caught the small smirk tugging at his lips. "You're impossible."

"And you are running out of excuses."

He stared at you for another beat before groaning, rubbing his face like you were the biggest headache of his life. Then—finally—he let out a short laugh, shaking his head.

"Fine," he muttered. "One coffee."

Your grin widened. "I knew you liked me."

"Shut up."

And just like that, the game was back on.

You should've known.

One coffee turned into another. Then into late-night calls. Then into hanging out at Wonwoo's apartment, always under the pretense of studying or just chilling.

Which was a huge lie. Because, really, what kind of studying involved Wonwoo's knee pressed against yours, his fingers grazing yours every few minutes, and him murmuring things in that low voice that made your brain short-circuit?

The worst part? He knew what he was doing.

And the proof?

Right now.

You were hanging out at his place after a long day, claiming his couch like it was yours while he sat beside you. Some dumb multiplayer game was on the screen, and you were so sure you were winning.

Until Wonwoo conveniently lost at the very last second.

"You're so bad at this," you teased, laughing as you nudged his arm.

Wonwoo, who had been sitting back lazily just seconds ago, suddenly leaned forward. "You made me lose on purpose."

You gasped dramatically. "How dare you accuse me—"

Before you could finish, he moved.

Fast.

One second you were playfully bickering, and the next? You were flat on your back, pressed against the couch, with Wonwoo hovering above you—his hands trapping you on either side of your head.

Your brain short-circuited.

"W-Wait—"

Wonwoo's knee nudged between your thighs, pressing down just enough to make you hyperaware of every single point of contact between you. The air shifted, playful teasing melting into something heavier.

Something that made your skin burn.

The way he looked at you—half-lidded eyes roaming over your face, his smirk growing as he took in your reaction—made your stomach twist into knots.

The corner of his lips curled. "What's wrong?"

Your throat was so dry. "You're—you're too close."

He hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Am I?"

And then—because this man had no mercy—he dipped even lower, his nose brushing against yours as he whispered against your lips,

"You started this."

A second later, his lips crashed onto yours.

Soft but demanding, like he had been holding himself back for too long. His hands slipped down, gripping your waist, fingers digging into your sides as he pulled you impossibly close. The kiss was slow at first—just a gentle press of lips—but then Wonwoo tilted his head, deepening it, his mouth moving against yours with a languid, intoxicating rhythm.

You melted.

Your hands, which had been gripping onto his hoodie for dear life, moved on their own—one slipping into his hair, tugging slightly. The groan he let out against your lips sent a shockwave down your spine.

Wonwoo's hands moved lower, resting on your thighs before effortlessly pulling you up onto his lap.

The sudden shift made you gasp, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. But before you could even think, his lips found yours again, this time more urgent, more needy.

And you?

You couldn't even pretend to fight it.

Because Wonwoo kissed like he meant it. Like he was making up for all the stolen glances, the teasing touches, the lingering tension that had built up between you for weeks.

And you let him.

Because, honestly?

You wanted it just as much.

From that night on, it was impossible to pretend you weren't completely wrapped around each other's fingers.

Sure, Mingyu didn't know yet, but Wonwoo made it really hard to act normal.

Like when he'd pick you up from hagwon (cram school) at night, leaning against his car like some effortlessly hot drama lead, hands in his pockets, waiting for you. And when you walked up, flustered and mumbling about how someone might see?

He'd just smirk and lean down, murmuring, "Let them."

Or when he'd help you study at the library but deliberately lean in too close—his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "You're not focusing."

As if he was helping??

And the worst part? He loved seeing you flustered.

Like the time he casually pulled you into an empty library aisle, tilted your chin up, and kissed you right then and there.

"You keep getting distracted," he murmured against your lips, eyes gleaming with amusement.

And you?? You just stood there, clutching your book like your life depended on it.

But hey. What Mingyu doesn't know won't kill him, right?

...Right?

---

Honestly, you and Wonwoo had been too good at sneaking around.

The stolen kisses in empty library aisles. The late-night study sessions that turned into him pulling you onto his lap just to mess with you. The way he'd casually lean against his car outside your cram school, hands shoved into his hoodie, waiting like some effortlessly cool drama lead.

Y'all really thought you were slick.

Until one night.

You were saying your goodbyes outside your house, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the both of you. Wonwoo had driven you home like always, but this time, instead of the usual quick peck and see you later, he leaned in, his hands resting on your waist, his breath warm against your lips.

"You're so cute when you're nervous," he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, tilting his head just right so you felt it all the way down to your toes.

And that was the moment your soul left your body.

Because the second Wonwoo pulled away—both of you breathless, smiling like lovesick idiots—you heard it.

A slow. Dramatic. Clap.

You froze. Wonwoo froze.

And then—

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here."

Your blood ran cold.

You turned around so slowly you swore time slowed down.

And there, standing in front of the house, arms crossed, wearing the most betrayed expression you'd ever seen, was Kim Mingyu.

"Oh, shit," Wonwoo muttered under his breath.

"OH SHIT IS RIGHT, JEON WONWOO," Mingyu roared, stalking forward like an older brother about to ruin your entire existence.

You instinctively stepped in front of Wonwoo like that was gonna protect him from the absolute storm that was about to hit. "Mingyu, listen, before you freak out—"

"BEFORE I FREAK OUT???" Mingyu's voice cracked, eyes darting between you and Wonwoo. "YOU'RE KISSING MY BEST FRIEND ON OUR FRONT PORCH LIKE IT'S A K-DRAMA AND YOU WANT ME TO STAY CALM???"

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Looked at Wonwoo for help.

Wonwoo: 😬

You: 😭

Mingyu let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before turning to Wonwoo with the deadliest glare known to man.

"You. Follow me. NOW."

Wonwoo shot you a look—part this is it, I'm gonna die and part I regret nothing. And then he followed Mingyu inside like a man walking to his execution.

You just stood there, hands on your head, wondering if you should start preparing a eulogy.

Because one thing was certain.

Kim Mingyu was about to ruin your entire love life.

You had never paced so much in your entire life.

Standing outside your front door, you tried to listen in—tried being the keyword. But Mingyu's voice was booming from inside the house, and you could already tell from his tone that he was about to make Wonwoo regret all his life choices.

You pressed your ear against the door.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Oop. You winced. That was not a good start.

"Mingyu, calm down—" Wonwoo started, but Mingyu was having NONE of it.

"CALM DOWN? OH, SORRY, SHOULD I THROW YOU A PARTY INSTEAD? CONGRATS, YOU'RE DATING MY BABY SISTER??? BRO, I TRUSTED YOU!"

There was a pause. A deep sigh. Then:

"I told you to break up with her."

WHAT.

You slammed the door open so hard it bounced off the wall.

"EXCUSE ME??"

Both of them turned to you like deer caught in headlights.

"YOU WHAT???" you yelled, pointing at Mingyu like he'd just confessed to murder.

Mingyu blinked at you like he just realized what he said. "Uh—wait. No, that's not what I—"

Wonwoo was dying. You could see it. He was looking between the two of you, lips pressed together, trying so hard not to laugh.

You turned to Wonwoo, still pointing at Mingyu. "DID YOU KNOW THIS?"

Wonwoo immediately held his hands up. "Nope. No idea. But honestly, this is the best plot twist I've ever witnessed."

"Mingyu," you hissed, grinning like an absolute menace. "Wonwoo's a great guy. Make him break up with me and I'll never talk to you again."

Mingyu let out the loudest groan, dragging his hands down his face. "I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT. I meant—I don't know! I just didn't want you dating Wonwoo of all people!"

"Wow. Okay. Ouch," Wonwoo muttered, actually offended.

Mingyu whirled on him. "I'M SORRY, BUT DO YOU KNOW YOUR OWN HISTORY? YOU'RE A HEARTBREAKER, BRO. I'M NOT LETTING YOU BREAK MY SISTER'S HEART."

Wonwoo's face immediately darkened. "Mingyu," he said, voice low.

And just like that, the room shifted.

Because that tone? That was not Wonwoo the sarcastic asshole. That was Wonwoo the serious guy who doesn't mess around when it comes to things that matter.

Mingyu must've felt it too, because his whole demeanor changed.

"I'm not playing around with her," Wonwoo said, steady and clear. "I'm not screwing this up." His gaze flickered to you—soft, almost apologetic, like he hated that this conversation was happening in front of you.

"I like her," he continued, voice quieter now. "A lot. More than I probably should." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "And I get it. You're looking out for her. But Mingyu, you have to know—I wouldn't start something with her if I wasn't serious about it."

...

DEAD. SILENCE.

You held your breath, watching Mingyu's expression shift.

He looked at you. Then back at Wonwoo.

Then back at you.

And then—he sighed the biggest sigh of his life.

"Ugh. Fine." He dragged a hand through his hair, groaning. "Fine. If you two wanna make out and be disgusting, whatever. But," he said, suddenly deadly serious, "if you hurt her, Wonwoo, I swear on my life—"

"I know," Wonwoo cut in, smirking. "You'll kill me."

"No," Mingyu said. "I'll make you wish I did."

WELL.

You weren't sure whether to be relieved or terrified.

But at least you and Wonwoo weren't hiding anymore.

And the best part?

Mingyu would never find out just how much sneaking around you two had already done.

Mingyu had no idea what he had just unleashed.

Because the second he begrudgingly gave his approval, Wonwoo had decided on a new mission in life:

Make. You. Flustered.

And he was very good at it.

---

EXHIBIT A: THE COUCH INCIDENT

Mingyu was in the kitchen, completely unaware of what was happening in the living room.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, a controller in hand, fully focused on the game—or at least, you were trying to be.

Wonwoo, on the other hand?

Oh, he was definitely not focused on the game.

He was watching you. Studying you like a predator stalking its prey.

And the moment you made a mistake in the game, he pounced.

"HAH—GOTCHA," he laughed, tackling you onto the couch.

You yelped, the controller flying out of your hands as Wonwoo pinned you down, his arms caging you in.

"W-Wonwoo—!" you stammered, wide-eyed.

"Cheaters don't deserve to win," he teased, leaning closer. His weight was warm, his cologne intoxicating, and his smirk was nothing short of sinful.

And just when you were about to absolutely combust, he dipped his head—

And kissed you.

Deep. Slow. Lingering.

Your hands fisted his hoodie, a helpless whimper slipping from your lips as he tilted his head, kissing you deeper.

His lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world. Like this was something he'd wanted to do for so, so long.

And then—

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FU—"

MINGYU.

Mingyu. Was. Here.

You froze.

Wonwoo froze.

Mingyu's scream could have shattered glass.

"WONWOO, GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY SISTER RIGHT NOW."

But Wonwoo?

Wonwoo smirked.

And he didn't move.

Instead, he pressed another slow, deliberate kiss to your lips—just to spite Mingyu.

"OH MY GOD, YOU—YOU—"

You didn't even know who moved first—Wonwoo scrambling off you or Mingyu lunging at him like a wild animal.

All you knew was you were absolutely dying of embarrassment.

EXHIBIT B: THE STUDY SESSION FROM HELL

You should've known studying with Wonwoo was a terrible idea.

Not because he wasn't helpful—he was. Very helpful.

But his idea of helping you study was apparently making you flustered as hell.

You sat across from each other in the library, a pile of textbooks between you. Wonwoo was supposed to be quizzing you, but instead—

Instead, his foot nudged yours under the table.

You ignored it.

Then his foot slid up your calf.

Your breath hitched.

And when you finally looked up at him, the bastard was smirking.

"W-what?" you stammered, gripping your pen so tight you thought it would snap.

Wonwoo propped his chin on his hand, voice low and teasing.

"Nothing," he murmured. "Just wondering how long you can focus before I distract you."

Oh. Oh.

You gulped.

And then—you felt a shadow loom over you.

MINGYU.

Again. AGAIN.

His arms were crossed. His expression? A mix of pure disgust and betrayal.

"...Am I interrupting something?" he asked flatly.

You and Wonwoo both jumped apart like you'd been electrocuted.

"N-no!" you squeaked.

Mingyu's eyes narrowed.

"...Are you two seriously making out in the LIBRARY???"

Wonwoo, without missing a beat: "Wouldn't be the first time."

Mingyu died on the spot.

Mingyu was 100% sure he was living in his own personal hell.

Because every time he turned around, Wonwoo was doing something to make his little sister blush like crazy.

A hand on her waist. A whisper in her ear. A kiss on the cheek.

AND IT WAS DRIVING MINGYU INSANE.

He started setting rules.

"NO KISSING IN FRONT OF ME."

But then, Wonwoo would smirk and kiss you on the forehead instead.

"NO TOUCHING."

So Wonwoo would lace your fingers together behind his back, out of Mingyu's sight.

"NO SECRET GLANCES—OH MY GOD, I SAW THAT, YOU THINK I CAN'T SEE YOU TWO STARING AT EACH OTHER??? STOP IT. STOP IT RIGHT NOW."

Wonwoo, grinning like a menace: "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mingyu was this close to throwing himself off a cliff.

The moment Wonwoo got you alone in his apartment, there was no hesitation. The second the door clicked shut, his hands were already on you—warm, firm, desperate in a way that sent shivers up your spine. His fingers trailed along your waist, pulling you flush against him before he backed you up against the kitchen counter, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something dangerous—something hungry.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured, voice low and rough, the heat of his breath fanning over your lips.

Before you could answer, his lips crashed onto yours, devouring, claiming, stealing every last ounce of air from your lungs. His hands roamed, fingers sliding down the curve of your back, gripping, exploring, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Your knees nearly buckled from the intensity, the sheer heat of it all, but Wonwoo held you firm, like he'd never let you go.

His lips trailed down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your neck, sucking lightly until you whimpered—until he had you melting for him, hands gripping onto his shirt like you needed something to hold onto or else you'd fall apart.

"Wonwoo," you gasped when he suddenly hoisted you up onto the counter with ease, spreading your thighs so he could step between them, his hands sliding under your dress, fingers tracing the sensitive skin along the inside of your thighs.

You barely had time to react before he tilted your chin up with his fingers, his lips brushing yours as he whispered, "Tell me to stop."

But you didn't. You couldn't. Instead, you pulled him in, kissing him with all the desperation you felt in your body.

He groaned into your mouth, deep and guttural, and suddenly, the warmth of his hands was gone—but only so he could hook his fingers around your dress and unzip it, painfully slow.

The fabric slid off your shoulders, pooling around your waist as Wonwoo's eyes darkened. His fingers traced down your bare skin, mapping out every inch of you, as if memorizing the way you shivered under his touch.

Then, in one swift motion, he lifted you off the counter with ease, his lips never leaving yours as he carried you through the apartment—straight to his neatly arranged bedroom.

You barely had time to take in your surroundings before Wonwoo pinned you onto the bed, hovering over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his eyes burning into yours.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he muttered against your lips before kissing you senseless— deep, slow, and thorough, like he was savoring every second.

His lips trailed lower, down your neck, your collarbone, his hands exploring, teasing, making you squirm under his touch.

He was taking his time, driving you insane, and when his fingers finally dipped lower, teasing at the edge of your underwear, you let out a shaky breath.

"Wonwoo," you pleaded.

He smirked, dragging his lips back up to your ear. "Patience, princess."

But patience was the last thing on your mind when he finally, finally touched you.

The second his fingers slipped past the band of your underwear, featherlight but deliberate, you shivered beneath him. Wonwoo took his time, tracing along your soaked heat with the slightest pressure—just enough to make you tremble, but not enough to satisfy the aching need building in your core.

He was cruel like that.

His lips brushed against your ear, his voice low, deep, and intoxicating.

"Look at you..." he murmured, dragging a single finger down your slick folds before circling your entrance—just barely pushing in. "So wet already. Is this all for me?"

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening in his shirt.

"Wonwoo, please—"

A sharp gasp left your lips when he suddenly pushed in one finger, slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch before curling it just right, pressing against that sensitive spot inside you.

"Please what, baby?" His smirk was dangerous, his movements even more so as he added a second finger, stretching you, filling you, setting an excruciatingly slow rhythm that made you feel helplessly desperate.

Your hips bucked instinctively, seeking more, but Wonwoo only chuckled, his free hand pressing you down against the mattress.

"Needy little thing," he muttered before dipping down to kiss you again, swallowing every whimper, every broken moan as his fingers moved faster—deeper.

You were barely holding onto reality at this point. The heat, the pleasure, the way his voice sent shivers through your spine—it was too much and not enough all at once.

Then suddenly, he was gone.

You whined at the loss, blinking up at him in frustration, but Wonwoo only chuckled as he pulled his shirt over his head—revealing his lean, toned body, his sharp jaw, his intense gaze locked onto yours like you were the only thing he could see.

"Relax, baby," he whispered, crawling back over you, caging you in beneath him. "I'm not done with you yet."

His lips trailed lower, down your neck, your chest, your stomach— his tongue and lips teasing, tasting, claiming every inch of your skin until you were gasping beneath him.

By the time he reached your soaked heat, you were already a mess—whimpering, squirming, aching for more.

And when he lowered his head between your thighs, his dark eyes flickering up to meet yours just before his tongue flicked against your most sensitive spot—

You swore you saw stars.

The first stroke of his tongue sent a full-body shudder through you, your fingers immediately tangling in his hair as he dragged the flat of his tongue along your soaked heat.

Wonwoo hummed at the taste, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you still as he set a slow, torturous rhythm—kissing, licking, sucking—his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud before flicking against it in teasing little strokes that left you gasping for air.

Your thighs trembled, threatening to close around his head, but he only chuckled against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through your already overwhelmed body.

"Already shaking, baby?" he murmured, lips brushing against your core, voice dripping with amusement and hunger. "Thought you wanted more?"

You barely had time to answer before his tongue plunged inside you, and that was it—your head fell back against the pillow, your back arching off the bed, your grip in his hair tightening as he ate you like he was starving.

Deep, slow strokes. Messy, wet kisses. His nose brushing against your clit just right.

It was filthy. It was heaven.

Wonwoo knew exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it so well it had you a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him, your legs trembling as he took his sweet time ruining you.

The heat in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter, your thighs twitching with every sinful movement of his mouth, until—

"Wonwoo—I'm—"

He didn't stop. If anything, he devoured you harder, one hand reaching up to lace his fingers with yours while the other pinned you down as you cried out, your orgasm crashing over you so hard your vision went white.

Your whole body tensed, shook, melted all at once as he licked you through it, riding out your high until you were twitching from oversensitivity.

Only then did he finally pull away, lips and chin glistening, looking up at you with dark, satisfied eyes.

"You taste so fucking good," he muttered, crawling back up, his body hot and solid against yours as he captured your lips in a messy, heated kiss—letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

And just when you thought you couldn't handle any more, you felt it.

The hard press of his cock against your thigh. Heavy. Hot. Desperate.

Wonwoo groaned against your lips, his hips grinding against you in slow, torturous drags.

"I need you, baby," he whispered against your lips, his voice wrecked with hunger, want, need.

He reached down, gripping himself, lining up against your still-throbbing heat—

"Tell me you want this."

His voice was gravelly, deep, wrecked, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

You exhaled, still dizzy, still trembling, but you knew exactly what you wanted.

"Wonwoo..." You cupped his face, brushing your lips against his, meeting his dark, burning gaze.

"I want you. All of you."

That was all he needed.

With a low, guttural groan, he pushed in—

The stretch of him had you gasping—a slow, deliberate push that filled you inch by inch, his cock dragging along your walls so deep, so hot that your nails dug into his shoulders.

Wonwoo groaned against your throat, his breath ragged as he stilled inside you for a moment—his fingers gripping your thighs tightly, almost trembling.

"Fuck—you're so tight, baby," he muttered, voice wrecked, strained, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck as he bottomed out.

The feeling was overwhelming. The stretch. The heat. The way his hips were pressed flush against yours, his cock pulsing inside you.

"You okay?" he whispered, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips.

You barely had time to answer before he rolled his hips, dragging himself out before pushing back in with a slow, deep thrust that had you moaning into his mouth.

And then he did it again. And again.

Slow. Deep. Hard.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you against him with every thrust, burying himself so deep you felt him everywhere.

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, forehead pressed against yours as his pace quickened, the slow drag of his cock turning into harder, deeper strokes.

Your body arched beneath him, chasing the friction, your legs wrapping around his waist as you gasped, whimpered, moaned, nails raking down his back as he thrust into you harder.

The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, of breathless gasps, of desperate moans.

The pleasure built fast and hot, your body tightening around him, your thighs trembling as his movements turned desperate, hungry.

"Wonwoo—" you moaned his name, voice wrecked, needy, broken.

His pace stuttered at that—his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself deeper, faster, harder, hips snapping against yours in deep, punishing thrusts.

"Say it again," he growled against your lips, his hand slipping between your bodies, fingers pressing against your sensitive clit, rubbing tight, slow circles.

"Wonwoo—oh my god—"

The heat coiled tighter, your body tensing, trembling, shattering—

And then you were falling apart.

Your orgasm crashed over you in waves, your body tightening around him as you cried out, gasping his name, trembling beneath him.

Wonwoo groaned, cursing under his breath, his thrusts turning erratic, deeper, rougher as he chased his own high—until with one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body shuddering as he came, moaning your name against your lips.

For a moment, the room was silent, heavy with heat, with breathless gasps, with the aftershocks of pleasure still running through both of you.

Then, slowly, he pulled out, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss to your lips, his hands still holding your body so close, so tight.

You were dazed, boneless, completely ruined.

And so was he.

Wonwoo chuckled, breathless, tucking your hair behind your ear as he smirked down at you.

"Think Mingyu's gonna kill me if he finds out?"

You groaned, shoving him playfully, but he only laughed, kissing you again, slower this time, softer.

"You're mine now, you know that, right?"

And with the way he was looking at you, you knew there was no going back.

The aftermath was warm, quiet, and dangerously comfortable. Wonwoo was still half on top of you, his body radiating heat, his breath slow and steady against your shoulder. His arm was firm around your waist, keeping you close, like he wasn't ready to let go.

"You good?" he murmured, his voice deep, low, still wrecked from what just happened.

You hummed, nuzzling closer, feeling the soft press of his lips against your forehead.

This was nice.

Too nice.

And then your phone vibrated.

Wonwoo groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Don't answer it."

But you had to. Because when you reached for it, Mingyu's name was staring back at you.

Shit.

You shot up so fast that Wonwoo barely had time to react before you were scrambling for your clothes, your heart pounding.

Wonwoo, still half-naked and looking so effortlessly wrecked, just lay there, watching you in pure amusement.

"Relax," he said, grinning like a menace. "He doesn't know you're here."

You shot him a glare, still clutching your phone like it was a ticking bomb.

"He will if I don't answer," you hissed, and before Wonwoo could make another smart remark, you swiped to pick up the call.

"Mingyu?"

"Where the hell are you?"

You froze. Shit.

Wonwoo was watching you closely now, eyes dark with amusement, but he didn't move—just propped himself up on one elbow, looking like sin itself.

You cleared your throat, desperately trying to sound normal. "I—I'm at the library."

Wonwoo bit his lip, shaking his head.

Liar.

"The library?" Mingyu sounded skeptical. "You never stay this late."

Think. Think.

"Uh, yeah, well—Wonwoo said he'd help me study," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

The silence on the other end was deafening.

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow.

"Mingyu?" you tried again.

"You're with Wonwoo?"

Your stomach dropped.

Wonwoo, the absolute devil that he was, just grinned, running a hand through his messy hair like he wasn't literally in bed with you.

"You—" Mingyu let out a sharp exhale. "I swear to god, if that bastard tries anything—"

"Relax!" you cut in quickly, forcing out a laugh. "It's just studying."

Wonwoo snorted.

Mingyu sighed. "I don't trust him."

"Gee, thanks, Gyu," Wonwoo said loudly, just to be annoying.

You glared at him, mouthing 'shut up' before turning back to the call. "I'll be home soon, okay?"

Mingyu grumbled something under his breath but eventually let you go.

The moment you hung up, you turned to Wonwoo, scowling.

"You were not helpful."

Wonwoo only smirked, sitting up, the sheets sliding down his torso, revealing even more of his very distracting body.

"Studying, huh?" he teased.

You threw a pillow at him.

"Shut up."

Sneaking around was thrilling.

Maybe it was the risk of getting caught, or maybe it was the way Wonwoo would sneak touches when no one was looking—his fingers grazing your waist, his lips brushing your ear just to whisper the most unnecessary things.

But Mingyu was getting suspicious.

And Wonwoo? He was making it worse on purpose.

Like now.

You were sitting across from Mingyu at a café, trying to act normal, when Wonwoo slid into the seat beside you—so close that your knees bumped under the table.

"Gyu," he greeted casually, stealing a fry from Mingyu's plate.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Wonwoo just shrugged, unfazed. "Saw you two and thought I'd join."

Liar.

You knew for a fact that he had been waiting outside the whole time, texting you the filthiest things under the table, just to watch you squirm.

Now, he was acting innocent.

And he was way too close.

So close that you could feel the heat of his thigh against yours, the brush of his fingers as he reached for another fry.

Mingyu was still watching him suspiciously.

And then Wonwoo did it.

His hand, sneaky as hell, slid under the table.

Onto your thigh.

You froze.

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers pressed against your bare skin, teasing, stroking, inching higher.

You shot him a warning look, trying not to choke on your drink.

He only smirked, looking way too entertained.

Mingyu, completely unaware, was rambling about something—basketball? A movie? You weren't even listening. Because Wonwoo was dragging his fingers along the hem of your skirt, toying with it, barely slipping underneath.

You squeezed your legs shut, but it only trapped his hand there.

His gaze flickered to yours, dark, teasing.

'Relax,' his eyes seemed to say. 'Unless you want him to notice.'

You bit your lip so hard it almost hurt.

Mingyu frowned. "Why do you look weird?"

Shit.

You cleared your throat, forcing a smile. "I—I don't?"

Mingyu narrowed his eyes.

Wonwoo, the absolute menace, just chuckled and leaned back, finally pulling his hand away.

"You should eat more, princess," he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your entire face burned.

And Mingyu? Oblivious.

For now.

Your voice was barely a whisper, heart pounding as you felt Wonwoo's breath against your ear.

"That's what makes it fun," he murmured, voice low, teasing.

This was dangerous. Reckless, even. But you couldn't stop yourself.

It started as a simple study session. Wonwoo had picked you up after hagwon, claiming he'd "help" you with your assignments.

Total bullshit.

Because now?

You were pressed up against the library bookshelf, the dim glow of the emergency exit light barely illuminating the mischief in his eyes.

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed over your jaw, slow, calculated. "You're so easy to mess with, princess."

You swallowed, trying to act indifferent, but your body betrayed you.

Because his hands were already on your waist, sneaking under your oversized hoodie, fingertips grazing your skin, making you shiver.

"Wonwoo," you warned, voice wobbly. "Someone might see—"

He kissed you.

Cut you off completely, swallowing any argument you might've had. It was deep, consuming, with just enough desperation to make your knees buckle.

And he knew.

He gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the shelves. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively.

His lips traveled down to your neck, kissing, sucking—leaving marks in places only he would see.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, earning a low groan from him.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he murmured against your skin, his voice sending heat straight to your core.

And then, his hand slipped under your skirt.

You gasped, back arching as he dragged his fingers along your soaked panties, teasing.

"Already wet for me?" he whispered, grinning when you squirmed in his grip.

"Wonwoo," you hissed.

"Shh," he hushed, lips finding yours again, muffling your soft whimpers. "Unless you want someone to catch us."

Fuck.

This was so, so wrong.

But god, it felt too good to stop.

His fingers moved against you, slow, deliberate, applying just enough pressure to make you tremble.

And then—

"Hello? Is someone there?"

A voice.

Somewhere in the library.

You froze.

Wonwoo, however?

He didn't stop.

His fingers kept moving, rubbing slow, lazy circles against your clothed heat.

"Wonwoo," you pleaded, voice barely a breath.

He just smirked.

The footsteps got closer.

Your heart pounded as Wonwoo kissed you again, swallowing your gasps as he slipped his fingers past the fabric, stroking your bare heat.

And then—

The footsteps faded.

Whoever it was, they were gone.

And you were falling apart in Wonwoo's arms.

He didn't stop until your body was trembling, until your head fell against his shoulder, until you were gripping onto his sweater like it was the only thing grounding you.

And then, finally, he pulled back.

He grinned, watching you struggle to catch your breath. His fingers—still wet from you—slid up your thigh, leaving a teasing trail.

"You were so loud, princess," he whispered against your ear. "I almost thought you wanted to get caught."

FUCK.

---

There were no fancy words, no grand declarations.

But when Wonwoo loved, he showed it in every little thing he did.

It was the way he kept your water bottle filled when you were too busy studying. The way he brought you warm meals when you forgot to eat. The way he let you borrow his headphones, knowing you liked his playlists better than yours.

Even now, as he sat in his gaming chair, his fingers absentmindedly traced circles on your bare thigh, pulling you closer onto his lap.

"You're too busy for me," you pouted, resting your chin on his shoulder as he adjusted his headset.

Wonwoo smirked, clicking a button on his keyboard. "I just spent two hours helping you study, princess. What do you mean?"

You huffed, nuzzling into his neck. "I mean, you're always playing games or working. I miss you."

His fingers paused on the keyboard.

A moment later, he let out a sigh and removed his headset, turning to face you.

"You're clingy," he teased, but the way his hands slid up your arms, the way his thumb brushed your cheek, said otherwise.

"You like it," you shot back.

He chuckled, pulling you in for a soft kiss. It was lazy, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world for you.

Maybe he did.

Because after that, he turned off his PC.

You blinked. "You're done?"

"Yeah." He stood, effortlessly carrying you to the bed. "I'd rather spend time with you."

Your heart melted.

"But your game—"

"It's just a game," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're more important."

Fuck.

That did things to you.

You clung to him tighter, burying your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Wonwoo wasn't the type to say 'I love you' a hundred times a day.

But he showed it. In the way he adjusted your blanket at night. In the way he massaged your shoulders after a long study session. In the way he never let you walk on the side of the road.

And in moments like this, where he'd drop everything just to hold you.

"You don't need anything but me, right?" he whispered against your hair, voice warm, teasing.

You smiled, pulling him closer.

"Right."

You were curled up on the couch, drowning in an oversized hoodie that—surprise, surprise—smelled like Wonwoo. The weight of your laptop sat in your lap, screen glowing with the absolute horror that was your unfinished assignment.

Two thousand words. Due tomorrow. You had written ten.

A dramatic sigh left your lips as you flopped onto the cushions, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to life.

Wonwoo, who had been watching you from his desk, barely glanced up from his monitor. "You're sulking."

"You're ignoring me," you shot back, hugging a pillow.

"I'm working," he replied, but there was a teasing lilt in his voice. "And you should be too."

You groaned into the fabric. "I can't. I have no motivation."

Finally, he turned his chair around, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he studied you. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable—fond amusement, exasperation, love, all tangled into one.

"You're acting like a baby," he murmured, but the way he got up and walked toward you said otherwise.

And then—before you could process it—he was lifting your legs and settling himself between them, pulling you into his lap with ease.

"W-Wonwoo?" you stammered, hands instinctively gripping his shoulders.

"You don't have to ask, princess," he said, voice soft, low, knowing. "I already know what you need."

Your breath hitched.

And then his lips were on your forehead—one slow, lingering kiss.

Then another on your cheek.

Then your temple.

Then your nose.

The kind of kisses that weren't just physical, but something deeper. Like he was pouring everything he felt into them without saying a single word.

Your heart felt like it would burst.

"W-Wonwoo," you whispered again, but this time, it came out softer, more delicate.

"Mm?" He hummed, resting his chin on top of your head.

You swallowed. "You're distracting me."

He let out a soft chuckle. "Good."

You wanted to be mad, but how could you be?

Especially when he wrapped his arms around you tighter, rocking you slightly, like he was trying to comfort you without even realizing it.

Like you were his whole world.

---

Wonwoo didn't like extravagant gestures.

But spoiling you? That was different.

He'd do anything to make your life easier.

Which is why, when you walked into your apartment after a long day, you stopped in your tracks at the sight of takeout containers neatly placed on the table.

Your favorite food. From your favorite restaurant.

And beside them—a brand new necklace, delicate and subtle, but undeniably expensive.

You blinked.

"Wonwoo?"

From the couch, he looked up from his book. "Yeah?"

You pointed at the table. "What is this?"

"Food," he deadpanned. "And a gift."

You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You had a long day."

Your heart faltered.

You took a slow step forward, staring at him. "Wonwoo, I told you not to keep buying me things."

"And I told you to stop acting like you don't love it," he murmured, flipping a page.

You huffed, but your face was already burning. "That's not the point!"

"You're so spoiled, you know that?" he said, tilting his head. "If I don't do this, you sulk."

"I do not."

"You do," he smirked, and before you could argue, he was standing up, taking slow steps toward you.

Your breath caught.

"You like being taken care of," he murmured, stopping just inches away. "And I like taking care of you."

Fuck.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

"Wonwoo," you whispered, and his hands slid up your arms, featherlight, teasing.

"Mm?"

"You're not being fair."

He leaned in, lips brushing your jaw, sending shivers down your spine.

"Neither are you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

And just like that, you melted.

Wonwoo wasn't a morning person.

But when he woke up to the empty space beside him, his eyes narrowed instantly.

You were supposed to be asleep in his arms, tangled in his sheets, where he could keep you safe and warm.

Instead—

He blinked blearily, pushing the covers off. The faint glow from your laptop illuminated your silhouette, hunched over at the desk.

"Baby?" His voice was gravelly, hoarse from sleep.

You turned, blinking at him. "Did I wake you?"

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, eyes flickering between you and the glowing screen.

He didn't say anything. Just stood up, walked over, and gently closed your laptop.

You gasped. "Wonwoo, I need to finish—"

"Later," he murmured, voice low, commanding. Not angry, not strict. Just firm.

You opened your mouth to protest, but then—he was lifting you effortlessly, carrying you back to bed.

"W-Wait—"

"Shh," he whispered, tucking you back under the sheets before crawling in beside you.

Then his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his bare chest, his lips grazing your shoulder.

"Come back to bed," he murmured.

You shivered. "But—"

"You can finish in the morning," he whispered, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. "Just stay with me right now."

And really, how could you say no to that?

"You're exhausted. Just sleep, princess."

The dull ache in your shoulders was killing you.

It had been a long-ass day, and all you wanted to do was collapse.

But your laptop blinked back at you, merciless and taunting, deadlines creeping closer.

Wonwoo watched you silently from across the room, arms crossed, brows furrowed. You could feel his stare, heavy and knowing.

"You need to sleep," he finally murmured.

You didn't even look at him. "I'll sleep after this."

A beat of silence.

Then—before you could react—arms wrapped around you from behind, lifting you with ease.

"W-Wonwoo?! Put me down—!"

"No." Deadpan. Unbothered.

And just like that, you were in bed.

He pressed you into the pillows, throwing the blanket over you like tucking in a child.

"W-Wait—"

"You're exhausted," he muttered, climbing in beside you. "Just sleep, princess."

You tried to fight it. You really did.

But then—his arms tightened around you, his lips ghosted over your forehead, and his warmth melted into your body.

And suddenly... your eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

Damn him.

"Give me your bag, princess."

College was draining you.

You had just finished a three-hour lecture, your brain barely functioning, your bag heavy as hell.

And then—there he was.

Waiting outside, tall and gorgeous in a black hoodie and sweats, hands in his pockets, eyes softening the second he saw you.

Wonwoo, your personal chauffeur.

You sighed in relief, grateful for his presence alone.

Until—he took one look at your slouched shoulders and frowned.

"Give me your bag."

You blinked. "Huh?"

He nodded at your shoulder. "Your bag. Give it."

You clutched it instinctively. "It's not that heavy—"

Wonwoo didn't even let you finish.

He gently pried it from your grip, slinging it over his own shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"Wonwoo—"

"You looked tired, princess," he murmured, taking your hand. "Let me take care of you."

Your heart skipped a beat.

...Yeah. You weren't arguing with that.

"Sit still, princess. Let me take care of you."

You sighed in bliss, eyes fluttering shut as Wonwoo's fingers worked through your damp hair, massaging your scalp.

God, he was good at this.

His touch was gentle, slow, firm—soothing every little knot of tension you didn't even know you had.

"You're going to fall asleep," he murmured, amused.

"Mm," you hummed, barely awake, tilting your head into his hands.

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're so easy to please."

You smiled, eyes still closed. "Only when it's you."

Wonwoo paused.

And then—you felt his lips on your neck, slow and deliberate, his voice dropping into that low, teasing drawl.

"I like the way that sounds, princess."

Shit.

Suddenly, you weren't sleepy anymore.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess, or I'll take you right here."

Wonwoo knew what he was doing.

The man had zero shame when it came to making you blush, and he thrived off of it.

Which is why—when you were in the middle of a crowded restaurant, surrounded by people—he had the audacity to run his hands up your thighs under the table.

Your breath hitched.

"W-Wonwoo—"

He smirked, taking a casual sip of his drink. "Something wrong, princess?"

You shot him a glare, but your face was burning.

"I hate you," you muttered under your breath.

"Liar," he whispered back, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on your skin.

You gulped, shifting in your seat. "We're in public."

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

"Stop looking at me like that, princess," he murmured, voice deep, teasing. "Or I'll take you right here."

Your breath caught.

And the worst part? You knew he meant it.

"I missed you, princess."

The night was quiet, the air cool, the city lights glowing softly through the window.

Wonwoo had been away for a few days—a work trip, nothing major—but God, you had missed him.

And apparently—he had missed you too.

Because the second he got back, he grabbed you by the waist, pulled you into his lap, and buried his face in your neck.

"You good?" you laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

He didn't answer.

Just... held you.

Long. Deep. Like he was soaking in your warmth, grounding himself in your presence.

And then, after a few moments—he whispered against your skin, voice low, hoarse.

"I missed you, princess."

Your heart melted.

You pressed a kiss to his temple. "I missed you too."

His arms tightened around you.

"I know."

"Stay close to me, princess."

Crowds were overwhelming.

Wonwoo didn't care about them much—he was good at blending into the background, unbothered.

But you? You were a whole different story. One talk with a stranger, you'd be friends with them almost too immediately.

Which is why—his arm was always around your waist, keeping you pressed firmly against him.

"Wonwoo, I can walk by myself, you know," you teased, looking up at him.

He just hummed, pulling you closer. "I know."

You rolled your eyes, but secretly?

You loved it.

Because as long as he was there, holding you like this, you never had to worry.

Not about getting lost.

Not about anything.

The night was warm, suffocating with tension, electric with something neither of you could fight.

It started innocent enough.

A late-night drive. The city lights flashing past. His hand on your thigh, firm, possessive, always touching.

You had been teasing him all night. Unintentionally, of course.

Or maybe not.

Because when you leaned in, whispered something soft, something sweet—

He snapped.

Before you could react, he pulled into a secluded parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to you with dark, burning eyes.

"Out," he ordered, voice low, rough.

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Now, princess."

You gulped. Obeyed.

The second you stepped outside, he was on you.

He pinned you against the car, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist, his lips crashing into yours—hot, desperate, consuming.

"You drive me insane," he growled against your mouth, pressing his body against yours, forcing you to feel just how much you affected him.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, chasing his warmth, his touch, his everything.

"I need you," you breathed, and that was all it took.

The world disappeared.

Nothing existed except him—the way his hands roamed your body, the way his lips marked your skin, the way he whispered, 'Mine. All mine.'

And when he finally—finally—gave you what you both needed, it wasn't just lust.

It was love.

Raw. Overwhelming. Unshakable.

And as he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven but laced with affection—

You knew.

You would never belong to anyone else.

And neither would he.

Your back hit the cool metal of the car. Wonwoo's body pressed against yours, solid, burning, intoxicating.

"You've been teasing me all night," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping when his hands slipped under your dress, fingers skimming up your thighs.

"I wasn't teasing," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Liar."

His fingers dipped between your legs, pressing against the heat that had been building all night.

You squirmed, gripping his hoodie, your body arching into his touch.

"Wonwoo—"

He swallowed your plea with a kiss, deep and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing every thought from your head.

"Tell me how much you want me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your knees buckle.

"I—" You gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I want you. Please."

That was all he needed.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the car, his hands exploring, teasing, making you beg.

"You love being touched like this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Needy little thing."

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

And when he finally—filled you, stretching you with a slow, deep thrust—

You shattered.

Your nails scraped against the car's surface, your moans mixing with the night air, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Wonwoo didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't let you come down from the high before pulling you back against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Open your mouth," he murmured.

You obeyed without thinking—and he kissed you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans as he drove you to the edge again.

"Mine."

His voice was a growl, his arms tightening around you, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

And when you finally fell apart with him, gasping, trembling, completely undone—

He didn't let you go.

He held you close, pressed kisses against your skin, whispered against your lips—

"I love you."

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn't just desire.

This was obsession.

This was forever.

The night was warm, suffocating with tension, electric with something neither of you could fight.

It started innocent enough.

A late-night drive. The city lights flashing past. His hand on your thigh, firm, possessive, always touching.

You had been teasing him all night. Unintentionally, of course.

Or maybe not.

Because when you leaned in, whispered something soft, something sweet—

He snapped.

Before you could react, he pulled into a secluded parking lot, turned off the engine, and turned to you with dark, burning eyes.

"Out," he ordered, voice low, rough.

Your breath hitched. "Wonwoo—"

"Now, princess."

You gulped. Obeyed.

The second you stepped outside, he was on you.

He pinned you against the car, one hand in your hair, the other gripping your waist, his lips crashing into yours—hot, desperate, consuming.

"You drive me insane," he growled against your mouth, pressing his body against yours, forcing you to feel just how much you affected him.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, chasing his warmth, his touch, his everything.

"I need you," you breathed, and that was all it took.

The world disappeared.

Nothing existed except him—the way his hands roamed your body, the way his lips marked your skin, the way he whispered, 'Mine. All mine.'

And when he finally—finally—gave you what you both needed, it wasn't just lust.

It was love.

Raw. Overwhelming. Unshakable.

And as he held you close, forehead pressed to yours, breath uneven but laced with affection—

You knew.

You would never belong to anyone else.

And neither would he.

Your back hit the cool metal of the car. Wonwoo's body pressed against yours, solid, burning, intoxicating.

"You've been teasing me all night," he murmured, trailing kisses down your jaw, his breath hot against your skin.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping when his hands slipped under your dress, fingers skimming up your thighs.

"I wasn't teasing," you whispered, but your voice betrayed you.

Wonwoo chuckled darkly. "Liar."

His fingers dipped between your legs, pressing against the heat that had been building all night.

You squirmed, gripping his hoodie, your body arching into his touch.

"Wonwoo—"

He swallowed your plea with a kiss, deep and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours, stealing every thought from your head.

"Tell me how much you want me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers stroking slow, deliberate circles that made your knees buckle.

"I—" You gasped, gripping his shoulders. "I want you. Please."

That was all he needed.

With one swift movement, he spun you around, pressing your front against the car, his hands exploring, teasing, making you beg.

"You love being touched like this, don't you?" he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Needy little thing."

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

And when he finally—filled you, stretching you with a slow, deep thrust—

You shattered.

Your nails scraped against the car's surface, your moans mixing with the night air, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Wonwoo didn't stop.

Didn't slow down.

Didn't let you come down from the high before pulling you back against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"Open your mouth," he murmured.

You obeyed without thinking—and he kissed you, deep and messy, swallowing your moans as he drove you to the edge again.

"Mine."

His voice was a growl, his arms tightening around you, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.

And when you finally fell apart with him, gasping, trembling, completely undone—

He didn't let you go.

He held you close, pressed kisses against your skin, whispered against your lips—

"I love you."

And for the first time, you realized—this wasn't just desire.

This was obsession.

This was forever.

a/n: aeya here ! BELATED HAPPY VALENTINE'S EVERYONE ! i hoped y'all like this because if you did, i already have the part two ready. it's march, and i hope this fanfiction will make up for the long stop i've been. i'm back to being a stranger ig, but hey, count this as a celebration for my 500+ followers. i love yall sm please never stop expressing yourselves from supporting me. also, I PROMISE i will eventually get to y'alls reqs because i love yall too much mwuahhh

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woozisguitar · 4 months ago

Text

seventeen reaction to overhearing you say "I'm gonna marry him" while you're on call with your bestfriend

pairing: seventeen x reader genre: fluff, crack, little angst in some? one suggestive joke so mdni! warnings: one suggestive joke, swearing, idk lmk if i missed something requested?: yes a/n: having a 200 followers event, come say hi :)

a/n: im so sorry this took so long! also im doing a 200 follower event, you can find details here! also if you see typos please ignore them I haven't slept in days once again requests are open and reblogs are appreciated <3

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aaniag · 1 year ago

Text

I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. I'm crying. 😭😭💞

Please. PLEASE JUST KISS NOWW!!! 😭❤️💞💖

k.sy || i like you.

» bestfriend!soonyoung x reader

» fluff ☁️, highschool au, mutual pining, jealous reader, cameos from seokmin, mingyu, seungkwan, cheol, hao, jun, wonwoo and chan, confession

» w.c: 2.2k

» a/n: this fic took way longer than i expected and its much longer than i expected too. i was originally aiming for around 1k lol but this ask helped w the plot since i didnt rlly know where to go LOL

—

you remember seeing soonyoung back on the first day of high school. you remember his jet black hair that fell in front of his upturned eyes, his braces that he swore were going to come off soon and his very, very, very loud and distinctive voice.

somehow, the deafening sound of kwon soonyoung wasn’t enough to suppress your interest in him.

there was something charming about him, but it seemed like that charm that you claimed oozed out of him was only apparent to you.

yes, some how you still thought he had charm even when screaming at his taller friend, mingyu, when he would accuse him of stealing a pencil or when he copies his other friend, seungkwan’s facial expressions and hand gestures he made when talking.

you personally thought it added to his charm.

one day you and your friends walked around the school during lunch and witnessed soonyoung whacking his head while trying to solve a math problem with wonwoo, another one of his friends, underneath the seemed to be dead cherry blossom tree.

you found it endearing that he was spending his lunch time to understand a concept while the rest of your friends found it embarrassing that he couldn’t figure out fractions.

you tried defending him, saying things like, “people have different strengths in different areas.” and, “maybe… he didn’t have a good sleep last night?” knowing fully well if that was chan, another one of soonyoung’s friends, you’d also be laughing at him.

the thing about kwon soonyoung was that he was always surrounded by his friends. he was either with his established friend group, talking to kids in the other homerooms or getting to know the kids in the other year groups, which was somewhat ironic since soonyoung loved to go around the school proclaiming that he’s introverted, but you had never seen him alone.

—

the first day you saw him alone was on an early tuesday morning.

you arrived at school early since you earnt a scolding from your mother and your teacher about arriving at school late, in your defence, you never woke up when your alarm blared in the morning.

you had never seen the school so isolated in the morning, well… to be fair, you had never been at school in the morning, so you decided to take a walk around the school by yourself.

you marvelled at how somewhat eerie the building felt, although it was just the start of the day, until you heard a faint sound of music coming from the gymnasium.

as you got closer not only did the music get louder, but the music now was accompanied by the squeaks of sneakers dragging along the gym floor. you slowly push open the gym door and peek your head through the gap to see kwon soonyoung, alone and dancing.

his sweat seeped into his white shirt that he wore as his body moved to the music, his body switching between fluid movements, focusing on his arms and strong and powerful movements, focusing on his torso and his feet.

secretly watching him dance, it occurred to you that you had never really thought about what he was like outside of school. you only associated him with what he was like at school; his loud voice, his insanely big friend group and his lack in academics and assumed that he was most likely the same at home.

thankfully, he didn’t hear you slip back out of the gym but it left you wondering how much more is there to kwon soonyoung other than being your noisy classmate.

after that tuesday, you decided to become diligent and began to come to school a bit earlier to try and catch a glimpse of the boy dancing get to school on time.

one morning, you were peeking through the door to watch soonyoung practice his routine until you get startled by a whisper, “he’s pretty good isn’t he?” you whip your head and see seokmin, you guessed it, another one of soonyoung’s friends. seokmin was notorious for being very loud and also being an introvert who was always seen around others.

your eyes go wide as you see seokmin grinning and give him a small nod before slowly stepping back from the gym door.

“hey where are you going? i was just gonna say you could go inside of the gym instead of just poking your head.”

you politely decline the offer until he grabs your arm and bursts open the gym doors, announcing his presence to soonyoung. although soonyoung doesn’t give him a glance until seokmin mentions that he brought someone.

soonyoung runs to his phone to pause his music and turns towards seokmin and you. your swear your face begins to grow hot as soon as his eyes meet yours.

“uh.. nice dancing!” you manage to blurt out after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

“thanks! oh, you guys dating or something?” he points to seokmins grip on your arm, earning a firm no from both parties and a quick drop of your arm. soonyoung immediately apologises to both of you, earning a sound of laughter from seokmin and yourself echoing throughout the gym.

that was the day your friendship started. the mornings before school quickly were unlabelled as a burden and was instead labeled as your favourite part of the day.

soonyoung invited you to watch his practices in the morning after seokmin exposed you watching like a creep through the doors, although he warned you that he most likely wouldn’t talk very much, being focused on the choreography, but that was ok to you, it was better than sticking your head secretly into the gym and leaving with a sore neck.

but being soonyoung, he couldn’t help but talk to you during practice. he asked for choreo ideas, even though you made it quite clear that you had no prior experience to dance other than just dance.

—

by now, it had already been more than 6 months since you saw soonyoung on that early tuesday morning and talks about feedback on the choreo was followed by more personal topics. your mornings before school were not only for practices, but became a time and place where both of you could open up.

“my dream? well honestly? i don’t know.” you say lying on your back while looking up at the illuminated gym ceiling. “what’s your dream?”

“my dream is to dance.” he says as he wipes his sweat off his forehead, taking a seat next to you. “or just perform in general. any where where i can be on stage.”

“i think you’d be an amazing performer.” you smile turning you’re head to meet his eyes.

“thank you.”

—

soonyoung’s charm soon became apparent to everyone else in the next year.

after his outstanding performance at your school’s arts festival, everyone, including your friends who laughed at him for sucking at soccer volleyball, began to see him in a different light.

a light in which you had always seen him in.

instead of laughing about how dumb he looked trying to kick the flying soccer ball, everyone began to gush and giggle over how cute he looked when fell on the floor. it didn’t help that he got his braces taken off just before the performance which made the other girls swoon even more as they began talking about how cute his smile was.

“surely you can introduce us to soonyoung?” one of your friends, jiwon, begged as she tugged on your arm. “aren’t you like besties now?”

you sigh and roll your eyes, “why can’t you just talk to him yourself.” you say as you try to yank your arm out of her hands. “see, he’s right there.”

“nooo, it’ll seem too desperate! please for us?”

you don’t introduce them to him.

—

what you hated the most about soonyoung gaining attention was that he flirted talked to the girls who were brave enough to approach him.

he didn’t even like them.

why is he talking to seoyun who has that dopey smile on her face? he doesn’t even know her. so why-

“stop glaring.” one of your friends, eunji, speaks while moving her fingers to your eyebrows trying to make you stop furrowing them. “you’re gonna get wrinkles early if you continue doing that.”

your eyebrows return to their normal state after she pushes them up. “thanks.” you say with a huff.

“i don’t understand why you’re so mad. he’s just talking to another girl.”

“can’t you see the way she looks at him? she totally wants him.”

“so..?”

“so… uh. can’t you see he’s totally flirting back?!”

“are you blind?”

“no…?”

“dude, he looks so disinterested in the convo.”

“then why is he still talking to her then?”

“because he’s a people pleaser. you literally told us how you were worried for him since he said yes to every single performance opportunity that the teachers offered him even though he knew he couldn’t handle it.”

“it doesn’t apply in situations like this.”

“it does.” she scoffs, “you’re just jealous.”

“and why would i be jealous?"

“because…”

“because what huh? finish your sentence.”

eunji lets out a sigh, “well i’d love to finish if you’d stop interrupting.” and gives you a glare, “because you like him?”

you scoff, “ha.. like him? i don’t like-”

oh my gosh. you do like him.

you liked him before he performed at the arts festival. you liked him before he got his braces off. you liked him before he slipped in corridors when being chased by seungcheol.

you began to like him the day you set your eyes on him.

“finish your sentence…” eunji says in a teasing tone as she see you flickering through your thoughts.

“i do like him...”

“i told you.”

—

you didn’t mean to ignore soonyoung. it just happened.

it all felt quite stupid really.

i mean, you never dated him and he never hinted that he wanted anything more than a friendship, so why are you ignoring him like you two had a fight? or as eunji says, “a break up.”

before you’d turn any corner, you’d try to listen out for his voice (or seokmin’s… both works) to make sure you don’t run into him.

but that became pointless as you feel someone swiftly grab your arm and drag you through the corridors, causing you to run. you had a feeling it was him. the yell of, “kwon soonyoung!” by your homeroom teacher confirmed that inkling.

he ran with you through the main doors of the school then turned to run towards the blooming cherry blossom tree with a metal bench underneath. the same tree where you saw him try to learn fractions last year.

“soonyoung…” you says while panting, trying to catch your breath, “what the heck was that?”

he turns to face you and gives you a smile. “impulse decsion.”

of course. soonyoung and his stupid impulses.

“why have you been ignoring me? it’s no fun practicing when i haven't got anyone to talk to.” he says as he sits on the metal bench, tapping next to him, signalling you to sit.

you choose to ignore the question and don’t dare to look him in the eyes. “why don’t you just ask junhui or minghao to watch you practice? i’m sure they have much better feedback other than it looks good.”

“well, they aren't you.”

soonyoung and his stupidly sweet words.

“i missed you, y’know. it feels so empty in the gym.”

you sigh in response looking at the dirt underneath you.

“did i do anything wrong..? if i did i’m so-”

“you did nothing soonie. it’s just me.”

he smiles at the old nickname but begins to pout at your lack of explanation.

“i guess, i just thought you didn’t need me anymore. i mean you suddenly became super popular, i thought you’d find other people to invite to your morning practices.”

you liar. why couldn’t you just say the truth? why couldn’t you say “i was jealous because i-”

“i like you.”

your eyes dart to the boy sitting next to you, face plastered with disbelief.

“what did you jus-” before you could finish your sentence soonyoung takes hold of your hand and begins to run again, this time back into the school buliding. “soonyoung!”

you two run through the corridors, hand in hand before he yells. “i said, i like you!”

you couldn't tell if your face was hot from the running you two were doing or from his loud and shameless confession.

you two circle around the building before running out the main doors again and returning back to the cherry blossom tree. you hear your peers laughter echoing through the school building accompanied by both of you panting, catching your breaths.

“did you hear me that time? or do you want me to do it again?” he says looking up at you with his hands resting on his knees, back bent over. “don’t tell me you want me to say it again... i’m kinda tired.”

“i heard you this time…” you chuckle.

“thank goodness.” soonyoung lets out a sigh of relief before plopping down on the metal bench.

“don’t do that ever again. please.” you say as you sit beside him.

“nah i wont. it’s too tiring.”

you two sit in silence for a while and watch petals fall from the breeze until you decide to break the silence.

“soonie?”

“yeah?”

“i like you too.”

—

thank you for reading until the end!!

want to read more? » m.list

want to be tagged? » taglist

tags:

@aaniag @dkswife @kokoiinuts

#alsktudy ♡#how tf can u write a perfect soonie fic!?#i wish i was in a co-ed school too ㅠㅠ #I WANT A BESTFRIENDS TO LOVERS IN MY LIFE TOOOO 😭😭💞#moots ♡#hoshi #seventeen #svt #kwon soonyoung

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sweetkpopmusings · 4 months ago

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dokyeom best friend headcanons <3

a/n: back at it again (finally) with best friend seventeen !!! one day i will finish all of these hcs and the boyfriend ones too.....until that day, please enjoy hundreds of words that represent my love for sweet dokyeom!!! pics not mine~

content: fluff | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none! | pairing: bestfriend!dokyeom x gn!reader | requests:open

dokyeom is sunshine personified which means he is literally the best friend anyone can ask for

like hello ??? a happiness virus by your side at all times ??? an angel being just a quick text or phone call away ??? a dream come true if you ask me

he is a very sweet, casual best friend

he is so thoughtful, and he’s always checking up on you

but it’s not through grand gestures or cinematic speeches

he will text you during the day to see how you’re doing, remind you to drink water, or even ask about your chores (and if he can come over and “help” aka distract you lol)

dokyeom just cares so much about you :-( like you’re his BESTIE and he refuses to accept you having anything other than a perfect day every day

which means he is the absolute best source of comfort

he will always be a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear

and he comforts you in the ways that you respond to best

want advice? he’ll stay up for hours talking through all the possible solutions with you. want to vent? he will listen intently and validate every single feeling you have. want to forget about the world for a while? he’s taking you out to do your favorite activities or staying in with you and binging your favorite content to escape from the stresses of reality

dokyeom isn’t afraid to ask how he can support you best either like he’s always working to be the best friend he can be

and he is HONORED every time you support him

sweet baby actually cries whenever you’re there for him like he is so so grateful

he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have an amazing person like you as his closest friend

usually while you’re comforting him he’ll thank you profusely, cry, laugh at the fact he’s crying over how much he loves you YET again, and smile like everything is fixed

everything IS fixed when you’re by his side actually <333 dokyeom tells you this constantly and he means it.

okay back to him being literal sunshine because im getting emotional lolol

dokyeom laughs at EVERY. SINGLE. JOKE. YOU. MAKE.

like even if it's not that funny, he finds you trying to be funny so hilarious that he's giving you no less than a hearty chuckle for every joke or joke-adjacent thing you say

if you say something particularly funny, he is throwing himself onto the nearest surface (which could very well be you, if you're standing/sitting near each other) and cackling while smacking his hand down repeatedly because he just can't take The Comedy

deadass you're his favorite comedian

and he LOVES to do bits with you!!!

y'all have a whole repertoire to pull out at any moment that calls for it or whenever you're in the mood

lowkey hoshi gets jealous but it’s fine because you and dokyeom let him in on the bits sometimes

obviously he is THRILLED any time you laugh at one of his jokes

which is constantly because hello ?? he is a strange and silly boy like you are entertained 25/8

sometimes you two have to ditch your plans entirely because you get so caught up in joking around with each other you lose track of time

these are dokyeom’s favorite hangouts <33 he LOVES being in your own world together :,,,-)

lowkey he gets jealous if you spend a lot of time with any of his members

it’s not super serious, but he definitely pouts

that’s MY y/n !!! they’re MY best friend !!! not YOURS !!!

it’s so endearing because he’s like a little kid who doesn’t want his friend playing with anyone else on the playground

he becomes the most excited puppy when you pay attention to him again though

the members tease him for this behavior but he just reminds them they don’t get it because you’re not their best friend >:-)

talk about a hype man

dokyeom is 1384302094503% dedicated to making you feel confident

he thinks you are incredible inside and out and he will not accept it if you don’t agree

whether he needs to buy you an entirely new wardrobe or script a full presentation on why you are the best person ever, dokyeom is Locked In on the loving y/n agenda

your reputation absolutely precedes you whenever you meet someone from dokyeom’s life

they know all about you and are immediately obsessed with you because of everything dokyeom has told them

dokyeom will be by your side, smiling brightly, relishing in how much they already love you

he’ll even suggest stories for you to tell when you’re having conversations in a group because he knows how to highlight your best moments

honestly he would totally have a stan account for you and make “y/n funniest moments” compilations and things of that nature

he’s your #1 fangirl and he takes that role VERY seriously

why ?? because one of the proudest achievements in dokyeom’s life is being your best friend :,-) <333333

UGH i love dokyeom so much he is the sweetest boy ever and i need to look at pictures of his beautiful smile and cry because i’m so grateful to be in the world at the same time as him <3333

dokyeom if you’re taking applications for additional friends please let me know i’m eager to take advantage of this exciting opportunity

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ddaddunugu · 5 months ago

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smau ✨ how seventeen members react when they see a sunbae trying to hit on you.

includes:🌷 soloist idol!reader, fluff, cussing

note: 🌷 reader and seventeen are bestfriends, seventeen sees reader as their member (they basically adopted her)

#seventeen smau #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #svt #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt smau

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asscoups17 · 1 year ago

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Some of my Favorite Seventeen Fics

s- smut a- angst f- fluff

One shots ~

Beautiful Liar ~ s a f @onlymingyus (Mingyu x f!Reader) (wc: 25.6k)

Crossroads ~ s a f @smileysuh (Kim Mingyu & Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader) (wc: 19.8k)

Anteric ~ s a f @smileysuh (Mingyu & Wonwoo x afab!Reader) (wc: 16.6k)

Too much of a good thing ~ s a f @lovelyhan (wonwoo x f!reader x mingyu) (wc: 15.6k)

Favourite ~ s f @simpxxstan (boss!wonwoo x model!mingyu x f.reader) (wc: 15k) (OMG DEF ONE OF MY FAVOURITES)

Always Only You ~ a s f @honeyhotteoks (brothers bestfriend! Cheol) (wc: 14.2k) (FAVORITE)

Good Luck, Fermata Tower ~ s a f @beefboyandbabygirl (fire-lookout!seungcheol x female!fire-lookout!reader) (wc: 13.9k)

Clowns ~ s a f @smileysuh (S.coups & Jeonghan & Joshua & Wonwoo & Mingyu x afab!Reader) (wc: 13.3k) (FAVORITE)

Too Many Beds ~ s @miabebe (Seungcheol x afab!reader) (wc: 13k)

Creep ~ s a f @smileysuh (Mingyu x afab!Reader) (wc: 9.1k) (FAVORITE)

it’s all fun and games ~ s a f @dontflailmenow (Mingyu x fem!Reader) (wc: 8.9k)

Dare You ~ s f @dontflailmenow (bf!Mingyu x fem!Reader) (wc: 6k)

Fuck, Marry, Kill ~ s @bitchlessdino (fem!reader x ex!mingyu x shitstirrer!seungcheol x innocentbystander!wonwoo) (wc: 5.6k) (FAVORITE)

Vices and Virtues ~ s a f @lovelyhan (bodyguard!mingyu x fem!reader) (wc: 5.4k)

Caught - s @hoshifighting (best friends roommate! cheol x fem!reader) (wc: 4.6k)

Do I Want to Hit You or Do I Just Want You? ~ s a f @dontflailmenow (Mingyu x fem!Reader) (wc: 3.9k)

The cake in the back! ~ s @toruro (dilf! Cheol) (wc: 3.8k)

Baby Fever ~ s @cheolhub (pussy-drunk-bitch-in-heat cheol) (wc: 3.4k)

Control Me ~ s @duhnova (gamerbf! Wonwo) (wc: 3k) (FAVORITE)

rules! “do i make you horny, baby?” ~ s @teeskz (gamer!seungcheol x fem!reader) (wc: 2.7k)

Practice Makes Perfect ~ s f @wongyuseokie (c.s.cxf!reader, j.w.wxf!reader, k.m.gxf!reader) (wc: 2.6k)

In The Dark Corners ~ s @sanakiras (fem!reader x ex!mingyu x bf!seungcheol) (wc: 2.2k)

Toxic - s @aeristudios (ex!seungcheol x fem!reader) (wc: 2.1k)

gamers do it better ~ s @sluttyminghao (c.s.cxf!reader, j.w.wxf!reader) (wc: 2k)

On My Worst Behavior ~ s @sluttywoozi (rough Vernon) (wc: 0.6k)

Popsicle ~ s @loupetlapinn (Mingyu x fem!reader (wc: ???)

𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐚̀ 𝐝𝐞𝐮𝐱 ~ s @loupetlapinn (Seungcheol & Wonwoo & Mingyu x fem!reader) (wc: ???)

Series ~

Challenge Me ~ s a @seokgyuu (Pairing: OT13 x afab!Reader) (All Separate) (Total wc: 94k) (100/10) (FAVORITE) (Messy to say the least)

ice cold, cabin fever ~ s a f @smileysuh (Seungcheol & Mingyu x afab!Reader) (wc: 25.9k) (FAVORITE) (Part 2)

Hits Different (…’cause it’s you) ~ s a f @gyuswhore (brothers bestfriend! Mingyu x Fem!reader) (wc: 20.2k) (FAVORITE) (Emotional to say the least)

Bloodily Safe ~ s a @starlightxsvt (psychopath!wonwoo x fem!Reader) (wc: 18.5k) (Game On! pt2 : 6k)

Push It Down ~ s a f @dontflailmenow (ex bf’s bestfriend! Cheol) (pt 5(last part) (wc: 16.6k)

Getting Closer ~ s a f @milfgyuu (Wonwoo x Fem!reader x Mingyu) (pt 1: 10.8k)

Cat & Mouse ~ s f @wonusite (bad boy au; Wonwoo) (pt 2: 5.6k)

After Class ~ s f @rubyreduji (professor! Cheol) (pt 1: 1.6k) (4 parts in all)

⭐️Last Update: 03/12/2025⭐️

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xoxoaugust · 14 days ago

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in that dream (we hug now)

desc: how did you and Rin change after he went pro? how can childhood bestfriends become strangers? (Based on We Hug Now by Sydney Rose)

You don’t think of Rin Itoshi anymore.

To say you felt betrayed was likely an understatement. Standing there with your eyes blown wide from nothing short of appalled. It’s not everyday that your best friend of thirteen years tells you that he didn’t need you in his life, that you’re just a distraction that he doesn’t want in his life. The boy who had known you since you were six years old, the boy who you deemed the most caring and kind couldn’t stand you anymore.

It has been six years since that tragic day. You have moved on (so you claim) and he likely has too, not that you care if he has or hasn’t. You don’t think of Rin Itoshi anymore. You only think of him sometimes occasionally when you look at the moon.

Soccer used to be your favorite thing to talk about, think about, and hear about. Now, the word soccer makes you sick.

Sick that even for a moment, you sometimes forget that there was a time that you enjoyed it before he came into the picture. The genius across the street.

You don’t think of Rin Itoshi anymore. You just think of him sometimes occasionally when you look at the Café you used to go to, the place you haven’t been since.

Sometimes, you’ll have a dream, and in there you said everything you wanted. The forsaken feelings that bubbled through your heart and soul. In there, he didn’t hate you. In there, he still lives down the street. In there, everything was right.

You are now twenty five years old, pretty successful working full time at the Sports Association as the head marketing. It had a decent pay and you were well liked by your coworkers, and it was far from home so you had nothing to complain about. It was the beginning of offseason for soccer, which you normally worked in (since you were knowledgeable about the subject) meaning you were in for a two week work holiday. Knowing yourself, you’d probably have to visit home for a bit.

Packing your bags, you could only feel a bit frightened and anxious that he could be there, right across the street also visiting. That is ridiculous, he wouldn’t visit at a random time during the offseason.

Driving for what has been and felt like hours, you were at ease. You get to go back to your home, see your parents and old friends again, you hadn’t visited in a while so you kept it a surprise.

Pulling into the reserved parking, you take a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out. You feel the nostalgic warmth of the winter season standing off the side of the parking spot. You smile to yourself before stepping up to the sidewalk and waking towards your house.

Unfortunately, fate has its own plans.

A certain head of black hair is caught in your range of vision. And now, that head is looking right at you, and all of a sudden you feel seventeen again.

All of a sudden your stomach drops, looking at him, you knew that he has accomplished what he wanted, without needing you.

You were angry, not just at him, but yourself. You have been wasting time stuck here in this feeling, but while your world was ending, it was just a small thing to him.

But in that moment when you were staring back at him, you didn’t know that he was stuck too, more so than you were.

Wasting more time than you were, too.

xoxo, august

#bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x y/n #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock rin

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supernovafics · 10 months ago

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•*⁀➷ ❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑. ❞✭・

supernovafics!

✭•*⁀➷ a modern fake dating steve harrington series ·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

in which a friendship is surprisingly born in an elevator, and a crush that feels hopeless is developed very soon after that. for what feels like forever, you debate whether or not you should be honest with eddie and see if he maybe feels the same way as you. but, you upsettingly miss your chance to say anything when he gets into a relationship with someone that’s not you. ultimately, you decide to push everything you feel to the side so that you don’t potentially ruin everything between you and him; because at the end of the day, he’s still your best friend. now, two years later, things have changed— there’s a break up, reignited feelings, and pining that feels worse and even more helpless this time around. a blind date leads to you fake dating some guy you barely even know with the hopes of finally getting eddie to see you as more than just a friend. at first, you’re hesitant and you honestly think that steve’s suggestion sounds a little insane. but, then you decide that perhaps it could actually, somehow, maybe work? you and steve haven’t even known each other for a full twenty-four hours before you two are shaking hands and agreeing to fake date for a month, and hoping that you both get what you want out of this abruptly thrown together arrangement.

warnings: modern au, college au, fake dating trope, Big Big slow burn, bestfriend!eddie, slight fuckboy!steve vibes, unrequited feelings, pining, angst, specific warnings will be tagged per chapter

author's note: ah i'm very very excited for this series! i had this idea since like december and have been up and down and back and forth with outlining and writing it for the past few months (its been a bit of a roller coaster to say the least lmao). but here it finally is woooo !! i'm gonna actually do a taglist for this one so let me know if you wanna be added<333

wc: 83.2k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

prologue — can't go back

chapter one — from the start

chapter two — how to fall in love

chapter three — easier said

chapter four — playing pretend

chapter five — somehow, it works

chapter six — keep it simple

chapter seven — in the dark

chapter eight — what this could mean

chapter nine — if there’s a next time

chapter ten — alone with you

chapter eleven — wishful thinking

chapter twelve — it’s all for you

chapter thirteen — i don’t ever wanna leave

chapter fourteen — maybe it’s you

chapter fifteen — let it all out

chapter sixteen — fragments of time

chapter seventeen — maybe we got it right

chapter eighteen — for real this time

chapter nineteen — close to you *

epilogue — nothing else feels like this *

#steve harrington series #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #thank me later series

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annwrites · 11 months ago

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⸻ i'm fearless, except when it comes to you. ⸻

· pairing: fezco x bestfriend!reader · type: one-shot · summary: you & fez have been best friends since kindergarten. and eventually, that friendship turns into so much more. · tags: friendship, fwb, falling love, fluff, found family · tw: canon-typical violence, murder, domestic abuse, death, cussing, guns, sex · word count: 8,185

Since you were five-years-old, you and Fezco had been best friends. Practically inseparable. Two halves of a whole.

He’d been your first kiss in kindergarten, and when you were sixteen and he seventeen—your first time.

It'd started out with the two of you lying together on the couch watching a movie, you pressed against his side, his arm around you, which had led to him tickling you on the floor, to him gently moving his hand under your shirt. And then he'd been given your blessing to remove each item of your clothing one-by-one until you were naked before him.

He'd seen you undressed before—more times than he could count—from you just getting out of the shower and raiding his closet for a t-shirt to wear to bed, dropping your towel right in front of him as you dressed, to you trying on clothes in front of him.

Not to mention the summer before, when there'd been a three-day blackout and the apartment had gotten to damn-near a hundred degrees. So the two of you had—through nervous giggles—stripped down naked and hold up in his room, lying on his bed and just talking. For hours.

You'd cursed the power when it came back on.

But this instance had been different. Context mattered. The most intimate thing the two of you had done before this was making out with tongue, his hands never touching any other part of you than your face or hips.

And so the both of you had spent the next fifteen minutes on the floor with your legs thrown over his shoulders, his face between your thighs. When you had finished, him kissing you there a few times, he'd rested his chin on your pelvic bone, smiling up at you.

He'd then gotten up, him taking your hand in his as he led you to his bedroom and the two of you had made love.

He'd been slow, gentle, sweet. His fingers twined between yours, soft kisses shared between the two of you as he eased himself in and out of you, telling you more times than you could count how much he loved you.

You'd cried after, tears of happiness, as he held you in his arms, pressed against his chest.

And that night something permanently shifted between the two of you. What you had, had become so much more than friendship. You couldn't even call it love, because you'd already had that before the sex.

Perhaps falling in love? But you'd already felt that toward him beforehand.

In the end, neither of you felt a need to put a label on what you had, what you were. You loved each other and that was all that mattered.

The two of you were faithful to one another. You didn't even look in another's direction. Your eyes were only for each other.

And you took care of him and he you.

You grew up in a rough household, which was putting it lightly. You showed up to Fez's with fresh bruises fairly regularly, until one day he'd had enough.

Eventually, the day came when he'd put his foot down and told you that you were moving in and that was the end of it. You'd agreed easily.

Fez wasn’t going to tolerate his abusive behavior toward you just on principal, but the fact he’d endured such treatment himself…your dad was lucky that Fez had let him live so long.

So, he'd driven you home, gathered your things—what little you had—loading them all into his car, but just before leaving, your dad had showed up, high as a kite, screaming that you weren't going anywhere.

He'd grabbed you, and hit you right in front of Fezco.

You'd never seen Fez lose his temper before that day. He'd hauled off on your dad, and when he released you, Fez had told you sternly to get in the car and to stay there.

You'd watched, trembling, as he beat your father to a bloody pulp. He'd then grabbed the back of his head by his hair, forcing him to look to the passenger side where you sat and he brought his mouth close to his ear, pointing to you, his top lip in a permanent sneer as he said something to him. Your dad had nodded fervently before Fezco let him go, his face smacking off of the pavement when he did.

He'd then walked around to the driver's side and sped away, holding your hand in his the entire time he drove the two of you back to what was now your new home.

Your hands had been trembling, but not out of fear of him. No, you were never afraid of him.

Rather afraid of your father calling the police on Fez just to get even.

Thankfully, that never happened.

You'd lightly ran the fingers of your opposite hand over his bloodied knuckles and he'd shrugged—reading your mind. "Be alright. He finally got what he had comin'."

That night, you'd showered with him, gently washing the blood from his face, tending to his now-swollen knuckles. He'd told you not to bother, but after, you'd put antibiotic ointment on them, wrapped them in clean bandages, and held a bag of frozen vegetables against them as the two of you lied in bed in silence.

Your being so quiet had made Fez uneasy. You were always talking his ear off—which he adored. But he knew you feared men; understood it. Your father had instilled such a feeling inside of you at a young age.

He'd never forget the one and only time you'd flinched at his touch.

When you were younger, you'd hid it well—your at-home life—but one day, when you were thirteen, the two of you had been hanging out at the shop, and you'd been helping Ash stock shelves. At one point, you'd turned and Fez had been behind you. He'd lifted his hand to grab something off the top shelf and you'd flinched so hard you'd slammed your head into the display, nearly knocking it over.

You'd burst into tears near-instantly, running into the back and locking yourself in the bathroom for nearly an hour.

He'd stood on the other side of that door, fighting back tears himself just from hearing you in so much pain. He'd begged softly for you to please let him in—all he wanted was to hold you—but you'd told him, quietly, that you didn't want to be touched at that moment.

He'd understood, but it had still stung. He wanted to be a safe place for you. A safe person. A safe man.

Once you had finally come out, your eyes and nose both red from crying, you'd slowly looked up to him and his eyes had been full of a feeling you couldn't place. Sympathy? Pity?

You later realized it had been love.

He'd sat you down and you finally told him everything.

He'd never been more angry in his entire life, but he didn't show that to you. Not for a moment. He never ever wanted you afraid of him. Not for one fucking second.

So you lying there next to him, completely silent... He couldn't not do—say—something.

He rolled over, setting the bag of vegetables to the side and he gently caressed your cheek. "I never meant to scare you. 'M sorry if-"

You raised your head up enough to press your lips to his, cutting him off. You kissed him long and deep and he let you, enjoying every moment.

When you pulled away, you gently ran your fingers through the beginnings of a beard that he was trying to grow. "I'm not scared of you."

He'd studied you for a moment, running the fingers of his injured hand through your soft hair, his eyes looking into yours before he finally pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, whispering to you that he loved you before the two of you fell asleep, his body wrapped around your own.

Adjusting to living with Fez hadn't been all that difficult. You already spent nearly every day over there with him and Ash, cleaning, cooking, sometimes decorating. You'd even occasionally buy fresh flowers to put in cheap vases on the windowsill—Fez refusing to throw them out until they were brown and wilting. But you still worried, nonetheless, that he would eventually tire of you; deeming that he'd made a mistake in asking you to live with him.

Hanging out regularly was one thing. Being around each other every waking and non-waking moment of every day something else entirely. And what would Ash think?

Your fears of Ash feeling like you were just barging into he and his brother's home—because that's what the two of them practically were to one another—was put to rest the next morning, with Ash telling you over breakfast that it was "'bout damn time" and that he had apparently told Fez once that the two of them should've "taken your old man out a long time ago" after you showed up with a black eye one night.

Fez had only smirked, shrugging, replying with a "maybe so", brushing his foot against yours under the table.

In truth, it made Ash very happy to see the both of you together—whether you both wanted to call it "being together" or not—he thought it incredibly stupid that the two of you didn't just call yourselves boyfriend and girlfriend.

He'd never say it out loud, but he saw you as a maternal figure, and he was grateful to have you around all the time now. He told Fez it was just so they wouldn't have to worry about where to bury your dad's body anymore, but in reality...clean sheets, freshly-washed clothes, and hot dinners every night were a really nice thing to have. And there'd been that one time you'd taken care of him when he came down with the flu and spent the next three days puking up his fucking guts.

The three of you may've been small and all coming from broken homes, but together you made what felt like one big family.

You didn't mind—never had, really—that Fez was a drug-dealer. He'd talked to you about it a few days after your fully settling in, telling you that you living there was putting you at risk.

It'd been different when you were just there hanging out; if the police busted in, you could easily feign ignorance of his...business ventures.

He made it clear that he wanted you there, but understood if you left because you had some place better to live.

Even if the both of you knew you had nowhere else to go.

He told you if SWAT busted down the door, or he was arrested, you'd go down right alongside him as an accomplice. That no matter how much he may want to, he wouldn't be able to protect you from the cops, especially if he himself were behind bars.

You'd simply climbed into his lap, straddling him, and told him there was nowhere else you'd rather be—risk of arrest notwithstanding.

He loved you for it—loving him despite who and what he was—but the feeling that you deserved better was always there. But if you wanted to be there, he wasn't going to waste his breath trying to convince you otherwise.

Refusing to do so was the most selfish thing he'd probably ever done. Because you were his whole world and he didn't want to lose you. He wanted you there, with him.

Gradually, those lines between best friends and something more—maybe lovers—began to blur.

You'd given each other pecks on the lips before and told each other "love you" numerous times, but those pecks turned into deeper kisses, longer. "Love you" turned into "I love you".

The first time he'd seen you naked had been an accident. You'd just gotten out of the shower and had walked into his room to dress. He'd been unaware you were naked when he had pushed the cracked door open, leaning in the doorway, asking if you wanted to get takeout that night—Ash offering to go pick it up.

He'd froze when he saw you clutching one of his t-shirts to your middle, every inch of your naked frontside visible to him.

It was like his mind had short-circuited in that moment and all he could manage to do was stare. And stare. Eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open.

And while you hadn't frozen, you stood there anyway, wanting him to look at you. Finally, he had walked over, gently taking the t-shirt from your grip before unfolding it and slipping it on over your head. You looked up to him, tucking your hair back behind your ears, now slightly embarrassed. "Chinese sounds good."

He smiled down at you.

Over time, you started wearing more and more of Fez's clothes. Mostly to bed. And only ever just t-shirts. You eventually stopped bothering with panties. And he certainly noticed when you were in the kitchen, reaching for a glass on the top shelf of a cabinet. He told himself for the longest time he'd move them down lower, but never did.

He had offered to sleep on the pullout couch when you first moved in, telling you that his bed was all yours if you wanted it, but you'd instead asked "what if we just slept together". He liked that idea much better.

He himself usually slept naked, but opted for wearing boxers to bed for awhile for your sake. One night, however, he took them off beforehand, heart pounding, but curious what your reaction might be to him doing so. You'd merely glanced up to him, flushed, then said, "oh" before looking back to the book you were currently reading.

After he climbed into bed beside you, you eventually gave up on the page you'd tried to read five times in a row and decided to lie down for the night as well. It was almost three a.m. before you found sleep.

The next night, as payback—rather, you wanted to be naked beside him, but never would admit that out loud—you had come into the bedroom, Fez playing something on his Xbox, and shut the door behind you before reaching down to the hem of his t-shirt you had on and pulling it off, tossing it on the floor.

All you could remember was him cursing as he lost the round, his attention now firmly elsewhere.

And then it became nightly: the two of you going to bed naked, but never doing anything more intimate than talking before going to sleep.

Sometimes each of you would wake up with the other wrapped around you, but when morning came, neither of you said anything about it. It was just the way things were. Sometimes the two of you found each other in your sleep. Sometimes not.

Fez tried to drive you to and from school as much as possible, but between the shop and dealing, it wasn't always feasible, since he needed to be home a lot. You understood that, but always felt giddy when you saw his black Impala in the parking lot. Him usually leaning against the passenger side smoking, waiting for you.

Others would stare as you ran into his arms, squealing as he picked you up and spun you around—your legs wrapped around his middle—but neither of you paid your classmates any mind.

He'd drive you back home with his hand between your thighs, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin of your leg, his other hand resting over the steering wheel.

The one time you'd taken his hand and moved it under your panties instead, he'd swerved into another lane, nearly causing a wreck. You'd sheepishly apologized, and never did it again.

He'd merely told you with a laugh "Lemme know next time you're gonna do something like that, baby, so I can pull over first".

Sometimes, neither of you could wait that fifteen minute drive back home and he'd pull off into a secluded spot off the main road and you'd climb into his lap, unbuckling his belt, him pulling your panties to the side under your dress as he eased into you.

You both prayed your birth control had worked every time he came inside of you.

He had promised you in the dark of the bedroom one night, however, that if one day it didn't, he'd take care of you. Both of you. If that's what you wanted.

You'd pressed your naked body even closer to his and whispered that it would be.

After school, once your homework was completed, you'd sometimes clean the apartment, the windows open and your favorite music drifting down the hall as you checked in on his grandma every once in awhile, making sure she was alright.

Other times, you'd go to the shop with him and watch as he worked. Once, shortly before closing, you'd been sitting atop a freezer in the front near the register, which housed various types of ice-cream. Fez had been between your legs, which were wrapped around his middle, your panties already in his pocket. You'd had your fingers clutching the gold chain around his neck, holding him in place as the two of you kissed, his hands gripping your bare hips under your dress, your slickness making a wet spot on the front of his jeans.

Until you were rudely interrupted by a boy you went to school with, but had never bothered learning the name of. He was tall, brunet, with an unhappy look on his face as he watched the two of you.

"Could somebody ring me up already?" He said, voice full of impatience, if not also a hint of disgust.

Not that either of you cared.

Fez had given you a peck on the nose and stepped away with a "back to work; you gotta stop distracting me, shawty" before bagging his things and sending him on his way.

You laughed, since he was the one who'd lifted you onto the cooler in the first place, and stealing your panties had been all his idea.

The guy had given you a dirty look as he left, but as soon as Fezco had his lips on your neck and his hand between your thighs, you quickly forgot about him.

When Fez was making deals in the apartment, you were always instructed to stay in the bedroom with the door locked, and for you to stay quiet. You never argued, understanding he sometimes did business with some very nasty and dangerous people.

You feared for his safety at times, but he was good at what he did and had never had any negative altercations thus far.

And he was always packing.

Which may or may not have turned you on all the more when you were in his lap and could feel a gun in his waistband.

You once told him as much and his brows had raised, a quite-surprised expression overtaking his features. "really?" he asked in disbelief. All it had taken was moving his hand between your legs and a "really" in reply before the two of you had sex right there on the couch. Twice.

After that day, he began cleaning his guns a lot more often, right in front of you. You usually just smirked and laughed about it, but it always got him his desired result—you inevitably coming over and silently taking his hand, leading him into the bedroom.

There had been a night when the two of you were in the middle of having sex when someone had started pounding on the front door. You'd immediately froze, staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

Ash had been outside your door immediately, telling Fez to get a gun—he already had his—and come find out who it is.

Fez had slipped out of you, quickly dressing, telling you to stay put as he hid a pistol in the back of his pants, exiting the bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

You'd walked silently over to the door, pressed your ear up against it, and listened for something—anything. Praying whatever was about to transpire...if it ended badly, that it would be for the other party.

You heard male voices. You were unable to make out what was being said, but the voices weren't raised, and the door hadn't been slammed or kicked in. So you'd gone back to bed, now a bit calmer, and eventually you drifted off to sleep.

But you had fucked up in forgetting to lock the door.

When Fez found Mouse in the bedroom, looking down at you sleeping—thankfully clutching blankets to your front, only your back bare—his hand brushing some hair out of your face, tracing his knuckles along your soft cheek, Fez had filled with murderous rage.

"Get. Out. This room is off fuckin' limits."

Mouse had only glanced back to him. "Door was unlocked, homes. Told you I was lookin' for the bathroom. Guess I chose the wrong room," he said with a shrug.

Fez took a step closer. "Told you it was at the very end of the hall. This look like the end of the fuckin' hall to you?"

He was beginning to raise his voice and you stirred in your sleep, then settled again. Mouse turned a bit more toward him, raising a finger to his lips. Then, "She's fuckin' fine, man. Looks like you got yourself some A1 pussy, if I say so myself." He smirked. "Ever think of sharin' with a brother?"

If Fez didn't get him out of the bedroom and even further away from you, and soon, he was going to commit a felony.

"I don't fuckin' share, so no."

When Mouse looked back to him, not liking his tone, he immediately took note of the gun that was now-visible in his front waistband, his t-shirt tucked behind it.

Mouse then looked into his eyes, the two of them staring one another down for just a moment, before Mouse finally stepped away from you. "Normally, I wouldn't tolerate that threat shit. But I'll give you a pass tonight. I know how it can be when a bitch got you wrapped around her finger."

As they stepped back out into the hall, Fez locking, then closing the door behind him, he gave Mouse a simple reply: "Don't ever fuckin' talk about her like that again."

Rue becomes the first person Fez eventually refuses to deal to.

She doesn't take kindly to his refusal, and you can see how much her reaction to it hurts him—the obscenities she screams at him, yelling that he was the one who had made her into what she had become. All you could do was press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around him, waiting for her to leave.

He'd leaned his head against one of the walls in the hall and whispered "I did the right thing, right?" to you, which you had replied that he had, that this was the best thing for her, and that you loved him.

But that day hadn't been the last time either of you would see her. Your dislike for her grows as she gets Fez involved in her own personal issues with your fellow classmates, like Nate Jacobs. The same boy who'd given you both such a nasty look the day you'd been enjoying one another's company atop the cooler.

Nate comes by one day, once again late at night, and Fez makes it clear that he's to stay clear of Rue and her friend, Jules.

Nate had insulted Fez, then had asked, after Fez had threatened his life—staring at you all the while—if the list of people he was to stay away from included anybody else, or if 'lil' miss white-trash-beautiful' was free game.

You'd raced over to Fez before he could do something he would end up regretting as he quickly stepped around the register, taking both of his hands in yours, telling him what Nate had said didn't matter and to just let it go—let him go. You'd begged him to just look at you, but he refused to do so until Nate had finally driven away.

And then he had. He'd removed his right hand from yours and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, gripping your chin in his fingers, before looking into your eyes. "If he ever comes near you again, I won't hesitate to put his ass six feet in the fuckin' ground".

You never told him how wet that one comment alone had made you. He didn't need anymore encouragement to go after and kill him.

And then the cops had raided the apartment and you, Fez, and Ash had scrambled to flush all the drugs down the toilet, Fez panicking, telling you to climb out one of the windows, but you refused to leave the two of them.

And that night was the first time you'd not only had a gun pointed at you, but the first time you'd ended up in cuffs.

You and Ash had sat on the floor while the police questioned Fezco for the next over an hour about where the drugs were, all while he played stupid.

And then the cops had laid into you, telling you that they could help you—get you away from your "abusive lowlife boyfriend", that they could "get you into rehab if he had you strung out, if you'd just cooperate". You did just as you and Fez had rehearsed and used tears to your benefit, telling them you didn't have any idea what they were talking about. That the three of you had just been getting ready to make dinner when they'd torn your home apart.

That Fez loved you.

And then you took the lie a step further, telling them to please uncuff you. Your stomach hurt and you were worried all of this stress was going to make you miscarry. You'd begged them—you couldn't lose your baby.

Fez had sat there frozen, completely fucking petrified, staring at you, a thousand thoughts going through his head. The most prominent among them? He'd nearly gotten you killed all over a few grand in narcotics. You, and your and his baby both.

The sob story hadn't deterred the police in their interrogation. The most they'd done was uncuff your hands, which you'd then gingerly placed over your stomach.

Once the police had left, Fez had dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing his hands to your stomach, asking over and over again if you were ok, if the baby was ok.

Ash had called him "fuckin' stupid", asking if he'd really believed that.

Fez had looked up to you confused and your face went red with embarrassment. "I thought it would get them out faster."

Hurt flashed across his features then, and you felt sick with yourself.

That night, you'd apologized profusely in bed, but so did he.

In the end, the both of you decided there was nothing which needed forgiven.

Fez admitted, only for a moment, that the thought of the two of you having a baby had actually...excited him, even if he worried about what sort of life he could provide for the both of you.

And then you'd told him when the time came, the both of you would figure that out together; it wasn't all on him. And then you had had sex. And for the first time, even if it was incredibly stupid of him, Fez hoped something more would come from it.

When you'd expressed fear to Fez of what would happen with people he owed money and product to now that he couldn't pay them, he'd merely told you that he'd "take care of it".

When he came back home one night with a few grand in a duffel bag, you never asked where it had come from. You'd just helped him count and hide it.

And then you had washed his bloody clothes, telling him to also shower to remove the evidence of whatever he had done.

Fez hadn't told you his intentions for the New Year's Eve party at Virgil's. He'd simply told you that the three of you were going to have a good time. And on the way there, he'd promised to kiss you at midnight, earning a groan from Ash in the backseat, which had made you laugh.

As the clock struck closer to that time, however, Fez had excused himself from the couch the two of you were seated on, saying he was getting up to get a drink. You'd tensed up as you watched him and Nate converse for a moment, Nate looking at you for a moment.

And that's when Fez had busted a bottle over his head.

Nate had fallen to the floor, Fez climbing on top of him and beating him within an inch of his life.

You'd stood by, horrified, as Nate's face became more and more bloodied and swollen. It took two guys to pull Fez away and once they had, he'd quickly grabbed your hand, leading you out of the house, Ash already waiting in the car.

And that's when you realized it had all been pre-planned.

You'd asked him why on the way home, and he'd told you his theory that, after him threatening Nate, he'd been the one to call the cops. And him making a vulgar comment about you—once again—had been the last straw.

You and Fez fucked until you were sore that night.

Some weeks later, Nate's dad showed up and Ash beat the living hell out of him with the butt-end of a rifle every time he got smart as Fez questioned him, until blood was pouring from the top of his head.

The more he and Fez talked, the more confused every one of you grew. By the end, Fez had something monumental over Cal—and you supposed, by extension, Nate, as this getting out would ruin the entire Jacobs family—he'd made a sex-tape with Jules. He'd said at one point that he "didn't know". Fez had of course misinterpreted what he'd meant.

But you understood.

Either he was lying, or he truly hadn't known she was a minor. Either way, he had made a disc which contained...something that would land him in prison for perhaps the rest of his life. And if he was anything like his son, maybe he would deserve it.

You, Fez, and Ash had stayed up most of the night in the living room, Little House playing softly in the background as the three of you debated what to do with the new information you’d been given.

Ash wanted to report him to the police—destroy his and Nate’s life. Mostly Nate’s for the raid, which you were sure Ash would never get past.

You wanted to sit on it. You didn’t want to do anything rash. Not yet. You weren’t even sure that—once he was out of the hospital—you wanted Nate aware of what you all now knew about his father. It would’ve provided some sick sense of satisfaction to throw such a thing in his face, sure. But he’d—at least most likely—called the cops on you all once already.

There was no telling what he might do if you blew his entire life up in the worst way possible.

As for Fez, he’d stated the obvious: unless you all got ahold of a copy of that disc, what you all knew didn’t mean shit. Only having solid proof of what Cal had done would get you anywhere.

And so the subject was dropped. But it was always there, waiting. As was the paranoia of Nate going a step further in getting revenge after what had happened during New Years.

You lost a bit of sleep over it all for a few weeks.

That constant stress loomed over your head of losing everything.

And you knew if Nate did it—if he sought vengeance again—it would be the last time. Fezco would kill him. And you’d do whatever was asked of you to help. Even though you knew Fez would never involve you in such a thing.

He’d already tried to destroy the life you all had worked so hard to build and keep ahold of once. It wasn’t going to happen again.

But, surprisingly, once Nate had recovered and was back at school…nothing happened.

And just as you were beginning to grow comfortable again, Mouse was beginning to become more and more of a problem. Constantly pushing for Fez to sell more product and earn more money and give him a bigger cut.

Until the night Ash killed him with a hammer.

You’d been locked in the bedroom, same as always, some cheesy romance movie on TV which was slowly putting you to sleep, until you heard yelling.

You’d jolted awake, heart racing, fear running through you.

And then you’d done something very stupid.

You’d gone in the closet, retrieved one of Fez’s glocks and exited the bedroom. You’d stepped quietly down the hall—silent as can be, your heart pounding in your ears—then peeked around the corner and you had froze when you saw it.

Mouse was dead, Custer and Ash screaming at each other—blood pouring from Custer’s nose, which was now a bloody mess.

Ash insistent that, had he not done it, Mouse would’ve shot Fez.

You’d gasped, dropping the gun. It thumped against the floor, making all three of them turn toward you as you covered your mouth, tears now slipping from your eyes as you choked back panicked sobs.

Fez quickly stepped over to you, turning you away from the gruesome sight before you as he held you against his chest with one hand, the other coming up to cup the back of your head. He’d whispered soothing words, telling you—promising you—that everything would be ok. That he would explain it all to you later. But, for right now, he needed you to go back in the bedroom and not come back out until he told you otherwise.

You’d looked up to him, your chin wobbling, and nodded, turning to go back down the hall.

You had nightmares for weeks afterward. About Mouse not actually being dead and coming to kill all three of you. Or about the cops coming to take Fezco and Ash away. Once, you’d had a dream about Fezco standing over you with a pistol. You’d shot up in bed, drenched in sweat, a gunshot ringing in your ears.

You never told him about the last one.

The others you weren’t exactly able to hide. The two of you usually fell asleep with you in his arms, pressed close to his chest, his thigh wedged between both of your legs. So when you would start to whine or cry or thrash in your sleep…well, it obviously woke him as well. And usually it took the better part of an hour for him to calm you enough before you managed to fall back asleep.

You drug at school most days, daydreaming about getting back home, stripping, and crawling beneath the covers for a couple of hours before getting up to make dinner and do your homework.

Until you started waking to dinner having been prepared for you and Ash having done your homework, even if you insisted that him doing so wasn’t necessary—he had enough on his plate. But he usually just brushed such insistence off.

Eventually, the nightmares started to lessen and you did your best to forget about Mouse. About that night. And your life, once again, returned to normal.

The most exciting thing that even occurred came a few weeks later: the news coming to light that Nate had apparently been hooking up with Cassie while he and Maddy were broken up…or on a break…or whatever they were. You didn’t really care.

And then had come Lexi’s play, where she’d seemingly cast knock-off versions of all of her friends and their friends and aired all of their dirty laundry for the whole school to see.

You’d skipped it, but had heard bits-and-pieces about it around school. A small part of you even wished that you had gone to it just to see Maddy and Cassie beating the crap out of each other on-stage, if nothing else.

Instead, you had stayed home with Fez and Ash, the three of you eating dinner and then playing Monopoly, which you were sure Ash had cheated at, but you couldn’t prove how.

Fez had tried to bribe you into selling him your properties through the promise of whispered sexual favors—Ash yelling for him to ‘knock it the fuck off’, and that he ‘wasn’t being fair’. You’d given him Park Place without qualms and it had earned you half an hour of oral once you were both in bed for the night.

Boardwalk had earned you him tying you up and having his way with you. He’d asked how, exactly, that was supposed to be considered you winning something for yourself when he was getting to have all the fun, but you’d replied simply by spreading your legs and calling him daddy.

He’d had no idea what to do with that other than laugh.

You’d flushed out of embarrassment, having never called him that before, but he’d made love to you for over an hour anyway.

During the summer, between your junior and senior year, the best day of your life happened. Up until that point, that is, at least.

You’d gone out to run a few errands—Fez and Ash continuously sending you things they’d forgotten to ask you to pickup before you’d left—your fuse growing shorter with every item you had to backtrack in the Impala to go get.

When you finally got back to the apartment, ready to explode once you got through the door, you’d stopped, all anger leaving you when you took in the sight before you.

The windows were open, the apartment spotless, and candles and flowers everywhere. And right in front of you was Fezco, down on one knee, a small box with a ring inside in his trembling hand.

You’d dropped the groceries you’d been holding, your hands coming up to rest over your mouth as tears welled in your eyes.

You’d stepped closer, until he took your left hand in his, and he said so many sweet and loving things.

He told you how you were the love of his life, how you held his heart in the palms of your hands, how you were the only woman he had and would ever want. He told you how desperate he was to start the rest of his life with you as his wife, how he wanted to give you his name—the first of many things he wanted to give you—or, rather, continue to give you as he had already done so much for you.

And you’d dropped to your knees and kissed him, deeply. And you had of course said yes. And he’d slid the simple diamond ring on your finger that he’d found at a pawnshop almost an hour of town (he’d scoured all the ones nearby, but nothing had seemed right—none had been the one for you), until one was.

And then you’d made love right there on the floor.

Senior year, you stayed to yourself. You didn’t bother making friends with the other students, or seeing what their lives were like. You wanted no part in any of that—their breakups and fights and stupid shallow drama. You just focused on your life with Fez and Ash and their grandma, Marie.

You and Fez had actually gotten married two weeks after his proposal. It felt strange—sitting in the middle of English class as you filled out worksheets and kids snickered amongst themselves in the back—when you glanced down to your wedding ring, knowing you were now someone’s wife.

And you’d never felt happier.

A little over a month before graduation, you found out you were pregnant. And when you told Fez, presenting him with a custom-made t-shirt which said ‘Best Dad on the West Coast’, he’d cried, pressing kiss after kiss to your stomach, promising he would be the best father he could be.

You’d given Ash a similar gift, but instead of ‘dad’, it had said ‘brother’—since you considered him a sort of surrogate son—and he’d taken the t-shirt, nodding his head, his brows furrowed, and had excused himself after muttering ‘thanks’, and you knew it was so he could go cry in private.

When you graduated, the two of them, even Faye and Custer, had been in the crowd and they’d screamed…unbelievably loud as you walked the stage. You’d smiled so wide it made your cheeks hurt and all five of you had taken at least a hundred pictures after.

And then you’d all gone to dinner, Faye and Custer giving you a graduation gift, which had actually been a cute onesie for the baby, which said ‘mommy’s girl, daddy’s world’ on the front, causing tears to gush from your eyes, which you then blamed on the hormones.

You’d then all gone bowling and Custer had somehow managed to kick everyone’s asses, with Ash coming in as a close second. Faye had just wanted to play with the bumpers up, so you all had played another game while the guys watched—Custer and Fez drinking and joking while Ash complained that the bumpers defeated the whole purpose of the game (even if he did play with you all)—and Faye had won.

Ash had blamed it all on the bumpers, claiming they’d ‘thrown off his game’.

When you returned home, you’d been exhausted. You and Fez had taken a bath together and when you lied down in bed, he’d rubbed your feet until you fell asleep, clutching a small teddy bear to your chest.

You’d been sleeping with the toy off and on, insisting you wanted it to have your scent for when the baby finally came, so she’d have it to sleep with in her bassinet beside the bed.

Shortly before the baby was born, Fez had gotten himself out of dealing—which hadn’t been an easy feat, to put it lightly—and had then sold the store, which had earned you all enough for him to put a down payment on a house outside of East Highland.

The move had been a pain while pregnant. Not because you had helped, but because Fez, Ash, Faye, and Custer had all refused to let you so much as lift a single box.

You told yourself, as you sipped on lemonade and watched them carry box after box down to the U-Haul Fez had rented, that now was the time to enjoy being given time off. Because once the baby arrived, you wouldn’t be getting such a break for the next eighteen years.

And you couldn't wait.

Fez had gotten himself a job in a small mechanic shop, which he quickly worked up to being partner of after the older gentleman who owed it took a shine to him and his odd, if not endearing little family.

You’d watched, once the four of you were officially moved into your new home, as Ash and Fez worked on putting together furniture in the nursery, your hand resting over your pregnant belly as you stood in the doorway as they put together your daughter’s crib.

You’d then gone to check on Fez’s grandma. And while she, as ever, never spoke, you told her everything, the same as you always had, to ensure she was always involved in your lives.

And only a few weeks later, she had passed silently in her sleep. And while Fez and Ash had been distraught, you somehow felt like you knew she was at-peace. Like she’d been holding on long enough until you all had made it to finally let go.

You’d held Fez in bed, night after night, his cheek pressed against your belly as he cried, talking about how much he missed her, or just telling wild stories of her younger days to both you and your little one.

And in time, his and Ash’s grief turned to fond remembrance. They had both just hoped that Marie would hold on long enough to meet her granddaughter, but you promised they would one day meet anyway. And they did when you would go visit her at the cemetery.

When your little girl was born, she was loved and adored by everyone.

Faye and Custer became like a surrogate aunt and uncle. Ash was…an absolutely awesome older brother; you could tell much of how he treated being a brother came from all Fez had taught him. And Fez…well, you had to settle for only having half of his heart now. But the same went for him with yours.

And those two halves made a whole, just as they were always meant to. A whole, which belonged to your daughter and her alone.

When Hank, the owner of the auto shop, was ready to finally retire, Fez had panicked. He had a wife and baby girl to look after now—the two of you had decided that you should stay home and take care of your daughter instead of work (Fez was honestly just really old-fashioned at heart and wanted to provide for the both of you)—but his fears were quickly squashed when Hank signed the shop over to him.

He’d told Fez he’d become like a son to him, while your daughter had become the grandchild he’d never gotten to have. He wanted to make sure he did this one thing right—ensuring you all were well taken care of.

You had been inconsolable, you were so grateful when the two of them told you.

He ensured you that you all were doing him a favor, really. He’d put his life’s work into that shop, and now he knew it wouldn’t be torn down and replaced with some “nonsense hipster smoking joint”, as he’d put it. He knew Fez would look after it well.

And he did.

Fez hired Custer on, who’d also recently gotten himself and Faye moved into an apartment closer to the both of you—he no longer dealing and while it’d taken a lot of effort, Faye had gotten herself clean—and once Ash was older, he became his assistant manager.

He even taught your daughter, Carrie, a bit about cars as she grew older. Every now and again, someone from East Highland stopped in to have their car serviced, but you thankfully never saw Nate Jacobs again. You never bothered looking into what happened to the troubled young man; you didn’t really care.

When Hank passed, it hit Fez really hard. One night, after taking a bath, you’d found him in Carrie’s room, holding her as he cried silently. So you’d set down on the bed beside them and wrapped the both of them in your arms and cried with him and told him how much he had meant to him. That he would be honoring his memory as the new owner of the auto shop.

He tried to visit Hank’s grave weekly, and you did when you were able, always bringing fresh flowers, which you grew in your backyard with your daughter.

Eventually, Custer and Faye married as well, you serving as Faye’s maid-of-honor, and Fez as Custer’s best man at their wedding, which had had one hell of a reception afterward. Fez and you hadn’t gotten drunk like that since you were teenagers. Which had consequently resulted in another unexpected gift, which the two of you had decided to name Hank.

Ash eventually met a girl, and as you watched the two of them, you realized how much they reminded you of you and Fez when you were their age. It was a bit…unnerving, at times. But you knew they were just right for one another with that simple observation alone.

As the years went on, your family only grew. Custer and Faye eventually having a son of their own, Ash and his girlfriend getting married, your daughter growing up and one day meeting a girl, which she fell in love with. And your son finding himself an outgoing woman who always kept him on his toes.

And one day, you looked up, and that broken home where your father had ruled with fists was so far away, you could no longer see it.

All you could was the love right in front of you.

It’d taken unspeakable violence and struggle to get here, but you had made it.

All of you.

#fezco x reader #reader x fezco #fezco x y/n #euphoria x reader #fezco x you #euphoria x you #fic: euphoria (fezco x reader)

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