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amourcheol · 2 months ago

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this was such a joy to read !! I’ll admit I’m very very new to f1 (thank u drive to survive exaggerated drama and slow-motion videos of Hamilton) so when I saw the jeonghan f1 au I HADDDDD to be there ‼️‼️

firstly before I even go into the details mingyu racing for mclaren and cheol for red bull was pure headcannoning EXCELLENCE !!!! im not even a red bull stan like that but i 100% believe cheol would race like verstappen (just frowned but it’s true …) soonyoung for ferrari and seokmin like I was invested !! (petition to see all the other svt members and their teams)

your writing style is INSANELY engaging ‼️‼️ every circuit description was different i felt like i was there in the paddock and gossiping with the engineers!!

this particular bit i was SAT AND WAITING

I almost felt as if there was an orchestra reaching a crescendo during this scene even with p2 the emotions i felt …. my god it’s like he won the championship ….

secondly I ADORE the mc and jeonghan’s back and forth!! her humbling him every chance had me so gagged GET HIM MISS Y/N 😍🙏🏼 him anticipating her articles every race and kicking his feet like a schoolgirl I SEE YOU PROSPECTIVE CHAMPIONSHIP WINNER … the slow burn also made me depressed and excited and depressed and excited all over again the insane whiplash I received PLEASE !!! even in their moments where they weren’t speaking and jeonghan’s jealousy it was good to see him having to work harder for someone than he would for his wins !!

oh just so u know EYE was kicking my feet when you dropped this …. My god…..

like WOW she believes in his victory 😂😂😂🔫🔫🔫 what if we all crash like jeonghan’s car 🔫🔫🔫

super super invested and this was only part 1!! can’t wait to see what’s in store for these two in part 2 🥹💖💖

Full Throttle (i)

pairing: ferrari driver!yoon jeonghan x journalist!reader chapter wc: 20.6K (dont look at me)genre: humor, fluff, angst, smut (?) au: f1 au (i am sorry i am a nerd abt this) rating: m (MINORS DNI)warnings: SLOOOOOW BURN. mentions of injuries, car crashes // eventual smut.

PREQUELS: would highly recommend reading On the Record and Off the Record to gain some context into the relationship! This fic starts directly after the end of Off the Record

summary: jeonghan's not used to someone who pushes his buttons as easily as you do, and you're not used to someone who challenges you as quickly as he does. maybe it's time to go full throttle, both on and off the track.

a/n: this one is gonna be long. buckle in. this is dedicated to kae @ylangelegy , who was the one who pushed me to write this in the first place, and also graciously beta read this // this is also dedicated to alta @haologram , who watched me lose my mind over this for so long and gave me so much love and support as i wrote this. // huge thanks to lola @monamipencil and haneul @chanranghaeys for beta-reading and giving me their thoughts, especially about when things were too technical // and finally, an ENORMOUS thank you to jupiter @cheolism for the banner!

read part 2 here! <3

FORMULA 1 ROLEX AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX 2024 Track: Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit

The Australian Grand Prix had come to an end, but the buzz from the race still lingered in the air. The paddock had started to quiet down, though the echo of cheers and the scent of champagne were still fresh. Jeonghan stood at the edge of the pit lane, watching as the last of the mechanics began to clean up, the high of the win beginning to settle into a low hum of satisfaction.

His fingers absentmindedly brushed over his helmet, the familiar weight grounding him after the chaos of the race. But his mind wasn’t on the mechanics or the trophy waiting for him. No, it was on you.

You had walked away with that smug grin of yours, and even now, hours later, the image of you—cool, collected, and far too clever for your own good—lingered in his thoughts. The way you’d turned the tables on him, effortlessly making him feel like the one caught off guard. For once, it hadn’t been about the race or the rumors swirling around his personal life—it had been about you and the way you knew how to press all his buttons without breaking a sweat.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, a grin creeping onto his face despite himself. "I should’ve asked her to dinner."

But there was no time for that now. The press was waiting. The fans, too. He needed to play the role of the cool, collected champion for the cameras, the last thing he needed was another round of gossip, another round of teasing from the people who loved to stir the pot. And yet, the thought of you, the way you’d made him feel a mix of frustration and something else entirely, was almost too tempting to ignore.

The crew cheered as he finally made his way back to the motorhome, the world still swirling in a whirlwind of victory and flashing cameras. But inside, it was quieter. More personal.

"Jeonghan!" His manager greeted him with a smile, the kind of smile that signaled the end of a long race and the beginning of yet another whirlwind of interviews, photos, and meetings. But Jeonghan only half-listened as his manager spoke, his mind flickering back to the conversation earlier.

"You sure know how to keep things interesting, don't you?" His manager chuckled, noticing the distraction in his eyes. "The headlines are still buzzing. You planning on setting the record straight anytime soon?"

Jeonghan chuckled under his breath, running a hand through his messy hair. "Let them talk," he muttered, flashing a grin. "It’s part of the game."

But that wasn’t what was on his mind. It was you. The way you’d baited him, just enough to make him feel the heat of the moment. He had never been this distracted by anyone—or anything—before.

"You have a minute?" a voice interrupted his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. It was his publicist, holding a phone in one hand, the other gesturing toward the press conference set up for him in the next room.

Jeonghan looked at her, then glanced over his shoulder as if expecting to see you again. But you were gone, just like that. He gave a small sigh, almost imperceptible to anyone watching.

"Yeah, yeah. Let’s do this," he muttered, before stepping forward. Jeonghan’s footsteps echoed through the motorhome hallway, the thrum of victory still running through his veins, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the way you’d looked at him—those piercing eyes, full of challenge. He'd seen that expression before, but this time felt different. You weren’t just some reporter stirring up a bit of drama—you were someone who knew exactly how to get under his skin.

His publicist was waiting outside the press room, ready to brief him on the upcoming interviews and meetings. "You’ve got a full schedule, Jeonghan," she said, giving him the rundown with practiced precision. But Jeonghan barely heard her, his mind still distracted by the way you’d turned the tables.

"Hey," he cut in, slowing to a stop in front of her. "What do you know about Y/N?" he asked, his tone casual but with an edge of curiosity that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

The publicist blinked in surprise, and beside her, his manager gave a short laugh. "Y/N? You mean the reporter?" the manager asked, voice dripping with amusement. "The one you’ve had run-ins with over the past couple of seasons?"

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. "Run-ins?" he repeated, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk. "What exactly are you implying?"

The publicist shrugged, exchanging a look with the manager. "She’s been covering F1 for a while, pretty sharp with her articles," she said, keeping her voice neutral. "Some of them have definitely gotten attention, especially that one a few weeks ago... the one about you and the whole ‘mysterious love life’ thing." Her eyes flicked to his manager, who made a face at the mention of that piece.

Jeonghan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He’d tried to forget about that article, but your earlier conversation (read as: challenge) had baffled him. "I shouldn’t have said anything," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "But you know she always gets a rise out of me, don’t you?"

The manager snickered. "Oh, we know. It’s not every day we get to watch you struggle to keep your cool. She’s got a way with words, that one." He winked. "But hey, I get it. She’s a great reporter—sharp, clever—and always knows where to find the juiciest stories. You just might want to be a little more careful with what you say around her next time."

Jeonghan smirked. "Careful? Since when have I ever been careful?"

His publicist gave a pointed look, clearly not impressed. "That’s not the problem, Jeonghan. It’s that you tend to forget she knows exactly what buttons to push."

Jeonghan chuckled, his eyes glinting with a new energy. "Oh, she’s good, I’ll give her that. But I’m not so easily rattled." His mind wandered back to the way you’d smirked and walked off, leaving him standing there feeling like he'd just been served a dish of his own medicine.

"Don’t underestimate her," the manager added, half-joking. "You’ve been in this game long enough to know, no one gets a rise out of you like that without knowing exactly what they’re doing."

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose you’re right. But maybe..." He trailed off, eyes narrowing as a plan started to form in his mind. "...Maybe it’s time I gave her a taste of her own medicine."

The publicist and manager exchanged a glance but didn’t say anything. They knew that look—the one Jeonghan got whenever he was plotting something, usually with a dash of mischief and just the right amount of charm to make it impossible for anyone to say no. The same charm that had gotten him into trouble more times than they cared to count.

"You’ve got your interviews now, Jeonghan," his publicist reminded him gently, pulling him back to reality. "We can revisit this later. Just keep your head in the game for now."

He nodded, though his mind was still fixated on you. "Yeah, yeah. Later."

As he entered the press room, he was immediately hit with a barrage of questions. The usual ones about his win, his performance, and his plans for the rest of the season. But even as he answered, his thoughts lingered on you and that damn article. You were always one step ahead, always stirring the pot just enough to keep things interesting. But now, it seemed you had caught his attention for real.

And maybe—just maybe—he was going to have some fun with this.

FORMULA 1 MSC CRUISES JAPANESE GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Suzuka Ciruit

The neon lights of Tokyo cast a kaleidoscope of colors on the bustling streets, the city alive with energy even late into the night. After a long day of prepping for the upcoming race, you’d decided to wind down with a quiet drink in a tucked-away bar that promised a moment’s reprieve from the chaos of the paddock.

The bar was small and intimate, the kind of place that felt like a secret only locals knew about. Jazz music hummed softly in the background, and you found a seat near the corner, ready to savor your drink in peace.

But of course, peace wasn’t in the cards tonight.

“Y/N?”

The familiar voice made you freeze mid-sip. Turning your head, you found none other than Yoon Jeonghan standing a few feet away, his face lit with mild surprise and unmistakable amusement. He wasn’t in his Ferrari team gear for once—just a sleek black jacket and jeans, looking effortlessly casual in a way that somehow made him even more irritatingly attractive.

“Jeonghan,” you replied evenly, setting your drink down. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, sliding onto the stool beside you without an invitation. “Same as you, I’d imagine. Taking a break from the madness.” His eyes flicked to your glass. “Whiskey? I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type.”

“And what type is that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He leaned back slightly, his lips quirking into that trademark smirk. “The type who drinks whiskey alone in a bar and pretends they’re not thinking about work.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you’re wrong. I’m not thinking about work. I’m thinking about how nice it is to not deal with questions about lap times and tire strategies for five minutes.”

Jeonghan chuckled, signaling to the bartender for a drink. “Fair enough. Though, if memory serves, you’re usually the one asking those questions.”

“Occupational hazard,” you shot back. “And if memory serves, you’re usually the one avoiding them.”

“Touché.” He raised his glass when it arrived, a silent toast that you reluctantly mirrored with your own.

For a while, the conversation meandered through safer topics—Tokyo’s sights, the food, the insanity of race week—but there was an undercurrent of something sharper, a game of verbal ping-pong that neither of you seemed willing to let go of.

“You know,” Jeonghan said after a particularly clever jab from you about his less-than-stellar start in Australia, “I think I’ve finally figured you out.”

“Oh?” you asked, amusement dancing in your tone. “Do tell.”

“You act all cool and collected, but deep down…” He paused for dramatic effect, leaning in slightly. “…you love the chaos. You thrive on it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though a grin tugged at your lips. “And what about you, Mr. Reigning Champion? Aren’t you the one who said chaos is just part of the game?”

“True,” he admitted with a lazy shrug. “But I like to think I’m more strategic about it.”

“Strategic?” you echoed, incredulous. “You literally said ‘let them talk’ after crossing the finish line in Australia. That’s not strategy, Jeonghan—that’s reckless arrogance.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and you hated how it made your chest tighten just a little. “Maybe. But it keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?”

You didn’t respond, sipping your drink instead, determined not to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his gaze flicking over you with a knowing glint. “This feels familiar.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “What does?”

“Let’s just say you have a knack for leaving me with something to think about,” he said casually, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass.

A flicker of amusement crossed your face. “Still losing sleep over it, Jeonghan?”

He leaned in, his voice dropping low, laced with mischief. “Not quite. But I’ve been wondering if you’re all talk or if you actually mean half the things you say.”

You smirked, leaning back just a little. “And what are you planning to do about it?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Guess you’ll have to find out next time,” he said smoothly, signaling to the bartender and slipping his card onto the counter.

You frowned, catching on quickly. “Jeonghan, you don’t have to—”

“Of course I don’t,” he replied, his smirk growing as he leaned in just enough for his voice to drop, intimate and teasing. “But what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t treat you every now and then?”

“A terrible one,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms.

He chuckled, standing up and adjusting his jacket. “Always so quick with the comebacks.”

You tilted your head, not backing down. “And yet, here you are, still trying to keep up.”

He grinned, leaning down so his face was level with yours. “Oh, I’m not just keeping up, sweetheart. I’m leading.”

With that, he threw on his jacket, turning to leave, but not without one last playful remark. “Enjoy your night, Y/N. And next time…” He flashed a grin over his shoulder, his voice dipping lower. “Try putting that mouth of yours to better use.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you could hear his laugh as you watched him disappear into the neon-lit streets.

Damn him.

The Suzuka Circuit’s air was heavy with anticipation, the disappointment in Ferrari’s garage palpable. Jeonghan leaned against the barrier in the media pen, his crimson Ferrari suit contrasting with the growing dusk. Despite his relaxed posture, the tension radiating off him was hard to miss.

"Yoon Jeonghan," you began, stepping forward with your mic. "P11 today—your first time not making it to Q3 since your rookie season. What happened out there?"

His smile was thin, masking the fire simmering beneath. "Suzuka’s a tough circuit. I put in a solid lap, but in the end, it just wasn’t enough. A couple milliseconds make all the difference."

"Kim Mingyu of McLaren knocked you out in the dying seconds of the session," you pointed out, your tone as neutral as possible.

"Yeah, Mingyu had a great lap," he said, though his smirk betrayed a hint of frustration. "Kudos to him for that. It’s the nature of the game—sometimes you’re the one knocking others out, and sometimes you’re the one being knocked out."

You tilted your head, pressing just a little. "Ferrari’s upgrades were supposed to shine here at Suzuka. Do you think the car—or the driver—fell short today?"

His eyes met yours, sharp and knowing. "Is that your way of asking if I’m losing my edge?"

You smiled faintly. "Just doing my job, Jeonghan."

"And doing it well," he replied smoothly. "I’ll make sure to give you something better to write about tomorrow."

Yoon Jeonghan’s Q2 Knockout: A Sign of Ferrari’s Struggles or a Driver Underperforming?

Your analysis was live before the sun set over Suzuka, dissecting Jeonghan’s performance lap by lap:

"While Ferrari’s SF-24 showed promise in Q1, Jeonghan’s Q2 lap exposed cracks in execution. Hesitant braking into Spoon Corner cost him vital time, and a wide exit through Degner 2 raised questions about his confidence under high pressure. Kim Mingyu’s decisive lap in the McLaren only highlighted the contrast, leaving Ferrari fans wondering if Jeonghan can rebound from this rare stumble."

It didn’t take long for the article to ripple through the paddock—and reach its subject. The article was sharp, critical, with the same bite that you had become a household name for. And Jeonghan read every word.

He must have been an idiot to assume you would be kinder after the way he’d left you gobsmacked a few nights prior at the bar.

You had just wrapped up your interview with Mingyu, the day’s pole sitter, when Jeonghan found you.

"Got a minute?" he asked, voice deceptively light.

You glanced up, startled to find him so close, still in his Ferrari suit, his hair slightly damp from the cool-down lap.

"Something on your mind?" you replied, keeping your tone professional.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries. "That article."

You raised an eyebrow. "Specificity helps, you know."

He chuckled darkly. "The one where you ripped apart my Q2 performance like you’re a technical director." He took a step closer, and for the first time, the calm façade cracked - his smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Hesitant braking? Lack of confidence under pressure? You really think I’m losing my touch?"

"I think Suzuka demands perfection," you replied evenly. "And today, perfection wasn’t what we saw."

He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "You love this, don’t you? Watching me stumble so you can tear me apart in print."

"Jeonghan," you said, straightening, "if you want me to write glowing reviews, give me something to work with."

"You should’ve mentioned how close I was to Mingyu’s time," he shot back.

"Close isn’t enough," you countered, coolly. "Not in this sport."

His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Careful, sweetheart. Don’t let them think you’re this obsessed with me."

"Careful, Jeonghan," you shot back mockingly. "Sienna Hartley might not like hearing you get so worked up over me."

His hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could walk away. "Here’s an exclusive for you," he said, his voice sharp. "Me and Sienna? Not together."

You blinked, thrown off for just a moment before you schooled your expression. "Good to know. Now let go."

He released you immediately but lingered just long enough to murmur, "Don’t think this is over."

The Suzuka chaos worked in Jeonghan’s favor.

When the lights went out, Jeonghan’s start was perfect—clean, aggressive, calculated. By the first corner, he had already gained two places, capitalizing on a sluggish Alpine and threading the needle between a Williams and an AlphaTauri.

The midfield battle was fierce. Suzuka’s notorious esses demanded precision, and Jeonghan attacked them with surgical efficiency, his Ferrari responding like an extension of his own instincts. He overtook the Aston Martin of Lee Seokmin into Turn 11 with a move so bold the crowd audibly gasped.

Each pass felt like a small victory, but it wasn’t enough. The podium still felt miles away. His fingers tightened on the wheel as he navigated the sweeping Spoon Curve, catching a glimpse of the orange McLaren far ahead—Mingyu.

The memory of your post-quali interview slipped into his mind. Close isn’t enough. Not in this sport.

He exhaled sharply, forcing the thought away. Now wasn’t the time. Jeonghan approached Degner 2, the car planted firmly under him. He could feel the wear on his tires but knew he still had grip to spare. He glanced briefly at the digital display on his steering wheel, calculating the gap to the car ahead—P5, the Red Bull of Choi Seungcheol.

As he accelerated toward the Hairpin, your voice echoed in his head again. Hesitant braking. Confidence issues.

His jaw clenched. It wasn’t anger—it was something more complicated. Why did you always manage to get under his skin? He should’ve been focusing on tire wear, fuel management, or his next target, but instead, his mind betrayed him.

He thought of the way you’d smirked during the interview, how your tone had been sharp, almost daring. The way you’d walked away, leaving him with more to say.

Focus. He snapped himself back, braking perfectly into the Hairpin. The slip of attention hadn’t cost him, but it had been close. Too close.

A well-timed pit stop under a virtual safety car catapulted him to P4. He rejoined the track with fresh mediums, slicing through the field with an aggression that stunned even his team.

By Lap 40, he was staring down the rear wing of Kwon Soonyoung—his own teammate. The team’s radio lit up, the pit wall hesitating.

“Jeonghan, Soonyoung ahead on a different strategy. Keep it clean.”

He didn’t wait for a direct order. Into 130R, the fastest corner on the track, he swung to the outside. His car shuddered with the force of the maneuver, but he held his line, leaving Soonyoung no choice but to yield.

“P3, Jeonghan. You’re on the podium now. Great move.”

With only two laps to go, he was in P2, chasing Mingyu, who had a comfortable lead. Jeonghan knew catching him was impossible, but that wasn’t the point anymore. This was about proving something—to his team, the fans, and maybe even to you.

The Ferrari hummed beneath him, a symphony of power and precision. Every turn, every braking zone, every shift felt like redemption. When he crossed the line in P2, the roar of the crowd was deafening, but all he could hear was his own heartbeat.

The media room was packed, buzzing with questions for the podium finishers. You started with Mingyu, still glowing from his dominant victory.

“Kim Mingyu,” you began, “another win for McLaren. How does it feel to catch up to Jeonghan in the driver’s championship?”

Mingyu smiled, leaning into the mic. “It feels incredible. The car was perfect today, and the team did an amazing job. Credit to everyone back at the factory.”

Before you could move on to the next question, Jeonghan interjected from his spot.

“Must feel nice to start up front and stay there,” he quipped, his tone light but pointed.

Mingyu grinned, unfazed. “You would know, Jeonghan. But you kept me looking over my shoulder the whole time.”

The room chuckled, and you shot Jeonghan a warning glance, which he ignored entirely.

Later, when a question was directed at Jeonghan about his race recovery, his response was pointed. "Oh, you know. I’m pretty good at managing tire degradation. And I had a lot of people doubting me on this track specifically, so I had to prove them wrong too."

His gaze locked on yours as he delivered the last line, and the meaning wasn’t lost on you—or anyone else in the room.

Jeonghan barely made it three steps out of the press conference room before Soonyoung intercepted him, leaning casually against a stack of Pirelli tires like he had all the time in the world. The amusement on his face set Jeonghan’s internal alarms blaring.

“What the hell was that about?” Soonyoung asked, arms crossed in mock authority.

Jeonghan blinked, expertly schooling his expression into one of pure confusion. “What was what about?” he replied, his tone dripping with innocence.

“Oh, don’t even try to play dumb with me, Jeonghan. I know you too well.” Soonyoung’s grin widened as he stepped closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “You were doing something during that press conference. I’ve never seen you look that smug unless you’re—”

“I was answering questions,” Jeonghan interrupted smoothly, plucking a water bottle from the cooler without breaking his stride. He unscrewed the cap with deliberate calm, taking a slow sip. “That’s what press conferences are for, in case you forgot.”

Soonyoung squinted at him, unconvinced. “Right. And here I thought press conferences were for you to pretend you’re unbothered while delivering backhanded digs at Kim Mingyu.”

Jeonghan barely managed to keep a straight face, though he felt the tiniest flicker of pride. He had been particularly good with his barbs today. Still, there was no way he was admitting that. “Don’t project, Soonyoung,” he drawled. “Not everyone uses media day as therapy.”

Before Soonyoung could retort, a new voice joined the conversation.

“I know what it was,” said Kim Sunwoo, strolling up with the unshakable confidence of someone who didn’t yet understand how much trouble he was about to cause. The young mechanic had a smirk plastered on his face, the kind that made Jeonghan instinctively want to flee.

“You know what?” Jeonghan asked warily, his eyes narrowing.

“That look you had during the Q&A,” Sunwoo continued, leaning casually against a tool chest. “You were staring at her, man. Like, full-on laser focus. It’s like you were trying to send her a message.”

Jeonghan’s grip on the water bottle tightened. He felt his ears heat up but refused to let it show. “I was answering her question,” he said evenly. “It’s called eye contact. You should try it sometime—people like that sort of thing.”

But Sunwoo wasn’t done. “And don’t think we didn’t notice you getting all flustered when Mingyu’s name came up,” he added, his smirk widening.

“Flustered?” Jeonghan repeated, letting out a short, incredulous laugh. “Right. That’s definitely the word I’d use to describe me.”

“Come on, dude.” Sunwoo shrugged, undeterred. “Admit it. You’ve got a crush.”

The words hit like a sucker punch. Jeonghan froze mid-sip, choking slightly as the water went down the wrong way. He coughed, spluttering as Sunwoo and Soonyoung erupted into laughter.

“Alright,” Jeonghan said sharply once he’d recovered, pointing a finger at Sunwoo. “You’ve been spending too much time on TikTok. Get back to work before I have you polishing rims for the rest of the season.”

But Sunwoo only grinned wider, completely unbothered. “Jeonghan’s in loooove,” he teased, drawing out the word in a sing-song voice.

“I said that’s enough,” Jeonghan snapped, the slight pink tinge creeping up his neck completely betraying his forced composure. “Shouldn’t you be tuning an engine or something useful?”

Soonyoung, meanwhile, was doubled over laughing, clearly enjoying himself far too much. When he finally straightened, he clapped Jeonghan on the back. “Hey, don’t worry about it, man. If you need advice, just let me know. I’m great with women.”

Jeonghan groaned, brushing him off. “The day I take advice from you, Soonyoung, is the day I retire. He shoved past them toward his motorhome, muttering under his breath. “Insufferable. Both of you.”

But even as he slammed the door behind him, Jeonghan couldn’t stop the echo of Sunwoo’s words from rattling around in his head.

You’ve got a crush.

He scoffed aloud, shaking his head. “Ridiculous,” he muttered, tossing the water bottle onto the couch. But as he sank down beside it, arms crossed and jaw tight, he couldn’t quite stop himself from wondering.

Jeonghan didn’t want to be here.

The club pulsed with energy, a humid swirl of bodies pressing too close, the bass reverberating in his chest like a persistent headache. Strobe lights sliced through the haze, and the air smelled faintly of spilled drinks and cheap cologne. Somewhere in the chaos, Soonyoung had disappeared, leaving Jeonghan to fend for himself.

He’d been ready to make his exit the moment they walked in, but Soonyoung had insisted. “You need to loosen up, Jeonghan. Let the adrenaline from the race wear off. Have a drink, maybe dance.”Jeonghan had scoffed at the idea, knowing full well that his reason for not wanting to stay wasn’t exhaustion.

No, it was you.

Even when you weren’t in the room, you lingered in his mind like the ghost of a song he couldn’t stop humming. The podium had been a nice distraction. But now, surrounded by the chatter of strangers and the clinking of glasses, his thoughts drifted back to the press conference and the pointed, teasing look you’d given him when he spoke.

And then there was Mingyu—always Mingyu—whose name you’d said with just a little too much warmth. Jeonghan had pretended not to notice, but it had been impossible to ignore.

Shaking his head, Jeonghan pushed through the crowd, determined to leave. He had almost made it to the exit when someone collided into him, hard enough to send him stumbling forward.

“Whoa—watch it!” a voice slurred, sharp with irritation but unmistakably familiar.

He turned, already scowling, but the expression froze on his face when he saw you.

“Jeonghan?” you said, blinking up at him, your voice teetering between surprise and amusement. Your cheeks were flushed, lips curling into a slow smile as you adjusted your grip on the drink in your hand.

“You?” he blurted, his composure slipping for a fraction of a second.

“What are you—?” you started, only to trail off as a giggle bubbled out of you. Shaking your head like you were trying to clear it, you added, “Wow. Small world, huh?”

“I guess so,” Jeonghan said, his tone carefully even, though his gaze lingered on the way the dim light caught the sheen of your hair, the curve of your smile. His eyes dropped to your drink, then back to your face. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” you said, far too quickly, before adding with a sheepish laugh, “Okay, maybe. Just a little.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, threatening to curve into a smile. “Sure looks like it.”

You waved him off with a dramatic flourish, nearly spilling your drink in the process. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be... I don’t know, brooding on a podium somewhere?”

He tilted his head, pretending to be affronted. “I don’t brood. And besides, this is a celebration.”

“Oh, right,” you said, stepping closer. Your gaze softened, and your voice dropped just enough to make the words feel like they were meant for him alone. “The big comeback.”

“Lots of doubters, huh?” you added, the slight slur in your voice doing nothing to dull the edge of your words.

Jeonghan blinked, caught off guard, before a chuckle escaped him. “Well, your article did the talking for you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, your eyes a little too bright, your smile a little too slow. “What a way to get my attention, pretty boy.”

His breath caught, his carefully built façade cracking for just a second. “You think I’m pretty?”

Your lips parted, but before you could answer, a hand landed firmly on your shoulder.

“There you are!”

Jeonghan looked up to see one of your friends glaring at him as they steadied you. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and you’re... what? Flirting with Yoon Jeonghan now?”

“Not flirting,” you protested weakly, though your lopsided smile said otherwise.

Your friend wasn’t convinced, nor were they interested in his response. They tugged you into the crowd with an apologetic glance over their shoulder. “Sorry about her—she’s had a night.”

Jeonghan stayed rooted in place, his gaze following your retreating figure. His lips curved into a faint smile as your words replayed in his mind.

“What a way to get my attention,” he murmured to himself, shaking his head.

And yet, as he stood there, the thought struck him that maybe you’d already gotten his.

FORMULA 1 GRAND PRIX DE MONACO 2024Track: Circuit de Monaco

The paddock at Monaco was alive with its usual glitz and glamour, the unmistakable hum of anticipation hanging thick in the air. Cameras flashed, team personnel buzzed around, and the harbor glistened under the sun. Monaco, the crown jewel of the F1 calendar, had a way of amplifying everything—victories felt sweeter, defeats more crushing, and the stakes impossibly higher.

Jeonghan, fresh off securing pole position, had his usual air of nonchalance, but the glow of triumph was undeniable. The fans chanted his name; the cameras adored him. Yet as he stepped off the podium erected for the post-qualifying festivities, his sharp eyes caught sight of something—someone—that brought him up short.

You.

You were standing just beyond the throng of journalists, your press badge gleaming under the midday sun. It had been weeks since he’d last seen you, weeks since your sharp quips and piercing questions had filled the air between you like sparks on dry wood.

Those weeks had been… odd, to say the least. You’d been reassigned to cover Formula E, a shift Jeonghan had learned about only after noticing your absence at the paddock in China. He had played it cool, pretending it didn’t matter, but he had found himself seeking out your byline anyway—reading articles that had nothing to do with him or F1, just to feel the rhythm of your words.

Even the searing critiques you usually aimed at him had been sorely missed. It was maddening, really, how much quieter the world had felt without your fire.

Now, here you were again, back in the fray of Formula 1, as though no time had passed. Jeonghan’s expression remained casual, but his stride toward you was deliberate, cutting through the chaos of the paddock.

When he stopped in front of you, his smirk was already in place, a shield against the strange, unwelcome flutter of relief in his chest. “Where’ve you been?” he asked, tilting his head with practiced ease.

You looked up from your notebook, arching a brow at him. “Missed me, Jeonghan?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

The word landed between you like a drop of rain on hot asphalt, its simplicity taking you aback. Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard, and Jeonghan couldn’t help but notice how the sharpness in your gaze softened for a fraction of a second.

But then, as quickly as the moment arrived, he leaned in, his smirk deepening. “Someone had to keep the paddock interesting.”

You rolled your eyes, recovering your composure. “I see the Monaco air hasn’t done anything for your humility.”

“And I see Formula E hasn’t dulled your wit,” he shot back, stepping closer so the noise of the paddock faded slightly.

You shook your head, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’ve done not too bad these past few races, huh?”

The comment was offhand, tossed in almost as a formality, but it hit Jeonghan harder than he expected. Compliments—genuine ones—were rare from you, and they stirred something unexpected in him.

Jeonghan blinked, the smirk faltering for just a second before he quickly replaced it with mock arrogance. “Not too bad?” he echoed, feigning offense. “I dominated in China, held my ground in Miami, and destroyed Emilia Romagna. Give me some credit here.”

For all his ego, Jeonghan knew he wasn’t wrong. He’d won China by a jaw-dropping 22.3-second margin, Mingyu so far behind that Jeonghan had time to deliver an entire thank-you speech over the radio before the McLaren driver even crossed the checkered flag. In Miami, even a grueling five-second stop-go penalty hadn’t stopped him; he finished P2 (behind Kim Mingyu, annoyingly) and picked up the extra point for the fastest lap, earning him Driver of the Day. And in Emilia Romagna, he was the clear favorite from the moment the race weekend began. The Tifosi were relentless, their cheers in the grandstands so deafening that Jeonghan could barely hear his engineer’s voice over the radio.

When he crossed the finish line first, the sea of red under the podium roared with such thunderous applause that his ears rang for hours afterward. In just three races, Jeonghan had cemented himself as the best contender for the 2024 World Champion.

And yet, somehow, it wasn’t as sweet without you there to write about it.

“Alright,” you said, meeting his gaze head-on. “You’ve been exceptional.”

The word struck like a sucker punch. For once, Jeonghan didn’t have a clever retort.

"Congrats on pole, Jeonghan," you said, your voice cool but sincere, offering him a small smile. It made his heart skip a beat.

Jeonghan’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You called me exceptional."

You glanced up at him, closing your notebook with a flick of your wrist. The corner of your mouth quirked into a smirk. "Yes. Now, thoughts on pole?"

He's silent for so long that you politely clear your throat, hoping to cut through the sudden stillness. "Maybe this should be my headline for the day, Jeonghan. Monaco's Maze Leaves Golden Boy Spinning Out."

It's like someone doused him with ice water. His easy, sun-soaked posture stiffens, and the small smirk he'd been wearing evaporates.

You're still a journalist. He forgets that sometimes.

"Why do you do that?" he mutters, voice edged with something unfamiliar—disappointment, maybe.

You blink, caught off guard by the abrupt change in tone. “Do what?”

“That.” He gestures vaguely between you and the notebook tucked in your hand. The lenses of his sunglasses catch the sunlight, but there’s no mistaking the intensity behind them. His gaze pierces, searching for something in your expression. “Bringing the shitty headlines into every conversation."

You arch a brow, tucking the notebook closer to your chest as if shielding it from his line of sight. “Shitty? You mean accurate, Jeonghan.”

His jaw tightens, a subtle movement, but enough to draw your attention. There’s a faint crease forming between his brows now, and you realize it’s not your usual back-and-forth banter. “You know what I mean,” he mutters, voice low and barely audible over the hum of the paddock—the distant rumble of engines, the echo of voices, the clinking of tools in nearby garages.

For a moment, you’re at a loss. Jeonghan doesn’t let things like this bother him—or, at least, he’s always been good at pretending they don’t. His whole brand is carefree charm, a perpetual smirk, and the confidence of someone who knows he’ll always be the center of attention. This feels different.

“You’re upset about a headline?” you ask, genuinely curious now.

“It’s not about the headline.” His tone sharpens, but he stops himself, jaw clenching like he’s swallowing something bitter. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his fingers brushing over the brim of his cap. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, tinged with something almost vulnerable. “It’s about how you never let up, even when it’s me.”

The admission lands heavily between you, unexpected and disarming.

You shift uncomfortably under the weight of his words, the way they seem to strip away the professional distance you’ve been clinging to. “Why should I?” you counter, keeping your voice steady despite the flicker of doubt creeping in. “You’re just another driver, Jeonghan.”

His laugh is short and humorless, cutting through the charged air between you. “Right. Just another driver.”

There’s something about the way he says it—low, almost resigned—that catches you off guard. The bitterness in his tone isn’t theatrical; it’s real, raw, and so at odds with the image he projects to the world.

You glance at him, searching for the Jeonghan you’re used to—the one who shrugs off criticism with a knowing grin, who always has a teasing retort ready. But for once, he’s not hiding behind a smirk or a cocky quip. He looks tired, the weight of his words pulling at the edges of his carefully maintained charm.

“Jeonghan,” you begin, unsure of what you’re even trying to say.

But he shakes his head, cutting you off before you can find the right words. “Forget it.”

He takes a step back, and it feels like a gulf opening between you. The mask of indifference slips back into place with practiced ease, but you’ve already seen the cracks. “You’ve got your job to do,” he says, his tone clipped and distant. “Make sure you spell my name right in that next ‘shitty headline.’”

You hate the way your chest tightens at his words, hate the instinctive urge to reach out and stop him as he turns to walk away, his figure retreating into the chaotic swirl of the paddock.

But you don’t.

Instead, you grip your notebook tighter, the edges digging into your palm as if the physical discomfort might drown out the ache building in your chest. The buzz of your phone in your pocket snaps you out of the moment. Grateful for the distraction, you pull it out to see a text from your editor: Post-qualifying article. Deadline: 6 PM.

Just another driver.

The words echo hollowly in your mind, unconvincing and painfully untrue.

Because the truth is, Jeonghan has never been just anything to you.

And that’s exactly why this is so damn complicated.

Jeonghan spends the night refreshing his Twitter feed.

He’s not sure what he’s waiting for, honestly.

Maybe it’s the rush of validation that comes from a clever reply, or the sting of criticism that reminds him he’s still human under the helmet. Or maybe it’s something else entirely—something he doesn’t want to name. The applause of the crowd is long gone, and the adrenaline from securing pole position hours earlier has settled into a restless hum. His phone feels heavier in his hand as he scrolls, tapping at random links and skimming comments that veer between praise and criticism.

The article finally pops up, your name bold and unmistakable at the top. His stomach tightens, a sensation he’ll never admit to anyone, least of all you.

He clicks it immediately.

The headline strikes first:

Kim Mingyu’s Risky Qualifying Lap Keeps Rivals on Edge

For a moment, he freezes, his eyes scanning the words again to make sure he didn’t misread.

Mingyu?

Confusion knots his brow as he scrolls down. The opening paragraph is a glowing analysis of Mingyu’s audacious lap—a near miss in the second sector, a masterful recovery in the final corners. The kind of detailed, evocative writing that Jeonghan knows you reserve for stories you care about.

Then, buried halfway through, he finds his name:

“Jeonghan, true to form, delivered a flawless lap to secure pole position. His consistency and precision were unmatched, placing him at the front of the grid for tomorrow’s race.”

That’s it.

No breakdown of his sector times, no mention of the deft control it took to navigate the tight Monaco corners under immense pressure. Just a single, clinical acknowledgment, overshadowed by Mingyu’s second-place drama.

Jeonghan stares at the screen, his thumb hovering over the refresh button. He doesn’t know what he was expecting—a parade in words? A headline with his name front and center?

It’s ridiculous, he tells himself. Pole position speaks for itself. It doesn’t need a poetic article to back it up.

But that doesn’t stop the irritation bubbling under his skin.

He tosses his phone onto the bed with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. His hotel room feels quieter than it should, the distant hum of the city barely seeping through the windows.

He can’t shake the feeling that you’re making a point. That this is your way of reminding him that while he might be the golden boy on the track, he doesn’t get special treatment in your world.

Not in your writing. Not from you.

It’s infuriating.

And yet, a part of him—one he’s unwilling to examine too closely—wants to know why you didn’t write more about him. Wants to know what he’d have to do to make you look at him the way you clearly look at Mingyu.

Not just another driver.

But the one worth writing about.

The morning of the Monaco Grand Prix dawned with the soft hum of engines filling the paddock and the gleaming streets of Monte Carlo radiating under a cloudless sky. Jeonghan arrived early, his customary calm masking the roiling anticipation beneath. Pole position was his—secured with a lap so clinical it had left his rivals chasing shadows. Yet, the sharp sting of your article still lingered, buried beneath layers of pride and annoyance.

By mid-morning, the paddock buzzed with tension. The Monaco circuit—narrow, unforgiving, and relentlessly demanding—left no room for error. Victory here wasn’t just about speed; it was about precision, strategy, and an unwavering mental edge. Jeonghan knew that all too well.

As he suited up, the familiar ritual steadied his thoughts. Helmet, gloves, fireproofs—each piece transformed him into the driver everyone expected him to be. His engineer’s voice crackled over the comms. “Focus on the start, Jeonghan. Turn One is everything.”

He gave a curt nod, stepping into the car. The roar of the crowd was muffled as the cockpit enveloped him. Lights on the dashboard blinked in sequence, a visual metronome syncing with his heartbeat.

The engine roars to life beneath Jeonghan as he settles into the cockpit, the familiar hum of the Monaco Grand Prix vibrating through the seat, up his spine, and into his very bones. His focus sharpens like a blade, the heat of the sun seeping through his visor, but he’s not thinking about the sweat trickling down his neck or the weight of the helmet that obscures his field of vision. He’s thinking of the laps he’s put in, of the sacrifice, the years of work that led him here, to this very moment, pole position in Monaco.

He has no illusions about the challenge ahead. This track has always favored the one at the front, especially when that one is someone as methodical and precise as Jeonghan. It’s not often that the pole sitter falters here. But that’s not what has his stomach in knots. It’s not the track or the other drivers. It’s you. The thought of your words, your perspective, your gaze.

What if this win isn’t enough? What if I’m still just another driver to you?

His grip tightens on the steering wheel, and for a moment, he considers the possibility of failing, of cruising through the race without the sharp, passionate energy that has always pushed him. What if he doesn’t even get the headline he’s chasing? What if all this effort amounts to nothing more than another expected victory, no deeper praise, no recognition?

He blinks, pushing the thought away. He can’t afford distractions. He’s here to win—nothing else matters.

The lights blink, one by one, before finally turning off, and he’s off, the car surging forward into the narrow streets of Monaco, engines screaming in unison. His concentration narrows, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. The first few laps are a blur of tactical moves, maintaining the lead, setting the pace. Behind him, Mingyu is close—too close—but Jeonghan has enough room, enough air to breathe.

The laps tick by, the gaps between drivers stretching and shrinking like the ebb and flow of a tide. In Monaco, you can’t make mistakes. The barriers are close enough to bite, and one slip-up could send everything into chaos. Jeonghan doesn’t think of that, though. He doesn’t think of the press, of his reputation, of the words hanging in the back of his mind.

What he thinks about is the win. The pure, simple joy of crossing that finish line first. He wants to feel the weight of the moment, of the accomplishment, and more than anything, he wants to look up and see you there—see that your words reflect the magnitude of this victory.

He holds the lead through the race, but it’s a quiet victory, one he can feel in his bones but doesn’t fully experience. The lap times are consistent, but nothing spectacular happens. No drama, no surprise overtake, no breathtaking maneuver.

It’s a clean, controlled victory—exactly what everyone expects from the driver in pole position.

By the time the checkered flag waves, Jeonghan crosses the line in first. The crowd erupts in cheers, but Jeonghan doesn’t feel the same rush of emotion. The thrill is absent, replaced instead by a deep, gnawing sense of doubt.

The win is his, but it feels like it’s already slipping away from his grasp.

In the post-race briefing, he sits with his team, nodding as they discuss tire strategies, pit stops, and the things that went right. But his eyes keep drifting to the back of the room, to where you stand, clipboard in hand, scribbling notes with focused intent. Every time he tries to catch your gaze, to make eye contact, you look away, as if determined to keep your distance.

It stings more than it should.

Jeonghan leans back in his seat, the weight of his helmet resting against his neck, the pressure of your indifference pressing down on him. He wants to reach out, wants to tell you that this win—this clean, controlled, expected win—deserves something more. But he stays silent, twisting the words in his mind, unable to voice the insecurity that’s suddenly consuming him.

The press conference follows the briefing, a whirlwind of questions, cameras, and flashing lights. The room is full of journalists, all clamoring for soundbites, all eager to discuss the expected result—Jeonghan, pole position, and now, victory. But Jeonghan doesn’t care about the usual congratulatory remarks. He’s waiting for something more. Something real.

When the article finally drops, hours later, he barely waits before pulling it up on his phone. He knows what it’s going to say, but still, the disappointment claws at his chest as he reads the headline.

Jeonghan Dominates Monaco: Pole Position Translates to Victory

His stomach twists, and he exhales sharply, trying to ignore the hollow feeling that spreads through him. It’s everything he expected—a result that leaves no room for admiration, no room for praise. Just the simple, obvious statement that he did what everyone expected him to do. The race was clean, flawless even, but there’s no depth to the words, no recognition of what it takes to win here, at Monaco, the most challenging track in the world.

The thought gnaws at him.

It’s not enough.

The press conference continues, the cameras flashing, but Jeonghan’s mind is far from the words he’s being asked to repeat. He’s not thinking about the team’s success, about the strategies that worked, or even about the crowd's cheers. His eyes find you across the room once again, but this time, you don't look away. Your gaze is fixed on something—anything—but not on him.

He can’t help but wonder if it’s because you don’t see him as more than just another driver. Just another one of the usual suspects who gets a win when it’s expected. He’s fighting for something more—something beyond the surface. But for now, it seems like that’s something he’ll never get from you.

He’s won Monaco. But in that moment, the victory feels like the hollowest thing in the world.

FORMULA 1 AWS GRAND PRIX DU CANADA 2024Track: Circuit Gilles Villeneuve

The Canadian Grand Prix feels like a blur. The rain starts as a light drizzle, but by the time the race begins, it’s pouring, transforming the circuit into a slippery mess. The slick track glistens under the flood of water, making the circuit treacherous, a spinning wheel of danger. The air is thick with the scent of wet asphalt, and there’s an ominous tension in the paddock, a murmur that hangs in the atmosphere as if everyone knows something bad is about to happen.

You catch sight of Jeonghan on the grid. He’s staring straight ahead, hands clasped behind his back, his posture perfect, like the picture of composure. But you can see it in his eyes—something flickers there, a mix of tension and determination. His car, finely tuned for dry conditions, isn’t built for this. The engineers have done what they can, adjusting the setup, but there’s only so much they can do when the weather turns so violently. You know this track—the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve—is not forgiving, and for someone like Jeonghan, a precision driver who thrives when everything falls into place, this is the worst-case scenario. He’s trying to keep his focus, but you can see the strain on his face, the pressure mounting with every passing moment.

The starting lights go out, and the cars roar off the grid, their engines screaming in defiance of the rain. Jeonghan’s car is sluggish in the first few laps. You see him fighting with the wheel, struggling to keep the car in line, each turn a reminder that the odds are stacked against him. The rain is only getting heavier, and the car, built for speed in perfect conditions, is no longer responsive, no longer the finely-tuned machine he’s so accustomed to. It’s like he’s driving a different car altogether.

As the laps tick by, the race feels like a slow-motion disaster, unfolding before your eyes. Jeonghan’s always been skilled in the wet, but this is different—this is more than just rain. This is a mechanical mismatch, an impossible task to overcome. You watch him push, trying to find any way to make up time, but it’s clear he’s just not able to. The car slides wide through the corners, the back end kicking out as he struggles to maintain control. His frustration is palpable, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the wheel with white-knuckled intensity.

And then, it happens.

The rear end of Jeonghan’s car breaks loose as he enters Turn 6, and for a moment, it’s a dance of power and precision, a flick of the wheel, an attempt to save it. But it’s futile. The car loses traction, and before you can even process it, he’s in the barriers. The sound of impact is like a gut punch, a sickening crunch that sends a wave of dread through you. The crowd's collective gasp is drowned out by the static crackle of his radio.

“Jeonghan, do you copy?” The voice of his engineer is urgent, panicked, but there’s no mistaking the defeat in it when the response comes through. Jeonghan’s voice is clipped, emotion stripped away in favor of the cold reality.

“I’m out. Car’s done.”

The message is simple, the weight of it crashing down on you. The race is over. Lap 30. The dream, the chance to prove himself in a season that’s been anything but easy, has slipped away, drowned by the rain.

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. It’s a loss for Jeonghan, but it feels like a loss for you too. Not because of the race itself, but because of the frustration you saw in his face. The disappointment. The feeling of helplessness. It’s all there, and it hits you harder than you expect.

He doesn’t speak to anyone after. He doesn’t go to the media pen, doesn’t stand in front of the cameras for the obligatory interview. There’s no deflection, no distractions. He’s just... gone. You barely see him in the paddock. He doesn’t even go to the Ferrari garage to debrief with his team. He disappears into the background, like he’s trying to erase himself from the scene altogether, retreating into the shadows, avoiding the world that’s waiting to cast its judgment.

And you? You stay away too. The press room feels suffocating, the questions ringing in your ears as you try to focus. You write your piece, a cold, sharp report about the race and Jeonghan’s crash, a clinical dissection of what went wrong. But something feels hollow as you type. The words don’t flow the way they used to. They’re just words, strung together to meet the deadline, to give the readers what they want. It’s not about the story anymore. It’s not about the race. It’s about the loss.

You can’t shake the image of Jeonghan crashing out, of his frustration written in every line of his face, every motion of his hands. You can’t forget the way he looked when he climbed out of the car, shoulders slumped, as if the weight of the world had suddenly fallen onto him. His eyes are distant, like he’s already checked out, retreating into himself. It’s a look you’ve seen before, but it’s sharper now, more pronounced. He’s carrying something, a burden that you don’t understand, a burden you’re not sure you can even help him carry.

But all you can do is write. And even that doesn’t feel like enough.

FORMULA 1 ARAMCO GRAN PREMIO DE ESPAÑA 2024 Track: Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

The Spanish Grand Prix feels different from the moment you step out of the car, the heat oppressive, the air thick with anticipation and the inevitable tension of the weekend. The usual rhythm of the paddock is off-kilter, heightened by the suffocating summer heat, the burning sun beating down on every exposed surface. The heat is more than just physical; it's palpable in the way the drivers move, in the clipped tones of the engineers, in the quiet buzz of conversation that flickers out like static.

But even through the sticky, heavy air, the tension feels electric—charged, ready to snap. The circuit is a challenge in itself, and the drivers know it. There’s no room for error here—just wide, hot tarmac and the constant pressure of chasing that perfect lap.

You’ve done your best to avoid Jeonghan, kept a comfortable distance as much as possible. But there’s something about the way he carries himself now—an edge that wasn't there before. It’s sharp, biting, and yet there’s an underlying vulnerability that makes everything harder to ignore.

When qualifying results flash up, you’re caught off-guard. Soonyoung is on pole, Mingyu in second, and Jeonghan… Jeonghan is in third.

Jeonghan strides into the paddock after qualifying, his face carefully composed, but there’s a look in his eyes—something sharp, something that makes you hesitate. You haven’t spoken in days, not since Canada, not since he shut you out. You’ve been avoiding him, and he’s been avoiding you, but you both know the silence can’t last forever.

You’re standing near the media area when he approaches, and for a moment, it feels like the world holds its breath. The slight tilt of his head, the way his gaze flicks over your shoulder, pretending not to care, but you see through it.

"Don't do this," he says, his voice tight, but it's not the playful teasing you’ve grown used to. It’s something darker. Something tired.

"Don’t do what?" you snap, your patience running thin. "Pretend everything’s fine?"

His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing. "You’ve been avoiding me. Why? Because of Canada?"

You blink. The question hits harder than you expect, and you struggle to keep your composure. “You expect me to just forget what happened? You were fine after the crash, Jeonghan. You didn’t even bother with the press. I can’t just pretend that wasn’t... anything.”

The words come out sharper than you intend, and for a split second, you regret it. You see the way his shoulders stiffen, the brief flicker of pain in his eyes before he masks it with that carefully constructed indifference.

"Maybe I didn’t want to deal with your harsh words," he snaps, taking a step closer. “Maybe I’m tired of being the perfect driver for you, the one who’s supposed to be good enough to meet your standards. But I’m not—am I?"

Your chest tightens at the accusation, at the sudden rawness in his voice. "You think I’m too harsh? You think I’m just waiting for you to be perfect all the time?" You laugh, bitter and self-deprecating. "That’s what this is about? You crashing out wasn’t because of me. I write the truth, Jeonghan. And maybe the truth is you didn’t have the car for that race. It was out of your control."

His expression darkens, and you see that familiar flash of anger—one you’ve seen more times than you care to admit. "No," he hisses, taking another step toward you. "The truth is, you're so wrapped up in your narratives, you forget that I’m human. You forget that I have feelings too, and that maybe... maybe I wanted to do this for myself, not for some headline or some article. But you... you don’t see me that way, do you? You see me as another story, another fucking headline to dissect. Just another driver."

His words cut deeper than anything else could, and the final crack in your restraint breaks wide open. You can feel the heat rising in your chest, the tightness in your throat, the way your breath hitches.

“You want me to treat you differently?” you bite back, furious, stepping into his space. “You want me to hold your hand and tell you it’s okay every time you fail? Because you’re so tired of being just another driver? Well, you know what, Jeonghan? I am tired. I’m tired of trying to keep this professional, of pretending that I’m not watching the same guy who couldn’t even handle his own crash. You don’t get to demand better treatment from me when you can’t even handle the heat.”

For a moment, neither of you move, and the silence is thick, charged with the weight of your words.

He stares at you, eyes dark, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. You’re both too close now, caught in this space where words are weapons, and you’re both bleeding out.

Finally, Jeonghan turns away, his expression unreadable, but you can see the tightness in his back, the way his jaw works, like he’s holding something back. "Maybe you should stop writing about me altogether," he mutters, his voice rough, before stalking off, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and chest aching.

For a moment, you stand frozen, caught between regret and relief, between the anger that still simmers beneath your skin and the sudden emptiness that creeps in now that he's gone.

The moment Jeonghan storms off, leaving you standing there with a surge of anger and a pounding heart, you don't realize someone’s been listening. But someone has. The faint click of a camera, barely audible over the sound of your pulse, is enough to make you pause. You turn, instinctively, to see a familiar face from the gossip side of the paddock. It's Soojin, a reporter known for getting the juiciest bits of drama and twisting them into scandalous headlines. She’s got a camera in one hand, her phone in the other, furiously typing something into it with a smirk that sends an uncomfortable ripple through your gut.

Before you can say anything, she’s already gone, blending back into the throng of people milling around the paddock, her steps quick and sure. The damage has been done. You know it, and the prickling sensation in the pit of your stomach tells you that it’s about to get a lot worse.

By the time you’ve made it back to the media center, the storm has already hit. Your Twitter feed is flooded with the words “Trouble in Paradise?”, and the accompanying photos. The images are damning—Jeonghan’s angry face, red with emotion, and your own flushed, furious expression, both of you screaming at each other in the middle of the paddock. There’s no context, no explanation, just the raw emotion, raw enough to sell.

The headline isn’t even what stings. It’s the comments that follow. Speculation, assumptions, and a flood of opinions. Some call it a lover’s quarrel, some assume the worst, but most seem content to paint the picture of two people on the verge of breaking. It’s not just your name that gets dragged through the mud; it’s Jeonghan’s too. Both of you, caught in a perfect storm of emotions and bad timing. The last thing either of you needs.

You try to shut it out, but it’s impossible. The text messages from your editor come through, asking for a statement. Your phone rings with calls from the PR team, from your colleagues, and even from your friends, who all seem to know about the situation before you’ve even had a chance to process it yourself.

And then, just when you think it couldn’t get worse, the email comes. It’s from Ferrari’s PR team, and it’s almost too professional to be true:

Dear Y/N, In light of the recent events surrounding your interactions with Mr. Yoon Jeonghan, we would like to offer you full access to the Ferrari garage for the remainder of the season. This will provide you with the opportunity to write an in-depth feature on the team, showcasing the work and dedication that goes into each race weekend. We believe this move will allow for a clearer perspective on the situation and help ensure that your reporting reflects the true nature of the team and its drivers. We look forward to your continued coverage. Best regards, Ferrari PR Team

It’s a calculated move—a distraction, a chance to smooth things over. And you know it. The message is clear: everything must look fine. Everything must be fixed, packaged neatly for the media and the fans to consume. You’re a pawn in a much bigger game, and they’re making sure you play along.

At first, you think about refusing. You think about how everything feels so wrong right now. About how the image of you and Jeonghan, caught in the heat of an argument, is being used to feed the frenzy. But the PR team doesn’t leave room for argument. You know that declining would only escalate things further, make them harder to fix.

So, you agree.

The access starts almost immediately. They give you a full tour of the Ferrari garage, show you the inner workings of the team, introduce you to the engineers, the strategists, the pit crew. You’re given permission to write about the team’s strategy, their behind-the-scenes preparation, but there’s always a sense that you're being watched—every move, every word.

You can’t help but notice Jeonghan’s absence. Every time you walk through the garage, he’s not there. The driver who once greeted you with a cocky smile and a teasing remark, the one who always found a way to make you laugh, is nowhere to be found. It’s like he’s vanished, swallowed by the thick wall of Ferrari’s PR machine.

It’s as if nothing is real anymore. The false smiles, the calculated interviews, the way the drivers exchange glances with a rehearsed ease. The more you observe, the more you realize how much of this world is a performance, a show put on for the audience, with no room for anything real. It all feels like it’s slipping through your fingers, leaving you with nothing but an empty, fragile façade.

Still, you’re expected to keep writing, to deliver the polished pieces the team expects. You’re supposed to put the headline “TROUBLE IN PARADISE?” behind you and focus on the carefully constructed narrative. So, you do. For now.

But even as you walk the pits, breathing in the scent of burnt rubber and sweat, there’s a quiet ache in the back of your mind. The truth is, you don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending that everything is fine.

Not when you still feel Jeonghan’s words hanging in the air between you, like the remnants of a storm that’s yet to pass. Not when you still want, with everything in you, to be able to fix it.

And maybe that’s the problem.

The crash happens so quickly, so violently, that it almost feels unreal. One moment, the tell-tale red of Jeonghan’s car is cutting through the circuit with his signature precision. The next, it’s a twisted mess of metal and rubber, skidding off the track, his car spinning wildly as Lee Seokmin’s Aston Martin clips him just before the tight corner at Turn 14. You watch it all unfold from the pit wall, your heart stopping for a brief second as the sound of the crash echoes through the air.

There’s a collective gasp from the crew around you, followed by the frantic chatter of engineers and strategists, trying to process what just happened. You can see the smoke rising from the wreckage, and your breath catches when the marshals begin to swarm the car, signaling that Jeonghan is still inside.

The radio crackles to life, but Jeonghan’s voice doesn’t come through. For a second, it feels like time slows down. The pit wall is a blur of motion, but you’re frozen, eyes locked on the track, praying for him to be okay.

Then, finally, the confirmation comes: “Jeonghan is out of the car. He's fine. We'll move him to the medical center.”

A wave of relief washes over you, but it’s short-lived. The weight of the crash—his crash—still hangs in the air, and it’s clear from the looks of the Ferrari crew that no one knows exactly what went wrong. The tension in the paddock is palpable, and as you’re given full access to the debriefing room afterward, the atmosphere is thick with unspoken frustration.

Jeonghan walks in with that same seething expression he had after the crash, and the room goes silent. His eyes are red-rimmed, his jaw clenched, the kind of anger that’s so deep it can’t be shaken by anything or anyone. His usual confident swagger is replaced by a taut, barely contained rage that makes it hard for anyone to even breathe in his presence. His voice, when he speaks, is sharp, cutting through the room like a knife.

“You think this is a joke?” he snaps, looking at his team with a glare so intense it’s almost suffocating. His fists are balled at his sides, his shoulders tense with barely controlled fury.

The debriefing begins, but it’s clear that no one knows how to handle him. His coach tries to keep things calm, but Jeonghan's sharp words only make the tension worse. The rest of the team sits in silence, unsure of what to say, how to fix the situation. His eyes never leave the table, his posture rigid, as though every part of him is fighting the urge to storm out.

The meeting goes in circles—strategies discussed, what went wrong, how to move forward—but nothing seems to land. Jeonghan doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to listen to anyone right now. His frustration is palpable, and it’s clear this crash, this failure, has broken something inside of him.

When he finally stands, his chair scraping harshly against the floor, there’s an air of finality to it. Without another word, he storms out, leaving a tense silence in his wake. No one dares to speak, knowing that anything they say would be pointless. The door slams shut, and the meeting disbands soon after.

But you don’t leave. You don’t really have anywhere to go. Not yet.

You make your way to the Ferrari canteen, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. It’s one of those rare moments when you’re not chasing a headline, not following the usual routine, and the monotony of it all feels like a relief. You order two beers without thinking. You don’t need two, but for some reason, it feels right. Maybe it’s the adrenaline still coursing through your veins from the crash, or maybe it’s just the weight of everything—the pressure, the disappointment, the simmering frustration with Jeonghan that you haven’t had the chance to process yet. The beers are cold, the glass bottles slick with condensation, and when you walk outside to the grandstands, you find him.

Jeonghan is sitting alone, his back against the metal railing, the crowd long gone. The air is warm, the kind of summer heat that clings to your skin and makes everything feel a little heavier. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back as he stares at the sky, and for a moment, you wonder if he even notices you approaching.

Without saying a word, you sit beside him, the soft crunch of your shoes against the gravel the only sound in the stillness. You don’t offer him a drink immediately. Instead, you hold the bottles in your hands, feeling the chill seep into your palms, letting the silence stretch between you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you hand him one of the beers. He doesn’t look at you, but you catch the faintest shift in his posture, a soft hum of acknowledgement as he accepts it, cracking the cap with a quick twist.

“Jeonghan,” you say, breaking the silence, your voice quieter than you expect it to be. He doesn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. You take a sip of your own beer, the bitter taste grounding you in the moment. You can feel the tension that’s been building between you both, the weight of the unspoken words, but for now, you can’t bring yourself to make him speak.

Then he does. “Full access, huh?” His voice is rough, the teasing edge to his words gone, replaced by something heavier. The bitterness is unmistakable. “You must be thrilled, getting to see me crash out in front of the entire team.”

You almost choke on your beer. You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuinely hurt, but it stings regardless.

“I’m not,” you say quickly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You wish he would look at you, but he’s staring straight ahead, his jaw still tight, muscles still coiled like a spring. "I don’t want that, Jeonghan. What don’t you get?"

“No?” He tilts his head slightly, but his gaze stays fixed. “I would think Miss Scathing Articles would relish the chance to tear me down again.”

A sharp retort sat on your tongue, but you swallowed it. There was no point. Instead, you looked away, focusing on the distant horizon where the racetrack lay, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. "I don’t," you said quietly. "I’m not interested in tearing you down. I never have been."

Jeonghan’s laugh was hollow, almost like a scoff. "Color me surprised."

A beat passed between you both, the air thick with unspoken words. You took a sip of your beer, now lukewarm and slightly flat, but it didn’t matter. Neither of you had the luxury of pretending everything was fine anymore.

He finally turns to you, his eyes meeting yours; there’s something in the way he looks at you—raw, vulnerable, almost like he’s waiting for the punchline of some cruel joke.

“I’m sorry,” you say after a long silence, your voice softer this time, barely above a whisper. You’re not sure if he hears you, but he looks at you with an expression that makes you feel like you’ve just stepped into a minefield.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, he exhales a long breath, rubbing his forehead with his fingers as though the weight of it all is finally catching up to him. The tension between you hangs heavy in the warm summer air, the quiet hum of distant cicadas filling the space where words should be. Jeonghan takes another sip of his beer, the bottle pressed lightly against his lips as though it might cool the heat simmering under his skin. He looks tired—no, more than tired. Worn down. The type of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says finally, the words coming out uneven, almost like they’re foreign on his tongue. His voice is softer now, missing the sharp edges that had cut into you moments before. “You were just doing your job.”

“Jeonghan,” you start, but he holds up a hand, silencing you.

“No, really.” He forces a thin smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s the kind of expression you’ve seen him use in press conferences—a shield, practiced and perfect. “You’re here because Ferrari told you to be. Because someone thought it’d be a great PR move. You don’t owe me anything beyond that.”

The words sting, even though you know they shouldn’t. He’s not wrong. This isn’t your world, not really. But you can’t help the knot tightening in your chest as you watch him retreat into himself, the walls going up before your eyes.

“I’m not here because they told me to be,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “I’m here because I wanted to be. Because I saw the crash, Jeonghan, and I—” You stop, swallowing hard as the memory flashes behind your eyes again. The twisted metal, the plume of smoke, the moment you thought—

“I was scared,” you admit, your voice cracking slightly. “Not as a journalist. Not as someone with a job to do. As someone who—” Jeonghan’s gaze snaps to you, his eyes narrowing slightly, but there’s something vulnerable there, too, something unguarded.

You don't finish the sentence.

Jeonghan watches you closely now, his beer suspended mid-air, forgotten. The sharpness in his gaze softens, replaced by something else—curiosity, maybe, or an unease he doesn’t quite know how to address.

The air between you feels heavy, suffocating in its quiet. You can still hear the faint echoes of the crash in your mind, the awful screech of metal against asphalt, the split-second horror of thinking you’d just seen him—

He sets the bottle down with a soft clink against the railing, breaking the spell.

“Scared, huh?” His voice is quieter now, and there’s a touch of disbelief, as though he’s trying to decide whether to accept your words or dismiss them.

You nod, throat tightening as you try to push through the lump that’s settled there. “Terrified,” you admit, the word feeling foreign and vulnerable on your tongue. “Not because of what I’d have to write, but because I thought—” You bite down on the rest of the sentence, unwilling to say it aloud.

Jeonghan exhales, long and slow, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he leans back against the railing. “I’m fine,” he says eventually, the words flat and unconvincing. He glances at you, his lips pressing into a faintly wry smile. “A little bruised. A little pissed. But I’m fine.”

It’s not enough to untangle the knot in your chest, but it’s a start. You nod, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

He finishes his beer in a few swallows, the motion oddly decisive, before standing and brushing off his pants. For a moment, you think he’s about to leave without another word, the tension between you both left unresolved.

But then he turns, holding out a hand toward you. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a faint curve to his lips that feels almost... playful.

“Friends?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his hair falling into his eyes. “If you’re going to be hanging around the garage all season, might as well, y’know?”

You blink at him, taken aback. The man who’d stormed out of the debriefing room in a fit of rage, who’d spat barbs at you moments ago, now stood here offering a truce like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Friends,” you echo, narrowing your eyes as you take his hand. It’s warm, his grip firm but not overbearing, and for a fleeting second, you wonder if this is another performance—an act to keep you at arm’s length.

But when he pulls you to your feet, there’s something genuine in his expression, something almost relieved.

“You better not make me regret this,” he says, letting go of your hand as he shoves his now-empty beer bottle into your other one. “And don’t think this means you’re off the hook for the shit you wrote.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as he smirks.

For the first time all day, the knot in your chest loosens just slightly. You follow him back toward the paddock, your steps lighter than they’ve been in weeks.

And for now, that’s enough.

FORMULA 1 QATAR AIRWAYS AUSTRIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Red Bull Ring

The Red Bull Ring stretches out before you like a postcard of precision. Nestled in the Austrian hills, the track gleams under the soft morning sun, its curves and straights inviting the first roar of engines. The garage is alive with motion—engineers bent over laptops, mechanics tightening bolts, and the hum of anticipation that comes with any race weekend.

You step into the Ferrari garage, an interloper in a sea of red. Jeonghan’s car gleams in its designated spot, pristine and ready, as though it hadn’t been a crumpled wreck just a week ago. The team works around it like a well-oiled machine, barely sparing you a glance. You’re supposed to be here, technically, but that doesn’t stop the slight twinge of unease as you find a quiet corner near the monitors.

“Back again?”

The voice is unmistakable, light and teasing. You turn, and there he is: Yoon Jeonghan in his fireproofs, the sleeves tied around his waist, his white undershirt faintly clinging to his frame. He looks every bit the picture of calm, like he hasn’t spent the past few days fielding press questions about his crash.

“Didn’t think you’d miss the chance to watch me run into someone,” he adds, smirking as he adjusts his gloves.

You raise an eyebrow. “Is this your way of saying you’re aiming for Aston Martin?”

He laughs, a real laugh this time, and it’s startling how much it changes the air around you. “Not today. But I’ll keep you updated if Seokmin starts driving like a rookie again.”

“Careful, Jeonghan,” you shoot back, crossing your arms. “I might put that in my next article.”

He leans casually against the wall, his dark eyes scanning your face with an intensity that’s become familiar in the past few weeks. But there’s no edge to it today, no armor. Just him, relaxed and—for once—almost easygoing.

“You’re not as scary as you think you are,” he says after a beat, his voice low enough that the hum of the garage nearly drowns it out.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the grin that creeps onto your face. “And you’re not as charming as you think you are.”

He tilts his head, considering this like it’s the most interesting thing he’s heard all day. “Fair. But you’re still here, aren’t you?”

“Purely professional,” you quip, ignoring the way his smirk grows.

Before he can reply, the engineer by the monitors calls him over, gesturing to the screen. Jeonghan holds up a finger, signaling for a moment, then turns back to you.

“Stay out of trouble, yeah?” His voice is lighter now, teasing but not in the way that cuts. It feels natural, like banter between...well, maybe not quite friends. Not yet. But something close.

You shrug, watching as he walks toward his team, the confidence in his stride unmistakable. The tension that had lingered after the crash feels like it’s finally begun to dissolve, replaced by something steadier. Not quite trust, but something adjacent.

As you settle into the corner, notebook in hand, you can’t help but glance at him every so often. On the surface, it’s just another practice session, another day at the track. But for the first time in weeks, it feels like something close to normal.

FORMULA 1 QATAR AIRWAYS BRITISH GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Silverstone Circuit

Silverstone roars to life under a blazing sun, the grandstands filled to capacity with fans waving flags and wearing team colors. The overcast sky has burned off, leaving the track shimmering under the summer sun. It’s one of the biggest stages of the season, and Jeonghan delivers a masterclass in qualifying, the finely tuned Ferrari underneath him responding to every input like an extension of himself. The sharp smell of rubber and fuel lingers in the air, mingling with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He’s back.

The final lap times on the leaderboard tell the story: pole position. Ferrari’s garage is electric with celebration, engineers clapping each other on the back, a cheer rising when Jeonghan steps into the swarm of red. His team surrounds him, hands gripping his shoulders, voices shouting praise over the din.

He grins, wide and unguarded, the weight of the last few weeks lifting ever so slightly. Spain and Canada had shaken him, but this—this feels like a reckoning. Proof that the mistakes and setbacks weren’t the whole story.

“Perfect lap, Jeonghan,” his engineer says, beaming as he hands him a water bottle.

He nods in acknowledgment, taking a swig, his heart still racing as he glances around the paddock. The sun is high now, glinting off the sleek curves of the cars lined up in parc fermé. Jeonghan’s gaze sweeps over the crowd, soaking in the energy—until he sees you.

You’re standing just outside the McLaren garage, the vibrant orange of their branding a stark contrast to the reds and blacks of his world. You’re leaning against a barrier, the breeze tugging at your hair as you laugh at something Mingyu says. Your face is so open, so full of light, that it’s almost magnetic.

Mingyu gestures animatedly, clearly in the middle of some ridiculous story, his grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s. You throw your head back with a laugh, and Jeonghan feels a tightness in his chest he can’t quite place.

The joy that had filled him moments ago flickers.

Why does it bother him?

The thought lingers as he watches you, his water bottle dangling forgotten in his hand. Jeonghan isn’t used to this kind of gnawing discomfort. He’s competitive, sure, but this is something else entirely.

Jealousy.

The sun is lower in the sky when he finds you, his long strides purposeful as he weaves through the paddock. The golden hour light makes everything seem softer, but Jeonghan’s mood is anything but. His thoughts from earlier have been simmering, the warmth of victory eclipsed by a frustration he can’t shake.

You’re leaning against a railing, scrolling on your phone when he approaches.

“Shouldn’t you be in the Ferrari garage?” he says, his tone sharper than he intends.

You blink up at him, startled. “I was just catching up with Mingyu.”

Jeonghan crosses his arms, his brow furrowing. “Funny. I thought you were doing a full-access piece on Ferrari, not McLaren.”

There’s something in his voice—an edge that sets your teeth on edge. “I am,” you reply slowly, standing up straighter. “What’s this about?”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing. “Is that why your articles about Mingyu are always glowing? What, are you sleeping with him?”

The accusation is like a slap, cutting through the air with a harshness that leaves you stunned.

Your expression shifts, disbelief giving way to anger. “Are you serious right now?”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw tight. The regret in his eyes is fleeting, buried under the weight of his own misplaced frustration.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” you snap, your voice trembling with fury. “It’s always one step forward, two steps back with you, Jeonghan.”

His lips part as if to reply, but you don’t wait for him to dig himself deeper. You storm off, your footsteps echoing against the paddock floor. The sting of his words lingers, but so does the look on his face as you walk away.

Jeonghan stands there, watching you go, the tension in his shoulders giving way to a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knows he’s crossed a line, and the weight of his own stupidity settles heavily over him.

The knock on your hotel room door comes before sunrise, soft but insistent. You groan, burying your face in your pillow before dragging yourself to the door.

When you open it, the hallway is empty. But at your feet sits a bouquet wrapped in crisp white paper, tied with a simple satin ribbon.

Roses. Soft blush pink, their petals perfectly unfurled, paired with delicate sprigs of baby’s breath.

The arrangement is beautiful, almost heartbreakingly so, the kind of bouquet that feels like a story in itself. You crouch to pick it up, your fingers brushing over the velvety petals. The faint, sweet scent of roses fills the air, mixing with the crisp morning chill that seeps into the hallway.

Nestled among the flowers is a small envelope.

You pull it out, your thumb brushing over the edge of the paper as you open it. Inside, scrawled in a slightly messy hand that’s unmistakably Jeonghan’s, are two simple words:

I’m sorry.

You glance down the hallway instinctively, half-expecting to see him lingering in the shadows. But it’s empty, as silent as it was before you opened the door.

You stand there for a moment longer, the bouquet in your arms and the note trembling slightly in your fingers. The apology feels heavier than the flowers, weighted by the memory of his words from yesterday.

He didn’t need to apologize like this, you think. He could have texted, could have mumbled something in passing when you inevitably crossed paths today. But instead, he’d gone to the trouble of figuring out your favorite flowers—roses and baby’s breath, a detail you don’t even remember telling him.

The realization stirs something in you, softening the edges of your anger.

The roses sit on the desk as you get ready for the day, the baby’s breath adding a delicate touch to the arrangement. The card leans against the vase, its two-word apology a quiet presence in the room.

Somewhere in the city, Silverstone is waking up, the air already buzzing with anticipation for the race. But here, in the stillness of your hotel room, you take a moment to breathe, to let the gesture sink in.

Jeonghan’s voice echoes faintly in your mind, the memory of yesterday’s confrontation still fresh. And yet, as you glance at the roses again, the sting of his words begins to dull, replaced by something softer, something not yet ready to be named.

The pre-race buzz was electric. The roar of engines echoed faintly in the distance, a constant backdrop to the paddock’s chaotic rhythm. Mechanics zipped between garages, reporters hustled to get last-minute quotes, and fans outside the barricades chanted their favorite drivers�� names. Amid all this, your footsteps fell heavy against the asphalt, your target in sight: Yoon Jeonghan.

There he was, leaning against the nose of his red Ferrari, his race suit a striking flash of scarlet that caught the sunlight and made him look annoyingly pristine for someone who had caused you so much grief. He was chatting with an engineer, that easy, charming smile plastered on his face like he hadn’t thrown baseless accusations your way less than 24 hours ago.

You marched toward him, purpose sharpening your steps. The bouquet from this morning was still vivid in your mind—blush pink roses, soft and elegant, their delicate petals almost glowing against the green of the baby’s breath, a stark contrast to the seething frustration you still carried. And the note—just two infuriatingly simple words—burned in your pocket, a reminder of the apology you hadn’t quite accepted yet.

“Jeonghan,” you called, your voice cutting through the low hum of conversation around you.

He glanced up, his casual demeanor faltering for a split second when he saw you. Then, like a switch had flipped, his smile returned. “Oh, hey.”

You stopped a foot away, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “How did you know my favorite flowers?”

His lips quirked into a faint smirk, and he leaned ever so slightly against the car, as if the conversation were a game he’d already won. “Oh good, they got delivered to the right room.”

“Jeonghan,” you said, your tone sharper now, “don’t deflect.”

“Deflect what?” He tilted his head, his eyes sparkling with that infuriating glint of mischief that made you want to throttle him and laugh in equal measure.

“JEONGHAN.” The snap in your voice turned a few heads nearby, but you didn’t care.

He sighed dramatically, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fine. A certain papaya-colored birdie told me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Papaya-colored birdie... Mingyu?”

Jeonghan hesitated, his grin faltering for just a moment. You saw the gears turning in his head, calculating whether to deflect again or come clean.

“Spit it out, Yoon Jeonghan,” you said, stepping closer, “or I’ll never write a single kind thing about you for the rest of your life.”

His mouth twitched, caught between amusement and resignation. Finally, he shrugged, his voice almost too casual. “Childhood friends, eh? You and Mingyu? That explains yesterday.”

You blinked, thrown by the abrupt shift in topic. “Don’t change the subject,” you snapped, though his words tugged at something in the back of your mind. “You really went to Kim Mingyu for help? After accusing me of—”

“I might have... aggressively encouraged Mingyu to spill everything he knew about you,” Jeonghan admitted, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You raised a brow. “Aggressively encouraged?”

“Fine,” he said with a huff. “I threatened to steal his steering wheel from the McLaren garage if he didn’t talk.”

Despite your irritation, a snort escaped you. “And he just handed over my life story, huh?”

Jeonghan crossed his arms, mirroring your stance. “What can I say? He’s surprisingly chatty when he thinks you’re in trouble. Very protective, that one.”

You clenched your jaw, the pieces clicking into place. “So, that’s why you jumped to conclusions yesterday. You thought—”

He cut you off, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I know. I was out of line. That’s what the flowers were for.”

For a moment, the noise of the paddock seemed to fade. The wind carried the faint scent of burning rubber, and the distant cheers of fans reached your ears like a muted hum. Jeonghan’s expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something quieter, almost vulnerable.

“For what it’s worth,” he added, his tone lower now, “I really am sorry.”

You exhaled slowly, the weight of the last day lifting slightly from your chest. “You’re lucky I like roses.”

“I know,” he replied, his grin returning, lighter this time, almost boyish. “Good taste, huh?”

“Good recovery, at least,” you muttered, your lips twitching despite yourself.

Jeonghan’s laughter followed you as you turned and walked away, the sound less grating than it had been the day before. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it felt like a start.

FORMULA 1 HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Hungaroring

The Hungarian Grand Prix paddock was buzzing, but you could tell something was off. The sound of chatter and engines felt like distant echoes as you stood by the garage, watching Jeonghan’s Ferrari pull back into its stall after a less-than-stellar FP1. The car’s engine quieted as the mechanics immediately went to work, inspecting it. But it wasn’t the car that caught your attention—it was Jeonghan himself.

He was unusually quiet, his usual cocky confidence buried beneath the furrow of his brow as he stripped off his helmet and gloves. His gaze was focused on the car, but it was clear his mind wasn’t in the garage. He seemed... distant, almost frustrated. The others in the team were busy talking strategy, discussing the data, but Jeonghan barely spoke up during the debriefing. It was strange.

The team finished up, but you noticed Jeonghan lingered near the back, hands on his hips, staring at his car like it had personally betrayed him. It wasn’t like him to be this quiet, especially not after a session where he was so used to being in control. You could practically feel the weight of his thoughts from where you stood.

You didn’t want to be intrusive, but you couldn’t ignore it—something was wrong.

You walked over, careful not to disturb the mechanics who were still busy at work. "Jeonghan," you called softly, stepping beside him. He turned to you, but his eyes didn’t quite meet yours. They were focused on something distant, like he was seeing the track or the car but not really seeing them.

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep the concern out of your voice, but it slipped through anyway. “You’ve been quiet since the debriefing.”

He gave a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

You weren’t buying it. You had known Jeonghan long enough to recognize the way he carried his frustration. It wasn’t the kind of thing that could be hidden behind a casual smile, no matter how practiced.

“You sure? You know you don’t have to be okay all the time, right?” you pressed, stepping a little closer. The air around you felt heavy, charged with unspoken words.

Jeonghan exhaled sharply, his fingers digging into his gloves before he slowly pulled them off. He seemed to be gathering himself before speaking. “I hate it,” he muttered, and his voice had a rawness to it that caught you off guard. “Not being perfect. I... I can’t stand it.”

“Not being perfect?” you echoed, surprised. Jeonghan, the ever-cocky, confident driver, admitting that?

He looked up at you then, his eyes intense, as though he was searching for something in your gaze. “Yeah. I know it sounds stupid,” he said with a wry laugh that lacked its usual humor. “But it’s who I am. I’m a perfectionist, always have been. Every little mistake... it sticks with me. I can’t just move on. I think about it. Constantly.”

You watched him, absorbing his words, the vulnerability in his tone feeling like a crack in his otherwise polished exterior. Jeonghan, always so composed on the surface, always teasing and joking, was admitting something deeper now—something more personal.

“Is that why you were so quiet during the debriefing?” you asked, keeping your voice soft.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his gaze flicking to the car again. “I know I didn’t have the best session, but it feels like... like I failed. Like I’m not doing my job right. I could’ve done better.” His jaw clenched as if he were angry at himself.

The silence that fell between you was thick, almost suffocating, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. You hadn’t seen him like this before—not with this level of self-doubt.

“You’re not failing,” you said, your voice firm. “You’re allowed to have bad sessions. Hell, everyone has bad days. But that doesn’t mean you’re failing. It’s just a part of it.”

Jeonghan glanced over at you, his lips curving into a small, grateful smile. “You really believe that?”

“Yeah, I do,” you said, nodding. “I mean... it’s not all about being perfect. Sometimes it’s the mistakes that push you to be better.”

Jeonghan looked down at his hands, still clutching the gloves, and you could see the gears turning in his mind. “I know. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I get it,” you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the side of the garage. “But you’ve got a whole team behind you. And we all know what you’re capable of. You’ll get there. It’s just one session.”

He finally met your gaze, his eyes softening. “Thanks.”

There was a long pause, the sound of distant chatter and the hum of the paddock filling the silence. You were so used to Jeonghan’s teasing and cocky attitude that this quieter, more introspective side of him felt like a different person altogether. And maybe it was—it was the side that wasn’t the driver who fought for every fraction of a second on the track, the side that just wanted to be good enough.

“It’s not stupid, you know,” you added quietly. “Caring about being good at what you do isn’t stupid. It’s just... exhausting sometimes.”

Jeonghan laughed lightly, the sound a bit more genuine this time. “You have no idea. But I’m getting better at... handling it. I think.”

You smiled at him, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over you. There was still that hint of unease in his posture, the tightness in his shoulders, but for the first time all day, he seemed a little more at ease with himself.

As you turned to leave, you shot him one last look. “Just don’t be so hard on yourself next time, okay?”

“I’ll try,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. And for a moment, you almost believed him.

The stands were eerily quiet now, a stark contrast to the roar of the crowd just hours earlier. You wandered through the empty paddock, your steps unhurried as the hum of the night settled around you. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint clatter of the Ferrari team packing up, but Jeonghan wasn’t with them.

You’d seen him after the race, his jaw tight as he climbed out of the car. Finishing P5 wasn’t bad by any measure, but it wasn’t what he wanted. And with Mingyu overtaking him in the Driver’s Championship by just twenty points, it was clear Jeonghan had taken it as a personal blow. His disappointment hung around him like a shadow.

It wasn’t hard to guess where he’d gone.

Sure enough, when you climbed up into the grandstands, there he was. Sitting alone in the middle row, still in his Ferrari race suit, unzipped to the waist to reveal his black base layer. His hair was tousled from the helmet, his posture slouched, shoulders hunched as though the weight of the day hadn’t yet left him. Beside him were two bottles of beer, one already open and resting loosely in his hand.

You approached quietly, but Jeonghan didn’t flinch. He didn’t even turn around when you reached him, your feet crunching softly against the debris of the crowd—discarded programs, empty wrappers, and forgotten flags. He must’ve known it was you, though. He always seemed to know.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked, your voice breaking the stillness.

He finally glanced up, his expression unreadable. “It’s a free grandstand,” he muttered, gesturing to the empty seats around him.

You slid into the seat next to him, the cool metal chilling through your clothes. Jeonghan’s gaze returned to the track ahead, where the floodlights illuminated the ghost of the race. He took a sip of his beer, silent.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet stretched, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable—just heavy. You could feel the frustration radiating off him, the bitterness that came with being so close but not close enough.

“You should drink this before it gets warm,” he said suddenly, pushing the unopened beer toward you.

You picked it up, twisting off the cap with a small smile. “Thanks. Not exactly the post-race celebration you were hoping for, huh?”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Not exactly.”

The silence fell again, but this time you weren’t willing to let it linger. You turned to him, watching the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the neck of the bottle. “You’re still in the fight, you know,” you said gently.

Jeonghan’s lips quirked, but it wasn’t a smile. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Well, you are,” you insisted. “Three points. That’s nothing. You’ve come back from worse.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he tilted his head back, looking up at the dark sky above the track. “You don’t get it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “It’s not just about the points. It’s about everything. The mistakes, the pressure... the expectations. It’s like... like I have to prove that I deserve to be here. Every single time.”

“You do deserve to be here,” you said firmly, the conviction in your voice enough to make him turn to you. “You wouldn’t be in that seat if you didn’t. You’re one of the best drivers on the grid, Jeonghan. Everyone knows it. Even Mingyu. Especially Mingyu.”

Jeonghan scoffed, a flicker of a smile breaking through his stormy expression. “Bet he’s loving this right now.”

“Maybe,” you said, leaning back against the seat. “But knowing Mingyu, he’s probably already plotting ways to rub it in at the next race.”

That earned a laugh, small but real, and the sound was enough to make you smile too.

“You’re good at this,” he said after a moment, his tone softer now. “Talking me off the ledge.”

“Someone has to,” you replied with a shrug. “And honestly? I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. One race doesn’t define you, Jeonghan. You’re not just a number on the leaderboard.”

He looked at you then, his gaze lingering. There was something in his expression—gratitude, maybe, or something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. “Thanks,” he said simply, the word weighted with more than just appreciation.

You clinked your bottle against his. “Anytime.”

The two of you sat there for a while longer, the weight of the day slowly lifting as the quiet of the night wrapped around you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—for now. And as Jeonghan leaned back in his seat, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles, you knew he’d be okay. Eventually.

You took another sip of your beer, the chill of the bottle grounding you as Jeonghan’s earlier tension began to melt away. The ghost of a smile still lingered on his lips, and for the first time since you’d climbed up to find him, his shoulders seemed lighter.

“So,” he said, breaking the quiet, his voice tinged with a familiar mischievousness, “what’s your headline going to be this week?”

You raised an eyebrow, scoffing softly as you bumped his shoulder with your own. “You’ll see it when you see it, Yoon Jeonghan. No spoilers.”

His chuckle was low and warm, a sound that felt like the first crack of sunlight after a storm. “Should I be worried?”

“Always,” you replied, the corners of your lips quirking upward. “But maybe not too much this time.”

He gave you a curious look, his expression halfway between wary and amused, but he didn’t press. Instead, he leaned back, his gaze drifting back to the track. The night was calm now, the weight of the day’s disappointment tucked into the folds of shared silence.

The headline hit Monday morning, and Jeonghan had to admit, you’d delivered once again.

Ferrari Falters in Hungary: Yoon Jeonghan's Fight for the Title Tightens

The article was incisive, as sharp as he’d expected. You broke down his struggles in FP1, critiqued his race strategy, and even called out the overtaking move that cost him crucial points. It was the kind of detailed, no-nonsense analysis you were known for, and Jeonghan read every word with a mix of frustration and admiration.

But at the bottom, tucked beneath the last paragraph, there was a footnote—barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.

“Despite Hungary’s setback, Yoon Jeonghan remains one of the most popular and formidable contenders for the championship. With only twenty points separating him from the lead, Belgium offers a more than fair chance for the Ferrari star to close the gap and reclaim his momentum.”

Jeonghan blinked, then read it again, a slow smile tugging at his lips. He leaned back in his chair, the paper still in hand, and shook his head.

“Subtle,” he muttered, though his tone was anything but annoyed. It was gratitude, warmth, and a flicker of hope all wrapped together in a single word.

He might have faltered in Hungary, but you’d reminded him—the season wasn’t even half over. And maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t fighting alone.

FORMULA 1 ROLEX BELGIAN GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps

The weekend at Spa began like a dream.

The legendary Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps was a driver’s haven and a monster in equal measure. The longest track on the calendar, its 7 kilometers of asphalt wound through the lush forests of the Ardennes, combining high-speed straights, sweeping corners, and the unpredictable challenges of its microclimate. The iconic Eau Rouge and Raidillon dared drivers to go flat out, while the downhill plunge into Pouhon tested their courage and precision. It was a place where skill separated the good from the great.

Jeonghan thrived on its challenge.

FP1 and FP2 were his playgrounds, his Ferrari gliding through corners like it was made for this circuit alone. The car was responsive and balanced, every adjustment in setup shaving precious milliseconds off his laps. Jeonghan pushed it to its limits, feeling every bump and curve beneath him as if Spa’s asphalt were an extension of himself.

By the time he returned to the garage, his name was at the top of the timesheets, and his team wore expressions of pride and relief. Engineers crowded around him during the debrief, their excitement palpable. Even Mingyu wandered over to toss a mockingly impressed, “Don’t get used to it, Yoon,” in his direction.

Jeonghan, basking in the buzz of dominance, had only winked.

But then came the penalty.

A breach in power unit regulations—an unavoidable technicality that slapped him with a grid penalty. It was frustratingly bureaucratic, a punishment that felt out of his control and yet deeply personal. His pole position was stripped away, and he was relegated to P10.

In the Ferrari garage, Jeonghan leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, the weight of his helmet heavy in his hand. The rhythmic hum of power tools and bursts of chatter around him did little to soothe his simmering frustration.

It wasn’t just the penalty—it was the sting of perfection slipping through his fingers, a weekend that had started flawlessly now teetering on the edge of disappointment.

He glanced up, ready to bury himself in the chaos of the paddock, and froze.

You were there, leaning casually against the pit wall, chatting with one of the mechanics. The glow of the overhead lights caught in your hair, and despite the whirlwind of activity, you were a picture of calm. Your hands moved as you spoke, animated yet confident, the faintest flicker of a smirk playing on your lips.

His gaze lingered.

It hit him—a memory of your words from Hungary, your unwavering belief cloaked in sharp wit: “A more than fair chance to close the gap.”

For the first time since the penalty, the gap didn’t feel insurmountable.

He didn’t realize he’d been staring until you caught his eye. Your brows rose, and you tilted your head in mock curiosity before excusing yourself from the mechanic and walking toward him.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice laced with a note of amusement and something softer underneath.

Jeonghan shrugged, plastering on his signature cocky grin. “Since when are you worried about me?”

Your lips twitched in a barely concealed smile. “Oh, I’m not worried. Just curious. I wanted to see how Ferrari’s golden boy handles a little adversity.”

His grin faltered for the briefest moment before sharpening again. “Keep watching,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I might surprise you.”

You tilted your chin, your expression a blend of challenge and intrigue. “Don’t disappoint me then.”

The way you said it—like you meant it—sparked something fierce in him.

As you turned to leave, the faint scent of your perfume lingered in the air, anchoring him to the moment. Jeonghan watched you disappear into the paddock, your confident stride a sharp contrast to his brooding, and for the first time that day, a smirk tugged at his lips.

It wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

P10 to P1.

It was the kind of race drivers dreamed of—the kind that earned its place in highlight reels for years to come.

The chaos began even before the lights went out. Rain had threatened all morning, dark clouds heavy over the Ardennes, but it held off just long enough to keep everyone guessing. Jeonghan sat in his Ferrari on the grid, surrounded by cars that had no business being ahead of him. He’d spent every second since the penalty recalibrating his mindset, shifting his frustration into fuel.

As the lights went out, his singular focus kicked in.

Turn 1, La Source: Jeonghan dived inside, threading through a gap that barely existed. The radio crackled with his engineer’s voice, commending his clean move, but he barely registered it. Eau Rouge and Raidillon loomed ahead, their uphill sweep demanding precision, bravery, and trust in his car.

He took the corners flat out.

By Lap 5, Jeonghan was in P7. His mind churned as he studied the cars ahead, each one a problem to solve. Every braking point, every shift in weight through the curves—it all required perfect execution.

But then came the rain.

It began as a drizzle at Pouhon, the light sheen on the track turning treacherous by the next sector. Jeonghan’s grip on the wheel tightened as he adjusted his lines, feeling for every ounce of traction.

“Box this lap for inters,” his engineer instructed.

“No,” Jeonghan replied, his voice steady. He could feel it—the balance of risk and reward. He stayed out one lap longer, the gamble paying off as he overtook two cars struggling on the wrong tires. When he finally pitted, the stop was flawless.

By Lap 20, the red flag came out, the rain too heavy for safety. Jeonghan sat in the pit lane during the suspension, helmet off, sweat beading his brow. His thoughts wandered for the first time since the race began.

Your words came back to him.

"Jeonghan’s perfectionism is both his weapon and his curse. When he is at his best, he’s untouchable. But the question remains: can he handle the pressure when the odds aren’t in his favor?"

His jaw tightened. You were right—about the pressure, about the way he held himself to standards so high they sometimes crushed him. But you’d also written something else.

"A more than fair chance to close the gap."

He wasn’t sure why, but that sentence anchored him.

When the race restarted, Jeonghan was a man possessed.

Sector by sector, he clawed his way through the field, each overtake cleaner and bolder than the last. At Blanchimont, he overtook Soonyoung in a move that was half instinct, half calculated risk. His engineer’s voice came over the radio in a disbelieving laugh: “Mate, you’re insane!”

By the final lap, he was leading. The roar of the crowd blended with the steady beat of his heart as he crossed the finish line, victory his once more.

The pit lane was a blur of celebration. His team engulfed him in a sea of red, their cheers drowning out even the din of Spa’s loyal fans. Soonyoung appeared out of nowhere, throwing an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulders.

“Winning in Spa from P10? You better believe I’m buying the first round,” Soonyoung declared, grinning despite his P2 finish.

Jeonghan laughed, the sound ragged and raw from effort, but his mind wasn’t entirely in the moment.

Later, in the quiet of the motorhome, when the adrenaline had settled and exhaustion was creeping in, Jeonghan pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over the search bar before typing your name.

The article was already live.

His breath caught as he read your headline:

From P10 to Perfection: Yoon Jeonghan’s Masterclass at Spa

It was glowing, but in your unmistakable style—balanced, sharp, and honest. You praised his overtakes, his strategy, and his ability to rise under pressure. Your writing was like poetry, an ode to his resilience, his precision in the rain, his ability to claw victory from the jaws of defeat. But what caught him off guard was the final line.

"With the championship fight closer than ever, it’s not a question of if Jeonghan will close the gap. It’s a question of when."

Jeonghan read it three times, his chest tight with something that felt almost like pride.

For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to believe them.

The bass thrummed low and heavy, a pulse that seemed to reverberate straight through the packed room.

Jeonghan leaned against the bar, his drink in hand, his racing suit long since replaced by a fitted black shirt with the top buttons undone. The sleeves were rolled just enough to expose his forearms, the dark fabric clinging to his frame in a way that effortlessly commanded attention. Around him, the club buzzed with post-race energy—drivers, engineers, and team members alike reveling in the victory and chaos of the day.

Soonyoung was next to him, buzzing with his usual infectious energy. Jeonghan caught snippets of his teammate’s banter, but his mind was elsewhere.

“God, Jeonghan, if you stare any harder, she’s going to spontaneously combust,” Soonyoung teased, sipping his drink with a knowing smirk.

Jeonghan blinked, startled. “What?”

Soonyoung rolled his eyes, nodding toward the dance floor. “Her. You’ve been staring at her like she’s a particularly tricky apex all night.”

Jeonghan followed his gaze.

There you were, dancing with a group of Ferrari engineers, the colored lights spilling across your frame, making your skin glow. You laughed at something one of them said, your head tilting back, your hair swaying with every movement. Jeonghan’s grip on his glass tightened.

“You’re hopeless,” Soonyoung said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just go talk to her. Or better yet, dance with her. God knows you’ll make everyone else jealous.”

Jeonghan scoffed, setting his empty glass down on the bar with a sharp clink. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure, and you just happened to spend the past ten minutes glaring at the poor guy she’s dancing with.”

Jeonghan shot him a warning glance, but Soonyoung only grinned wider.

“Look, you’ve already won at Spa,” he added, leaning closer. “Might as well take another victory tonight.”

Jeonghan shook his head, but the heat in his chest betrayed him. He cast one last glance at you before downing the rest of his drink and pushing off the bar.

The crowd was a blur of movement, bodies packed tightly together under the pulsing lights, but Jeonghan moved with purpose. He found you easily, your energy magnetic even in the chaos.

The beat shifted as he approached, slowing to something deeper, sultrier. He stepped in behind you, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from your skin.

“Enjoying yourself?” he murmured, his voice low and warm against your ear.

You turned slightly, glancing at him over your shoulder. Your lips curved into a teasing smile, your eyes dancing in the dim light. “Jeonghan. Didn’t think you were the clubbing type.”

He smirked, his hand brushing lightly against your waist. “I make exceptions for special occasions.”

You arched a brow, leaning back into him just enough to blur the line between teasing and inviting. “Special occasions, huh? Like winning at Spa?”

“Something like that,” he said, his voice a touch quieter now. His fingers rested lightly on your waist, the heat of his touch sending a shiver up your spine.

You turned to face him fully, your hands drifting up to rest on his shoulders, playful and almost casual. “So? What’s it like being untouchable?”

He chuckled softly, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again. “You’d know,” he said smoothly, “if you were paying attention during my races instead of writing snarky articles.”

You laughed, a soft, melodious sound that made his chest tighten. “I did pay attention,” you countered, leaning in slightly, your lips barely a breath away from his ear. “You were alright, I guess.”

“Alright?” he repeated, feigning offense. “You called it a masterclass. Don’t think I didn’t read your article.”

Your grin widened, the fire in your eyes matching the teasing edge in your tone. “Oh, that? Don’t let it go to your head, Yoon. I still expect a proper interview.”

His hands shifted to your hips, grounding you against him as he swayed slightly to the beat, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “Careful. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

“And if I did?” you teased back, your voice soft but no less challenging.

For a moment, the world around you fell away. The music, the lights, the press of the crowd—it all faded as the space between you closed. Jeonghan’s eyes lingered on your lips, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of racing.

Then, just as you tilted your head, leaning closer—

“JEONGHAN!”

The moment shattered.

Sunwoo’s voice boomed over the music as he appeared out of nowhere, the mechanic’s grin wide and oblivious. “Bro, come on! You can flirt later! Dance with me!”

Jeonghan groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as your laughter spilled over him like warm sunlight.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You pulled back, still laughing, and met his gaze with a wink. “I’ll hold you to that.”

FORMULA 1 HEINEKEN DUTCH GRAND PRIX 2024Track: Zandvoort

The paddock at Zandvoort was always one of Jeonghan’s favorites. The smell of fresh sea air mixed with the unmistakable tang of fuel and rubber, while the orange-clad crowd painted the stands in a fiery glow. Jeonghan didn’t even mind the noise—something about the Netherlands had a way of energizing him.

He was walking back from the driver’s parade when he spotted you outside the Ferrari hospitality tent, a coffee in hand, your eyes scanning the throng of people with practiced ease. The crisp breeze tugged at your hair, and Jeonghan slowed his pace, his lips curling into a familiar smirk.

You glanced up just in time to catch him staring. “Don’t you have a race to focus on?”

“Don’t you have an article to write?” he shot back, his voice smooth as ever.

“I’m multitasking,” you replied, raising your coffee in a mock toast.

Jeonghan stepped closer, close enough that the conversation felt private despite the bustling paddock around you. “Let me guess,” he said, crossing his arms, “today’s headline is, ‘Ferrari Driver Jeonghan Looks Extra Handsome Under Dutch Sunlight.’”

You snorted, barely suppressing a laugh. “Oh, please. I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘Can Ferrari’s Yoon Jeonghan Deliver After Spa Masterclass?’”

“Flattering,” he mused, tilting his head. “I thought you’d save the sarcasm for the post-race write-up.”

“I aim to keep you humble,” you said with a shrug, though the playful glint in your eyes gave you away.

Jeonghan leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a thrill down your spine. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like a fan.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could get a word in—

“Jeonghan!”

A voice cut through the tension like a knife. You both turned to see Soonyoung jogging up, waving enthusiastically. “There you are! We’re late for the strategy briefing!”

Jeonghan sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching as he glanced back at you. “Guess we’ll have to finish this later.”

You grinned, your eyes dancing with amusement. “Don’t let me keep you from your briefing, Ferrari’s golden boy.”

Jeonghan’s smirk deepened. “I’ll see you after I win.”

He walked off, Soonyoung talking his ear off as you watched him go, the heat in your chest lingering far longer than it should have.

The race came and went, and though Jeonghan didn’t win—Mingyu’s dominance at Zandvoort was almost an inevitability—he still managed to bring home a solid podium finish.

Later, back at the hospitality suite, you found yourself standing near the balcony, staring out at the ocean waves in the distance.

“Not bad for a day’s work,” came a familiar voice behind you.

You turned to find Jeonghan leaning casually against the doorway, his hair still damp from the post-race shower. He’d swapped his racing suit for a simple white shirt and jeans, but somehow, he still looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“Not bad,” you admitted. “Though I was expecting a win. Should I change the headline to ‘Close, but Not Quite’?”

Jeonghan’s laugh was low and smooth as he closed the distance between you. “I think you’re just trying to rile me up.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Is it working?”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could see the faint freckle on his cheekbone, the way his lashes caught the light. “You tell me.”

The air between you crackled, your banter giving way to something heavier, something unspoken. For a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Jeonghan!”

The door slammed open, and Mingyu’s booming voice shattered the moment.

Both of you jumped, turning to see the taller driver grinning sheepishly. “Uh, sorry. Team dinner’s starting soon, and they’re waiting for you.”

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened, but he plastered on an easy smile. “Of course they are.”

Mingyu left as quickly as he’d come, leaving you and Jeonghan alone again.

“Do people just have radar for this?” Jeonghan muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Maybe it’s the universe telling you to focus on racing.”

He stepped closer again, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Or maybe it’s telling me I’ll just have to try harder.”

Your pulse quickened, but before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Jeonghan sighed dramatically, stepping back with a rueful smile. “Guess I’ll have to settle for third interruptions.”

You smirked, folding your arms. “You’re consistent, at least.”

“Don’t forget it,” he said with a wink, his voice smooth as ever as he walked away.

And just like that, you were left alone, the waves crashing in the distance as you wondered how long this game of cat and mouse could last.

another lil a/n: full throttle is probably one of my favorite things i've EVER written and i am so proud of myself for getting this out of my head and onto the page.

#fic recs : jeonghan #thought I’d be over the f1 brain rot but it’s still alive and well #this doesn’t help either that I’ve been bingeing drive to survive for the past two weeks #so TRUST i will be imagining this documentary style when mc and jeonghan interact #i love when two people have real chemistry and u truly feel it in the mc and jeonghan #men yearning but it’s a rich boy in a luxury car who wants the only girl who humbles him ‼️‼️#also am obsessed w mingyu being a pain in jeonghan’s ass in sm ways even outside the race track #SUNWOO TBZ MENTIONED ‼️‼️#ur right he would be an annoying engineer (affectionate)#the f1 revival thru svt is a great niche #super hyped for the next part !!#also if i sound all over the place mb it’s super late and i need to sleep .#Ferrari jeonghan first sleep second

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princehoseok · 3 months ago

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i never expect much from the spotify bc i dont really use it as much as i would like to but i knew it was gonna be svt skz niall bts and rm and my top 5 of songs are all from rpwp lmao

#i only thought wos might be there but nope :l #ALSO WHY WAS MINGYU THERE LMAO #it was a video of him talking about love money fame (???? 왜???????

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blue-jisungs · 7 months ago

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[ 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 ] kiss attack

# author’s note … i dunno pookies just a random thought inspired by the first pic ^^

# summary … surprising them with kisses OR pepper kisssonf their faces (out of the blue, mostly hehe)

# warnings ... some members might be suggestive if u squint, some r longer than others, not proofread (bare w me bc i wrote this in a car during multiple ocasions in my notes app w/o autocorrect so ! :D i know u love me guys heheheh)

┆彡 SEUNGCHEOL [ 승철 ]

coming home late from yet another photo shoot, cheol desired nothing more than a warm bed and falling asleep with you in his arms. he tries to be as quiet as possible when entering your shared home, aware that you’re probably asleep. and his leader instincts are correct, the place drowning in midnight darkness. taking his shoes off, slipping into fresh pajamas, slowly but surely dipping into the mattress… and home, he’s finally home. your sleeping silhouette is drawn next to him, only slightly lit up by the moonlight peeking through the window. just when he sneaks his arms around you and closes his eyes, ready to drift asleep, your body moves suddenly and there’s a quick but deep peck landing on his lips. then, as if nothing happened, you roll on the other side and curl into him. seungcheol feels his heart grow and fill with warmth as he falls asleep with a smile blooming on his lips and pink dusted on his cheeks.

┆彡 WONWOO [ 원우 ]

"hey, wonu?" you ask and peek your head through the door, only to notice him being busy with a video game.

"give me a sec!" your boyfriend hums and the only thing you can see are the flashing lights and images on his screen "is it important?"

"no, not really" you answer and walk up to him, noticing that he has one of his headphones off his ear to hear you. a habit he developed ever since you moved in "i mean, depends how you look at it"

wonwoo turns around to check up on you and then you attack. cupping his face quickly and planting a sweet kiss on his plush lips.

"bye!" you giggle and run away, leaving him frozen in place. he’s too stunned to speak and too flustered to move, heart beating like crazy and stomach filling with butterflies.

"hey, dude, come on! we’re losing because of you!" someone whines in the voice chat and wonwoo takes a glance at the door, where you were moments ago. with a whipped grin plastered on his lips he shakes his head and returns to the pleasantly interrupted game.

┆彡 MINGYU [ 민규 ]

mingyu was cooking dinner peacefully, focused on his task. mingyu’s engagement in the kitchen was no joke, multitasking and executing the recipe on spot. which is why he didn’t hear nor see you entering his work space. better yet, he didn’t acknowledge your waltzing in and wrapping your hands around his waist. only when you gave him it a little squeeze. your man turned around, shocked pout on his face. to be fair, you didn’t want to disturb him. but pouty mingyu was just too adorable not to kiss - so you did, gently but quickly; his lips tasting like the vegetables he was cooking (and snacking on).

"what was that for…?" he hummed and wanted to kiss you properly but you leaned away, resting your cheek against his broad shoulders.

"nothing" you mumbled incoherently and he came back to cooking, not noticing he just added too much salt.

┆彡 VERNON [ 버논 ]

you would think vernon is asleep at the first glance. laying in bed, one hand on his stomach and the other under his head. his eyes were closed and face was resting, chest rising up and down slowly. but occasionally he’d reach and scratch his nose. he was listening to a podcast with his headphones in. and something just possessed you, it was like you had to cover his cute face with kisses or you’d - not to be dramatic - explode. you climbed on top of him, cupping his face slowly. vernon didn’t even budge. then you started gently pepper-kissing his face, planting kisses on the most random places. your plush lips tickled him a bit but he didn’t really mind; just when you were done but still holding his face, he peeked an eye open.

"everything okay?" vernon asked. you just nodded and placed one more kiss on top of his nose, then left to continue with your day.

┆彡 SOONYOUNG [ 순영 ]

"yah, kwon soonyoung!" your yell echoed through the practice room, causing all the members to halt. the said criminal turned with his eyes widened in pure terror. his mind raced with thoughts: did he forget something? did he do something? or didn’t do? recalling events from this morning, he failed to notice when you stormed right at him.

"i’m sorry i’m sorry im sorry–" he started whining, eyes scanning your face in search of bad signs but he saw a flash of mischievous smirk on your lips.

"you forgot this" you hummed and pecked his lips quickly with a loud 'mwah!' and ran away, giggling.

"that woman is crazy. she’s making me crazy. actually, we’re both maniacs" soonyoung murmured, touching his lips. his friends shared a laugh, looking at his whipped state.

┆彡 JUNHUI [ 文俊辉 ]

"hey, sleepyhead, wake up!" you whine as you tug jun’s shirt for the millionth time in the span of three minutes. your boyfriend decided to take a nap before you leave to the planned date but apparently he wasn’t keen on waking up. "jun!"

he mumbles something you can’t quite decipher and turns to his back, soft snores escaping his parted lips.

"fine" you sigh and straddle him, pepper-kissing his face. with each kiss landing on his features, you feel his smile grow. once you brush just against the corner of his lips, his smile is way too wide to pretend he’s still sleeping.

"you did that on purp–" you start but aren’t meant to finish because junhui’s large hands grab your face and pull you in a real, deep and passionate kiss.

well, you take that as a yes.

┆彡 MINGHAO [ 徐明浩 ]

whenever minghao was meditating, you avoided to disturb him. not to lose balance and be able to focus… you closed the door and waited until he was done. but today you just couldn’t bare a second without him, your heart longing to be in his presence (even though you live together). hao had his eyes closed, focused on his breathing. but he did hear the soft click of door opening and then the sound of your food paddling against the floor. you tried to keep your volume down, certain that he did not hear you. before he could expose you, there was a series of kisses attacking his face. the feeling of your lips against his skin was pleasant but made him lose focus completely. before he could realize, you were already running off, giggling. minghao opened his eyes and looked around, shocked, and with the tips of his ears painted with red shade.

┆彡 CHAN [ 찬 ]

chan was sitting on the sofa, brows slightly furrowed and concentration all over his face. his slim fingers were typing at the speed of light, discussing something with his members. normally you’d think it’s something important but to be honest, you knew them too well. they were simply arguing what to eat for lunch tomorrow.

you were watching him, smiling subconsciously; he still made your stomach swirl with butterflies as if you were a teenage girl with her doorway crush.

and the feeling was just too strong to resist, you just had to kiss him.

so you got up and stood in front of him, not aware of your presence yet.

with a quick lean, you pressed a tender, loving kiss onto his plush lips. chan froze, fingers halting mid-air. he kissed you back and leaned away with a puzzled look.

"what was that for…?" he whispered, blinking slowly.

"nothing. you’re just cute" you answered with a shrug and sat down next to him, opening instagram. chan, a little flustered, reassumed the lunch dispute

┆彡 JEONGHAN [ 정한 ]

"you’re cheating!" jeonghan whines, a pout forming on his lips. you sigh, shaking your head with the cards in your hands.

"just because my cards are good doesn’t mean i’m chaeating… unlike you, sneaky fox" you snickered and put another card on top of his. maybe you should’ve known that playing uno with him won’t end well but in the end, jeonghan is passionate about winning in every game.

"that’s literally not possible, how come you have three cards left and i have like… thirteen?!" jeonghan puffs his cheeks and places a green one card "i hate this–"

you lean over the stack of cards and shut him up with a slightly aggressive kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip with a smug smirk.

you can hear him sigh softly and kiss you back. before he can realize, you put down your three colored ones and lean away, patting your things.

"uno… and, well, also no uno since i won" you smirked and jeonghan was left speechless, mouth open wide. whether you cheated or not during the game, it was an impressive win.

"no… but… that’s, that’s– that was cheating!" he whines again but this time only to make you laugh again.

┆彡 JOSHUA [ 조슈아 ]

joshua was still half asleep when he was brushing his teeth, his hair sticking in every direction possible and eyes half closed… struggling to keep his head stable.

you just looked at him through the mirror, smiling at your boyfriend’s drowsy state.

"do we have to get up so early…" he mumbled, barely audible due to the foam in his mouth.

"you booked the flight so early, not me" you chuckled and finished applying cream onto your face. you had to leave soon if you wanted to be at the airport early.

joshua answered something incoherent and spat out the toothpaste, washing his mouth with water.

he blinked slowly and caught your gaze in the mirror.

you just smiled and turned around, cupping his face. then you started peppering his face with gentle kisses everywhere: cheeks, forehead, nose, eyelids. and finally, his peppermint tasting lips.

"awake yet, sleepyhead?" you titled your head with a gentle smile and joshua nodded, a lazy smirk on his lips "good. i’ll make us breakfast then"

and when you left the bathroom, he realized he’d really feeling more awake.

┆彡 JIHOON [ 지훈 ]

jihoon had his headphones on so he wasn’t able to hear you but he did certainly see you. a small smile painted on his lips as he was observing you pacing around the gym. while he was busy curling his arms, you were bored out of your mind and there was nothing to aggravate your boredom. it’s not like you didn’t like accompanying him to the gym and watching him work out; no, quite the contrary. it’s just that he was in his space and there was nothing interesting to do besides watching him. you peeked at him in the mirror and caught his eye on you. then, your gaze slid to his arms.

"hey, my eyes are up here"

your gaze snapped back to him and his cocky smile. heat rose to your cheeks upon being caught. you had to shut him up.

"i know you’re bored but–" jihoon started, probably to tease you, but was interrupted by your lips meeting his. he almost dropped the dumbbell he was holding but came back to reality once he couldn’t feel the plush of your lips no longer. "what was that…?"

"go back to working out, smartass" you snickered and watched him be the flustered one now.

┆彡 SEOKMIN [ 석민 ]

"and then chan came out, fully dressed as pi cheolin! i swear, the sound of carats’ laughter made my day" dokyeom rambled. even though your back was facing him, you could still feel the gentle shake of the mattress due to his dynamic gesturing

"and i couldn’t help but laugh too! our chan is just so talented, maybe he should start an acting career! because i swear, it’s like… chan is gone and pi ch–"

as much as you loved dokyeom’s voice, whether talking, singing or laughing, you just wanted to doze off after an exhausting day. but he just wouldn’t stop talking.

"–possessed him! i swear i think my ribs got fractured after laughing so hard, he was just so into it–"

seokmin suddenly felt your lips crushing on his. the taste of your toothpaste exploded on his tongue, freezing on spot due to the passion of your kiss. it felt like eternity but in a good way; he kissed you back until he couldn’t breathe anymore. you noticed that and pulled away, this time facing him and burying your face into his side.

"i love you, kyeom, but for the love of mine please go to sleep" you murmured softly and he fell silent. not only because you told him to, also because his huge grin prevented him from further talking.

┆彡 SEUNGKWAN [ 승관 ]

"what a beautiful view…" seungkwan let out a deep sigh, looking amazed at the panoramic in front of him. you were holding his hand and admiring it too.

it was a random tuesday afternoon and you decided to go on a hike on a nearby hill. and even though it was exhausting, it was worth it. pallets of greens and yellows sprung in front of your eyes, blurring with the cloudless, blue sky.

"this one is more beautiful tho" you hummed suddenly. seungkwan turned around to see what did you mean but you just pecked his lips and squeezed his hand with a cheeky smile.

"that was so cheesy…" he rolled his eyes and while you turned again to adore the nature, his eyes stayed glued to your face with amused smile.

masterlist <3

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,,

@weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee ,, @haecien

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wonustars · 2 months ago

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Your Cat Loves You (Ft. Norbert)

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 pairing: kim mingyu x f. reader 𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 genre: fluff, smut (R: 18+ mdni) 𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 wordcount: 2.8k

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃summary: you and mingyu finally have a moment to yourselves, or so you thought... 𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 tags/smut warnings: the way of the house husband couple, husband!mingyu, wife!reader, norbert is a silly little menace, dom!mingyu, brat-ish!reader, oral (m. receiving), creampie, dryhumping, facefucking, big dick!mingyu. 𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃note: part 1 of the winter event is dedicated to @onlymingyus, ily sm marsie pie ♡! thank you to my two beta-readers! @ylangelegy and @junkissed, ily boaf what the flip!! special thanks to @cheolism and @wooahaeproductions for helping me w brainstorming ideas as well! i missed writing this couple so i hope you all enjoy hehe. lmk what you think of this one thru a reblog or a comment! see u in the next installment! - anna ♡

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃event masterpost

“I'm horny,” you pout as you place the book you’re reading down on the bedside table.

Mingyu walks out of the connected bathroom, towel slung around his waist, eyes wide, staring at the way your figure lays sensually along the mattress.

You’re turned onto your stomach, his large t-shirt draped over your body, the curve of your ass peeking through the bottom hem. Mingyu’s mouth runs dry, contemplating a response to your outcry of desperation.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he shrugs.

The aforementioned towel is thrown across your bedroom with unbridled abandonment. Jumping onto the bed, he grabs your hips, turning you around as he straddles your torso.

Calloused hands grasp onto your wrists, pinning them above your head. Mingyu dives in without much afterthought, connecting his plump lips onto yours. Raw and unashamed, there's vigour behind his actions, swallowing your lustful moans in the process.

Unfortunately for you, there’s an abrupt pause. Mingyu pulls away from you, a frown along his swollen lips.

“Where’s Norbert?”

“I want your cock inside me and you’re busy thinking about the cat?” You roll your eyes, huffing out with annoyance.

“I don’t want him seeing us,” Mingyu mumbles before standing up to check the door.

A disgruntled groan leaves your lips. Leave it up to your husband to worry about the cat in the most compromising of situations. In other circumstances, this would’ve endeared you, but your body has been brimming with sexual tension. A tension that only Mingyu can resolve.

“Last time I checked he was sleeping in his room,” you sigh, sitting up to admire the dragon tattoo on Mingyu’s back.

You never get tired of the black ink that adorns his skin, eyeing the way it creeps up onto his shoulders. It’s like a sweet treat every time.

He peeks into the hallway and nods shortly after being met with the still air outside your room. No cat ready to scratch at his chest or steal his spot on your bed. As soon as he has confirmation that Norbert isn’t looming in the shadows of the long hallway, he rushes to lock the door before flopping back onto the mattress.

Sitting against the headboard, he pulls you onto his lap, the unamused expression on your face vanishes as you feel his rock-hard length against your bare cunt. Mingyu’s groans are guttural as you hump himself along his member. Wet and ready for him to finally take you.

“You done being paranoid?” your question comes out breathless as you continue to stimulate the nerves between your thighs.

“Uhuh,” Mingyu mumbles.

Large hands travel under the hem of your shirt, rubbing and squeezing your flesh before he reaches your tits. Full in his hands, he pulls the fabric till it hits your chin, perked nipples placing him in a trance. Mingyu's mind swirls as he tweaks each one between his fingers, your breath becoming ragged as his pace starts to quicken.

The shirt you’re wearing becomes a nuisance quickly after, even though he enjoys seeing you in his clothes, Mingyu prefers when you’re wearing nothing at all. Removing the tee from your body, he drinks in your figure.

“Fuck, this pussy is always soaking,” Mingyu mutters, eyes glued to where your bodies are connected.

“Been trying to get to you fuck me all day,” you whimper.

He chuckles at your desperation. Even though only two of you live in this large house, alongside your gremlin of a cat, Mingyu has found it hard to get you moaning underneath him for about a week.

Norbert had been the number one culprit as to why you and Mingyu haven’t been able to fool around for the past few days. It started with your cat barging into your room right before anything other than a few innocent pecks were exchanged between the two of you.

You don’t know how he’s learnt to turn door knobs, but his curiosity had been never-ending since you and Mingyu made things official. Then he started to drag Mingyu’s clothes into his litterbox.

Neither of you knew what had caused Norbert’s spur of rebellious attitude, but you’ve slowly learned how to deal with it. Now the door to Mingyu’s closet remains locked, and you also make it a habit to lock the bedroom door each night as well.

The sexual frustration between you and Mingyu had become so palpable that you’ve woken up to his morning wood four out of seven times this week. There have been a few blowjobs and hand stuff here and there, but you haven’t had his dick inside you for what feels like an eternity. You’re almost convinced that your cunt has forgotten what it feels like to be filled by him.

In all honesty, you just miss the way his cum would spurt inside you every night.

For the first time in a while, Norbert wasn’t needy for your attention, and you’d be damned to not take the opportunity while it was still in front of you.

“God I need it so bad,” you whine.

Nuzzling into Mingyu’s neck, your hips continue to sway back and forth, the slick between your thighs starting to coat your legs and his pelvis.

“It’s been too fucking long,” Mingyu hums, hands tracing the curve of your ass.

Moaning into his skin, you feel his palms squeeze the flesh with an iron grip. Forcing the fat to shake with the force of his touch. His free hand still groping your left tit.

Mingyu almost blacks out, your hole catching his tip with each move you make. He can’t have you on top any longer. Thoughts of using you like his own personal sex doll rampage violently, his fully hard length starting to leak precum with your increasing pace.

“Think you can take me without any prep?” he asks, and your legs visibly shake at his words.

“I-I don’t know, probably not, you’re fucking massive.”

A laugh bubbles up from his throat; he’s never fucked you without at least stretching you out first. But the thought is too tempting to not try at least once.

“Willing to try for me, baby?” He whispers in your ear.

“Mhm, I’ll do anything. Just need you inside me,” you whimper.

“That’s my girl.”

A hard slap comes down onto your ass, the skin stinging in a way that's both painful but so delicious at the same time. Your mouth almost waters at how good he feels against you, and he barely even touches you.

“I’ll give it to you. But—” Mingyu starts but you cut him off.

“But?” your pitch raises, not liking how he’s continuing to drag out the foreplay.

“But you suck me off first.”

“Fuck, really? That's it? Can't we do that after? I need you now,” you continue to whine, pretending like your walls aren't gushing at the idea.

It doesn’t hurt to act spoiled once in a while.

“You’re gonna suck me off or I’m not fucking you tonight.” Mingyu’s voice is stern. You can’t help but hide the smirk on your face.

The pout on your lips is instantaneous. You need to see how far you can take the brat persona before Mingyu’s fed up. Hopefully, it leads to him flipping you over and fucking you into the next universe.

“But don’t you wanna fuck me now? It’s been too long,” you sigh, halting your movements to rub your hands against his muscular chest.

Your fingertips flow with appreciation for the hard muscle under your touch, his nipples erect as you swipe over them briefly.

Mingyu’s eyebrows scrunch together, jaw slack as you continue to feel him up. Moving over to his biceps you give them a squeeze before peppering kisses along his collarbones then at the base of his neck.

Entranced by your touch, Mingyu almost loses focus on who's really in control here. Almost.

Throwing you off his lap, he stands at the edge of the bed. His cock bobs from how stiff he’s gotten from a bit of rubbing. Tip red and angry, the veins along his shaft almost look like they’re about to burst from all your teasing.

“On your knees. Now.” He tells you, tone unwavering.

With a defeated huff, you gingerly move towards the end of the bed. Your knees cause the mattress to dip, your hips in the air, giving him a little show of your ass. Mingyu’s jaw clenches, trying his best not to fold from seeing your body in such compromising angles.

“Like this baby?” You look up at him as you prop yourself up with your elbows.

“Good girl. Stay put for me, yeah?”

You smile at his words of affirmation, one hand against the sheets while your other hand grips his length. There’s something about his dominating aura that radiates off of him when you’re about to blow him, it’s addicting.

Placing his cock against your cheek, your eyes become doe-like as you stare up at him through your lashes.

“See how big you are?” you mumble, the tip almost hitting your lashes as it’s pressed to the side of your face.

“Fuck me…” Mingyu drawls out, unable to comprehend how sexy you look in this angle.

Fisting your hair in his hands, he’s had enough of your attitude. Your jaw opens as if it's second nature, tongue shooting out, waiting for him to use your mouth like a fleshlight. He taps the tip against your tongue before tracing it around your pink lips. You look like an absolute dream.

Without a second left to waste, he shoves the entirety of himself into your warm mouth, fucking it until your throat restricts and your gag reflex emerges. Groaning from above you, Mingyu continues to push your head up and down the length of his pulsating cock, relishing in the warmth that envelopes him. The heat sears into his veins, culminating before it spreads throughout his limbs.

“Yeah, keep taking this cock,” Mingyu groans, fingers tightening around the strands of hair in his grasp. “Bet you love getting your mouth fucked, huh?”

You moan in response to the filth spilling from his mouth. With furrowed eyebrows, you do your best to breathe through your nose in an attempt to keep yourself from gagging further.

Mingyu’s thrusts slow down, not wanting to bust a nut until he’s inside that sopping cunt of yours. You know he’s saving the best for last as he removes himself from your mouth with an audible pop.

“Turn around.” He grunts, but you don’t move.

As you catch your breath, Mingyu tsks at your reluctance to do what he asks of you. Slapping your cheek, he wakes you from your cock drunk trance.

“What did I say? You were begging for me to be inside you less than ten minutes ago,” He laments.

“I’m tired. You do it,” your smile hidden.

He’s right where you want him.

You continue to lay there, waiting for him to give up and take matters into his own hands. Without missing a beat, he grapples you until your ass is up in the air. The view of your glistening folds welcoming him as if he’s carved out a special place for his cock inside you. The familiar sheen of your arousal and puffed-up clit greet his length as you wiggle your hips for him.

The smack of skin resounds against the walls of your room, your pussy clenching around nothing as Mingyu continues to hit your cunt until the juices gush past your entrance.

“Holy fu-uck,” you choke out, face slamming into the mattress.

Hands clutched onto the sheets, your eyes squeeze shut as you feel Mingyu’s tip tracing around your hole. Smearing the wetness seeping from your folds before you hear him spit onto your leaking pussy.

“Hmph, shit!” you squeak, the heat of his spit dripping down the expanse of your sex.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Mingyu praises you before plunging his cock into your awaiting warmth.

The stretch is nearing unbearable, and the pain of his cock filling you almost causes you to pass out. But it’s satisfying all at the same time. He’s only halfway in, but your breath labours, chest heaving as you continue to take what he gives you.

“So tight, you’re squeezing me like crazy,” Mingyu gasps, vision turning white as he continues to force himself inside you. Your moans increase in pitch as Mingyu bottoms out. Filling your walls till the hilt of his cock is pressed up right against your ass cheeks. Warm palms grope at your skin, slapping and squishing the flesh till handprints begin to appear.

“G-gyu, please I need you to move. Fuck, I could cum right now,” you whine, squeezing his length involuntarily from how unprepared you are to take him.

He agrees to your request without another word. Pulling back till only the tip of his cock is left only to ram his hips back into you. The sound of skin on skin hitting one another fills the room. Mingyu’s speed is steady as he thrusts in and out of you.

The moans you let out almost sound as if you’re in pain, but it’s the complete opposite. Pleasure courses through your veins until you feel it in your toes, you’re a-dick-ted to the feeling of having him inside you.

“You wanna cum? Show me how much you deserve to cum on this cock, baby,” Mingyu speaks through strained groans.

Relishing in your wetness, he knows he’s about to fill you with his seed. His balls retract with each movement he makes, he can only wish to stay inside you forever.

Without anything stopping you, your pussy convulses around him as you orgasm. The breath is knocked out of your chest, your fingers still wound tightly around the threads of your bedsheets.

“I fucking love you, baby,” Mingyu practically wheezes, moving his hand to push your head further into your sheets.

The flood of semen fills your walls, so much so that it dribbles past your entrance and onto both his dick and the bed beneath you. There’s so much, and it’s like his climax is never ending, cum continuing to shoot itself into your needy cunt.

Panting, you allow yourself to flop unceremoniously onto the bed. Tired and finally ready for bed, you wait for Mingyu to dislodge himself from you. A whimper leaves your lips as he finally unsheaths his softening member from your heat. His touch is as soft as a mouse, he pushes the hair out of your eyes before kissing your temple.

“You did so good, baby. I’m gonna clean you up okay?”

“Okay, baby,” you whisper.

Unsure of how many seconds have passed, Mingyu comes back with a warm cloth. He wipes you and himself clean before moving you so that you’re lying on the bed properly.

“We needed that,” he says in hushed chuckles.

“I agree,” you laugh along with him.

Right as you’re about to close your eyes, the door creaks open. The small shadow of your cat catches the candle's light by the TV stand. The pitter-patter of Norbert's paws fills the once-quiet room.

Turning to Mingyu, your expression is evident that you’re ready to scold him for not locking the door. But before you can get a word in he’s already defending his case.

“I promise, baby, I locked the door. I'm serious, please don’t kill me.” Mingyu pleads, hiding himself in your bare chest.

“Kim Mingyu. If you locked the door, then Norbert wouldn’t be here right now,” you explain.

Mingyu sighs, his warm breath leaving goosebumps against your skin. And he continues to swear that he really did lock the door, and even checked thrice to make sure it was secure.

Norbert meows out, hopping onto the bed before scratching into Mingyu’s back.

“What the fuck! Ow!” He yelps, Norbert’s claws continuing to paw at him.

Defeated, Mingyu moves away from you. The pout on his lips accentuates as he’s forced to sleep beside your demon cat. Norbert’s scratching ceases at his surrender, moving into his rightful spot between you and Mingyu.

Purring with satisfaction, the pleased cat purrs against you, nose nuzzling into your side.

“Goodnight baby,” you murmur.

The blanket is pulled up to your chest, your body facing the small cat perched at your left side. His eyes were round yet also filled with knowing. As if he did have the capability to somehow unlock the door to your bedroom from the outside. Knowing Mingyu’s forgetfulness, you decide that it’s simply not possible.

“Goodnight,” Mingyu replies wistfully, but you send him a pointed look.

“I’m talking to Norbert, Gyu.”

“Whatever.” he huffs at your unamused expression, before attempting to inch closer to you.

Norbert hisses at Mingyu’s sudden movements before snuggling closer to you.

“Goodnight Norbert,” Mingyu sneers but pets the feline with affection despite his attitude.

Norbert meows in return, tapping Mingyu’s cheek with his paw before settling into a deep sleep.

Kim Mingyu - 0

Norbert - 1

𖥔. ˖ ࣪ 𓂃 a/n: thank you for reading! please leave a reblog or comment if u enjoyed this little bonus scene! if you'd like to be notified when i post the next one send me an ask or fill out the taglist form located in the winter event masterpost! talk to u soon! - anna ♡

#kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #hiraya m #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #svt fic #svt smut #svt fanfic #wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {a winter indoors with wonustars}

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year ago

Text

Too Reliable. (s.c.)

― part one here

Weeks after your best friend did you a “favor”, he’s pretending like it never happened. Which isn’t really working out for him because you both know it did, and you both liked it. or the one where you’re mad that he’s not making things weird, so you take it upon yourself to make it weird.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | reblog to be seungcheol’s bestie

WORDCOUNT― 12k

PAIRING― seungcheol x afab reader (ft. mingyu)

CONTENT― typical best friends to fuck buddies to “actually, I had feelings this whole time”, jealousy, mingyu hook up, it’s passionate but a lil angsty if ur a baby about it.

OTHER CHARACTERS― mingyu as the mutual friend/hook up, mentions soonyoung and others

NOTE― it’s finally here! and nope, it’s not proof read. anyway……….here is ur dose of big dick best friend seungcheol being big and strong and soft and kinda pussy drunk (very pussy drunk)

smut tags under cut::

smut tags― mingyu hook up, morning sex, lazy fingering, lazy fuck, dirty talk , unprotected sex, awkward build up, finger fucking, pussy eating, raw grinding, no blowjob in sight sorry lmao, deep penetration, cream pie, kind of cum stuffing but like not entirely intentional, cum eating, no mention of after care but it does happen off record, cheesy love stuff

“Hey, um,” “Hmm?” Seuncheol hummed out in a sleep-heavy voice. “Did you actually enjoy doing that for me?” “Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” He responded in a sudden, louder voice. “Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?” “Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” He responded with confidence, shifting a bit and hugging you closer to him.

You remember the conversation that happened after he went down on you like it was yesterday, and he’s a goddamn liar. Nothing changed in your friendship with him, and he certainly doesn’t ask to eat you out all the time either. If anything, you’ve felt disappointed time and time again with the aftermath of that night.

It’s weighing on you in a strange way. At first, the weeks following the first and apparently, only time Seungcheol went down on you, you almost expected him to ask for a repeat. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted him to ask but he never did. Even when he came over to hang out, even when you tried to lay down hints.

Nothing changed.

In fact, he doesn’t even talk about it. He doesn’t look at you as if he’s tasted you, and he doesn’t act like he came in his palm against your bed, right in front of you. He’s just…Seungcheol. Sweet, caring, aloof, Seungcheol. And you’re just you. Except you want to be someone else at this point. Someone that he does feel differently around after that.

Maybe you weren’t a memorable event for him when it comes to intimacy. Maybe he prefers to pretend it never happened? Maybe he was really just doing you a favor and intending for it to never go past the initial act. Even with his sweet words after the fact. Maybe, that was just to reassure you so it wouldn’t be awkward.

You’re a version of you who wants to know what the fuck he’s thinking about. Did it taste bad? Did he get cold feet about it all? Arguably, if things did get weird after what happened, you’d feel more comfortable than you do with the situation as it stands.

It is weird now, but only because it’s not weird for him.

Even now, as you lay across the same bed where he had his head nestled between your legs, you can almost feel the tingle of what it felt like. The way his hair tickled your thighs, and the way his fingers laid against the flesh of your legs. The sun is beaming in through your windows and it still doesn’t feel as warm as it did when he cuddled against you that night. It’s been weeks and your heart is sick for him by this point. Sick with confusion, angst, lust, maybe even love if you think hard enough.

You miss him a lot more than before as you throw your hand up to your face in a gentle slap as if to knock yourself out of it. This is insane. Every day you wake up feeling this way, thinking of him, and where you stand with him. It wasn’t like this at first, you truly expected him to come back for more and now you’re just sitting here with a loop of reasons as to why he never did.

Insane. You’ve gotten head from so many people and didn’t think twice about them the next day, Seungcheol is different though. You knew he would be too.

Why is Seungcheol any different? Why do you miss him so badly right now? Why couldn’t he pick up on it either? Even worse, why do you feel like doing that with him was a mistake?

He’s with his parents for the weekend, and you’re here still thinking about shit that should have been released with your orgasm.

You haven’t gone on any dates since that time, you haven’t met up with any one other than him to hang out, and at this point you’re starting to feel a little pathetic for falling in so deep. It’s entirely one sided, he makes that very clear.

So, naturally, you hop up with the confidence of a damn lion and decide that today, it ends. You will stop making it weird between the two of you, if he has even noticed anyway. You’re gonna get dressed, look hot as fuck, and sit on your couch swiping left and right until you find a hot piece of man that’s willing to take you out tonight.

That’s when something dawns on you. You remember Seungcheol briefly mentioning Mingyu to you, which seemed more like an implication if anything at the time.

Why would Mingyu be jealous of what happened that night? You can admit to being attracted to him but it’s not like the two of you hang out often or anything, and it’s also kind of a rule for yourself that you don’t fuck within the friendgroup. Seungcheol was an exception, solely because that’s your best friend. Or, well, was your best friend.

Now though? Who cares about these little rules you create for yourself? You need a confidence boost. You need your mind to be taken off of this little spiral you keep falling into. Most of all, you need to be proven wrong that you can still get off without it being him.

So, texting Mingyu? Easy.

Thankfully, Mingyu texting you back at lightning speed seemed even easier for him.

Well, Mingyu sure did a great job at getting your mind off of Seungcheol for the past couple of hours.

You lay there in his bed, feeling your body tingle from the sensation of just how well he lived up to the promise of a good time. For hours he touched you, licked against you, fucked you and yeah, you did fucking enjoy it.

But why now? Why did you only just decide to give Mingyu a shot? Why are you lying in his bed, with his heavy arms thrown across you as he snores gently behind you, feeling the need to cry? Why do you wish it was Seungcheol, your best friend who seemed so eager to please and then suddenly leaped ten feet back as if he never suggested it in the first place?

Your brain is confused despite your body relaxing itself from the state of bliss you were able to experience. You really did enjoy this time with Mingyu and think that maybe, if you continue to make late night visits to him, the need for your best friend will weaken in time.

God, if only Seungcheol would just talk about it.

And you fall asleep thinking about that. About how you’ve let your feelings weaken you to the point that it’s genuinely hard to enjoy being pleasured by someone who actually has the capability.

And, well, you wake up much the same, except Mingyu was quite quick with his fingers upon waking up himself. Showing you that even if the person you want doesn’t have a thing to do with you, he sure does.

“Good morning,” He rasps in a sleepy voice, fingers already traveling down your stomach as he hugs up against you from behind. “Glad you finally came through for me.”

You quirk a brow. Right, Seungcheol is the whole reason you're here. If not for mentioning him, at least.

“I finally came through?” You chuckle, your body jolting at the ticklish sensation of his lips brushing the back of your neck. “You knew I was single, why didn’t you call me?”

You feel a harsher kiss against your neck, and his fingers only travel further down now.

“Bro code.” He whispers, dipping his fingers between your still naked legs. “I’m not overstepping if you’re the one asking for it.” He slides his fingers gently back and forth between your legs, trying to work you up. “And you did.”

You think hard about that. Bro code, overstepping limits, not coming onto someone unless they do first solely because someone must have asked him not to. And you’d think even harder about who that someone might be, but instead your brain is quickly thrown into the morning sex routine Mingyu must offer to all of his lovers.

You enjoy it too, the small moments of bliss where you’re not in your head about what you could have possibly done wrong with Seungcheol for you to end up feeling this way. It’s a brief moment of numbness though, feeling his fingers pleasure you gently can only do so much to quiet your thoughts.

“Are you saying one of your friends had dibs on me or something?” You laugh in a half-joke, arching your back to rub your ass up and against the bigger and warmer man behind you.

“You could say that, I’m assuming he missed his chance though–” Mingyu whispers snidely, now satisfied with how you already drip for him and sliding one of his fingers into you. His other hand, being used to hike one of your legs up and against his hip to open you up for him. “You wouldn’t be here doing this if he didn’t.”

You clench around his finger unintentionally, pretending you don’t know who you’re both referring to. Mostly because there’s no way in hell it’s your best friend, seeing as how he’s acting like you don’t exist outside of platonic friendship with him. Then again, who else could it be? Soonyoung? Jihoon? Fucking Wonwoo? As fucking if.

“I guess he did miss his chance–” You breathe, now allowing yourself to give into the lazy and slow pleasure being offered. “Deeper.”

And he listens. Mingyu goes deeper and deeper with one finger, then two, then three, up until you slip his fingers out of you and plead through your body to have more. Deeper still, holding you from behind, plunging into you as if to intentionally fuck the confusion out of you. As if to, maybe, prove that Seungcheol isn’t the only man who can please you now.

When you eventually find yourself walking through your front door, you do feel better. Mingyu did have some type of capability to make you feel as desired as Seungcheol did. After all, it’s not often that you sleep over with a man, better yet get fucked again as soon as you wake up with him.

Even so, you know Seungcheol will be back tomorrow, wanting to hang out yet again as if nothing happened. Thankfully, with Mingyu around, maybe you can pretend alongside him. Maybe even forget it ever happened.

You can argue that for the first time, you’re even a bit annoyed when you see his name pop up in your notifications with a call as if you’re not right in the middle of texting Mingyu. It’s not that you were trying to go back over to his house or anything, but man, he sure is trying to get you to come back for a third round already.

Maybe you just like when people are eager to please you, or maybe you don’t like to feel as if you’re the one chasing another person. Still, you answer Seungcheol, seemingly releasing all of this resentment you’ve built up for him in an instant.

“What?” You huff into the phone, feeling it vibrate with another text from Mingyu and wanting nothing more than to see what his fourth reason would be for you to come over not even ten hours after you left.

“What?” Seungcheol responds questionably to you. “What do you mean ‘what’?”

“I mean what do you want? I’m busy.” You huff again with a roll of your eyes, flopping back on your bed.

“Oh god, something happened.” Seungcheol groans, though he was simply calling you because he missed your voice. “What’s wrong?”

“No, not really. Was just trying to figure out what I’m doing tonight when you rudely interrupted me.”

Something is off, Seungcheol can feel it. Your voice has a bite to it, one that feels like you’re mad at him. Not to mention, he knows what you mean when you say you’re trying to find something to do for the night. He tries to reserve his feelings though, despite wanting that something to be him.

“Oh, I know there’s an event at one of the clubs downtown tonight I think. Soonyoung mentioned it–” He pauses briefly to hear another annoyed breath from you. “You’re not gonna go with him?”

“Nah,” You wave off dismissively. “I think I’m just gonna go hang out with Mingyu.”

You don’t notice at all the brief and panicked silence for a solid second and a half before Seungcheol reacts.

“Wait, what?” He says quickly after managing to process those words, trying not to sound as panicked as he knows he feels. “Mingyu? Why?!”

God, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything about Mingyu that night, but his confidence was overflowing and he couldn’t help but boast at the time. It’s come back to shoot him in the dick, knowing full well that Mingyu has been trying to get you into bed since he fucking met you. Hearing you ask for him in this context is something that makes his blood run cold.

“Relax, I was with him last night. It’s kind of like, maybe gonna be a normal thing now.”

You refuse to pick up on Seungcheol’s tone. He had all the time in the world to make you feel something other than confusion, and this is just fucking petty at this point. He clearly doesn’t want to have anything with you, so why in the hell should you just sit around hoping? Waiting?

“Mingyu? You want to fuck Mingyu?” He asks in a lower tone, trying to convince himself that he has to be mishearing you. You can hear him shuffle around and close a door behind him, showing that he doesn’t want his parents to hear him. But the frustration showing blatantly in his voice is somehow…satisfying.

“I already did. I figured he would show me a good time since no one else can, and he did.” You shrug with slight disobedience. Resentment bubbling up in your gut to the extent that you almost want to grill him for having any type of opinion about it.

Seungcheol hangs on those words for a second. “Since no one else can.”

He really thought he was the one who could do it for you.

“Yeah, but–” Seungcheol starts, feeling like a child almost in the way he protests despite not being in a position to have a say in who you sleep with. “You know what? Nevermind. Do what you want.” He adds blankly, hanging up before you can get another word in.

Honestly, he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong because you acted like he was fully capable of doing everything right. Hanging out with him consistently after the fact, not making it weird, flirting with him, asking him to sleep over.

He wasn’t sure if he should ask you for more or if he should ask you to be his girlfriend first. The whole reason he’s with his parents right now is because he felt the need to run home to his Mom for girl advice. Embarrassing? Yes, but he really wanted to do things right. He cares about you.

He needed just one single weekend away, and the second he’s gone you’re out fucking other dudes? Fucking Mingyu?

By now, that asshole is probably feeling like he’s on top of the world for getting to touch you. Not even he has done what Mingyu’s managed to do with you by now and he can’t help but feel pissed about it.

Whether you’re his or not, Mingyu never should have been a fucking option.

So, he calls you right back, pushing back the feeling of how pathetic it seems considering he’s the one who hung up on you. Then, when you don’t pick up, he immediately feels his stomach drop.

You must be talking to Mingyu, you must be setting up a time and place to meet with him. And Seungcheol has heard that Mingyu knows how to fuck. Other people have said he’s good in bed. Surely, if you’ve already been with him once and you’re still wanting to go back to him, those other people weren’t lying.

To Seungcheol, it feels like he’s losing you to his own friend with each passing second, and it’s weighing so heavy that spamming your phone with calls to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing right now feels like the right thing to do. In fact, it feels like it is the best thing in the world to do.

He calls again. You don’t answer.

Again.

“What?!” You answer, annoyed.

“Why would you even want Mingyu?! Is he really that much better than I am?” He doesn’t think before he says it, because if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to say it at all.

It’s his turn to experience that awkward silence because in all fairness, you don’t know how to respond to that. You feel annoyed now, you feel confused and quite frankly, blind sided. Since when did he care?

“What’s that supposed to mean? You came onto me once and then never followed up.” You dead-pan at yourself in the mirror across your bedroom, speaking into the phone with a voice that seems scolding. “I don’t see why you’re mad that I’m hanging out with Mingyu. We aren’t dating, Seungcheol.”

“Since when? Who said I didn’t want to do it again?” Seungcheol argues back in a whispered voice, showing you that he still can’t be as loud as he’d like to be. He chooses to ignore that last sentence though, pretending as if it doesn’t strike him in the center of the heart.

“Nobody! That’s the thing, you haven’t said anything about it. Not that you want to, not that you don’t. You’re just being you and it’s driving me up a fucking wall.”

Pause.

“You’re mad because I didn’t make it weird?” It’s like his brain clicks.

“Pretending it didn’t happen somehow makes it worse.” You lower your voice, ignoring the string of texts Mingyu is sending you and listening closely to what Seungcheol might say next. Your heart is racing through this hushed argument, and it feels good to admit that you kept thinking about it, even if he hasn’t.

“I wasn’t pretending that it didn’t happen,” He pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I just wasn't sure what the next step was.”

You’re fucking appalled.

“Seungcheol, I have been flirting with you since it happened because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’re the one who didn’t make any moves, so I figured you wanted it to end there.” You sigh loudly, but somehow feel a bit lighter. “Do you have any idea how that fucked with my confidence?”

Seungcheol sighs along with you on the other end of the line.

“That’s why I was annoyed earlier, and that’s why I’m going to Mingyu’s tonight.”

“What?” Seungcheol’s voice raises a bit higher. “Still?!”

It’s the fact that he’s trying to explain himself. Had he known that you were confused by his lack of, um, touching you, he would have done it every day since it happened! Yet, you’re still considering Mingyu an option? Knife to the heart, honestly.

Or maybe he’s not being clear enough with you about this.

You, on the other hand, nod your head as you hum a confirmation to him, smiling and wondering if this conversation will turn into an event that would, perhaps, have you cancel the hook-up with Mingyu.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You pry.

“You really called him, and now I’m just sitting here in my old room trying to find a way to get to you before he gets to you, again. Yes! I’m fucking jealous!”

You remain silent, trying to pretend that your pettiness isn’t solely to confirm what he seems to be implying to you. Then, an unintentional chuckle leaves your lips.

“Why are you laughing?!” His voice is raised again, and he doesn’t seem to stop spilling what he needs to say. “I wanted to do that for you for years and you somehow still didn’t know?” He pauses. “I always made it weird between us, what? You thought I treated all of my friends like that?”

You just listen, feeling your heart beat in time with each word he speaks. Strings of sentences like, “If Mingyu ever thinks he can touch you again, I’m going to break his arms. He knows how I feel about you.” and “You thought I’d just eat you out as a friend?! You’re insane.” and “I would have come home last night if you wanted to feel good so badly, why did you have to go see him, of all people?”

The confirmation of Seungcheol being the friend who forbade Mingyu from making a move on you is right there, clear as day.

“Ah, so the Seungcheol I know isn’t the Seungcheol everyone else knows?” You respond, trying to force the tingling feeling in your gut to calm itself. Hearing him be so blatant to you has your heart doing flips, and it’s not an easy task to make it stop.

“Of-fucking-course not!” He rolls his eyes, you can definitely tell. “You had me wrapped around your pinky from day one.”

“And you really thought that, with the way you seemed so uninterested–” You pause, processing his words. “I would have asked you to come home from your parent’s house to fuck me? For what? Funsies? You thought I'd be brave enough or selfish enough to ask such a thing?”

Seungcheol sighs deeply, seemingly fed up with the situation.

“It wouldn’t be because you are selfish.” He breathes out, almost angrily. “And for the last time, I’m not uninterested. I was just trying to do things right. I don’t just want to fuck you, you know.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me until weeks after you ate me out?” You smile harder, trying to contain the heat flushing over your cheeks. “Until after I thought I had a pH imbalance and maybe you were just grossed out by me?!”

“I felt like you didn’t want to be with me, and I needed you to want me somehow–” He explains with a shrug to himself. “I guess waiting and being polite isn’t really your style. I should have known that though.”

You let him continue, because you can tell he’s simply taking breaths and small pauses to figure out how to express his thoughts to you.

“You can’t tell me that over the years, you never once noticed how often I stared at you.” He lowers his voice again, softening it to an extent that you actually feel the butterflies fly from your belly to your chest.

”The fact that I jumped in head first and offered to do that for you? I didn’t think I had to tell you at this point…”He breathes out a chuckle through the line this time. “And for the record, I couldn’t get enough of how good you tasted. I was just trying to like– I don’t know.”

You listen to him breathe deeply, again.

“I didn’t want you to think I was in it just for the sex, I guess.”

There. There it is. You’re nearly kicking your feet, feeling him confirm feelings and erase any hint of doubt within you. Despite never truly noticing that he treats you differently compared to his other friends, despite never thinking too hard about the way he looks at you.

“You acted like it wasn’t a big deal, Cheol. I’m not joking. If that’s how you act when you like someone, you shouldn’t blame me for not noticing.”

“I literally tongue fucked you.” He dead-pans. “Friends don’t just do that.”

“I thought we were friends who could do that.” You argue. “But I guess you’re not quite looking to just remain friends, are you?”

“No,” Seungcheol sighs. “Mom told me I needed to take you out on some extravagant date and express my undying love for you with a handful of red roses, but I guess this is just how it’s gonna be. After all, this is you.”

“And this is you.” You confirm.

“I was going to come home tomorrow and try to lie our way to the restaurant, which I still can, if you want. You kind of fucked up my plan though.”

You still yourself at his words, suddenly feeling like shit for not realizing sooner. In your defense though, if he really did like you from day one, you didn’t exactly have a chance to see how he would have acted without feelings. The Seungcheol you know is your best friend, and someone you trusted with everything, you thought he treated everyone as well as he treated you. That’s why, when he didn’t change, you couldn’t read him anymore.

Then again, all of this could have been fucking avoided if he had just voiced it to you.

“Romance is dead and it’s your fault.” Seungcheol tries to joke, his soft tone somehow coming out even softer as he waits for some type of response from you.

“So, are we done fighting?” You ask meekly, tapping your finger against your phone and looking up at the ceiling with a smile that by now, you can’t escape. “Since you’ve just expressed your undying love for me and I very much wouldn’t mind going on a date with you so we can work this out face to face?”

“Are you still going to fuck Mingyu?”

You laugh.

“Oh yeah, for sure–” To his silence, you immediately take it back. “Oh my god, relax. It’s a joke.”

“Get better jokes, asshole.”

“What the fuck?” Seungcheol deadpans into the phone, his heart beating far too fast for his health, but vibing with it anyway because by tomorrow night, he’ll be next to you again. “You seriously had sex with her?!”

“Hey, she’s the one who called me.” Mingyu shrugs as he listens. “To be fair, Seungcheol, I did tell her that someone else had dibs on her.”

Seungcheol slaps his forehead and rolls his eyes.

“You asshole– I told you at least three hundred times that I like her! I don’t have dibs.” He gripes, trying to pretend that he’s not imagining Mingyu with you, the person he wants the most.

“Damn right you don’t, because she seemed to have a great t–”

“Mingyu, shut up. I don’t want to know what happened, but like, stop texting her.”

Mingyu’s brow raises in curiosity.

“Ah, did you finally make a move?”

If there’s anything Seungcheol knows Mingyu won’t do, it’s go for a woman that is actually unavailable. He has his fun, and he’s not one to turn anyone down if he has an interest in them, bro code be damned. And yeah, he’s still a little pissed at him for hooking up with you…but, it is true, Seungcheol made you feel like he wasn’t even an option in his attempts to be a gentleman.

Still, boundaries need to be set now. Real boundaries.

“I did, and I would really appreciate it if you back off. I’m trying to make something out of this, you know?”

Mingyu lightens up, sighing at his loss of a would be fuck-buddy that seemed more promising than some he’s had in the past.

“Jesus, you’re serious about her aren’t you?” He smirks as he speaks, feeling proud of Seungcheol for finally stepping up for himself. “I mean, I can totally see why. Please excuse me as I mourn that sweet, sweet, pu-”

“Mingyu.” Seungcheol warns. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Relax, I was just joking.” Mingyu plays it cool, though he actually is mourning it a little bit. “Good on you though. I’ll back off, don’t worry.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes yet again, his love-hate relationship with Mingyu becoming more fond than ever by this point. Only because he knows it’s a joke, and only because the confidence he had in himself before all of this wasn’t entirely where it needed to be. It’s true that he wasn’t exactly a pussy eating god before, nor could he even say he’s amazing at sex but, when it comes to you, he can’t help but be excited. He wants to do it all, be it all for you.

Never in his life has he eaten pussy like that, and never in your life have you felt a mouth so eager to please between your legs.

Mingyu could have been something, but he couldn’t have been Seungcheol, ever.

The day couldn’t go by any slower than it already has.

Seungcheol comes home tonight, and by home, you mean to your apartment where he doesn’t even live.

Your mind goes in loops on what could possibly happen. Scenarios of him getting cold feet and ignoring that any of this happened at all again. Scenes of him unlocking your door, closing in on you, and kissing you before you can even say “hello”. Images of his hands on you, his mouth on you, what it would feel like if he were to…well, oh.

You snap yourself out of it, every bad scenario in your head gets replaced with one where you’ve got Seungcheol working himself on and inside of you. It’s making you feel hot, insane, and entirely too horny for the proposed date night full of talking that needs to be had first.

Then you freeze, your hand on the handle of your mug as you wonder a bit too hard.

What if he doesn’t show up at all?

You did run off the second he left the city and fuck one of your mutual friends. Arguably, you were equally as bad at communicating with him as he was to you during the past few weeks. Sure, you flirted, but was that even enough when he literally put his tongue inside of you “as a friend”?

God, he’d have every right to not show up. To move on, to never speak to you again.

You’ve been so stupid. Both of you have, stumbling together but apart into something neither of you could even begin to navigate. For you? Sex is easy. Feelings though? That’s where it gets complicated. Yet, still, you find yourself more willing than ever to let these feelings roam free if he accepts them at face value.

Solely because of how shitty it felt when you were trying to pretend that Seungcheol was nothing but a one time thing for his sake.

And when the time comes, after hours of brooding, getting worked up, and feeling insane, you’re looking like a mess when he knocks on your door. So much for looking good for him. You’re an absolute fucking wreck when you open that door and dead-pan stare at him and his bags.

“Hi,” He smiles, not quite making eye contact because he really is kind of embarrassed by all of this. “I’m here.”

You step back from the door, eyes remaining on him.

“You’re here.” You say quietly, watching him step into your apartment and drop his bags.

You feel his breath before you hear his voice. So much closer than just moments before, right up against your ear, and his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“Felt like I was gone for too long–” He whines slightly against you, breathing in a breath and taking in your scent. “Didn’t know I could miss you like this.”

You fucking melt. Out of all of those scenarios and fantasies in your head, this wasn’t one of them. Which goes to show that Seungcheol is the one person in this world who can surprise you time and time again. You’ve hugged him like this hundreds of times, but this one, oh this one. He feels so close after feeling so fucking far away.

“You were gone for two days,” You smile, nuzzling against him and gripping his waist in your own hug. “Two days too long, though.”

You feel him smile, that little upturn of his lips pushing his cheek up and against you as he chuckles and pulls back.

“We don’t have a lot of time to take it to the restaurant if you still want to go? I can shower when we get back.”

You pull back, offering him a small nod and feeling far too warm than you expected to.

You look like shit, but arguably he might think he looks worse considering the long trip back to you. Still, the restaurant is the chosen option to have this conversation, and you’re ready to get it over with so that finally the two of you can take a step forward.

The restaurant is nice. There’s a buzz of conversations surrounding the two of you but most of it feels muffled because the only sound you can truly hear is Seungcheol’s hushed and awkward attempts to get the ball rolling.

“So, I guess that’s why I went to my parent’s house. It’s embarrassing, I know–” He says before you cut him off.

“Tell me how you felt the past few weeks when we were together.” You say boldly, wanting so badly to have the confirmation that he really does want this, and that he suffered much like you did.

You watch a fan of rosy tint cross his cheeks as he breaks eye contact with you, looking to the table and then back up at you.

“Okay, um–” He stiffens a bit, glancing around to make sure no one is looking or listening in. “When we weren’t together, it was a lot easier for me to think, but when we were together, I could only really think about one thing.” He admits, nodding to himself.

You look at him curiously before you see his eyes light up in panic.

“No! No, no. Not like, sex…” He looks down. “I mean, yeah maybe sex too but mostly I just couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make you want me more than anyone else.”

Your heart swells at his panicked save, and then the words that follow.

“I already did want you more than anyone else.” You admit back to him. “I didn’t know I had feelings until you did that to me, and I’m sorry it took me so long.”

He smiles, reaching over the table as if to ask for your hand.

“What about you? What did you think about when we were together after that night?” He asks for his own confirmation now.

“Sex. Mostly, I guess. I felt like no one else would ever be able to make me feel that good again.” You look away, feeling ashamed and seen. “Goddamn, I sound so dramatic.”

Seungcheol snorts, laughing at how he should have expected this but the confidence boost is a happy surprise to him.

“To be fair though, Cheol, I think I had my feelings and my lust for you mixed up.” You continue. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I still feel both of those things every time I see you, or even think of you.”

“Feelings and lust?” He nods with a smile and wiggling his eyebrows, his eyes glistening in the warm lighting of the restaurant.

You nod in confirmation, side eyeing the waitress who walks over to take down your order.

Both of you are somehow dissociated outside of each other, there’s no way you’re not because you don’t recall what you ordered, nor what he ordered, and he appears to be feeling much the same. The moment she walks away, he’s continuing.

“I was really that good, huh?” A smirk from him, and a nod from you.

“What about right now then? How do you feel when you look at me?” He follows up, looking down at the table.

“Both of those things.” You dead-pan, squeezing your legs together as you look at him and feel the warmth radiating from even this far away. The confirmation of feelings is enough by itself to have your thoughts in the gutter about him, especially after weeks of wanting him.

He quirks a brow before lowering his voice, his eyes drooping a bit.

“Do you have any fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted to have your legs wrapped around my neck since I got back?”

God, there he is. That same bold best friend who originally suggested eating you out in the first place. Not entirely unfounded that he said it, but fuck, your cheeks are searing.

“Cheol, we’re in public.” You warn, knowing damn well that you’ve not been able to think of anything else either, but for the sake of the foundation of this relationship, you wanted to tame yourself.

“Since we started hanging out, every fucking time.” He continues, ignoring your warning. “I would get so mad when you’d go to your little hook-ups. Sometimes I even wondered if you did it intentionally to piss me off.”

Your cheeks are still hot, but now there’s a bit of guilt filling you.

“You really had no idea how badly I wanted that to be me?” He continues with his streak of confidence, unintentionally dirty talking to you solely because he, genuinely, cannot deny his attraction or his feelings for you by this point. “Even right now, I want nothing more than to have you to myself.”

You pause, the guilt leaving you in an instant as it’s fully replaced with Seungcheol’s eagerness to have you in full, finally.

“Why–” You sigh, dropping your head into your hands to hide your face from him. “Why are we at this restaurant again?”

You feel his hand reach back over to you, removing your hands from your face and dipping down to look at you.

“It’s so fucking hard to contain myself right now. I can admit that.” He whispers, blinking at you. “If you feel satisfied with where we stand, I’d be more than happy to leave this table now and prove everything to you.”

An instant nod from you, and an instant confirmation from Seungcheol.

You’re both out of the restaurant before a single sip of water, before a single visual inspection of the forgotten food the two of you ordered, and before any doubt could creep in to ruin the electrifying atmosphere you were indulging in with him.

For Seungcheol, his self control wavers with each passing moment as you sit next to him in the car. You look so calm as he drives as quickly and safely as possible back to your apartment, shaming himself for ever considering the two of you go in the first place. Still, the outcome is somehow more satisfying. Both of you wanting to leave just so you can truly be alone together? He couldn’t ask for a better night.

Still, your calmness contrasts the way his insides vibrate the closer he gets to your place, and he wonders how the fuck you manage to do it. If you were to simply glance at him at the wrong moment, you’d see his entire body melt in the fantasies of what the two of you may be willing to do tonight.

Years worth of pining in his head and heart are bubbling up now. You’re inviting him in, you’re accepting him, you’re wanting him back.

What he doesn’t know though, is that you are quite literally imagining yourself wrapped in chains to this seat. Why? Because if it weren’t for those astral chains, you’d be on top of him in an instant, reassuring him that if there’s anything in the world you’ve wanted within the past few weeks, it’s him. You’d be apologizing for never taking note of his feelings before, and kissing away all of the kisses he wished he could have had with you before, replacing them with very real, firm, hot kisses.

Thankfully though, you manage to tame the beast from within and somehow, so does he. Up until you get through your apartment door and the electrifying atmosphere sizzles away in an instant.

You expected to have the confidence to, quite literally, jump on him as soon as your door closed. Instead, you find yourself standing in awe at the entryway.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, would love nothing more than to have you right this moment, speeding and parking crooked be damned, he will not allow it just yet.

“Listen,” He reaches out to you, pulling you up and against his chest. “I need to shower before I let myself do anything.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, noting that the awkwardness came from the fact that Seungcheol’s energy is seeping out of him, lust and worry for possibly not being as clean as he’d like to be for this.

It feels strange, actually. You can imagine you’ve had many hook-ups with men who wouldn’t even consider a shower before inviting you over.

“Hurry up then, before I decide to call Mi-”

“Don’t you fucking dare make that joke right now,” Seungcheol squeezes you tighter against you. “If we are going to like,” He pauses, struggling to say it out of pure nervousness that you might change your mind. “You know, be exclusive, Mingyu’s name is forbidden.”

You chuckle against him before shoving him back in a playful way. Noting that he's probably being serious about Mingyu, and you should lay off the jokes.

“Go, shower. I can imagine you probably taste bad anyway.” You joke again, feeling playful, excited, and so entirely ready to be anything he wants you to be.

Damn this shower for feeling so good. Seungcheol could fall asleep under the warmth if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been half-hard this entire time and truly fighting with himself on how to approach this situation.

It’s kind of awkward, actually. Knowing exactly what the two of you are about to do but having to wait even for fifteen minutes makes it seem like you both have a scheduled hook up and nothing more.

It’s not a hook up though. Seungcheol is finally where he’s always wanted to be with you, in your shower priming his body to go absolutely fucking insane on you. Before, when he ate you out, he really was controlling himself. He wanted to do more with you so bad, and now? God…

He’s flushed as he finally makes his way out of the shower, length still stiffening and softening with each thought that passes. He can barely look at himself in the mirror without wanting to laugh at how embarrassing he truly is.

You’d probably laugh too, and he’d love the sound of.

Then, he’s faced with a dilemma.

You, on the other hand, find yourself lying quietly in your bedroom after doing your best to fix the mess of yourself for whatever Seungcheol may offer. Waiting for him, and ultimately wondering what the fuck is taking him so long when you finally hear the bathroom door open.

Faintly, you can smell your shampoo and body wash that he used as you hear him make his way to the living room and not find you.

Then, you hear him making his way to your room. He doesn’t open the door any further than it already was and instead, stands behind it quietly before muttering out.

“Um,” He starts, putting his hand on your door and only peeking his head in. “I wasn’t sure if there was a point to putting my clothes on–”

Fucking pause.

God, he must sound so stupid saying that, especially after looking into your room and seeing you lying against your bed changed into the exact same pajamas you put on the night he initially made a move on you through the guise of friendship.

Well, now it’s not even a question and he was right to assume that all he needed to do was wrap a towel around his waist and come to you.

You watch his eyes travel your body curiously, a smile forming on his face.

“If you’re wondering if I put panties on this time,” You smile, reaching a hand out as if to invite him to open that door and come have at it. “I didn’t.”

That’s all it takes, really, to have him pushing the door open and not-so-calmly making his way to your bed.

Seeing his naked and damp chest is one thing, but smelling your scent all over him is another, especially when the first thing he does is practically envelop you with his body and plant his lips straight on your own.

The first real kiss. Despite his lips having been on you before, you melt into it and find yourself forgetting how differently he’s acting now compared to before. He was so confident, so cocky, and now he’s almost docile. Meek.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” He leans back to whisper, adjusting his body so that he’s more comfortable and leaning down on one arm while the other holds your cheek. “Can’t believe you let me eat you out before ever letting me actually kiss you.”

Your face heats up at the comment, making you feel more scandalous than you ever truly tried to be. But he’s not wrong, and you regret making him feel like eating you out was the only way to get to your heart.

Strangely though, it was the way to your heart. Him doing that for you practically threw you into the deep end in search for more, from him, specifically.

“Can’t believe you decided that you should just eat me out rather than admit your feelings for me.” You counter with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against him again and pretending you can’t feel the weight of his length under the loosely knotted towel on his waist.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He says through the kisses, quickly losing the ability to speak when you lick against his bottom lip and, ultimately, take control of the act.

He wonders what your mouth could do to him. His entire body reacts to the way your tongue flicks and licks against his own, it takes everything in him to try and control himself from pushing too far too soon– until he realizes that there is no reason to control himself now.

Never has making out gotten him this turned on so quickly, and it’s not a surprise because, it’s you who has her lips on his.

He half moans, half chuckles into your moan when he does it, pressing his hips down and against your thigh much like he did previously to the very mattress he’s got you lying against.

“There’s so much I want to do,” He finally admits, pulling back from the kiss and hanging his head to feel how his cock reacts to the flesh of your thigh. “Please, let me do all of it.”

You sigh, somehow feeling a pang of arousal radiate between your legs despite not yet being touched there. The weight of him on you is enough, and all you can do is nod and await the ways he intends to relieve himself with you.

Hours of head, he could give. Even more hours of burying his length between those pretty lips and watching you return the favor for him. His confidence grows as your body moves under him, waiting, waiting, waiting for what he will do next.

First, he plants another kiss to you, pressing his hips hard against your thigh with a breathy sigh before moving his lips down, against your neck.

At the same time, his hands work their way up your loose shirt, cupping one breast in his palm and easily teasing your nipple with his fingers. He works his lips down the center of your clothed chest, down to your stomach, and then up again. He's amazed and feels entirely lucky to be the person doing this to you right now as his nose nudges your shirt up with each kiss, until his lips replace his fingers and he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You’ve never felt so wanted in your life with the way he appears to be savoring you. Leaving his own pleasure neglected once again, his entire focus is on you. You arch your back up a bit, hands shooting to his head and cradling it there against your chest.

He groans when you scratch against the nape of his neck, wiggling your hips under him and chasing the sensation that his mouth manages to send to your clit. He groans again when your nipple remains firm between his lips. He nibbles against the hardened nub, trying his hardest not to drool over how badly he's wanted to be in this very spot.

And this time, he moans when he manages to trail one of his hands down just to see how much it will take of this to get you wet. He tucks one hand under your shorts, only to find that you’re already dripping, soaking his fingers with a mere single slide up your folds.

“Fuck,” He sighs as if it’s a compliment when he pops his mouth off of you, flicking his head up to look at your already dazed eyes. “Already?”

You glance away, embarrassed by how badly you want the man who was once your best friend, and is now….more than that. You can feel his fingers graze and gently play around with the heat your body has already released for him, rolling your eyes back each time he pretends he’s going to offer pressure to your clit.

He’s fucking teasing you, and you know it.

He knows it too, because of fucking course he is. After years of torture, wondering if you’d ever manage to get wet at all with the thought of him, here you are, dripping under him when all he’s done is kiss you and fondle your nipples.

Briefly, he remembers how needy your hips were when his tongue was seeping into you. He remembers the taste of each thrust you pressed against his face, and the smell of how badly you needed him at the time.

As used as he was by you that night, he wants nothing more now than to pull those same desperate moans from you, to taste the wet inside of you that no man ever managed to release for you.

“I feel like I’m going insane,” He finally says, still toying with your folds and keeping an eye on the way your eyes glare back at him. “I want you so fucking bad–” He stutters now, instantly sliding his fingers into you and scooting down on the bed at lightening speed, pulling your loose shorts down along with the act, just to get the taste of you against his lips again.

Your legs instantly shoot over his shoulders, and one of his hands reaches up to hug your thigh against him as his tongue immediately laps at every corner of your arousal. His eyes nearly roll back at being able to experience this again, his fingers holding firm without a single movement just so he can feel your body confirm that you want him just as much.

The clench around his fingers are enough, and he licks around them only for a moment before returning his lips to your clit and giving you everything his mouth could ever offer to this part of you.

All he can feel is your legs tightening around his head, nearly lifting your ass up and off of the bed, all he can hear is his own moans vibrating through him each time he hears you react.

Arguably, even after that brief moment of teasing from him, feeling his mouth so eager, much like before, sent you straight into a blissed state. His mouth is so warm, and his voice soothing your core through its desperate attempts to beg for more.

You can’t help the fact that your legs hug his head, or the way your hands shoot down much like before, scratching through his hair before dropping down and spreading yourself open with two fingers solely to expose your clit in full to the assault of his tongue.

He missed you so much, he missed this so much. Never again will he leave you wondering, from this point forward, you should be well aware that if you so much as pushed him to his knees and lifted a leg over his shoulder, he’d be eating like a fucking king.

Still, even with his immense love for kissing your pussy until your legs shake, there’s more to be experienced here than just this. His pace slows with the reality of that, and only now does he move his fingers inside of you and pull back to see how you’re spreading yourself for him, even as your legs fall from his shoulders.

“Feels good?” He rasps, lips glistening with a mixture of his own saliva and your slick.

You lend him a drunken smile, nodding slowly as you focus in on the way his fingers scissor you open. Within a blink though, his face is right there hovering above you, staring intently at the way you react to his fingers.

“You look so good right now, you know that?” He compliments, leaning down again to plant a kiss against you, only pumping his fingers in faster when your kiss appears to be more hungry than his own. “God, you’re squeezing my fingers–”

He can feel the clench of your pussy walls pushing his two fingers together, almost pushing against his attempts to scissor you open and curl them into the spot inside he knows you have. He can only imagine how good that would feel if he were to…

His eyes squeeze shut in a drawn out moan at the image, his own kiss growing more hungry as he releases the towel from his waist and quickens the pace of his fingers inside of you.

You can feel him press his cock against you, and the weight of it only becomes heavier when his fingers pause inside of you just so he can slip them out and use those same slick-coated fingers to hold his length down and against you before he slides it between your lips. Now coating himself in the same wet sensation.

He can't help it, he wants to do so much and savor everything this moment has to offer. Savoring is difficult though, when you're lying there like this, spread out for him and him alone. He hopes that this continues, that you'll truly keep him. Because he is internally damning himself for not eating you out longer, for not curling his fingers into you for at least an hour more. But he's breaking, he can't stop himself from wanting to feel more, more, more.

You listen closely to his moan, knowing that he seems fond of neglecting his own pleasure to the point of doing near-embarrassing things to get it back when he needs it the most. It’s strangled, almost. You can hear him swallow around it when he slides up harshly, bumping your clit and causing you to sigh out at him.

He seems so…desperate. Yet, he can have anything he wants for as long as he wants it.

“Keep it spread open–” He mutters out when he feels you try to remove the hand that had been hoping your pussy out on display for him. “I want to feel all of it against me.”

God, you’ve never heard him say something so sexy. Easily you do as he says, now using both hands to hold either side of your pussy open for him, and feeling the underside of his length slide against your hole.

You let out a pleased sigh, despite practically seeing the light leave his eyes and become replaced by a darkened, aroused gaze. You can feel the slick inside of you drip out with the way he's looking at you right now, and you're sure he can feel it too.

You can genuinely just assume that his cock must be aching as he does this actually, leaking all over you. That’s something you don’t mind at all, because the stimulation is far beyond what you could ever ask for.

“Cheol–” You try to speak, only to be cut off by his hand sliding under your head and his lips attaching yet again to you.

Showing that he truly can never get enough of you.

There, you can’t help it when you remove your hands and shoot them up to his face. Holding him there, feeling the way his jaw moves when he licks into your mouth in a desperate attempt to get as much of you as he can.

His hips fuck forward much like they did into his palm all those weeks ago, and the anticipation of if, or when, he finally plunges it into you drives you to kiss him just as hard as he does you.

There is nothing but the sound of kissing in the room save for muffled moans from both of you, entirely tangled up together as he does nothing more than grind himself against you. His hand cradling your head and the other still pressing his length down and against you as close as he can manage. Yours, cupping his cheeks as he kisses you, up until you run one hand down, lying it over his own, and taking over to keep the pressure against his grinding length.

In that moment, with his free and now shaking hand, he pulls back entirely and just looks at you.

He’s out of it, entirely gone from this world as he stares down with his hair drying by the minute from that shower, messy as all hell with darkened hooded eyes. He continues to stare, each thrust against you becoming pointed to the extent that it almost feels like he’s already fucked you for hours.

And then, you feel it. The weight lifting, the warmth as he adjusts his hips just barely enough to line up with your quivering hole, practically begging for him to stretch you out for the first time.

His eyes falter only for a moment when he realizes that this is a moment he will never forget. The way you look up at him with glassy and needy eyes, out of breath, seemingly loving him as much as he’s always loved you.

“Will you let me?” He whispers, not breaking eye contact even for a moment.

“Please.” You mutter out, not fully intending for it to sound so broken.

And as broken as your voice was in that instance, he grows much weaker by it. Dropping his head with a deep sigh, a smile, and then a chuckle.

“You really, really, can’t look at me like that and sound like this, then expect me to be gentle-” He pauses to look at you again. “For your sake, please tell me to slow down.”

You can barely comprehend a word he’s saying when he’s looking at you like this, when you can feel the head of his cock teasing where you need it the most.

“Please.” You rasp out again, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing his body forward, ultimately sliding the tip of his length into you yourself.

“Oh my god–” He chokes out, sucking in a breath before letting out a moan at the feeling. His body jerks at the sensation, the sound of your voice, the way you pulse around him. “Fuck, so good.” He continues to mutter, controlling himself for only a few seconds longer just to see if you have the ability to understand that he truly and honestly will not have the ability to go easy on you at this point.

“Deeper.” You plead, squeezing your legs tighter around him, uncaring of his attempt to control the situation.

That’s all it takes. Your broken voice already had him shaking, and now he’s giving up any and all control that he could have possibly hoped to have.

Right there, with your legs hugging his waist, your hands gripping the pillow behind your head, and his hands finding purchase on either side of your head, he sinks himself into you as deep as he can go and feels as if the life is being choked out of him over how fucking good it feels.

He throws his head back in an erotic and attractive moan of relief, allowing you a glimpse at the expanse of his stretched neck, naked of any marked territory. Still, your vision goes red when the stretch hits you.

So big, so strong on top of you. You can imagine he really could fuck you hard, you hope he doesn’t go gentle on you.

“Shit, please,” You moan brokenly again, releasing your pillow and gripping his forearms. “Cheol, god–” You have no words to describe how good he feels inside of you, you couldn’t begin to fathom trying to explain to him how perfect he is.

It feels deep, deeper than you ever could have imagined. His length alone should have been enough to tell you that, but you hadn’t yet factored in the girth of it. So heavy inside of you, touching each soft and sensitive surface your pussy has to offer.

Your body jolts in adjustment, knocking the breath out of you despite him not moving just yet.

“Shh.” He soothes, not at all actually wanting to hush your cries for him. In fact, he’s simply saying it because he could quite literally release at any moment if you continue to speak and clench him like this. And when he finally looks down at you, he can’t fucking help it.

His hips move at their own volition, and he was right in believing there is no gentle fuck to be had here. He slides out only slightly, with the intent to fuck you as full of him as he can. He wants to stay deep, because you asked, and he wants to keep you feeling stretched around him because he can truly never get over the way you look and sound right now. Even more so, he fears he will always chase the feeling of how your walls squeeze his cock as if it intends to keep him in this position forever.

You shake at the feeling of him pressing impossibly deeper into you, keeping his hips flush against your ass before snapping his hips back more now. A slightly empty feeling inside of you being filled once again within a second.

His moans sound beautiful, he feels beautiful, and all you can do is stare up at him with watery eyes and a slack jaw, wondering why it took him so long to do this with you.

Wondering why it took you so long to want it at all, when now, you think you could never feel this good with another person again.

His arms flex in your grasp with each thrust, and his eyes land on each visible part of your body before he weakens his stance and lowers himself to you, hips still fucking you open at a pace that only seems to be becoming more and more rapid, more and more fucking blinding.

“You make me never want to touch another person again,” Seungcheol suddenly chimes out, kissing you before you can comprehend or respond to those words. “No one has ever reacted like this for me–” He continues, pointing his thrusts harder into you. “Feels so good, so tight around me.” He chokes up at the last few words, stuttering his hips and picking up a different pace.

This time, those harsh thrusts pull back further, emptying you before slowly pressing into you again.

“I want you to remember how this feels,” He continues, seemingly rambling against your lips with each slow thrust. “No one will ever fuck you like I will.”

Your hooded eyes shoot open with arousal at his confident boasting. Clearing your mind in the way those words felt so final, as if it isn’t even a rule, but a logical fact that only the two of you could ever find to be true.

You can’t even manage a response, and instead moan before tucking your lips up and against his neck, using one hand to grip his hair and skew his head to the side.

That once naked and markless neck is no more. He is yours, and you’re lucky enough now to know that this is exactly what he wants from you.

“Ahh, did that turn you on?” He questions your reaction to his words, feeling your hips make attempts to meet him halfway with each thrust now. As if you somehow managed to seem even more into it. “You like when I talk?” He continues to urge your sucking lips to speak out to him, to answer him, to boost his ego just a bit more.

“So much,” You nearly whimper against his neck, moving your lips to another spot. “Love when you know exactly what you’re doing.”

He’s in heaven hearing those words. As if it’s a confirmation that he wasn’t just talking dirty. You both truly take those words and will fuck by then from this point forward. He doesn’t want anyone else, and hopefully, you’d never give another person the chance to even try to make his words appear as a lie.

And then the room falls silent again, as if Seungcheol is focused on reminding you with each passing second that he’s never been more sure or right of something in his life. Despite you already believing him, the way his cock pulses inside of you is enough of a reminder even if he had never said it in the first place.

His pace quickens again, and then slows, and then stutters. Only to fall back into a good rhythm before his entire body starts to shake through the act.

You wonder if this is it. Is this how his body reacts when he’s about to release? Is this what his face looks like? Is this what his eyes do? Did his arms strain like this the first time? Did his moans come out as choked and desperate?

None of that matters, because as quickly as it started, he buries himself into you again and stays in that one spot, shaking above you and timidly looking down at you.

“Don’t move, please, don’t move.” He practically begs, losing himself to the way your hips chase the feeling of constant stimulation. “Stop moving.” He pleads again, pulling his chest away from you and sitting up on his knees, keeping his cock in place deep within you.

You watch him, unable to keep your hips still, and he watches you– trying to keep his orgasm under control before seeing your fingers trail down your stomach and to your clit.

There, he loses himself again, watching you rub the soft spot just above where his cock stuffs you full.

“I can’t,” He chokes out, snapping his hips back and allowing himself to get lost in the feeling. “Goddamn, I really cant.” He continues to mutter out, pressing his release ever deeper inside of you as he feels every muscle in his body tense.

It feels so sensitive, but he can’t stop moving, feeling his cum fill you up to the point it’s surely being pressed out of you by his desperate length wanting nothing more than to stay inside of you.

You moan through it with him, encouraging him to lose himself inside of you, and he’s so beautiful when he does it. The fact that he does it at all has your body tensing on its own. Teetering on the edge of your own orgasm with the way your fingers almost aggressively chase after the feeling he appears to still be releasing inside of you.

And then, emptiness. You are left empty and dripping, fingers still chasing your release before–

“What the fuck,” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of his tongue instantly back on you. As if he’s looping back to the beginning of it all, uncaring of tasting himself solely because through it all, he can still taste you. “Cheol, what the fuck!” You continue to groan in awe when he replaces his tongue against your hole with his fingers, fucking into you as quickly as he can before nudging your fingers away and taking over the chase of your orgasm with his tongue.

You’re entirely amazed by how eager he is to pull it from you, and that alone was enough. The desperate ways in which he decided to pleasure you right in this moment, it’s enough.

Your hands instantly reach for his hair, gripping so tightly that you can hear the pained sound he lets out at the sheer force behind it. You very nearly rub his nose in the mess he’s made of you out of the sheer arousal you feel through your orgasm.

You’re seeing white, feeling his fingers expertly work you open and somehow don’t feel disappointed at all that you didn’t get there before he pulled out of you. You can still feel him dripping out of your core, fingers squelching and sliding through the mixture of both orgasms inside of you. And his tongue, good lord his fucking tongue, licking up every bit and eagerly flicking your clit at a pace much faster then he offered before.

And now, you find your legs nearly kicking him across the room. As soon as the orgasm subsides, your body goes into overdrive with the overwhelming sensitivity between your legs and all he can do is laugh at the way you practically do kick him.

Right off the bed, actually, he tumbles and whines at the fact that while he toppled, he lost the view of your shaking body come down from the very orgasm he caused for you.

You lay there, staring into space as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality when you see his messy hair and glistening eyes peek from the edge of your bed at you. His shoulders huffing with each deep breath he takes.

“Jesus fucking christ.” You manage to gasp out, spread eagle and almost completely naked on your bed save for the forgotten shirt that’s still pushed up to your collarbone.

He makes his way back up to you, pressing your legs together, lowering your shirt, and planting his heavy dead-weight right on top of you before flopping to the side.

A solid ten minutes pass as the two of you lay there in the mess you’ve both created. Heavy breaths turn to easy, balanced breaths together. You can barely hold your eyes open when he slicks his tongue as if something has been confirmed in his head.

"Huh, when did you do this?" He asks, skewing his head deep into your pillows to present the bruise he can feel swelling on his neck.

You glance at the darkened spot, nearly forgetting you laid claim to him in such a way during the heat of the moment.

"Around the time you were fucking me into the next dimension, I'd say." You laugh lightly before shortly falling back into silence with him.

“Can I ask you something?” He mutters, throat dry and stomach growling embarrassingly loud.

“Hm?” You hum out, entirely ready to just sleep in the mess.

“Are you always like that?” He questions, a little hint of doubt breaking his confidence. “Like, did Mingyu witness you act like that too?”

You crack your eyes open and instantly turn to face him.

“You’re insane if you think Mingyu is that good. I’ve never used the word ‘please’ in my life.”

Seungcheol glances away, thinking to himself and letting those words sink in, all while still pressing against that bruise you created on his neck.

“Well,” He starts, “That’s a lie because I’ve heard you use your manners at least twice in the years I’ve known you.”

You smile, loving that the two of you can still be somewhat catty and playful even after the fact that you just realized how insanely in love with him you are.

“Cheol, no one has ever made me act like this in bed.” You try to reassure him. “I don’t think anyone else could, besides you.”

He smiles with a nod, running his hands down your body before pausing at the half dried cum that managed to make its way up to your stomach.

“Ew.” He groans.

It’s insane really, that all it took for you to fall in love with the person you think you were always meant to love was him admitting it. Even more insane that he decided to take the route that involved faux playful head, with no feelings attached despite his feelings being deeply fucking attached.

Still, the route taken to get to this point, he thinks, is fitting for the two of you. Especially now that he can look at Mingyu without wanting to strangle him, and he can look at you knowing you’d very much invite him to strangle you, you know, considering the fact that you’re now trying to explore every sexual realm in the fucking universe with him.

Even with the desperate need to have you under him any chance he gets, and the fucking, and the arousal, none of it shines brighter than the small intimate moments he has with you that aren’t weighed by pining or lust.

As playful as the two of you are together, there is so much love here. So much love to still be discovered too, and he can’t help but feel excited by it.

Romance isn’t dead somehow, despite how the two of you tried to fucking butcher it.

#choi seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #hon <3 #what a way to come back holy shit #i have so many thoughts so please excuse this if it's all over the place #firstly as much as i enjoy idiots to lovers it can get so frustrating at times #i think because sometimes the tension just feels so forced and the miscommunication becomes more frustrating than entertaining lol #but you balanced it so well #i only wanted to bash my head in at reader and cheol's lack of communication minimally so a job well done #also given cheol's jealous tendencies i honestly think fucking someone else would be a solid way to get him to address his feelings kjjggghk #as toxic as that sounds #not him getting advice from his parents :((((((( my lil sweetheart i love him #also gotta say as a former mingyu girlie this line Mingyu could have been something #but he couldn’t have been Seungcheol #ever. #felt particularly pointed 💀💀💀#bless their little awkward hearts #can't believe you inserted me directly into this fic hon wow thanks #reader is more patient than me because i would let cheol hit without showering first 😭 especially with how much build up there was #thank you for always feeding my bottomless love for desperate in love people fucking 🫂🫂🫂#you get it you get me it is one of my brands one of my faves and you never miss #q: painting with hyunjin

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monamipencil · 4 months ago

Text

— debauched | ft. stepbro! mingyu

⋆ pairings; mingyu x fem! reader ⋆ genre; smut ⋆ w.c; 4.5k+ ⋆ warnings; stepbrother! mingyu, gyu wears glasses (yes this is a warning), debauchery, oral (f.receiving), mate press, raw sex, creampie, dubcon, fucking while parents are in the room, fingering, handjob, pussy slapping, jealousy, mingyu is kinda toxic, panty stealing, somnophilia, spitting kink, exhibitionism, doggy, choking, public indecency, mentions of food ⋆ a/n; im so sorry for this monstrosity. i was possessed and i refuse to do damage control 😌 (thanks to @miabebe for assisting my lunacy and giving me ideas lol.)

“fuck, you can't do this to me.”

“i can't do what to you?” you question your step-brother as he follows you into the bathroom. you don't mind it and grab your toothbrush and the paste.

“this,” he gestures towards you, more specifically the nightwear you're wearing. a cute cropped tank top with a matching pair of underwear. it's patterned with little flower prints and lined with lace.

“i'm not doing anything. not my fault you're a horn dog.”

you don't entertain him any more and brush your teeth. and neither does he, opting to grind himself on you. his hard-on presses on your ass and his hands wander all over you, skating over your skin with experienced expertise.

you give into his wishes and bend over a bit while going on with your night routine. his calloused hands slip under your top, and squeeze your tits. your nipples pebble under his touch, complying to his wishes just the same. he pinches the buds with urgency, just the way his hips grind on yours.

without much reaction, you continue brushing. but your body is growing hot with every second, and the need to have him inside you is insatiable. you wish your dad never married his mom for various reasons, and this is one of them.

“y'smell so good.” he slurs, sniffing your neck like a hound dog. his tongue traces your jugular, tasting your sweet perspiration. one of his hands travel down south, toying with hem of your panty—

knock, knock.

mingyu throws himself off you, startled by whomever was on the outside.

“honey, are you in there?” your dad's voice resonates through the door and you give him a gargled ‘yes.’ he wishes you a good night and walks off.

mingyu takes it as a cue to use the other door, connected to his bedroom and enters it. through the closed door, you hear dad checking upon him before he walks away again.

with a sigh, you rinse your mouth. and an examination of your panty reveals a soaked patch staining it. with annoyance and longing in the mix, you discard the cloth into the laundry hamper.

[ ... ]

the creak of the floorboards stir you awake and your eyes fall on a figure standing in front of you. startled, you turn on the lights and scramble to protect yourself.

only to be met with the sight of mingyu, holding your panty to his nose as he squeezes himself through his grey sweatpants. the outline of his cock is visible through the cloth. your mouth salivates and your eyes snap up to his. his dark eyes look down at you through his glasses, the depravity of his thoughts seen through his gaze.

mingyu doesn't say anything and hooks his hand underneath your knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed. in one swift go, your panties are gone, causing you to yelp in surprise. feeling shy with the sudden exposure, you close your legs.

he moves to your wardrobe, quickly retrieving a tie from there.

“gyu, no.” you warn but he doesn't listen. despite your protests, he ties up your hands behind your back. you sigh in defeat, “but you should stop when i tell you to.”

“i know.” his deep voice sends a frenzy in your stomach and your legs part on their own.

he licks your lips, invading them with ease. his boner prods your thighs as he makes out with you. you cant your hips, chasing some of that delicious friction. mingyu tuts in response and looks down to where you're desperately grinding against him.

he descends down, skating his lips and teeth over the skin of your neck and torso. warm breath greets your sensitive skin that's coated with arousal. he kisses the plump flesh of your thighs, ghosting his canines over them.

he slowly reaches your core and gives it a kitten lick. you whine, and buck your hips up. flame licks your skin and the lewdness of the situation makes you desperate.

when his lips meet your cunt, it's unexpected. a loud gasp tears from your lips at the force of it. he places an open mouth kiss to your heat and his hands force your legs as apart as possible.

his tongue glides over your cunt, licking up your arousal. it's nothing soft or sweet, only rough and desperate. he sucks and slurps on your whole, sending waves of pleasure through your body. he shakes his head side to side, tongue prodding at your folds.

it's impossible to contain your moans but you try your best. the cold plastic of his glasses kiss your skin whenever you try to close your legs. he eats you out like a starved dog.

your hole clenches around nothing and mingyu fills it with his tongue. he pushes his tongue in and out of you, the wet sounds of which fills the room. the sensation causes your hips to buck up into his face.

“ah!” you moan, loudly. you just don't find it in yourself to care anymore when he thumbs your clit. he pulls away, a string of spit connecting his lips to your cunt. you look down to find him staring at you over his fogged up glasses. it slid down, letting you see his eyes uncovered.

he spits on your cunt, the warm glob drips down your folds as he maintains eye contact with you. he licks up a large stripe, savoring your taste on his tongue. his tongue prods at your hole again and he fills you up. but this time, it's slower.

your gummy walls clench around his tongue, overstimulated by his thumb on your clit. your moans echo through the room again and a knot builds in your stomach. mingyu picks up his pace, returning to slurping your cunt.

the knot gets tighter and tighter, till it breaks, leaving you a babbling and trembling mess. you black out from the intensity of the orgasm and your moans cease.

mingyu licks up your climax, not wasting a drop of it. with a final kiss to your clit, he pulls away. as much as he wants to split you open on his cock now, he can't. he respects your wishes but that doesn't stop him from leaving a present for you.

he pumps his twitching cock to the sight of you. it doesn't even take a minute till he's moaning your name and spilling his seed on your thighs and stomach. he wants to finish inside you and see his load spill out of your pretty lips but he decides it for another day.

squelch.

you shift.

more wet squelches resonate from beneath the blanket you're sharing with your stepbrother. your lips shudder as you release a sharp breath.

a family movie night. it was what it was supposed to be. that is, till your parents fell asleep and mingyu sneaked his hand inside your shorts as you both sit on the couch.

two of his fingers are buried up to the hilt in your cunt, slowly drilling in and out of you. but it isn't enough and you want more, need more. your hands venture to find his cock beneath his pants. he simply spares you a glance before focusing on the movie again.

with a cautious glance to your dad and his mom, you tilt your head, pressing small kisses to his neck. his adam's apple bobs when you lick the column of his throat.

your hand finds his hardness beneath his underwear. wrapping your hand around the base, you pump him slowly. when your hand glides up to his tip, you rub your thumb over it, smearing the pre cum all over. a low hiss fills your ear and you smirk as he bucks into your hand.

you continue to kiss and bite his tan skin. his breathing turns sporadic, abdomen clenching with restraint. you're caught off-guard when he picks up his pace and curls his fingers against your sweet spot. you gasp, and clench around him.

“look at the tv.” he teethes your earlobe, hot breath ghosting over your neck. goosebumps prickle all over your skin when his canines brush against your skin.

“you both still awake?” the voice startles you and you try to remove your hand from beneath his pants but mingyu stops you. he wraps his other hand over yours, and guides in pumping his cock.

“yeah, we're gonna finish it.” he answers his mom who searches for her glasses while mingyu adjusts the blanket. when she puts it on, everything seems fine and well. she smiles at you both and wakes up your father to move him to the bedroom.

all while mingyu's jerking himself off with your hand and curling his fingers against your sweet spot. she wishes a goodnight, and you respond in unison. the moment her bedroom door locks, he pulls the blanket off.

your clothes along with his joins the blanket on the couch. he relaxes on the couch and makes you straddle him. his cock pokes your cunt, twitching with need. his hands perch on your hips as he guides you slowly down his cock.

“fuck,” he groans, seeing his cock disappear into your cunt.

you take purchase on his shoulders while preparing to ride him. broken moans fall from his lips as you start to bounce. his hands slide down to your ass, and he gropes and massages them.

in a hope to tone down his moans, he connects his lips to yours. tongue meets tongue as your moans mix together, creating a lewd symphony. your thighs slap against his and your arousal drips down his cock to his balls.

his cock splits you open deliciously. the swollen tip hits all the right spots with precision. he fits perfectly with you, like two puzzle pieces. the kiss turns sloppy and messy. your tongue glides over his and your spit mixes with his. you taste his lewd noises on your tongue, a fuel to ride him with more energy.

your pulse beats in your cunt, and you're clenching around him in no time. mingyu does his best and meets your hips with urgency. his lips wrap around your pebbled nipple, sucking with a fervor.

soon, only his hips are moving as he holds you still against him. his strong arms wrap around you, hips drilling into yours every millisecond. but his thighs tremble, giving away his approaching orgasm.

his movements turn sloppy and his moans louder. awareness seeps into your mind when you realise you both could be caught easily. somehow, it only arouses you further. you move against him desperately, feeling his cock kiss all the right places.

you grind against him, chasing friction. sensing your neediness, he slips his hand between your bodies. his thumb circles your clit and he takes your nipple into his mouth again. your nerves fire up, overwhelmed by the attention on your body.

your cunt clenches around his twitching cock. he whines your name with more urgency and you do the same. “fuck, mingyu.”

the orgasm washes over you with an intensity that makes you quiver in his hold. with you wildly clenching around him, he meets his climax as well. he doesn't pull out and warm ribbons of cum spill inside you.

“mingyu!” you gasp in shock but he shushes you with a kiss. his tongue slips past your lips, eager to suck on yours. he holds you still and empties his load inside you. your initial protest melts away as lust seeps into your skin again.

you feel so dirty but so, so good.

mingyu shuts the tv off and picks up the clothes, all while staying inside you. a surprised gasp falls from your lips when he picks you up and walks to his room. there, you fall asleep in his arms with his cock still buried deep inside you.

mingyu's vision turns green when he sees you laughing and chatting with your guy ‘friend.’ since when did you invite your guy friends to dinners at home?

he makes sure that he does not like that guy. didn't even bother learning his name. a seat draws abruptly and four pairs of eyes settle on mingyu. “dessert anyone?”

all except your dad agrees. “wait, take your sister with you. i don't want any broken dishes tonight.”

he doesn't spare you a glance and walks to the pantry. you follow him to choose whatever fits your appetite. maybe, you should've known better than to stay in a room alone with mingyu.

the moment the pantry door is shut, he's all over you.

“mingyu—stop, others are out there.” you gasp, feeling him shift his entire weight on you.

a low scoff resonates from his chest, “you didn't care about others during our parent's wedding.”

the recall of the memory sets your nerves on fire. fuck. of course, he pulled that card.

there's no use in resisting him. especially when your body is screaming at you to submit to him. his hands itch to tear off the pretty dress you're wearing, but he decided against it.

instead, he lifts up your dress and yanks down your pretty matching underwear. a condescending chuckle resonates from his throat, “you sure you just brought him over for dinner?”

his eyes turn a shade deeper when a thought strikes him.

“or, did you already fuck him?”

his tone sends a wave of arousal through your body. you felt like a prey being cornered by a predator. his gaze is animalistic as he looks down at you, his glasses slipping off his nose once again.

“no, no! we didn't-i didn'—”

you're cut off when he slots his lips on yours. that alone is enough to elicit a moan from you. “good girl,”

he backs away from you but keeps his hand under your dress, slowly hiking it up further till your glistening pussy greets his eyes. a sadistic grin stretches on his lips as he watches arousal drip from your cunt.

he collects the fluid and smears them on your cheeks and lips, earning a whine from you.

“mingyu, they'll be suspicious if we're gone for too long.”

“and?”

a sharp sting shoots through your core. it takes some seconds for you to realise that he slapped your cunt. your jaw falls slack in shock but mingyu isn't deterred. he looks at you with hooded eyes as he delivers another slap to your cunt.

you're embarrassingly wet now and it drips down your thighs. mingyu licks his fingers before slapping your core again. a few more slaps has you whining and trembling. your cunt only gets more and more wet with each slap.

“you,” slap,

“are,” slap,

“mine.” slap.

he pokes his cheek with his tongue when you don't respond. a tut from his lips brings you back from euphoria and you stare at him with wide eyes. he roughly yanks you closer, one hand on the small of your back while another squeezes your cheek together.

you whine, more needy than ever. he shushes you, brushing his thumb over your lip. “it's ok, i can forgi—”

“spit in my mouth.”

he takes a few seconds to decipher what you said, so you repeat it. with more desperation. “mingyuu, spit in my mouth. please!”

smugness fills his veins, and he's more than happy to oblige. he collects his saliva and spits it in your mouth when you push your tongue out with your eyes rolled back.

but your bliss is cut short when he places some dessert in your hand, nodding at you to go back. “and, i'm keeping this.” he pockets your panty and follows behind you.

your hand clasps the knob when he delivers a sharp slap to your ass. “fast. you wanna get caught or somethin’?”

you were more than confused when mingyu sent a text that your ‘guy friend’ was waiting at home for you. given that, it's been a week since that dinner incident and you haven't even spoken to your friend since then.

but, you're not confused anymore. not when mingyu has you on all fours, pounding your cunt as your ‘friend’ watches.

your wanton moans sync with the lewd skin slaps. his hands perch on your hips, maneuvering your body to his needs. heavy balls slap against your clit, providing you the utmost pleasure.

the fact that someone else is witnessing this debauchery doesn't bother you. in fact, it arouses you and floods your cunt with wetness. and because your parents are out of town, it gives you the freedom to be as loud as you can.

you arch your back, leaning into all of his touches. his hand ascends to your neck, fingers hooking into your hair. you yelp when he tugs on it, the sharp sting is delicious through your lust haze and you moan louder.

he releases his grip, opting for a painless grip—his fingers wrap around your nape. the other still perches on your hips as he continues to pound you into the next dimension.

much to mingyu's amusement and annoyance, that guy's pumping his cock to the scene in front of him. with a roll of his eyes, he fucks your harder, with more force in his thrusts.

his movements are fluid. anyone can tell that this isn't a first for you both, that you've fucked multiple times before. he lands a slap on your ass, groping and spreading your cheeks.

even though, he's been fucking you straight for the past twenty minutes, he doesn't feel his climax anywhere near. so he arches your back and puts you in a chokehold. his biceps tighten around your neck, veins visible and pulsing with adrenaline.

“fuck! fuck! mingyu, please—” loud, lewd moans fill his ears and he savors each syllable that falls from your lips. it pushes him to fuck you harder and harder, till you completely fall apart in his arms. till your mind melts, and all you can remember is him. only him.

you scream, the orgasm washing over you unexpectedly. you tremble in his hold, sensitive from your climax. but mingyu isn't done. he pushes you onto the mattress and you grip the duvet with the energy left in you.

mingyu abuses your hole, thrusting sharply as his orgasm creeps closer. his balls slap against your clit, aiding in your overstimulation. with another sharp thrust, he cums inside you. a loud groan rumbles from his chest, letting the voyeur in your room know that he's reached his climax.

he pulls out and with that, his load also spills out. mingyu falls on the bed next to you, heaving for breath. another moan resonates in the room, and he lifts his head to look at the guy with a raised eyebrow. ah, right.

with a grin, mingyu walks towards him. although he's smiling, it's anything but friendly.

“listen, if any of this gets out—”

their conversation falls out of your earshot when your stepbrother starts whispering into his ears. but it isn't a mystery that he's threatening him. you don't bother with it much and fall asleep, feeling more spent than ever.

a memory plays out in your dreams, one that feels much more like the latter than the former.

[THE DAY OF YOUR PARENT'S WEDDING]

you groan out of annoyance and scream into your hands. nothing seems to be working your way today.

the heater doesn't work. your dad is marrying someone else, just six months after the divorce. your cereals were soggy. and, now you can't zip your fucking bridesmaid dress.

a knock on the door refocuses your attention. through the mirror, you see mingyu standing near the door. embarrassment shoots through your veins but you feign a smile and turn to look at him. before both of you can exchange words, his mother comes up.

“hi dear! oh, you look absolutely lovely.” she smiles at you, a genuine one. but you don't feel it in you to reciprocate it. you muster up your best smile and thank her, telling her the same.

“aww, thank you. oh, right! mingyu here said that he wanted to speak with you.”

your heart drops down to your stomach. ah, how could you forget your soon-to-be step brother from your list of mishaps? he isn't exactly mean or nice. he just acts as if you don't exist. and it hurts, especially when you feel such an attraction towards him.

you see him protest back, spitting something along the lines of “i never said that,” it worsens your nerves. she snaps at him, giving him a glare and you a smile. your heart palpitates when his mother closes the door and locks it.

mingyu doesn't say anything, instead takes time to compose himself. meanwhile, you contemplate on how to zip up your dress without further embarra— “need help with the zipper?”

“huh? ye-yes.” well, shit.

he stalks towards you and you turn around, involuntarily. you move your hair out of the way for him. he places one of his hands on the exposed skin of your neck and the other zips up your dress, albeit slowly.

and you swear on god that he caresses your skin while doing so. but you sum it up to your horny brain playing tricks on you. “thank you,” you whisper, meeting his eyes through the mirror.

“you're welcome.” his deep timbre voice shoots arousal down to your core and your body raises in temperature.

he inhales sharply before muttering, “mom wants me to get along with you.”

“but i don't want to.”

it stings. more than you'd like to admit. he continues, not giving you a chance to respond. “i don't want them to marry. i suppose you don't either. and i certainly don't want to follow whatever fucking rules they say.”

his eyes are trained on you the entire time, and you maintain it. even though, your nerves are all over the place and you're trying really hard to focus on his eyes and not lips.

“we could be good friends,” he suddenly moves closer. much closer. his body presses against yours and his hands settle on your hips. his chin rests on your shoulder and he maintains eye contact through the mirror. “only, if you can obey somethings.”

that tingles your stomach and you're more than intrigued to know what he means.

“like what?”

he smirks and breaks eye contact to look at you, rather than your reflection. “like that i'd rather be your fuckbuddy than your stepbrother.”

mingyu's heart paces on its own and he prays to god that he didn't hallucinate the way you look at him sometimes. where your eyes drift and the emotion swirling behind them. his assumptions are affirmed true when you arch your back, pressing your ass against his crotch.

he tries to control his smile and maintain his image to you. which proves to be very hard when you whine so cutely, “oh, fuck me.”

the zipper he'd just done comes undone as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses all over your nape and the exposed skin of your back. he presses his hard-on against your ass, feeling his cock sink into the plush flesh of—

“you both have better made friends!”

he pushes away from you, but not before he zips your dress. he fixes his suit, and you pat down the perspiration on your face. she unlocks the door and smiles at you both.

“look at you both! aww,” she engulfs you both in a hug, and you pray to god she doesn't feel your palpitating heart.

[...]

the elevator dings open and whoever was on the other side lets out a surprised noise and scrambles away. but you don't give a fuck neither does mingyu.

his tongue glides over yours in a hot, deep kiss, such that your faces are obscured to anyone who can stumble upon you. the heat of his body seeps into you, driving you absolutely crazy.

the elevator dings again, the automated doors opening to the floor of your room. his hands are all over your body and so are his lips. he nibbles on your ear lobe and neck, licking the patches of red he leaves behind.

you swipe the key card with much effort and finally get in. mingyu pins you to the door as soon as you get in, grinding his hard on against your stomach. he reconnects his lips with yours, humming in content.

the bed creaks with each of his thrusts. surely, there would be complaints from the neighbors but could care less about everything else. your mind can only focus on mingyu's cock drilling in and out of you.

mingyu's addicted to the image of you writhing in pleasure, underneath him. and the bulge of his cock that appears whenever he thrusts does little to soothe aching desire.

his balls slap your ass with each heavy thrust. your breaths mingle together as he splits you open on his cock. his canines ghost over your neck, and he sinks them into your skin, wanting to see how it looks. how you'd look with his mark.

you look perfect, he thinks, absolutely drunk on the idea of making you his.

it pushes him to fuck you harder. he pushes your knees on either side of your head, drilling his cock inside you deeper and deeper. your moans turn into screams with the drive of his cock. his leaking cock is buried to the hilt, hitting your sweet, spongy spot now and then.

you lose the ability to form coherent sources. only babbles and whines fall from your lips, absolutely drunk by his cock. mingyu adds to it by reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. the delicious friction has you mewling and canting your hips.

your nails rake his back as he continues to pound your cunt with all of his strength. that combined with the clit stimulation makes you sob and squirm underneath him. your legs quiver and toes curl. your breathing turns rapid and the knot in your abdomen gets tighter.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!”

he presses your knees further down, fucking you with much ardour. tears stream down your face and broken sobs tear from your throat. mingyu licks your tears, and stares at you, drinking the sight beneath him. his cock twitches when you look up at him, “shit.”

your hips lift off the bed and legs tremble more than ever. you gasp loudly when you cum. the orgasm crashes over you, making your body a quivering mess. you see stars and you feel as if you're not on earth anymore, as if you're in heaven. mingyu brought heaven down to you.

you only realise that he pulled out when you feel his weight on your body. his body quivers just the same as yours, breathing rapidly and consciousness in another dimension. he rolls off you, lying on the spot next to you.

warm cum decorates your abdomen and it feels so right but so wrong.

“thanks,” you blurt out, regretting it immediately. he chuckles, “for what?”

[NOW]

“everything.” you mumble in your sleep and mingyu glances at you with confusion. you mutter more things and it causes him to chuckle. he pinches your cheek and kisses it.

his hand caresses your back as he cuddles you. it somehow feels right despite the moral restrictions. but he doesn't care, not when you look so peaceful, curled up on his side.

it may be debauched, but it sure as hell is his heaven.

#mingyu smut #svthub #svt smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu #seventeen #mingyu drabbles #mingyu hard hours

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0097linersb · 8 months ago

Text

𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 (m)

Pairings: Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 15k ~

Warnings: It´s a smut so +18 MDNI pls

Follow me on twitter: wooyosgfreal <3

Part 2

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

As someone who has been single for the past 2 years, you often found yourself missing certain things and feelings. It´s not even the dating in itself that you craved, you were in fact, very content with being alone, and after all your inner healing and growth, you didn´t even think you were ready for a relationship at this point in your life. But as you and Wooyoung were on your couch lazily spending the afternoon, you found your body and mind screaming for comfort at the sight of the rainy day outside.

Your friend had his head on your lap as he played some online shooting game on his phone, the movie you intended on watching now only serving as background noise as you drifted off, hands absent-mindedly playing with the strands of his hair that fell on top of your thighs.

Hand-holding.

That´s something you really missed. The feeling of interlacing fingers with someone as warmness spread through your body. When you were dating, you weren´t even that into holding hands, uncomfortable with not being able to move freely or with the way your palm seemed to always feel clammy – But now? You would kill for a chance to walk around a park linked with someone.

You also really missed being so familiar with someone that you just felt at ease, having a person there to do nothing or everything with, being able to talk or gossip about anything. You remember spamming Mingyu´s chat with every little thing that happened during your day and him just being genuinely happy to hear about it, replying to every single message in order. As your best friend, Wooyoung was someone you talked to a lot, but you still couldn´t text him about how you already drank 6 glasses of water or how you were annoyed because your stapler kept getting stuck – Those are the annoying little things you only get to share with a significant other that has the obligation to put up with you.

And showering together. You almost felt dramatic tears fill your eyes at the thought of it; sharing the hot stream of water with someone, have them rub soap down your back or massage shampoo onto your scalp, or just simply holding someone in the dark under the running water as steam filled the room.

Oh, and free massages. You definitely missed those, being able to ask for a massage at whatever given moment with the certainness that you would receive one. Mingyu´s love language had always been acts of service, meaning you wouldn´t spend a single day without his hands squeezing your shoulders or rubbing down your back.

Maybe you should call Mingyu. Something along the lines of “hey, I know we broke up a few years ago but can you come like, hold me for a minute? Cuddle until we fall asleep?”

You were so touch deprived you could cry.

There was also the intimate part of a relationship; You had tried casual sex, one-night stands, friends with benefits, even a Tinder hook up once – It just wasn´t for you. It´s not even the sex on itself that you longed for, you could spend another few years without it if it came down to it. But you did miss what came with being intimate with someone who truly cared about you. When it comes to casual flings, people are normally selfish (yourself included), doing the bare minimum to get the other person off but truly aiming for their own pleasure; it was nice being with someone who´s main priority was making you feel good without the need of having the “favor returned”.

What you really did miss though, was a bit cruder: You missed the feeling of someone´s dick in your mouth, the groans and whines that came with it, hands tangled in your hair, your tongue tracing hot veins as someone praised you. You missed having someone´s fingers inside of you, your walls tight around them as they pumped in and out of you with ease. You also really fucking missed someone eating you out.

You subconsciously pulled a bit on Wooyoung´s hair out of frustration but he didn´t seem to notice, eyes fixated on his game. You gently pat his head where you had tugged on the strands and went back to playing with his hair, letting your mind take you away once again.

Again, it´s not like your relationship with Mingyu ended badly, surely, he wouldn´t mind if you called him up to go down memory lane for a night-

You had never noticed how plump Wooyoung´s lips were.

He had a habit of pouting when he was focused, or biting on his lips when he was extra concentrated – which he was doing just now as he tried to shoot at someone who was trying to kill him. When he finally managed to take out the other player and escape, he let his bottom lip go, now all red and glistening as he cursed out loud. They just looked so soft and plushy, and the mole he had on his bottom lip –

You suddenly realized you were kind of obsessed with Wooyoung´s nose shape. You know what people say about big noses… Also, how good would it feel bumping against -

“You´re being way too nice. What´s going on?” Wooyoung´s voice suddenly interrupted your thoughts, causing you to jump in shock and realization that you were just thinking about your friend eating you out.

“I am nice, just not to you,” You correct, meeting his eyes which were looking up as you noticed you were still running your fingers through his hair.

“I have very strong opinions about that, but either way, it´s what I meant. Why are you being nice to me?”

“Am I?”

“I remember very clearly the last time I asked you to cuddle me, almost got down on my knees begging and you just looked at me like I had rolled around in the trash.”

“You were quiet today, behaving like a normal person-”

“Go on, call me a good boy. I know you want to,” He rolls his eyes.

You laugh out loud at that; he did know you well.

“Nah, you´ve ruined it the moment you opened your mouth.”

“Guess I´m a bit further from perfect than I thought, getting there though. How was the movie anyways?”

“Oh, did it end already?” You asked, finally looking at the TV and realizing the credits must have been rolling for a while. “Wasn´t paying attention.”

“What were you even doing?” He furrowed his eyebrows at you, a second away from calling you stupid.

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“Calling Mingyu,” You half-lied.

At that, he managed to furrow his eyebrows even more, the biggest judgmental face he had ever sported looking up at you, “Why? Are you suddenly into him again?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I don´t know, just-”

“Oh my god,” His eyes widened, and he covered his mouth in shock. “It´s a booty call.”

“It´s that what people call it these days?” You ask, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole ordeal.

“Oh my god, so it is.”

“I guess?”

“Y/N, it´s been like 2 years. I know you´re hot and he´s a man but I think that conversation would be kind of weird. Were you planning on texting him a wanna come smash?” He questioned you as he sat up. “Do you even have his number?”

“No, I - I don´t know. I- Let´s change the subject.”

“Let´s absolutely not.”

“You´re being annoying.”

“Aren´t I always?”

“Yes, defin-”

“If you´re horny, why don´t you text that last guy you were going out with? He was hot too.”

“Ew, don´t use the word horny.”

“Would you prefer I call you needy?”

Maybe you would, yeah, very much.

“No, ew. Just stop talking all-together.”

“So, why don´t you text him?”

“You know I can´t really enjoy it much when I´m not like, close to the person.”

“So you thought of your ex,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah.”

“Has literally not even one of the guys you hooked up with gotten you off?”

“I mean, some of them did. But I don´t want to just get off, I-I- I don´t even know what I want, can we please chan-”

“You want to be treated like the little pillow princess you are, got it.”

Did he have to say it like that? Suddenly you felt the pulse between your legs raising its intensity. Oh god no, you were absolutely not getting turned on by Wooyoung´s crude choice of words.

Anyone but Wooyoung!

“Who says I´m a pillow princess? Am not!”

“Ah, please. You scream I´ll bring nothing to the table besides looking pretty.”

“Is that how I come off as?” You gasped at that, feeling deeply offended. “You´re full of shit.”

“Why are you even getting mad? There´s nothing wrong with that, I´m sure you´re really good at looking pretty under a guy.”

“Please stop picturing someone else fucking me?”

“Who says I´m picturing someone else?” He winked at you teasingly.

You literally, in your over 20 years of life on this earth, have never - not even once - thought you would actually choke over someone´s words. This was Wooyoung, you were used to his ways, c´mon!

“Yeah, let´s not do that.”

“Awn, pretty princess got flustered,” He cooed at you.

You knew he was just teasing you; you knew there was no real sexual intent behind his words because that was Wooyoung, he flirted and teased as naturally as he breathed - but they still got your thighs tensing and you hating yourself for it. Couldn´t you just take a joke for what it was?

“Although now that I´m thinking about it, I wouldn´t be surprised if you turned out to be a brat in bed. You´re already the biggest one normally.”

“Look who´s calling me a brat,” You rolled your eyes once again. It didn´t matter if he was right or wrong, Wooyoung had no right calling anyone that when he was the way he was.

At that, he presented you with the most attractive smile you think would ever exist in the world, a mixture between cunning, excitement and condescending, “You think I´m bratty?”

“Oh, I´m sure of it.”

“Maybe I´m just good at matching energies, you know?” He winked, teasing you further.

“Fuck off. I know San forced you on your knees more often than I´d like to imagine.”

“Because I allowed him to.”

You snorted, “Yeah. Sure thing, honey. Now let´s move along, please.”

Except that, your mind decided to in fact, consider his words. Wooyoung liked teasing and annoying people for his own entertainment, he whined at you every time he didn´t get things his way and he was always playfully flirting with everyone - and you meant literally everyone. Because of that, you had always just kind of assumed (but never spared it many thoughts, thank God) that your best friend was just someone who like to be dominated when in relationships, or sexual encounters for the matter.

But honestly, you could kind of see it differently after his comments. It was true he always had everyone wrapped around his fingers and somehow, he always managed to get things his way - Wasn´t that also some form of control? The lines were kind of blurred when it came to Jung Wooyoung, but that was kind of even more attractive to you.

“Oh my god, you´re thinking about it,” Wooyoung teased.

“You´re the one who started it!”

“You don´t have to stress your pretty little head over it,” He smiled, his finger finding it´s place under your chin to tip your face in his direction playfully. “I can show you.”

Oh, absolutely not.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a millisecond at his words, your guard crumbling surprisingly fast as you practically whimpered, “I know you´re joking but can we please not?”

“Why?”

Couldn´t he stop giving you that annoying freaking smile?

“Because I am kind of horny and I really don´t want to go there,” You practically growled.

Now he was the one who broke character, not expecting you to be actually affected by his jokes, before the teasing smile was back on his face in a heartbeat - but you saw it.

“Did I make you horny?” He teased.

“Of course not, I was already horny before. I´m just in a weird mood.”

It wasn´t necessarily a lie. If you weren´t already feeling some type of way since earlier, you would have never - and you really mean that - caught yourself thinking about Wooyoung´s stupid plump lips or if he could actually fuck you.

“So, you were thinking about getting dicked down while I was here innocently lying down on your lap? You´re dirty,” He snickered.

“It wasn´t weird until you made it weird,” You groaned in frustration. This is really not how you imagined your afternoon would go down.

“Want me to help you out?”

“Got any hot friends who are also not my friends?”

“I do,” He nodded with his head. “But I´m also right here.”

Your eyes almost flew out of your head. You always judged yourself as the only person immune to Wooyoung's weirdness, deeming that nothing the man did or say would ever surprise you since you basically were the same - but you now guessed the tests became harder as the years passed.

“I can´t really tell if you´re joking-“

“I am absolutely not.”

“Yeah, not going to happen.”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“I know you can use your big girl words.”

“Because as much as it pains me to admit it, we´re best friends. I guess?”

“Now you´re the one who´s making it weird. You´re hot, I´m hot. You´re horny, now I´m horny. What´s wrong with helping each other out?”

“What´s wrong is that I never really saw you like that!” You whined.

“But you´re seeing now.”

“Yeah, and I don´t like it!”

“Tell me,” He raised an eyebrow at you, a devilish glint on his eyes matching his smile once again.

“What?”

“What you imagined me doing to you.”

“Oh my god. Nothing!”

“Oh c´mon, I won´t think you´re in love with me or anything. I know we´re friends and I´m a man, if there is one thing I can understand is simple plain old horniness.”

“How is this so easy for you?”

“Oh, I already imagined fucking you many times. In many different ways, too,” Wooyoung stated so casually, like he was talking about his shopping list for when he went to the supermarket later. “You know that one time at Seonghwa´s pool when you were wearing that little orange bikini? I must have made up at least 4 different scenarios, just that day.”

“I feel kind of violated?”

You also felt the way something throbbed in between your legs at his words but he didn´t need to know that.

“As I said: I´m a man, Y/N. I love you and would never do anything to make you uncomfortable or fuck up our friendship, but there´s nothing wrong with fantasizing. It´s not like I actively decide to do it either, it just happens, I don´t know.”

“Do you just casually think about fucking all your friends?”

“No, only the hot ones. And it´s not something I keep thinking about all the time, I´m not a creep. Just once every blue moon hormone takes over or something. Also, you´re a fool if you think any of your other friends who are into women have never, not even once, thought about fucking you.”

“Yeah, I´d rather be a fool,” You rolled your eyes. “Also, San hasn´t!”

“San would quit his dream job in a heartbeat if I called him over for a threesome right now.”

“Yunho then! He would never -”

Wooyoung laughed at that, “Honey, I have something to tell you-“

“Please don´t.”

“Anyways, you´re not lacking options to help you out. All I´m saying is that I´m here and I´d be more than glad to be the one,” He had the audacity of winking at you. “Since you were already thinking about it.”

“I´m begging you to please drop it.”

“Only if you tell me what you were thinking about.”

“Oh my god! You know what? Let´s play your stupid fucking game, Jung Wooyoung. I´ll tell you if you tell me first.”

“So, you do know how to have fun,” Wooyoung gave you a big smile, his eyes disappearing in happiness as if you had just told him you got him a new car. “What do you want to know?”

“About the day at Seonghwa´s pool.”

“Fun. I will use your own words then: I was in a weird mood that day and then you just took your clothes off and looked so good in that bikini. You were sunbathing and at some point in the afternoon you went inside Hwa´s house to get something from the kitchen and my brain just kept flashing images in my head: what if I followed you into the empty house, pushed you against the nearest wall and fucked you, watching as you tried to keep quiet so the others wouldn´t hear from right outside? Your cheek red from rubbing against the wall, your -”

“That´s scenario number one.”

“You want all of them? Kinky.”

“I can just go-“

“Calm down, princess. See? I knew you were a brat.”

“Wooyo-“

“Later when I was sitting down on the sunbathing chair with you while you were helping me out with the sunscreen, I noticed how my hand was so close I could pull the bottom of your bikini to the side and just slip my fingers in, right there in the open, no one would even notice. I wondered if you were already going to be wet and how you would sound trying to keep your noises inside with my knuckles deep into you. I couldn´t imagine a better sight than you all pretty clenching around my fingers or how you would look trying to casually spread your legs for me without anyone suspecting. I even went as far as imagining us getting caught, can you picture Mingi noticing what a little slut you are and trying to watch without getting caught himself? Poor boy wouldn´t know what to do with himself, would just loose his mind at how hot you´d look. I wondered if you´d like that he was watching –“

“That´s scenario number two,” You interrupted before the skin where you dug your nails into could start bleeding from your efforts to ground yourself and not squirm like an animal in heat at Wooyoung´s words.

He was good, you had to give him that.

Wooyoung laughed at you and you wondered if he had any clue about what he was doing to you. Then you mentally slapped yourself because of course he did, he had eyes.

“When everyone went inside to make some drinks and start on dinner, you sat there on the edge of the pool and started kicking water at me. Remember that? I happened to notice the edge was just the perfect height for me to eat you out from the pool, and you even had your back to the door. We were all alone out there and even if someone came out, I would be hidden from their view in between your legs. I could picture my hands holding your thighs open and your back arching-”

“Yeah, ok. That´s enough. I´m going to go, humm, shower or something and you can just like leave-”

“Can I join?” He joked as you stood up.

“No.”

“Can I at least stay outside listening?”

“What? I´m not going to mastu- Wooyoung, I´m just taking a cold shower.”

“OK, go cool yourself off, princess. I´ll wait for you here,” He informed, unlocking his phone once again and showing you his screen where his game was loading.

“Yeah, ok. Suit yourself.”

“You really should let me listen as payback for getting me horny,” He screamed once you were already down the hallway.

“You got yourself horny,” You screamed back before shutting the bathroom door behind yourself.

You silently screamed against your hands as you let your body slide down the door.

What the hell just happened? How many lines did you just cross?

Why was Wooyoung suddenly so hot?

And so, a cold shower you took and thankfully, after you left the bathroom, no one talked about the subject for the rest of the night and just pretended that nothing had happened.

Except that now you were miserable and your mind echoed Wooyoung´s words every time you looked or thought about him. It was not optimal to be crossing your legs in the middle of class at university because you accidentally caught yourself staring at your friend´s veiny arms for half of the lecture.

★

“You´re still horny,” Wooyoung stated a few days later when you were literally getting ice cream after class.

“And I´m actually mortified that you noticed.”

“You´re being stubborn.”

“We´re not fucking, Wooyoung.”

“Dude, at this point I am genuinely feeling bad for you. We can ask Mingi or whoever, just please get some dick.”

“You´re being kind of sexist-”

“Y/N, you look constipated. I am worried for your sanity.”

“Just shut up before I stop talking to you.”

“I can use a blindfold or something if you´re worried about me seeing you naked-”

“You´d like that, wouldn´t you? Submissive bitch.”

“Don´t degrade me unless you mean it,” He winked at you.

“You are actually insufferable.”

“I´m just trying to help.”

“You can´t because you don´t understand that this isn´t just about getting some dick!”

“So what is this about? You tense every time my hands get near you -”

“Wooyoung, this is an ice cream parlor. There are kids around, just shut the fuck up.”

“So let´s go to my place.”

“I´m not getting inside any closed spaces with you unless there are more people around.”

“Kinky.”

“Oh my god, you know what I mean.”

“I know, just let me tease you. Ok, but seriously now, I think that in order for me to do my duties as a best friend, I need to understand what´s going on.”

“Since when do you care about your best friend duties? You once left me behind alone at a party to get fucked by Yeonjun or whatever you two-”

“Allegedly.”

“No, Wooyoung. Not allegedly, it was literally me that you dragged to a corner to inform you´d be going upstairs with Yeonjun-”

“No one knows what happened in that room.”

“Yeah, thank god.”

“Ok, whatever. Let me help you, tell me what´s going on inside that little messed up brain of yours.”

“Nop. I really would rather lock myself inside the industrial freezer in the back.”

“Yeah? Then I´m texting Mingi to go to your place and give you the fuck of your life tonight-”

“Wooyoung!”

“Y/N!”

“Just drop it.”

“No! Do you actually miss Mingyu? Or dating? Do you want a boyfriend? Is that it?”

“No,” You groaned, hitting your forehead against the table.

“So?”

“Just- I need alcohol if we´re going to talk about this.”

“Ok, let´s go to-”

“Wooyoung, it´s 2 in the afternoon.”

And so, he let it go for the moment, but the next time he saw a single drop of alcohol near you, he sat down next to you and crossed his hands like he meant business, a pointed look on his face.

★

“So?”

“This is literally my first shot.”

“Then take it.”

“Fine,” You begrudgingly complied, and you hadn´t even placed your glass back down before Wooyoung was already pouring you more. Figuring you weren´t going to escape this conversation, you downed your second shot and sighed in defeat.

“Now tell me why you aren´t getting your back blown out at this very moment.”

“It´s really weird talking about sex with you.”

“We talk about sex all the time.”

“Yeah, about other people, not about me, or about you suddenly being willing to fuck me- “

“Not suddenly.”

“Yeah, whatever. Pour me some more.”

“That´s what I like to hear,” He smirked at you, eyes glinting as he filled your glass up.

“Y/N looks miserable,” Mingi suddenly stated, dropping his body next to you on the couch coming from seemingly nowhere.

“Doesn´t she?” Wooyoung agreed, giving you a pointed look as you punched Mingi for the out-of-pocket comment.

“Where did you even come from?” You asked the tall man next to you, excited for a change of topic.

“The kitchen,” He absentmindedly answered you, hand busy filling up the glasses in front of you before handing you one. “Take a shot with me.”

And so you did, hissing at the burning sensation and taking deep breaths to not gag at the taste of tequila.

“OK, why does it look like your house burned down?” The man turned his attention back to you after smashing the empty glass on the little center table in front of you.

Damn it, Mingi.

You didn´t even have the time to begin forming any kind of excuses before Wooyoung answered for you in a heartbeat, “Little Y/N over here is horny.”

“Jung Wooyoung!” You gasped at his choice of words, thorn between hiding behind your hands, punching the man and apologizing to Mingi.

Mingi, in turn, was frozen in shock mid pouring himself another shot. And you meant that the man wasn´t even blinking, mouth open and hands stuck in the air holding the glass bottle which you took from him afraid he would break it.

“See what you´ve done?” You sighed to Wooyoung, elbowing his ribs as you tried waving your hand in front of Mingi´s face for a reaction.

“Wait, what?” Said man came back to life, his voice way higher than what you´re used to.

“You heard it, man. She hasn´t been fucked right in ages-”

“Wooyoung, you know what you said about wanting to keep up with your best friend´s duties?” You asked between gritted teeth, about ready to jump the man and rip all of his hair out. “This is really not it.”

“But you´re hot!” Mingi seemed confused.

“I told her that!” Wooyoung ignored you. “I even told her you´d volunteer to help her out-”

“I so would-”

“Shut the fuck up, you two! Wooyoung, I´m about a second away from blocking you on my phone and never seeing you again,” You were also as close to ripping your own hair out. “Yes I´m horny, the whole world doesn´t need to hear about it.”

Mingi noticed the crazy look behind your eyes and rubbed your back in comfort, he too knew what Wooyoung could do to people when he decided to be annoying.

“It´s ok, love. We´ve all been there,” Mingi assured you and his words did soothe you a bit.

“It´s just – You guys don´t get it. It´s not about just sex. I know I could literally fuck anyone at this party if I wanted to, I´m not dense. I guess I just miss dating but I don´t really want to date anyone at the moment?”

“So like a friends with benefits thing?” Wooyoung pressed.

“No, that´s just fucking with a fancy title. I mean like, I miss being touched and hugged and pampered and – I don´t know.”

“Every time I try to hug you, you freeze and glare at me!” Mingi pouted.

“I´m just not a touchy person!”

“I know! That´s why I´m not understanding what you want.”

“Just forget it-”

“I get it,” Wooyoung interrupted.

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“You want a boyfriend without the obligations and feelings involved with a relationship. I was right, you´re needy.”

“Oh,” Apparently it made sense to Mingi too.

“Ok, and with that, I excuse myself,” You say, already standing up to go find someone else to hang out with because you were definitely not ready for the rest of that conversation.

★

“What are you doing here?” You asked in annoyance after opening the door to your place to a very content looking Wooyoung.

"I came to be your boyfriend-not-boyfriend,” He smiled proudly.

"We're not fucking, Wooyoung,” You managed to sigh and roll your eyes at the same time. "Which is exactly what I told you the other 50 times you suggested it."

"Who said anything about fucking? I'm just here to force the touch-deprivation out of you. Now move, I brought snacks," He said as if he hadn't already pushed you out of the way about midway through his sentence.

You sighed in defeat, accepting your peaceful quiet night was ruined - You hadn't even locked the door yet and Wooyoung was already sprawled on your couch organizing the snacks on your coffee table, making way more noise than necessary.

"At least you brought my favorite," You noticed, arms crossed as you stood up next to the couch.

"These are all your favorites," His eyes were even shining with the amount of pride he had for himself.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"You called Seonghwa, didn't you?"

"Only about the chips."

"Knew it."

"It's not my fault you literally change your opinions every day."

"Welcome to girlhood."

"Now sit down and I'll put something on Netflix."

"Wooyoung, why-"

"Y/N, listen," It was his turn to sigh. "You helped me through a lot when everything happened with my grandpa and you were always there for me when shit went down, just let me help you this once however I can."

"Ok, got it. Enough with the sentimental talk," You quickly obeyed. You didn't like serious Wooyoung.

"Now, are we feeling Criminal Minds?" He asked once you were sitting next to him, remote in hand.

"Sounds great."

“Perfect,” Wooyoung agreed as he put on the show, quickly standing up to turn off the lights before sitting back down and opening his arms. “Come here.”

“Uh, I would rather not.”

“I don´t care, we´re doing this.”

“I don´t think forcing me to cuddle you will help much-”

“Do you want me to really force you? Because I can,” He raised his eyebrow at you, arms still hanging in the air.

“I´m pretty sure I´m stronger than you-”

“Oh my god, just shut up,” He groaned and rolled his eyes at the same time, bending his body forward so he could grab onto your waist and pull you against his chest.

Ok, yeah. He was definitely stronger than you.

“Can you not make it so difficult?” He asked once he noticed how stiff you were in between his legs. “Stretch your legs, relax.”

You decided against reminding him that he was in fact forcing you to do this and obeyed, he was just trying to help after all and maybe he did have a point: Some human touch might help calm your mind down. Also, the quicker you played along, the sooner it would be over. So, stretching your legs across the couch you did, letting your body relax against Wooyoung´s, who contently wrapped his arms around you as you both turned your attention towards the Tv.

Well, that lasted for about 10 minutes before you started feeling the heat of your friend´s skin radiating and everything started making sense: Being held by someone you loved really was comforting. Huh, who would have guessed?

You generally hated being touched by people but right now you kind of felt like a cat, wanting to rub your head on Wooyoung´s shirt and snuggle into his warmth.

“Can I play with your hair or will you bite my hand of?”

“You can try,” You answered, not wanting to admit he was right all along and that you would very much like more of whatever this was.

You could practically feel the roll of his eyes at your threatening tone as he pulled your head like you were just one big barbie doll, so your right cheek would be rested against his chest, turning your body to the side so now your right shoulder kind of met his chest instead of your back.

“Ouch, you could be gentler,” You complained, rubbing your forehead skin where his palm was planted seconds before.

“When you deserve it,” He grunted, eyes fixed on the Tv.

“That was not very let me help you of you.”

It was easy to tell he bit back his comeback, simply taking a deep calming breath and burying his fingers in the hair behind your neck, gently rubbing the area – Maybe you would purr. Judging you now had the upper hand, you decided to in return wrap your own arms around his wait so you could get comfortable and Wooyoung gave you a cocky victory smile.

Damn it.

The two of you went through the entire episode like that and you were so relaxed that when Wooyoung stood up to open the snacks and grab some wine, you didn´t even complain about how that was a bad idea, sharing some glasses while you watched the second and third episodes and he tossed you around into every cuddling position you never even knew existed, discussing who you though were the killers and all the little gossips of the week.

“You could create like a cuddling Kama Sutra,” You joked, kind of dizzy because of the drink – or because you had an incredibly attractive man holding you for the past 2 hours or so.

“Will you quit complaining about my touchy personality now?” He smiled.

“Nah, this was a one-time thing.”

“Are you at least feeling a bit better?” Wooyoung asked, adjusting himself on the couch to look at you since you were now sitting side to side after the last episode ended.

“Yes, actually.”

It was true, you were no longer feeling like you could rip your entire skin off if you went through another second of someone not touching you.

“I have one last move prepared,” He informed excitedly.

“We´re not fucki-”

“Oh my god, will you quit it with the fucking thing? If you keep bringing It up I might start thinking you´re interested-”

“What was the idea?” You quickly asked, trying to cut the flirting off before it could lead your brain somewhere you spent the entire night not wanting to go.

“Let me give you a massage.”

“Wow, you´re really invested in this helping me thing.”

“Contrary to your big mouth, I am a good friend. Sit down right here,” Wooyoung ordered, opening his legs and pointing to the space on the floor in between his feet. “Tonight I´ll take the neediness out of you the best I can since you refuse to go out and get some dick.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored his remark, sitting down where he showed you and waiting silently as he gently gathered your hair and moved it out of the way. You cursed at how your skin erupted in goosebumps as his fingertips brushed against the side of your neck, your breath suddenly caught in your chest.

You followed the realization that this was probably a horrible idea with another glass of wine, thankful he couldn't feel your heart beating fast.

Wooyoung worked his thumbs in circles, digging them between your scapulae and pressing them up until they reached your shoulders, which he squeezed in the perfect strength to get shivers running up your spine every minute as he repeated the motion over and over.

“How are you so good at this?” You whined, hating how your body was reaction to the touches.

“There´s really nothing I´m not good at.”

“Humbleness,” You offered.

“That was a cliché answer, you can do better than that.”

“I don´t care, just please never stop.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Do you really need to make everything sexual?”

“I´ve always been that way, it´s not my fault that now that you´re horny it´s bothering you.”

You hated when he put it like that, because yes.

And maybe the way he sometimes would squeeze your neck during the massage or just the fact that he was touching you, were getting you feeling some type of way you would rather he did not notice.

“If you were a girl, you´d understand,” You groaned. “Ovulation sucks.”

“You actually just gave yourself the perfect solution, why don´t you fuck a girl?”

´Cause what I really want is fucking you.

Oh, wow.

Where did that come from?

“Speaking of which, do you even know how to?” You ask, admittedly kind of shy of asking such question.

“Know how to what?”

“Like, have- you like- With women?” You try, motioning widely towards the couch with your hands as if it would help you get your point across so you wouldn´t have to say the words.

Wooyoung seemed to get it though, hands suddenly stopping on your back so you would look at him, “Y/N, you do know I have fucked women, right?”

“How would I? You never told me!” You whine.

“I thought it would be disrespectful?”

“But when you told me how much you loved choking on San´s dick it wasn´t?”

“Well, no-”

“Or when you literally shared about how you thought about your fingers inside of me?”

“You asked for it!”

“I don´t believe you,” You narrowed your eyes towards him. “There´s no way I wouldn´t have known.”

“Do you want like a list or something?”

“What? No! That would be disrespectful.”

“See?”

“Ok, no, wait. Just tell me this: Lauren?”

“Yes.”

“Wooyoung, nooooo!” You whined.

“What? She´s hot!” He was exasperated.

“Oh my god, everything makes so much sense now.”

“Wait, did you really think I was gay? We´ve know each other for years! I talk about women all the time!”

“Yeah, but I thought you talked about women like Kevin talks about Beyoncé! Like in a slayy pussy queennn way, not in a I´d want to fuck her way.”

“Would you like me to go around harassing women?”

“No, listen: I didn´t think you were gay, I just kind of never thought about it?”

"You though I was just joking around with you the other day and you still got all hot and bothered?" Would he quit teasing you? "Kinky."

“I thought you were playing and I didn't get any way!"

“Whatever you say, princess - Wait, why did you think Ali was always hanging around my neck all these months?”

“I just thought she was kind of crazy – Wait, did you fuck her that good? She wouldn´t leave us alone for a second, it was driving me insane."

“I just told you there´s nothing I´m not good at,” He winked at you with a cocky smile on his face.

You wanted to die.

“Wooyoung,” You warned.

“Awn, am I getting to you?” His tone was so sarcastic and condescending that a fire burned inside of you that you were afraid was never going out.

“It´s the wine,” You assured, more yourself than him.

“It´s always something.”

“See? That´s why I told you I didn´t want to be alone with you.”

“Afraid you´ll jump me?” He mocked. “I´m not scared.”

"Just shut up. If whatever you're saying is true, I just want you to know you have the worst taste in women ever."

"Well, considering I would love to taste you more than I would anyone else, I agree," He played with your words.

“Go wash the glasses,” You ordered, the skin under your cheeks burning.

“Yes, ma’am,” He answered with a laugh, immediately standing up and following along.

When you were alone in the living room, your face fell between your hands in despair.

You fucking hated Jung Wooyoung and his fucking giant noise.

★

Stupid fucking Jung Wooyoung.

Fucking hell.

Cursed be the day that man was born and cursed be the hospital and the doctors and the nurses and everyone in the world for all you cared.

Your entire body was filled with rage as you opened the stupid coffee maker to pour the water into the compartment – which you had of course forgotten to fill 10 minutes earlier and almost burnt the whole office down. How would you explain to your boss that you started a fire because your brain was simply too busy flashing images of you sitting on your stupid annoying best friend´s face for the past 4 hours?

It has been 2 days since the day at your place, 2 nights since you've gotten a decent night of sleep. "Why is that?" One would ask. Well, the answer would be that your useless brain decided to sabotage you, having you dream about your best friend over and over again – Which wouldn't be so bad if 90% of the dreams didn't consist of you ridding said best friend's face, waking up sweating and wanting to scream.

At this point you just wanted to break Wooyoung's nose with a punch, so you'd never have to think about it again. After almost ripping your hair out in front of your computer, you decided on texting Hoshi for Mingyu's number - That's how desperate you were to get stupid fucking Jung Wooyoung out of your head. At least your friend assured that your ex was indeed single now and still didn't hate you, which was enough for you.

Not really knowing how to tell your ex-boyfriend, after so much time has passed, that you just wanted him to throw you around, things weren't going as fast as planned and you couldn't keep avoiding Wooyoung forever – One, because he has no sense of boundaries and would just show up at your place if you ignored him and two, you really didn't want to have the conversation that would go down when he found out why you weren't around.

It'd been over a week since you last saw Wooyoung in person, you were still in the talking stages with Mingyu, dreaming about your friend every fucking night and staring at his picture on the chatting app for hours while wanting to die. Now, you kind of genuinely didn't care anymore, Mingi and Wooyoung were right, maybe this was just about getting some dick – and you would find out if one could die of horniness if you didn't get some soon.

It was Saturday night, Hongjoong decided to throw a small party at his place to celebrate his birthday and you figured alcohol was a good solution since stabbing a knife into your brain wasn't an option. You even invited Mingyu, hoping in person and after a few drinks you'd figure how to ask him to bend you over – The man said he would be pretty late because of previous scheduled commitments but that he would go. Your ex was an incredibly attractive man who knew his way around a lady, maybe you would see all your problems flying away after tonight.

Except that after your first cup and some chatting with Mingi and Seonghwa on Hongjoong's couch, Wooyoung decided to arrive.

You took one (1) - ONE, UNO - look at the man and grabbed your phone, shooting Mingyu a text: don´t come, party´s canceled.

“Bro, your hair looks sick!” Mingi shouted before your brain could even begin to process what you were seeing.

You were the one actually about to be sick.

“Decided to try something new,” Wooyoung smirked, jumping over the back of the couch to sit next to you.

You simply stared at him dumbfounded, glad he was too busy stealing the drink from your hands to notice your mouth wide open.

Jung Wooyoung just showed up to the party with the bottom part and the front strands of his hair dyed blonde and you weren´t sure what kind of look that even was but you felt like it genuinely changed your whole life. You were pretty sure you got goosebumps when you first looked at him, lucky you were sitting down with the way your legs got weak.

“What do you think about it?” He asked you after he was content with finishing what was left in your cup.

“I hate it.”

Well, you weren´t lying. Your nails were literally digging into the palm of your hands to try and get your head back in place - The new look made his skin look tanner, the mole under his eye darker, the shape of his nose -

The way he pushed his hair back, blonde strands surrounding his face -

No, nop.

No.

“Since I know you´re joking, I´m gonna go say hi to Hongjoong and grab us more drinks so we can get this party started.”

You let him go with absolutely no fight, eyes wide and glued to his form until he was out of your sight as Seonghwa led him to where the birthday boy was supposed to be.

“Are you ok?” Mingi asked, noticing the crazy look on your face.

“I need Wooyoung to fuck me.”

Your brain definitely was short-circuiting.

“Oh. Wow. Ok.”

“I´m being serious. And I´m not happy about it.”

“Hasn´t he been offering for like weeks now?”

“Yeah.”

“So just go and tell him.”

“That´s not how it works.”

“Oh my god, why do you have to be so complicated?”

“I need him to offer again so I can say no, then when he insists, I will give in and pretend I´m kind of thorn about it.”

“And why is that?”

“So he doesn´t know he won! And I don´t like being vulnerable or whatever.”

“I know we said you need some dick, but maybe you just need some therapy.”

“Yeah, that too, but what I really need right now is your help.”

“Sure,” Mingi shrugged. That´s what you liked about him, things were simple with him.

“I need him to think I´m horny.”

“You are horny.”

“Yeah, but I need him to see it so he will joke about helping me out again.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Well, I could stand here with a bitch face all night, but it´s Joong´s birthday so I don´t really want to be like that. I don´t really have any other ideas-”

“Touch me.”

“What?”

“Like, be touchy with me.”

“Oh, that could work.”

“That will definitely work.”

“You´re good,” You complimented.

“You should come to me for help more often.”

“Don´t push it.”

“Fine.”

“You´re invested, huh?”

“Move closer,” He ordered and you obeyed, sitting sideways on the couch so you were turned towards him, left knee touching his thigh. “Lean forward and put your hand on my thigh.”

Despite your body´s discontent, you did as told.

“And don´t flinch when I touch you,” He warned.

“I feel like a spy,” You joked.

“All this because you can´t tell a guy you want to fuck,” He rolled his eyes.

“C´mon, pretend you´re not enjoying this, I dare you.”

“Touché.”

When your friends came back with more people tagging along, the first thing you noticed was the way Wooyoung´s gaze traveled immediately to your hand on Mingi´s thighs.

Ok, yeah, this could definitely work.

“Here, princess,” He handed you your drink, which you grabbed with your free hand.

“Thanks Wooyo,” You smiled at the man before turning your attention back to Mingi, not missing the way your friend squeezed his eyes at you.

Thankfully, Wooyoung didn´t say anything about it, sitting down on the floor in front of the couch as a circle naturally formed in the living room so everyone could play something, and the first choice was the 007 game. You went along with the plan, hitting Mingi´s thigh instead of your own, touching his arm when you had to laugh, not going stiff when his hand met the skin almost at the hem of your skirt.

You know what? Mingi was actually really hot too, if this night didn´t end how you expected it to, you were so horny you were just about considering asking him to fuck you.

Whenever you looked in Wooyoung´s direction, you could practically see the engines turning in his head. It was just a matter of time now and you were already feeling shaky with excitement, which you weren´t exactly thrilled about – But then you looked at him again with that stupid hair and that stupid nose and that stupid half-unbuttoned shirt and decided that to hell with your morals and ethics.

Mingi apparently decided his role in the ploy wasn´t enough for him, since after an hour or so passed by and people started standing up to go after more drinks or socialize with other people, he waited for Wooyoung to approach before asking loud and clear, “So, any luck with the getting some dick thing?”

You were not exactly a good actress but you did know how to flirt, so not really knowing how else to react to the sudden improvisation, you smiled at him, “Why? Know someone interested?”

“Yeah, nice to meet you. I´m Song Mingi,” He half-joked, hand still heavy on your thigh. “Oh, Wooyoung. You´re here, didn´t see you there.”

He was good, you had to give him that.

“I can see why,” Wooyoung answered, eyes pointing at the contact between you two.

“Jealous?” Mingi asked his friend, his tone was humorous, but you could see the challenge in his eyes. Even though he was just playing, he couldn´t help being an egotistical Leo.

“I wouldn´t say jealous is the right word.”

“Did you know Y/N invited Mingyu over?” Mingi laughed.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow at you, eyes dancing with amusement.

“I already uninvited him, asshole.”

“Is that why you´re all touchy today?” Mingi asked. Ok, you would have to buy him some ice cream after the phenomenal performance he was delivering. “Thought you would convince her to fuck someone, Woo.”

“Believe me, I tried,” He shrugged.

“Can we quit talking about me like I´m not here? Also, I´m not an animal in heat, stop being weird.”

Well, weren´t you?

Really?

“You sure seem like it,” Wooyoung completed.

“You look hornier than me, Wooyoung.”

“I´m not denying it,” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh shit, I forgot my phone with Yunho,” Mingi cursed, suddenly petting his pockets. He was so convincing you almost forgot he was helping you out. “Shit, shit, shit. I´ll be back later.”

With that he stood up and quickly marched out of the living room, Wooyoung lazily taking his place next to you on the couch.

“Were you really about to let Mingi fuck you?”

“Maybe?” You answer, and well, that wasn´t a lie either.

“Ouch, that kind of hurts my ego.”

“Mingi and I are just friends, now you and I are best friends. There´s a huge difference there.”

“So, you´re saying you´d fuck me if we weren´t best friends?” He joked. “Wow, thank you. I´m shy now. No need for all these compliments.”

You rolled your eyes, not sure what to say that would lead you towards what you wanted, choosing to just be normal and hope the night would eventually get you there.

“Why did you cancel on Mingyu?”

“Didn´t think he would throw me around today.”

“Someone´s getting bold.”

“Shut up.”

“I actually like frustrated Y/N, it´s hot.”

“Then stop bothering me to fuck someone and let me be frustrated in peace.”

“Well, that seems nice but I´m sure you´d look much hotter getting the frustration out.”

“Are we back to the “you imagining someone fucking me” thing?”

“I could correct you once again saying that I´m not imagining someone else, but since you´ve made it pretty clear that you´re not interested, I´m not going to.”

That was it, that was your moment.

“And what if I tell you maybe I am?”

He stopped to give you a knowing cocky smirk that made you immediately regret raising the white flag, “I know.”

“What? Ho- No -”

“Y/N, you wouldn´t stop staring at me like you wanted me to destroy you in front of everyone while Mingi literally had his hand on you.”

“That´s not -”

“Do I have to pretend I think you were squirming because of him and not me? I can play dumb if you´d like. I can even go call him back if you tell me you weren´t wishing it was my hand almost getting under your skirt instead of his. So, are you going to give in now or are we going to keep playing this game?”

“Wooyoung-”

“We´re best friends, I know. But I don´t see how you avoiding me because you get wet every time I´m around is doing our friendship any favors either.”

Ok, he did make a pretty good case even though you were already convinced like an hour ago.

“You´re right.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I´m not fucking you at Hongjoong´s.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded – also not liking how the tables have turned one bit. Wooyoung in turn laughed and sent you another playful wink, “Trust me, you won´t want anyone around.”

“It took a lot from me to come to terms with this, so we´re either doing it tonight or we´re not doing it.”

“Oh, princess,” He gave you a condescending look that got you wanting to rip his hair out. “I find that hard to believe, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“Wooyoung-”

“Y/n,” His voice was calm, hand finding its place on your thigh where Mingi´s was earlier, except this time the touch burned and got you fighting for your life not to squirm. “I said I´m not fucking you at Hongjoong´s, not that I´m not fucking you.”

“Then let´s go.”

“Now, that would be rude, wouldn´t it?”

“Why are being like this?” You whined, about a second away from actually hitting the cockiness out of him.

“You have this needy look in your eyes, like you´re ready to drop down and beg at any moment,” He smiled, his free hand gently tucking your hair behind your ear like he wasn´t talking about you on your knees. “It´s cute.”

“You know what will be cute? When I ask Mingi to fuck me instead.”

“If you can go to Hongjoong, in front of everyone, and tell him that we need to leave his birthday party right now because you can´t wait for me to fuck you, I´m good to go.”

“Have you always been this annoying?”

“Only when I know you´ll like it.”

“You know you were the one asking to fuck me for weeks, right?”

“I know.”

“You just know everything, don´t you?”

“See? You´re hot when you´re frustrated.”

“You think I´m sexually frustrated but now I´m actually just mad at you.” He simply smiled at you in return, and you rolled your eyes once you realized where you had dug your grave, “I forgot you have a degradation kink or whatever. Can´t even be angry at you in peace anymore.”

“If you´re really mad at me, we should fix that. I wouldn´t want my best friend to be angry at me.”

“I don´t think it´s possible to fix it considering being annoying it´s like your whole personality. Point proven.”

“Come say that closer,” He winked playfully, and you seriously would cringe at the number of times that man has winked at you if he wasn´t Wooyoung.

Ok, coming completely clean: You were also kind of annoyed at the way you were definitely getting wet at the banter between the two of you, like teasing each other wasn´t what your whole friendship has been about for years.

It also helped that Wooyoung´s hand was still on your thigh, veins sticking out and fingers filled with rings that you just couldn´t stop picturing against the skin on your neck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It took a second to decide if you would actually listen to that one braincell fighting for its life inside your head or not, but in the end, you decided against it, quickly standing up so you could sit on Wooyoung´s lap and take him by surprise as you straddled his thighs, one of your knees on each side of legs.

Yeah, there was definitely something pulsing in between your legs. Fucking hell.

You moved too quicky for Wooyoung to process what was going on, so it really was amusing the way he violently jerked once you moved your head closer, lips almost brushing his ears as you whispered, “What do you want me to say?”

For a second you had almost forgotten it was Jung Wooyoung under you, but he was fast to remind you as one of his hands found its place on the side of your thigh and the other grabbed onto your waist, where his thumb brushed gentle circles against your exposed skin. He took advantage of the fact you were already bent down to say against your ear this time, “You never told me.”

“What?” You asked, creating some distance between you so you could look at the smirk on his face and because you didn´t quite like the way you got weak when you felt his breath against your skin so closely.

“The other day, we made a deal. You said you would tell me what you imagined me doing to you if I told you first, but you ran away after I completed my part. You owe me.”

Under regular circumstances you would have stood up and left right then and there, but the way his palms met the front part of your thighs and started rubbing them up and down, a bit higher each time, got you wanting to play his game to see where it would end.

“You´re right. That day was the first time I ever thought about you sexually, and you know what triggered it?”

“What?” He smiled at the way goosebumps erupted all over your skin under his touches.

“Your nose.”

“So you like my nose?”

“And your lips, but mostly your nose.”

"And what about my lips and nose?"

"Was just thinking about how good they'd feel under me," You look into his eyes, centimeters away from yours, thankful that Hongjoong had deemed the lights at some point of the night and now Wooyoung's face was illuminated only by a pink hue, coming from a fake sunset light your friend had bought on AliExpress.

"That's good, ‘cause I've never wanted someone to sit on my face so bad before."

“Careful,” You warned, inching your face closer to his, toying with the buttons on his shirt as your lips were almost brushing. “We still need to go back to being friends after we fuck and get this off our systems.”

"I’m sure we can manage," He smiled, inching closer himself so now your lips were indeed touching as he continued speaking. "I'm a good friend after all."

"Kiss me then, I dare you," You breathed out, shooting your last shot.

He laughed at that, "You know I never back down from a challenge."

But well, it worked.

Wooyoung made his words true, grabbing onto your waist with a firmness that you didn't know he had to pull you closer. With your chests now glued, his lips finally pressed against yours and you hated yourself for not being disappointed. You so wanted the man to be all bark and no bite, but the moment his tongue met yours you understood why that girl wouldn't leave him alone. You had indeed kissed many people before, but it had never felt like this - and also, you were right, his plush lips were definitely something to obsess over.

What didn't surprise you at all, was that like in everything else, Wooyoung was a tease. In some moments when you would deepen the kiss, he would pull back a bit and bite on your bottom lip just to laugh when you groaned in annoyance. When he felt you were getting frustrated at his little games, he would grab onto your hips and grind them against his – which well, definitely got your mind to stop thinking about how insufferable he was. Good thing you knew how to play too, hands finding the roots of his hair to pull harshly on it, almost passing out at the whine he let out.

"I love that you're wearing a skirt," He groaned out.

"Why is that?" You were so breathless you almost got embarrassed.

"I can feel how wet you are."

Fuck.

"You must be imagining things."

"Oh, am I?" The cunning smile he gave you along with those words should have prepared you.

It really shouldn't have surprised you when one of his hands left your ass and snaked its way in between your bodies. You leaned back a little to try and understand what was happening, giving Wooyoung all the access he needed to get his hand under your skirt and press the pad of his middle finger right on your clit over your panties.

"Told ya," He smirked in content at the way you gasped involuntarily.

"Wooyoung-"

"What? Weren't you the one who couldn't wait?" He teased, rubbing slow circles with his finger. "If you're already soaked like this, I can't even imagine what it would be like if I just pushed your panties to the side-"

"No-" You whined, thorn between just letting him do whatever he wanted or stopping him - since you were very much in the middle of your friend's living room and there were people around.

"Getting shy now?"

“Wooyoung.”

“That´s my name,” You could see in his eyes how much fun he was having teasing you.

“You want me to stop teasing or stop touching you?” He mocked with a smile on his face, finger still working on you as you fought with all your life to not squirm on his lap.

“You know what? If you want everyone to see, I can put on a show,” You sighed, accepting defeat.

You expected Wooyoung to smirk once again but was instead surprised when he stopped and retreated his hand, adjusting your skirt back in place. Your heart dropped at the sight, searching for answers in his eyes, but they were busy looking somewhere else: Mingi had gotten back. You could see the way the tall man was frozen at the entrance, eyes wide and hand once again stuck in the air – this time holding his phone proudly.

You sent a glare at the intruder (as if there were not at least 10 other people in the room). The moment Mingi´s eyes caught yours, he jumped as if he had just woken up from a nap and he tried mouthing something like “sorry” and “oh shit” so you just rolled your eyes and motioned with your hand for him to move along, preferably far away. He seemed to get the message, almost tripping with how fast he spun on his heels and left.

“What? Weren´t you the one who wanted everyone to know?” You asked Wooyoung, tone pointy as you climbed off his lap. It was like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over you. THIS WAS JUNG WOOYOUNG.

YOUR BEST FRIEND JUNG WOOYOUNG.

THE GUY WHO MADE YOU DRESS LIKE A CHEERLEADER TO GO TO HIS COLLEGE SOCCER GAMES AND CHEER FOR HIM, THE GUY WHO BURPED AND LAUGHED AT HIS OWN DISGUSTINESS, THE GUY WHO DID A CRISTIANO RONALDO IMPRESSION EVERYTIME HE WON SOMETHING, THE GUY YOU HAD TO ONCE RESCUE FROM A PIG FARM AFTER DRINKING WAY TOO MUCH!

“Yeah, but I guess my protective best friend side spoke louder,” He sighed too, fixing his pants. “Don´t be mad.”

“I´m not mad.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Yes, I´m mad. Ok? Cause now the magic is over or whatever and I realized you´re my best friend and we can´t fuck.”

He turned around on the couch to be able to look into your eyes, his searching. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he simply closed his eyes, sighed once again and stood up, offering his hand, “C´mon. Let me take you home.”

★

“So, Mingyu huh?” Wooyoung asked, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear.

“Don´t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Ask about another man and pretend everything´s normal.”

“Well, I guessed that now that we can´t fuck we can go back to being normal best friends.”

You locked your jaw and crossed your arms. You were angry and you didn´t even know what for – But you expected Wooyoung to fix it, nonetheless.

“Use your words.”

“No.”

“Ok, then. Silent ride it is.”

You huffed; aware you were acting like a spoiled child, but you were just angry at the mess inside your head and that your friend was not able to read your mind and untangle everything so it made sense. Maybe you really were just spoiled and angry you didn´t get what you wanted when you wanted.

“Oh. I get it now.”

“What?” Wooyoung asked, eyes moving from the road for a second to look at you.

“When you call me a brat. I get it now.”

“I was searching my brain for plausible reasons for you to be all sulky, for you to admit you were mad just because I didn´t fuck you at the party?”

“Yeah? Not just that, but you know I don´t like when things don´t go my way, I just wanted everything to happen fast so I wouldn´t have time to think about it but then when I thought about it, I felt bad because I still wanted it to happen but I know it shouldn´t.”

“Y/N, it´s sex.”

“Don´t make me sound stupid.”

“I´m not, you´re just really overthinking this.”

“Yeah, that´s the whole point. And it´s all your fault, so you see why I´m mad now?”

“Yes. I´m the worst.”

“You are.”

“Not when I fuck you, thought.”

“The moment has passed, Wooyoung. The train has left the station. Deal with it.”

“If you say so. Are you opening the garage, or should I park outside?”

“I didn´t bring the tag – Wait, are you going up?”

“Street it is then.”

“Answer me, stupid.”

“Yes, I´m going up.”

“What for?”

“You said it yourself, if we´re best friends and nothing more is ever happening, there should be no problem with me sleeping over, right? We´ve done it thousands of times.”

“Yeah,” You squeezed your eyes at him. You knew what game he was playing, trying to prove you wrong – But you were also convinced you were more stubborn than him and that you would instead prove him wrong.

“Slumber party, fun!” He exclaimed, taking the key out and tapping your thigh before leaving his car.

★

“Since this was kind of last minute,” You heard Wooyoung´s voice approaching your room, “I didn´t really bring any clothes.”

And there he was, next to your bed in nothing but a towel around his hips, long messy hair slightly dripping down his torso and toothbrush in his mouth, looking all casual like you both knew he wasn´t doing this on purpose.

The fact that it was working only made you even more annoyed.

“You know where the drawer with your stuff is,” You groaned, pretending to look at your nails.

He looked way too smug as he turned to your closet, opening said drawer to pull out some sweatpants. You kind of expected (or is it hoped the right word?) that he would just unknot the towel and expose himself to try and seduce you, but he behaved and simply pulled the pants under the fabric before unwrapping it.

“Have you not heard about underwear?”

“Have you not heard that it´s healthier to sleep without it? You should hang out with me more, I can teach you a lot.”

“Yeah, I already see you enough, thanks.”

“Come dry my hair.”

“I think you´re perfectly capable of doing that yourself.”

“Yeah, but I like when you do it.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned, pushing the blanket out of you, “Fine.”

Wooyoung walked to the bathroom in front of you, surely having planned the way his back and arms looked from behind. You had seen him without a shirt hundreds of times already, why did you feel like you wanted to jump him now?!!?!?!? You figured you were over it after coming back to your senses but oh boy, were you wrong.

“Has San been dragging you to the gym?” You asked as he bent over to get the hair dryer from the bottom drawer. You figured making small talk and acting normally would keep your brain busy.

“Yeah. And you would know that if you opened the hundreds of snaps I send you every day.”

“I´m not 14, Wooyoung. Snapchat died in 2015, sorry to inform you,” You joked as you plugged the dryer he handed you. “Give me the towel.”

He did as told, sitting down on your toilet as you started drying the water excess from his hair. Doing your best so no part of your arm or leg would accidentally touch his skin since you could feel the heat emanating from it.

That was no way of living.

Once the towel was completely damp, you tossed it on the floor and grabbed a brush, ignoring how he closed his eyes in appreciation at the touch. You fucking hated him and the way your heart was beating fast for absolutely no reason.

Now untangled, you reached over to get the hair dryer once again but were stopped with a soft touch to the side of your leg.

You looked down at the man expecting an answer and he simply gave you a lazy smile, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you in between his legs, “Come here. Let me look at you while you do it.”

Well, you let him pull you along because there was nothing really sexual about it, Wooyoung was just a touchy person and he looked like he was about to fall asleep anyways.

You turned on the dryer and used your fingers to move his hair around so the heat would get to his roots, feeling the skin of your face heat up at the way he hummed in content. Wooyoung had a lot of hair, and not just that, but he had a lot of thick hair, so you were already aware you would spend a long time in there, appreciating the silence and the fact he was pretty much out of it so you could let your guard down.

WHICH IS EXACTLY WHY you jumped in surprise when both of his hands found their way to the side of your thighs, just very softly rubbing them up and down as you dried his strands, goosebumps erupting all over your body at the delicate touch.

Once again, just sleepy touchy Wooyoung.

Nothing new, nothing to fuss over.

Except YOU WERE FUSSING OVER IT BECAUSE ONCE AGAIN YOU FELT A PULSE WHERE YOU DIDN´T WANT TO FEEL A PULSE.

This whole situation was just so domestic and nice that it scratched a very specific part of your brain that got you wanting to live in that moment forever – except maybe not with your best FRIEND.

“I like when you touch me,” His raw voice came out softly. “You don´t do it a lot, so I have to enjoy every chance I get.”

You didn´t have an answer to that, the only thing you could think to say was “stop” but how could he stop when he wasn´t even doing anything to begin with? This time it was not his fault that your mind was in the gutter.

“You have enough people touching you already,” You managed to string a few words.

“Yeah, but it feels nicer when it´s you,” He opened his eyes, you could see the sincerity in them and you felt bad that you kind of just wanted to punch him and run away.

You were also surprised by the sudden unexpected eye contact, which explains why you accidentally pulled one of his strands a bit harshly. WHAT WASN´T EXPLAINED THOUGH, WAS THE LOW MOAN HE LET OUT AND THE WAY HIS EYES CLOSED AS HIS MOUTH PARTED. OR THE WAY YOURS HUNG OPEN TOO AT THE SOUND OR THE WAY YOU COULDN´T STOP STARING AT THE STUPID MOLE ON HIS LIP.

It was a moment of insanity, a few seconds when your soul was out of your body; when you tentatively pulled on his hair again, feeling his nails digging into the skin of your thighs and his breathing getting heavier, yours matching.

“If you really don´t want us to fuck then you´re just being cruel right now,” He breathed out, eyes still closed as his forehead met your abdomen.

“I don´t?”

“Is that a question?”

“No. I don´t. I think your hair is dry.”

“It´s definitely not,” He argued, raising his head once again. “C´mon, finish it. No funny business, I promise.”

You wanted to tell him it´s not him you were worried about, it’s the way your own body was betraying you that bothered you, but you took a deep breath and continued with the work, doing your best to ignore his eyes on you or how his hands were once again toying with your thighs or how his thighs were touching your legs or how he was centimeters away from you.

Yeah, a lot of things to ignore.

Was your bathroom always this small?

“You smell nice.”

“I shower once in a while,” You agreed. “And you said no funny business.”

“I´m complimenting you, how is that sexual?”

“It´s not,” You agreed.

He smirked at you because he too was well aware of the tension, if the way his sweatpants were suddenly tight were anything to go by. Thankfully he didn´t answer because you don´t think you could continue to ignore it if he mentioned he was getting hard just by you drying his hair.

Eventually, after what felt like days, you finally turned off the dryer and prayed he would agree to your suggestion, “You´re done. Wanna sleep?”

“Nop, this is a slumber party.”

“What? You want to have a pillow fight now or do facemasks and gossip?” You rolled your eyes.

“Although the first option sounds fun, I was thinking we can watch something until we fall asleep.”

Watch something.

Until you fell asleep.

In your bed.

Sure, what could go wrong?

“What are you doing?” Wooyoung asked amusedly.

“Building a barrier between our sides of the bed.”

He laughed loudly at that, crawling into the bed too and taking the pillows from where you were organizing them, “Wooyoung!”

“Shut up, you enjoyed cuddling once and you will enjoy it again.”

“Absolutely not.”

“What? Afraid you won´t be able to resist me? I thought we were just friends,” He teased.

“Very funny-“

“Because if you´re interested we can just skip the foreplay and go straight to –“

“What do you want to watch?”

You ignored his low chuckle, giving up on fighting for the pillows and getting comfortable on your bed so you could turn on the TV.

“Community?”

“Great,” You agreed between gritted teeth, opening the Netflix app and putting on the show from where you two had stopped it as Wooyoung fluffed the pillows behind his back next to you.

This time he didn´t even ask before pulling you in between his legs, your back against his chest. You didn´t even fight it because honestly, what for? You simply groaned as you felt him searching for the light switch on the wall over your bed.

“Don´t pretend you don´t enjoy it, I´ve got you all figured out now.”

“Yeah yeah, believe what you want to.”

“Shut up, I´m trying to watch the show.”

You huffed, rolled your eyes and crossed your arms all at the same time. You knew it wasn´t at him you were annoyed – although he was sure making a great job at feeding into it.

You also immediately regretted wearing shorts as the palms of his hands splayed over your thighs.

“It´s too hot,” You complained, hoping he would let you go.

Wooyoung simply stretched out one of his hands and grabbed the AC remote, turning it on before tossing it away and returning his palm to your thigh. His silence told you he was focused on the show and you truly wish you could say the same about yourself, but instead, your eyes were glued to the sight in front of you like it was a car wreck, not being able to look away no matter how much your brain ordered you to. Your knees were bent, your thighs almost touching your chest, so his hands were just right there in your line of sight, all veiny and calloused.

The harder you tried to stir your mind away and pay attention to the TV, the more your brain looked like a Wattpad fanfic written by a 40-year-old who just got divorced and discovered sex wasn't just missionary. The conversation you had with Wooyoung about how the girls he fucked became literally obsessed with him kept flashing into your head and you were legitimately about to bite onto your fist and scream for 7 whole minutes.

Your mental breakdown however was interrupted by the man behind you, who with no words started tracing his fingers – seemingly – unpresumptuously over your skin. You ignored it because you had no energy to fight it and as long as it stayed PG-rated it would be fine.

The soft touches plus the very cold wind from the AC hitting you got goosebumps to erupt up your skin and you just felt how your nipples were suddenly sensitive against the fabric of your shirt and Wooyoung´s hand were just there, mere centimeters away and oh, you so desperately wanted him to touch them. In fact, you wanted it so badly you were fighting for your life to keep the uncomfortable squirming to a minimum.

Thankfully, Wooyoung didn´t notice it – deep down you knew he was just pretending not to for your sake, but if he could, so would you.

“Who do you think is hotter, Annie or Britta?” His voice suddenly, almost against your ear, shocked you. “Oh, jumpy, are we?”

“Shut up, I was just startled.”

“So?”

“Britta.”

“Same.”

He went quiet once again, except now, when you thought his mind was once again focused on the show, his hands started getting braver. They escalated from just his fingers drawing shapes on the patch above your knees to suddenly coming down to the sensitive skin between your thighs. You jerked involuntarily even though he only traced his fingers about halfway down your legs. Wooyoung once again pretended to not notice your reaction and you pretended to not notice he was touching you.

His fingers gently brushing the sides of your thighs all the way to your knees before you could feel the tip of his middle finger slowly grazing your skin down the inside of your thighs, lower and lower each time he came down. At this point your heart was beating so fast it was almost coming out of your throat, your breathing labored and sweat building up on your forehead even though the room was freezing cold.

“She´s kind of annoying, though.”

“Who?” You breathed out, honestly not even knowing your name anymore.

“Britta.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Silence once again.

Attention back to the show.

You had to control your whine of disappointment when he retreated his hands.

Ok, you took the chance to breathe, count to 10 and give yourself a pep talk. You could do this. You would not fuck your best friend. If not because of your morals and because of your friendship, because fucking him would mean he won, and you would never give Wooyoung the satisfaction.

Ok, you could do this.

You could definitely do this.

Wooyoung gently gathered your hair and pushed it over your right shoulder, the familiar goosebumps showing up once again at the way the tip of his fingers brushed against the skin of your neck.

Yeah, you could not do this.

The sound that came out of your mouth when his wet lips met the juncture between your neck and shoulder could only be described as a pinscher finding out it could bark. You were in fact shaking as much as those annoying tiny dogs are known for.

You froze, not being able to react when you felt him sucking on your skin or when his tongue tried to soothe the pain his teeth left behind. Your core was clenching so hard it hurt.

“Wooyoung,” Your voice came out as half plead half warning.

“Hm?” He hummed against a different spot on your neck, and it made it a thousand times worse.

“We shouldn´t-”

“Just tell me to stop and I will.”

Except you couldn´t. Not when he found your sweet spot and grazed his teeth against it before gently sucking on it. This time you allowed yourself to squirm and you felt it at the same time you heard it; Wooyoung groaned as you accidentally pressed against him and figured out you were not the only one going insane. His dick was hard and now very much pulsing against your ass and lower back.

Both of you realized you never told him to stop and you were fighting so hard to gain control of your body back as he kissed the vein on your neck - but it was all lost when his hands snaked around your torso and grabbed your boobs. You whimpered, shamefully, squeezing your legs together to try and relieve some of the throbbing.

His kisses grew harsher, as he sucked one spot hard enough to leave a mark, the pad of his middle fingers toyed with your nipples and you simply couldn't pretend you didn´t want this to happen anymore, not with the way you could literally start dripping onto your bed any moment now.

A gasp left your lips when his right hand grabbed onto your thigh and pulled your legs open. You felt his dick twitching when he saw the wet patch in the middle of your shorts.

“Oh, princess,” He sighed, pressing against the stain in pure admiration.

“Wooyoung-”

“Tell me to stop.”

He gave you no time to consider his words, pulling the bottom of your shorts and panties to the side and rubbing his middle finger down your slit to wet it. You carved your nails onto his thighs in return, doing your best to stay grounded. It didn´t even take a minute for you to understand why the prior girls who slept with Wooyoung became obsessed with him, you weren´t really doing anything yet and the second the pad of his finger found your clit while his other hand gently pressed down onto your lower stomach everything became even clearer. You threw your head back on his shoulder in pleasure as he rubbed figure eights against your clit.

Yeah, you agreed to pretend nothing happened starting tomorrow, but you figured you would never be able to forget the sound of your best friend´s deep moan against your ear when he felt you around his finger for the first time.

“Glad to see I´m not the only one going crazy,” He groaned against your ear - and when did his voice get so raspy?

You whined once again, not really knowing what else to do when you were practically on the edge from a minute or two of stimulation.

“Tell me to stop.”

“Wooyoung-”

“I love when you say my name.”

Were you about to cry?

At this point, you just wanted him to ignore you and throw you around and do whatever he wanted, but you knew he wouldn´t until you said so, and you were definitely not doing that. Although with every second that passed with his finger on you, that definitely was turning more into a probably.

“I never told you.”

“Wha- What?”

“From all the ways I imagined this happening, I never told you my favorite.”

“What is it?”

“It´s the one where we´re in a sleepover and you´re so desperate that you can´t even go to the bathroom, so you just very quietly put your hands inside your shorts and touch yourself right next to me thinking that I´m asleep. And I pretend I am, but I can hear the small whimpers you try to hold back, I can feel the slight shake of the bed and I can hear how wet you are so clearly. Sometimes, I even imagine you would decide to use me, not even try to wake me up, just sit on my face and ride it until I pretend to wake up and finally eat you out until you´re crying and shaking.”

When you literally had to hold yourself back from finishing at his words, you grabbed his hand and turned around on your knees, smashing your lips with no fanciness against his. He was quick to grab your ass and direct you to sit on top of his legs, your thighs on either side of his in the familiar position as your tongues met and you pulled the hairs on the back of his neck with all the frustration you had inside you.

“We´re not fucking,” You informed in between labored breaths.

“We don´t have to fuck, I just need you to sit on my face.”

You never whined so loudly in your life before.

That was the one single thing you have been dreaming about hearing for weeks now and you were so happy you could practically cry, in fact, you almost came right there without even being touched.

The link to Part 2 is at the top! <3

#wooyoung smut #wooyoung fics #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung x reader #ateez smut #ateez fics #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #wooyoung ateez #wooyoung #jung wooyoung

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neocrias · 6 months ago

Text

diet pepsi - kim mingyu

synopsis: When a ride home becomes something much more... interesting.

Your interactions with Mingyu have been getting weird during the last group meeting. There’s a certain tension in every kindness he does for you—it could be you overanalyzing friendly acts, or maybe Kim Mingyu wants you as much as you want him.

pairing: mingyu x reader wc: 3,6k

warnings: unprotected sex; kinda public car sex; dry humping; figering (f receiving); cock riding; mingyu is a teasing little shit; very slightly size kink; mentions of alcohol; inappropriate language. MDNI.

You don't know when you started feeling this way about Mingyu, but lately he's been... different. He's hot, but you already knew that. Everybody did.

Mingyu is tall, tanned, has a charming smile and beautiful sparkling eyes that goes along with the sweet and patient personality he always has when he's with you and the boys. But something is different.

You don't know what happened, but Mingyu's every attitude seemed different tonight and what would normally be “your friend's caring and concerned way” was making you crave his attention in a way you've never felt before.

You felt your face heat up when he took the beer bottle from your hand and, before you could even try, Mingyu opened it and filled your glass, extending his arm towards you. When you hesitantly held the glass and your fingers touched briefly, Mingyu winked at you playfully and a shiver ran through your whole body.

This went on all night.

Mingyu carefully roasted the piece of meat you like best until it was just right for you. He also reached out to slap Vernon's hands away before he could snatch it from the grill, his muscles bulging under the sleeves of his black shirt right next to your face.

And, of course, you wanted to kiss him the moment he put his denim jacket over your lap to protect you from the cold without complaining – even though he told you to wear warm clothes tonight because of the weather.

— Gyu, you don't have to...

He cut you off before you could be the proud little thing who never gives in even though you know you're wrong.

— Don't be stubborn again. I told you it was gonna be cold and you still came in this tiny dress, at least keep the jacket. — He whispered, a perfectly balanced mix of seriousness and care. For emphasis, he tugged at the thin sleeves of your white dress, which didn't fit to keep out the cold.

Blame it on the drink;

Blame it on the several months you've gone without seeing anyone;

Blame Jeonghan for implanting indecent ideas in your head with his provocative comments about the way Mingyu always stood around you and looked at you;

Blame the smell of him surrounding you and inhibiting your senses in the enclosed space of the black range rover, or the way he drove with only one hand...

Blame anything, but you wanted him.

You felt your head spin the moment Mingyu said he would take you home, not letting anyone think of any other possibility during the carpool. And that was like a confirmation of everything a certain angel-faced devil had told you earlier.

You put on his dark denim jacket, sinking into the smell of his perfume that lingered on your clothes and biting your lips anxiously, an involuntary reaction to the scenarios you'd imagined and, to prevent your mind from continuing to go to places forbidden by “friend status”, you grabbed a can of Diet Pepsi before heading towards the car.

Of course, you also had to deal with the feeling of disappointment silently when you found Dokyeom and Minghao waiting in the back seat. “Jeonghan, you're paying me for this!”, you thought after fastening your seatbelt.

Mingyu smiled at you as he started the car, making his way to Dokyeom's house first - which was closer to the restaurant you were in. Eventually, you opened the can of Pepsi to distract yourself from the conflicting feelings you'd been having all night.

You didn't know it, but Mingyu noticed your strange behavior and, wanting to test whether his theory was right, he ignored the route to your house, deciding to leave Minghao first and then - by pure chance of fate - take the long way home.

He didn't stop there. Mingyu knew you were looking at him and purposely let go of one of your hands from the steering wheel, ran his fingers through his black hair to make it look messy as it fell over his eyes and, finally, grabbed the gearshift - as close to your thigh as possible, after all, Mingyu wanted to see how you reacted to him.

Of course, every glance was noticed, as was the intense way you stared at his hand holding the steering wheel. Mingyu could have sworn he saw you squeeze your thighs together a time or two when he made a skillful turn.

You started to shake your leg out of anxiety and seeing the perfect opportunity, Mingyu held your thighs in a firm grip to keep them still. The truth was that it didn't bother him at all, but he wouldn't miss the opportunity to put his hands on your thighs after so long watching them with desire.

He smirked arrogantly as he heard you sigh and struggle to keep still, muscles twitching uncontrollably under the palm of his hands. His eyes remained on the road, but they had a lustful glint behind the brown tenderness that Mingyu usually directed at you.

In your haze of thoughts, you didn't notice that the road to your house was taking longer than usual or that you had passed the same street three times. You also ignored the playful and arrogant expression that Mingyu wore, in fact, you didn't even look at his face as you were focused on the extraordinary way the veins stood out on the golden skin of his forearm and his thick thighs that were deliciously marked by his jeans.

The thin gold chain reflected the dim light of the streetlamps, shining through the collar of the black shirt that also highlighted the biceps carefully built up with regular routines in the gym, but just enough for the imagination. Kim Mingyu was dressed so casually and still managed to be sinfully handsome. Him wearing a black shirt so tight against his arms and chest should be considered a crime against public safety and you, feeling your neck heat up, pulled your hair up and leaned back in your seat to look at his face from a better angle.

And the look in your eyes...

Mingyu felt his patience fading. He pushed his tongue against his cheek to control himself, squeezing the gearshift until his fingers turned white. And then your eyes went to his face, your rosy lips were slightly open, your shoulders barely moving because of the shallow breathing and the typical doe eyes that blinked heavily at him, scanning every birthmark he had on his chiseled face.

He was tired of overthinking what kind of game you were playing now.

Slowly, Mingyu pulled the car over as soon as you turned into a discreet, quiet - partly dark - street and, as if a mist was coming out of the front of your eyes, you came back to reality as you felt the car stop and looked out of the window. It wasn't your house and you were even more confused when you heard the car's engine stop.

You turned to Mingyu who was taking the key out of the ignition.

— What are you doing? — you asked, but Mingyu didn't answer. — Why did you stop here?

He continued without answering, Mingyu didn't even look at you. Still facing forward, he just unbuckled your thigh to open his own seat belt and moved the seat back very slowly. Your eyes widened in surprise, confusion and... anticipation.

You focused your attention on the sliding seat, returning to stare at Mingyu's thick thighs, and clamped your lower lip between your teeth. By the time you raised your eyes to Mingyu's face again, he was already looking at you with a naughty, arrogant grin and his head tilted slightly to one side.

— Having fun? — He asked arrogantly and you blinked rapidly, feeling confused and overwhelmed.

“Maybe I shouldn't have drunk so much,” you thought.

Mingyu leaned over you, knocking you backwards. Your back slammed against the car door and you held your breath, not wanting to make any movement or comment that would break the tension that bubbled deliciously under your skin. Your eyes were locked on Mingyu's, and you couldn't take your eyes off them for a second.

The sound of your belt opening made you blink repeatedly once more and let out an anxious sigh - which, in turn, made Mingyu even more confident.

He rested his left hand on the tinted car window and brought his right hand up to your neck, wrapping his hand around your throat and subtly pulling you forward. You let out a pained grunt and close your eyes as you felt his nose brush against yours, both breaths mingling.

His thumb moved slowly against your skin and your lips touched quickly as he moved his head. You were going crazy and he was doing it on purpose, after all, watching you need him was more fun than Mingyu could have imagined.

— Gyu… — You called softly. A heavy, needy whisper that complemented the hushed atmosphere that enveloped the two of you. He was so close that you could smell the beer and mint gum he was chewing earlier. You shifted uncomfortably against the leather seat, wanting to get rid of the feeling of unease that ran through your whole body.

— Hm? — was all Mingyu replied.

You brought your trembling hands up to his shoulders, sliding them slowly under the collar of his shirt, feeling the warm skin against your icy palms and the defined muscles under your fingertips. You slid down to the nape of his neck, making a point of dragging your nails lightly along the way in a phantom touch that Mingyu reciprocated by squeezing your neck a little tighter.

With a sigh you pressed your nails against his neck, marking his honey skin with red scratches and pulled the gold chain into a closed fist. Mingyu finally crashed his lips against yours in a strong, needy kiss.

An involuntary moan of satisfaction escaped your throat as you felt his tongue making its way into your mouth, the soft muscle crashing deliciously against yours, and Mingyu released your neck to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you against him so that you rode his lap.

It wasn't the most comfortable position even though the car was large, but 'comfort' wasn't a concern for him at the moment and even less so for you.

Still with trembling, hurried hands, you slipped them under his black shirt, dragging your nails across the length of Mingyu's abdomen, leaving more red marks across his immaculate skin. Your fingers stopped against the waistband of his jeans, unsure of what to do now.

Despite (trying) to be a confident person most of the time, you weren't the most experienced person when it came to boys. Minghao and Seungcheol tried hard to keep them away from you - after all, no guy was good enough for their best friend.

Mingyu, who had both arms around your waist now, pressing you against him, moved his hands down to your bare thighs, his fingertips trailing along the length that the slit didn't make a point of covering and - for the thousandth time tonight - your skin shivered at his touch.

Suddenly he grabbed both sides of your hips, pulling you forward and pressing you down against him, and you broke away from him with a gasp of surprise. You were both breathing heavily, your eyes closed and your foreheads pressed together. Mingyu brought his hand up to the collar of your jacket, gently pushing it back, his fingertips leaving a ghostly touch on the skin of your shoulder, exposed by the square neckline.

He removed the jacket from your body slowly, he was in no hurry at all and, now that there was nothing else in the way, Mingyu began to trail kisses and bites down the length of your jaw, neck and collarbones, marking your skin as you did with him and you answer by pressing your hips against his.

With an impulse of confidence you moved your waist, a slight and insecure movement at first, but one that made Mingyu sigh against the sensitive skin of your neck and increase the tightness against your skin - leaving marks that would turn red later. Mingyu's reactions were what you needed to keep going and you swivel your hips harder, making him throw his head back against the car seat.

Clumsily, you pulled up his shirt, trying to undress him, and Mingyu smiled even more arrogantly when he saw you fumble. He moved his hands away and pulled up his shirt and your eyes went down to his defined abdomen, measuring it completely.

His eyes darkened when he saw you biting your lips with glassy eyes. You brought your hands up to his shoulders, Mingyu was huge and very well built - unconsciously you thanked him for his dedication to the gym. He slid his hands under your dress, now squeezing the skin of your hips and waist with nothing to stop him.

You wrapped your index finger around the gold chain and pulled him forward, kissing him again, again, again and again and as many times as you wanted, you couldn't stop yourself.

You were so focused on the kiss, on moving your waist in just the right way to get all his reactions and whimpers, on the warm, soft skin against the palm of your hands, on the smell of him that intoxicated you, that you didn't miss his hands on your waist, and you weren't even surprised when the seat came down all at once, making you fall on top of him.

— What are you planning, Kim Mingyu? — you managed to ask between kisses and heavy sighs.

— You'll find out — he murmured against your lips. — And you'll love every second of it.

You felt your legs tremble and you rolled against him even harder, making him whimper softly and bite your lips hard. Mingyu stopped your hips, pushing you down a little just enough to unzip his pants and take out his cock that stood proudly up to his hips.

His red tip was shining from pre-cum, the veins that stood out on the skin, making you clench around nothing.

Mingyu moved his hand down your dress again, his fingertips slowly dragging over the thin fabric of your panties, teasing you.

— Gyu... — you whimpered.

— Tell me — he muttered against your mouth. — You need to tell me, pretty.

He enjoyed being a little teasing shit, finding fun in the way you react and your body trembles to his touches. Mingyu slides your panties to the side, his finger finally making contact to your clit.

— Please — you tried again, refusing to say it out loud.

— Nuh uh, baby, you need to say it.

— Gyu, please… — you started, but failed again.

— Poor little girl, can’t even use her words… — he teased you.

— Kim Mingyu, I swear to God if you… — your words were cut off by a groan when he slid his middle finger into your wet cunt.

Mingyu smirked when saw you struggling with your words again, just because of him. It's a complete ego booster for sure.

— If I..? — he suggested, provoking you again. — Come on, baby, what are you gonna do?

He slid a second finger, bending them to hit that specific spot that makes you tremble and gasp in his ears because of the stretch. You leaned forward, resting your hands on his chest and hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

You feel a knot forming in your low stomach and bite his shoulder to relieve some of the feeling, moving your hips by your own, chasing it.

Your whimpers became louder and more frequent and Mingyu took this as an incentive to go faster, always aiming for that spot that made you react the way he liked the most.

Sequenced moans of his name left your lips and you dug your nails harder into his shoulders. Involuntarily squirming to escape the overwhelming sensation that you were experiencing. And at the same time that you wanted Mingyu to continue, it was becoming too much.

You hold Mingyu’s wrist, trying to stop him, but it only makes him go harder on you. His free hand, grabbing your hips to make you quiet.

— Shh — he whispered into your ear. — It's ok, pretty, let it go.

Mingyu was slowly edging you to your high. His fingertips brushing against your soft walls plus his sweet voice praising you makes your toes curl. His actions turn all too much to handle and you feel losing yourself.

— That's it, baby, cum for me.

And you came, his name leaving your mouth as a chant, while your body grows even hotter. Mingyu continued moving his fingers, slower this time to help you come down from your high. He left several kisses on your shoulders, and caressed your back until your breathing regulated again.

You push his arms down, breathing heavily with your foreheads close to each other.

Mingyu began to caress your thighs to calm you down, kissing your lips tenderly, moving down to your chest and collarbones. In a burst of courage, you sat on him, still not sliding in, just an attempt to tease him the same way he did to you before.

He moans your name in response, a smug smirk adoring his lips and his hooded eyes staring directly at you in pure desire. — Stop the teasing, baby. — He said.

You grabbed his cock aligning him to your cunt. You went down slowly, holding your breath as you felt him open you inch by inch. His hands grabbed your hips harder, pushing you down to help you keep moving.

— Fuck… — He groaned when he reached the bottom. Despite the urgency Mingyu felt to move, he remained still so you could adjust to his size.

You whimpered in discomfort, not being used to his size, but somehow the initial stretch was kinda pleasant. The caress Mingyu gave your back and the little kisses he left on your shoulders were enough to calm you down a little and, still a bit insecure, you raised your hips, waited a little trying to prepare yourself emotionally, and lowered yourself again slowly.

Mingyu squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip hard. He wanted to take things at his own pace, so you would be comfortable, so you would enjoy it too, but you looked so beautiful and angelic in that short white dress and your frowning face that his inner self roared with the need to destroy you.

He wanted to take control, pin you against the leather seat and watch fat tears roll down your face, destroying your makeup with black mascara stains. You sped up little by little, gaining confidence as you moved, but it still wasn't enough and your thighs burned from the effort. You tried to keep going, wanting to get more grunts and moans out of Mingyu, but something was missing and so you stopped, hiding your face in his neck out of embarrassment.

— What happened? — he asked you, stroking your hair to comfort you.

— Tired… — you muttered. After a few seconds of silence you heard him laugh.

— Spoiled princess wants me to do all the work? — He asked you again, his voice dripping in a condescending tone.

— Please — you beg.

He blinked in astonishment, taken aback by you. His eyes darkened and he thrust his tongue against his cheek. — Move to the backseat!

You do as he says, moving to the back of the large car. Mingyu skillfully takes the seat again, pushing it closer to the steering wheel and gets out, walking around the car to the back seat. You lean your back against the door opposite the one Mingyu came in through, biting your lip in excitement.

He grabs your ankle, pulling you down. You slide into the seat, now lying on your back as Mingyu towers over you with all his splendor and size and you feel so small next to him — he has that effect on people.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you can kiss him again and circling his waist with your legs. Mingyu can only think about how you're going to be the death of him, but that moment doesn't last long as he's thrusting into you again. You moan louder, feeling him deeper than before.

The exchange of intense looks, foreheads colliding and the sloppy kisses constantly interrupted by sighs and moans add something more, intensifying all the feelings. His scent is surrounding you, making you dizzy and confused and Mingyu thrusts harder when he feels you scratch his back.

— More —you asked and Mingyu happily complied with your whining.

He holds your thigh, placing it above his shoulders, resting one of his arms on the window glass for support, going even deeper. You feel your high coming for the second time that night and involuntarily tighten around him, making him grunt and go harder.

You scratched his back, cumming again.

This time Mingyu followed you, spilling his cum inside you. The feeling was overwhelming, something you had never felt before and didn't imagine experiencing so soon, even less not being in a relationship with this person, but when it came to Mingyu everything felt so right.

— What are we now? — maybe you were reading the situation wrong and this was nothing more than a casual hookup, a one night thing, but you couldn’t help to feel your heart drop at this possibility.

— I’ll take you on a date — he answered simply.

— I think you reversed some steps — you joke, eliciting a breathy laugh from him.

Mingyu slid out slowly, but you still shivered in sensitivity. To reward him, he left several little kisses on your face.

— Maybe, but I’ll do it right this time. — He said. — Let’s get cleaned up and take you home.

You mumble in agreement, too tired to even respond and, unwillingly, you drag yourself back to the front seat. Mingyu leans towards you, fastening your seatbelt before leaving one last slow and deep kiss on your lips, one that you gladly return.

#suggestive #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu scenario #mingyu fanfic #mingyu imagine #seventeen imagine #svt imagines #svt fanfic #svt smut #mingyu fluff #svt fluff #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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mediocre-writing · 21 days ago

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Fic recs Jungkook

Some recs from JK too, please read them! They are amazing writers with amazing works.

The Jorts (M) | JJK - @gukslut

{Warnings} impreg kink. i’m tired. there’s cum. over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, cock-warming, doggy style, oral (f), dirty talk, swearing, ttc. it’s filth but its love, of course.

—

mature - @jiminrings

glimpse: the good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed.

—

MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국 - @lovieku

when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.

—

NNN (NO NUT NOVEMBER) ! ... thanksgiving special - @voyter

jungkook and his friends are all in on the internet's most ridiculous trend: no nut november. but you’re determined to make your boyfriend lose — and you know just how to do it.

—

Unspoken || Jungkook - @armpirate

Summary: You thought you had a happy relationship with your boyfriend, you were convinced nothing would ever come between you two. At least until you first met Jungkook, Mingyu's friend and base partner, for a holiday break. His pull toward you was immediate, but also forbidden. Neither of you needed to express how you felt about each other, your attraction was unspoken. Although it'd only get out of control the second you both confessed how you felt about each other.

—

swipe right - jjk | m - @ppersonna

♡ summary- after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

—

Put Your Head on My Shoulder - @kkukverse

Pair : husband!jk x wife!reader

—

LIE WITH YOU ⋆ JJK - @girlygguk

in which jungkook doesn't realize what he has until he just about loses it.

—

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges. - @onlyswan

—

admiring from afar - @jeonsalibi

summary: you owed a friend a favour, a favour which entailed a blind date. but the catch, it was only blind on your side.

#Jungkook x reader #Jungkook #BTS #bts #jeon jungkook #bts x fem!reader #bts recs #fic recs #jungkook recs

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alexiajjk · 2 months ago

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jungkook fic recs list (part 1) ౨ৎ

hi!! :) here’s a list of some of my favorite jungkook fics on this app. all of these authors are so talented and i absolutely love their writing! i have soooo many jk fics saved here so i might make another lists soon <3

a- angst f- fluff s- smut

series (completed)

the love prognosis by @awrkive

medical!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!(fem)reader, corporate lawyer!mingyu, rommates!au, f2l

for as long as you can remember, you've always been a hopeless romantic. the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

the cocktail trilogy by @borathae

strangers to lovers!au, diner!au, biker gang!au (a, f, s)

You always thought of your life as nothing exciting. Small town, stable job at the local diner, a roof over your head and nice friends. It didn’t take much to make you happy. But that all changes with the arrival of Jeon Jungkook, mysterious biker with dark hair, tattooed skin and a preference for leather jackets. It doesn’t take long for you to realise that life has so much more in store for you and Jungkook is happy to show you all of it…

inevitable by @ahundredtimesover

exes au, parents au, dad jungkook, baseball player jungkook (a, f, s)

You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

two point five by @bratkook

handyman!jungkook (f, s)

Who would have thought booking a handyman from an app would lead to this. Sure, you wish he’d mount you instead of just your television, but you could totally be friends. Right?

between takes by @jeonstudios

porn star!jk x f fluffer!reader, porn star au (a, f, s)

as a fluffer for a popular porn star, your focus is to keep him hard and performing on set. turns out he's not the only thing that's hard

chasing cars by @oddinary4bts

brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female reader, forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au (a, f, s)

when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

still don’t know my name by @dollfaceksj

mini three-shot, cybersex, enemies (s)

In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.

series (ongoing)

colour me in by @taegularities

fwb, fake dating, college!au (a, f, s)

Jungkook's door only opens for you when there's a barter: a trade of lust and haze. But today you knock for something more, as intriguing as it is frightening – and you hope it doesn't close his door forever.

mutual help by @personasintro

fake dating au, slow burn (a, f, s)

in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

to build a home by @soft4gguk

dilf!jk x nanny!oc / ceo! jk / strangers to lovers (a, f, s)

at twenty-eight, jungkook sees himself go from a family of three, to one of two - heartbreak never comes easy, but nothing could've prepared him for being a single parent as a result of Ira walking out on him. pain brings chaos and he's in need of help. it's only fateful that you so happen to be a blessing in disguise... in many ways than one.

oneshots

jump then fall (into you) by @writtenwhalien

cruise au, fake dating au, best friends to lovers au (a, f, s)

bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

not in that way by @girlygguk

childhood bffs2l (a, f, s)

in which you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, min yoongi. meanwhile, your other best friend, jeon jungkook, is hopelessly in love with you.

star behind waves by @taegularities

estranged best friends to lovers, vacation/beach!au (a, f, s)

With a decade’s distance between Jungkook and you, your paths cross on the same island you deemed your second home years ago. And you realise once again – the ocean can never compare to the twinkle in his starry eyes.

seven storms by @wintaerbaer

forbidden love (a, f, s)

As a young woman of considerable wealth, it has always been your father's expectation that you would marry one of the local aristocrats once you came of age. Your family's stable hand? Certainly not an option

self-care sunday by @shina913

nailtech!Jungkook, meet cute (f)

You arrive at your mani-pedi appointment to find out that your usual technician is unexpectedly out. Instead, the salon owner’s son offers to do your nails instead.

#jungkook fic #jungkook fic recs #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts jungkook #bts fics #jungkook series #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x reader #bts fic recs #alexia’s favs

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jejewonster · 1 month ago

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Training Wheels

i love everything you do, when you call fucking dumb for the stupid shit i do ⋅˚ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋆˙

˚₊‧⁺˖ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f! reader ˚₊‧⁺˖ genre: dubcon, smut (MDNI 18+ ONLY) ˚₊‧⁺˖ wc: 3.2k

— wonwoo is sick of your childish crush on him. unforutunately his friends are assholes and forces him in a room alone with you.

˚₊‧⁺˖ smut tags & warnings: mean!wonwoo, obsessive!reader, asshole!wonwoo, corruption kink, DUBCON, creampie, fingering, spanking, multiple postions, innocence kink. seungcheol and mingyu are mentioned, wonwoo finds reader annoying, wonwoo is a huge asshole. ˚₊‧⁺˖ a/n: read my guidlines. don't like don't read. block me if this isn't your cup of tea. thank you @discoverhansol for beta reading ♡.

a sequence of familiar dings of wonwoo’s ringtone silences the middle of his conversation. seungcheol and mingyu send him a knowing look, their smiles cheeky as if they already know who’s blowing up his phone.

[@/yourusername] hi wonu!! have a good day at school >.< lmk if u received the pastry and latte i got u hehe i had to give it to gyu cuz i couldn’t find u :((( see u during econ :3 <3 [read at 12:37 p.m. ]

wonwoo frowns at his phone; he doesn’t understand why you keep trying to get close to him or why you even like him, but it’s starting to piss him off. the teasing from both seungcheol and mingyu doesn’t help either. wonwoo is on the brink of insanity and you won’t let go of your stupid crush on him.

sure, he’s popular, he’s hot, and girls are gonna like him. but for some reason you have a knack for getting under his skin. in his three years of university, no girl has ever been so diligent in pursuing him, not like you. just the ping he gets from his instagram dm’s ticks him off, because no one else sends him more texts in a row, not like you. he hates how you’ve gotten his friends to do your bidding, like the smirk on mingyu’s face when he hands him your meaningless gifts.

“another text from your girlfriend?” cheol snickers, leaning over the dining hall table to peek at wonwoo’s phone.

blood rushes through wonwoo’s body with vigour. he’s red with anger, not embarrassment. he hates when dumb and dumber refer to you as his girlfriend. god forbid.

“fuck off. she wishes she was my girfriend,” wonwoo yanks the phone to his chest, not wanting to have new material to tease him about.

“whatever you say man, she’s still hot,” mingyu interjects, popping a fry into his mouth.

“who cares how hot she is, she’s fucking nuts,” wonwoo scoffs, rolling his eyes at mingyu.

“you’re an idiot. if someone like her was obsessed with me i’d at least hit it once,” mingyu argues.

wonwoo can’t even fathom the thought of fucking you. not when you’re constantly in his dm’s trying to get his attention. the desperation you display practically reeks off his phone. it repels any thought of finding you attractive from his mind.

“really? you haven’t thought about once?” cheol asks him, an expression of disbelief painted on his face.

wonwoo tries to recall a time when he found you normal. at the beginning of the semester, there was a slight chance. slight chance, that he found you cute. but after the one project you two did together, his opinion on you changed drastically.

you became irritating, texting him randomly throughout the day. he was polite at first, replying with curt responses. but then came the unsolicited gifts. first, it was coffee, his favourite. how you found out his usual, he’s unsure. then came the matching items. overly cute couple's phone cases that went into the trash immediately. then it was the homemade baked goods and food. at first, he tried not to let it get to him, but it became too much. you were so obviously obsessed and no matter what he did, you would find a way to shower with him with unwanted attention.

the thought of you under him makes him shiver. flushed cheeks, long lashes fluttering under the dim lights, the sounds of your moans. wonwoo takes a sip of his water. what the hell is your problem?

“no. and i’m not going to. ever.”

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋆˙

the moment wonwoo walked into seungcheol’s house, his smile dropped. the moment he walked through the door, his eyes found you standing alone, sipping at your drink while the party patrons didn’t bother to even glance your way. of fucking course you’re here. he doesn’t know how you even found out about him attending, but he wasn’t about to let it ruin his night.

“wonwoo!” mingyu hollers from across the living room.

the deafening bass of the speaker stabs at his eardrums, but that's not his highest concern at the moment. you are.

he attempts to ignore how he can feel your eyes flit to him the moment you hear mingyu call his name. your stare is so intense that goosebumps begin to raise on his skin.

“bro, what the fuck! now she knows i’m here,” wonwoo curses his idiot friend out.

with his jaw clenched, he can still feel you watching him. it creeped him out, but there's nowhere to hide. stupid rich seungcheol and his stupid open lay out mansion.

“so? who cares, it’s not like she’s actually gonna–” mingyus words are cut off the moment he looks over wonwoo’s shoulder.

“hi wonwoo!” your voice is too cheerful for his liking.

there are so many things running through his mind. whether he should curse you out, completely ignore your existence, or if he should just go home. how is he supposed to enjoy the one weekend where he actually has free time if you keep bothering him?

“oh, hey! we were just talking about how wonwoo wanted to talk to you. privately,” mingyu brings wonwoo out of his train of thought.

his eyes widen, a silent attestation to whatever mingyu was planning in that fucked up brain of his.

“wait, really?”

wonwoo still had his back turned towards you. from an outsiders point of view he can only presume that anyone could see how he was shaking with anger. what the fuck, kim mingyu?

“yeah! anyways, you guys have fun. i gotta find cheol,” mingyu’s smile drips with fraudulence.

if wonwoo was angry then, he’s seething now. mouthing a ‘you’re dead’ to mingyu as he feels your fingers grip onto his bicep, waiting for him to whisk you away like some phony princess.

before mingyu leaves him, he whispers one last remark, “just fuck her, man. she’ll forget about you once she gets it out of her system.”

his voice is low but just loud enough for wonwoo to hear. he almost punches mingyu right then and there, but for some reason, something in him decides to just go with the flow of the situation.

at least he’ll get something out of this, right?

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋆˙

the door locks with an audible click. fuck it. if wonwoo was gonna do this, then he might as well make sure no one catches him.

“what did you want to talk about?” you break the silence, wonwoo almost jumps at the sound of your voice.

“you like me, right?” wonwoo turns to face you.

your eyes are doe-like, looking up at him like he’s the answer to all your problems. pathetic.

as he crosses his arms, he strides towards you until he can feel your breath brush against his chest. the look you give him almost has him wondering if this isn’t as a bad idea as he initially thought.

“i-i mean yeah. i guess you could say that,” you mutter, avoiding eye contact as wonwoo bores holes into your skin. he can feel the swirl of annoyance begin to manifest within his stomach.

now you wanted to play coy? as if he can’t sniff the desperation that leaks through your pores. it’s pitiful, if anything, how much of a slut you are for his attention. god, wonwoo can’t stand you sometimes, it makes him want to rip his hair out.

he supposes that fucking his frustration out of his system may be the one thing that could relieve him of the stress you give him.

“if you like me, you’ll do anything right?” wonwoo continues to tiptoe his way into getting you to at least suck him off.

“anything. really, i’ll even pay for our date!” you gush, finally meeting his gaze.

wonwoo guffaws at your answer. not only are you desperate, but you’re dumb too. it makes sense honestly, no one with an IQ over eighty-five would spend this much time trying to get their crush to like them back.

“get on your knees then. show me how much you like me,” he commands, and you freeze upon his words.

a laugh threatens to escape his throat. wonwoo stands there half in disbelief and half in intrigue. he watches as you slowly descend to your knees, your eyes searching for his next command.

actually, wonwoo could get used to this. you looked like a dog waiting for their owner to give them a reward.

“like this?” you mumble, the blush on your cheeks apparent even with how dimly lit seungcheol’s guest bedroom is.

“just like that.”

you’re shaking like a leaf, and wonwoo is starting to believe that this is going to be a lot more entertaining than he initially thought. who knew you would be so obedient?

“you ever sucked a cock before?” wonwoo asks, not that he cares all that much about your sexual history.

“mm. n-no,” you whisper, your brows strews together with confusion.

wonwoo is genuinely surprised. he would’ve at least thought you’ve gotten some sort of action. he can admit you’re attractive, but your delusional state just overshadows your natural beauty.

“then i’ll be your first,” wonwoo drawls, and he can see the way your eyes flash with panic.

“w-wait, i thought you wanted to talk?” you quickly get up from your knees, the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“you really think i took you into a room, just the two of us, to talk?” wonwoo bellows out a laugh.

he didn’t expect you to be so naive, but it only eggs him on further. a sweet little virgin, too innocent for her own good. now that, wonwoo can’t let go. he came into this with reluctance, but fucking virgin pussy is too enticing to pass up.

“i thought you wanted to tell me you liked me back,” you gulp.

your footsteps backtrack until you hit a wall. wonwoo crowds you, like a lamb to a slaughter, you stand there with hope depleted from your once glimmering eyes. and wonwoo’s ready to go in for the kill.

“show me how bad you want me. maybe i’ll change your mind,” wonwoo propositions.

grasping at your waist, he feels the heat of your exposed skin. your top is dishevelled from the sheer force of his grip. as if his words can compel you to do anything he asks, you smash your lips into him. the kiss is clumsy, and messy, he can only conclude you’ve never done anything like this before.

pulling away, he catches his breath. he despises how strongly his dick twitches in his pants. as much as he doesn’t want to indulge in your fantasies, an opportunity such as this one doesn’t arise often.

“you poor little thing. you don’t even know how to kiss someone properly,” he breathes out, grabbing your jaw hard enough that your cheeks squish upon his touch.

“w-wonwoo, can we just talk? this seems wrong,” you beg, but your pleas only arouse him further.

“i thought you liked me?”

“i do!” you argue.

“then kiss me like you mean it.”

you lean in again, eyebrows furrowed with determination. he can tell you’re actually trying now. to appease him, to give him what he wants, because why wouldn’t you? wonwoo is aware of how much you want him, he should’ve realized sooner that he could use it to his advantage.

the softness of your lips alongside the dedication behind your actions forces a groan to leave him. he grips your waist tighter, enough to leave bruises along your delicate skin. the whimper you let out has wonwoo straining against his pants.

pulling you in closer, wonwoo rubs his clothed erection against your torso. the friction causes sparks to erupt under his fingertips. those same fingertips trail on your bare skin, slowly traversing their way up your stomach and under your shirt.

wonwoo’s large palms cup at your breasts, enjoying the fact he can access your nipples without the barrier of a bra in his way. the moan you let is wonwoo’s worst nightmare. not because it’s unpleasant, but because he hates that your sounds are getting him turned on despite his obvious disdain toward you.

“wonwoo… i don’t think this is right,” you whine, but your words fall on deaf ears as he keeps you anchored against the wall.

you can’t escape him even if you tried.

“if you don’t do what i ask of you, then you can leave,” wonwoo becomes increasingly more irritated the more you protest his advances.

you wanted this, so he’s gonna give you it.

“but what about our date?” you pout, lips swollen and bitten.

there’s conflict behind your eyes, like you knew this wasn’t wanted but better than anything he’s given you the moment you started liking him.

wonwoo is quick to silence you. he doesn’t want to hear about whatever delusions you’ve conjured up in your head. his dick is hard and he wants to cum.

a gasp leaves your lips, he can’t have you running your mouth when his cock is starting to pulse so hard that it’s becoming uncomfortable. his hands leave your pebbled nipples to grab onto your thighs. lifting you up, he throws you onto the mattress, and you yelp from surprise.

“don’t be stupid. all you wanted was for me to notice you. so just take what i give you,” wonwoo grunts, prying your legs open.

fuck, if you’re not gonna suck him off, then he needs to be inside you now or he’ll cum in his pants.

the patch of arousal on your panties doesn’t go unnoticed. of course, you’re secretly enjoying this. he should’ve known you were secretly a whore for him. flipping your skirt up, he rips off your panties off in one go. he needs to be inside you in the next second or he’s gonna bust a load in his pants.

“w-wait, i’m not ready,” you complain again.

wonwoo’s deciding whether or not to gag you, but for some reason your high pitched objection gets him rock hard. the thought of you begging him to stop gets the blood pumping straight to his shaft.

your shirt is discarded not long after, and you lie there helpless, panting and clearly in need of attention to your poor untouched hole.

“i-it hurts wonwoo, help me please,” you whine, a tear slipping from the corner of your eyes.

“where? show me where and i can give you what you want,” wonwoo’s eyebrows raise with intrigue.

your fingers move down slowly until they touch right where he’s been fantasizing about the moment he got you to fess up about your innocence.

“r-right here. please, i don’t know what to do. it just hurts,” you hiccup, grabbing his hand and pushing it towards your dripping heat.

he smirks at your desperate countenance, the part in your pink lips, wet with his saliva and swollen from the intensity of his kiss. wonwoo had to get his cock into you. now.

“fuck, you’re dripping like crazy,” wonwoo mutters.

with your hand clasped in his, the size difference between the two of you is hard to ignore. your fingers are so tiny compared to his, he wonders if you’ve even touched yourself. do your fingers even properly fill your tiny cunt? or do you have to shove a dildo inside yourself in order to feel any sort of satisfaction? wonwoo’s thoughts run as the tips of his fingers come in contact with your searing heat.

the groan wonwoo lets out is strained. your breath hitches at his touch as he begins to rub your clit. the sounds that escape your lips has wonwoo panting along with you. while moving toward your neck, he leaves deep red bruises along your soft skin while he slips a finger past your folds.

your pussy squeezes around his single digit with such force that it causes him to grunt. you’re so fucking tight.

“holy fuck, you’re secretly a desperate little slut, aren’t you? don’t you feel this, baby? you’re gripping my finger like crazy,” wonwoo mutters against your skin.

“i-i can’t. wonwoo please it hurts,” you squirm under him, but his free hand keeps you in place.

his body hovering over yours, he watches as you come undone from a few strokes of his hand. the lips he had on your exposed shoulder return back to yours until your orgasm hits. your breathy gasps fill the room and you clench down, the flood of your arousal coating his hand.

“gonna fuck this tight little cunt till you’re dripping in my cum,” wonwoo mutters, standing up to rid himself of his clothing.

the moment his pants hit the floor, his body is on yours. pushing your legs to your chest, he folds you in half. the tip of his cock leaking with precum from not receiving any attention the whole time he’s been playing with you. wonwoo grips his length, rubbing himself against your soaking cunt, you’re so wet that he knows he can slip in without a problem.

you stare down at his dick in sheer panic, “w-wait, it’s too big.”

wonwoo doesn’t care. he just needs to cum.

“you act like you don’t want this. but this pussy of yours is practically crying for my cock,” wonwoo grunts before shoving his length inside you till he bottoms out.

a half scream, half moan leaves your lips, your eyes rolling back as wonwoo thrusts into you. there’s a slight arch in your back as wonwoo pistons his hips. the heat of your pussy enveloping his length is addictive.

wonwoo buries himself in your neck, his breath harsh against your skin. the only thing to be heard is the snap of his hips bullying into your hole.

“it feels so good,” you whimper as you lace your fingers through his hair.

pulling at the strands, wonwoo indulges in the pain along with the pleasure of your walls massaging his pulsing member. he should’ve thought of doing this a lot sooner.

“mmph–w-wonoo, i can’t, i-it hurts again,” you cry out, and wonwoo almost releases his load at the sound of your moans.

but he can’t finish just yet.

relinquishing you from his hold, he moves back to flip you over. forcing your ass into the air, he enters you once again. the position allowing him to fill your tiny hole to the brim. his balls slap against your clit, and your screams are muffled by the mattress he’s forcing your face into.

“should’ve fucked you sooner, f-fuck. gonna make this tiny cunt of yours mine and mine only,” wonwoo growls, and he can feel your pussy clench at his words.

“you like that don’t you? the thought of me fucking this pussy every night?” he chuckles, spanking your ass.

“i-i love it, please. it feels so good,” your answer stifled by the sheets shoved into your face.

the bed creaks along with his movements, and his cock is starting to twitch inside you. continuing to leave red hand marks on your skin, he allows himself to still in your cunt, his cum spurting into you and overflowing past your swollen pussy lips.

pulling you by your hair, he leans forward to whisper in your ear.

“we’re not done. you’re gonna let me fuck that mouth of yours too.”

#seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #dovenet #wonwoo x reader #tw: dubcon #seventeen x reader #svt smut #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #svt fanfic

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year ago

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Cherry Boy. [l.c.]

Chapter One of "Losing it". Reminder that each chapter in this series is stand alone and can be read without reading any of the others!

A new relationship is always difficult to navigate, for Chan, it appears to be even more difficult. For you? You’re just left confused as to why your new boyfriend of a month and a half hasn’t made a move on you despite your very obvious attempts to invite him into your personal space. You soon realize that your boyfriend is a virgin, and that’s why he’s always running away with his hands covering his bits, even through a simple goodnight kiss.

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | reblog for chan's happy trail

WORDCOUNT― 10k

PAIRING― lee chan x afab reader

CONTENT― brief break up due to horrible communication skills, virginity loss, reader gets super insecure about her body and personality, fluff, smut obv

NOTE― This is the reason I gave chan the first chapter in the series. It's because of those pics...you know the ones. Anyway, shoutout to @ressonancee and @onlyhuis for proof reading this for me! love u guys with my entire being!

smut tags under cut::

SMUT TAGS― virginity loss, makeout session, neck kissing, tit fondling, unprotected sex, belly button kissing, mentions and focus on his happy trail, he’s ticklish oops, blowjob, premature ejaculation, pussy drunk chan forgets how to speak, desperate sex babbling, finger fucking, hand and cock guiding, cream pie

Chan has a dilemma, and yes, it’s one that most men would scoff at.

Trust him when he says that he is so very aware of what is happening around him but he simply cannot manage to muster up the courage, strength, or confidence to admit to you, his lovely and patient girlfriend, that he’s dodging your advances solely because he is the text-book definition of virgin.

He is not only nervous about having sex for the first time, but there also comes the weight of him either not being good enough when he tries, or you laughing in his face and mocking him for it.

You, on the other hand, wouldn’t be so fucking in your head if he really could just muster up a tiny amount of confidence to say that to you.

It has been almost two months now since he asked you to be his girlfriend, and throughout this time never once has he done more than a gentle kiss to your lips or lying a slight guiding hand to your waist. It feels so… juvenile, so… middle school for a boyfriend to treat you this way.

Seeing as how the first three dates you went on with him seemed to suggest he was more than willing to be a fulfilling boyfriend who can, hopefully, fill all of the roles that comes with the title– you’re starting to second guess that he ever liked you at all.

Perhaps the twenty-four year old man asked you that night to be his girlfriend out of pity. Or maybe he’s simply changed his mind about you. Regardless of the reason for why he acts like this, it’s getting to you.

Deeply, actually, by this point. It only stung a bit at first, but now it’s starting to feel like he has to be with you as a joke. Why else would he be consistent in wanting to hang out? Why else would he always be inviting you out on well-priced dates and buying you pretty gifts?

It’s a joke.

It has to be a joke.

Oh, but that’s so far from the truth. If you would simply open your eyes, perhaps you’d notice the struggle that your polite little boyfriend goes through each time you try to suggest he make an advance on you.

Even the slight kisses, it makes him suffer from embarrassment at how quickly his body reacts to you.

He likes you so, so fucking much.

“I don’t think I’m feeling it today.” You respond to the muffled voice of your “boyfriend” on the phone, asking if he can come over to see you.

“What? Why not?” He asks back, his voice concerned.

“Do you want me to be honest?” You finally say with a long and annoyed sigh, giving up on any hope that this relationship will ever go any further than it already has.

You’re fed up with feeling unwanted, undesired, and possibly even uninteresting. He’s the one person in your life that you care about when it comes to who you are and what you look like. His reaction, or lack thereof, regarding you as both a person and his girlfriend feels astonishing and does nothing more than make you question what it is that you’re doing wrong.

It has to be you, right? Perhaps your body isn’t as pretty as he wants it to be, is that it? Or maybe your voice annoys him? God, what if he cringes thinking of how you’d move if he were to actually have sex with you? What if he doesn’t think about it at all?

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to let the intense insecurity weigh on you. You always promised yourself that you’d never let a man make you rethink your worth.

You need to live up to that promise.

“Chan, it’s been nice and all, but I think we should break up.”

The silence he offers to you is entirely too loud, and feels more like a confirmation in your head that this is the exact choice you should be making right now.

He’s thrown for a loop though, standing at his kitchen table staring off at the wall as you say those words.

What did he do wrong?

“Wha–” He cuts himself off, trying to find words to say. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

You let out another breathy sigh, annoyed at the way he plays dumb.

“I’m shocked you’re asking me that. I’ve been wondering if you were ever going to break up with me yourself, y’know?” You let out a sad little chuckle before you feel that insecurity he instilled in you burn against your eyes. “I’m just making it easy for you, so that you can go and spend your time with someone that you’d rather be around.”

He pauses, still dumbfounded by what you’re saying.

“Why are you saying that?” He bellows out in a deeper tone, making you feel as though he’s angry with you now. “I’d rather be around you.”

“Oh? Is that right?” You roll your eyes now, annoyed. “Is that why you push me away when I try to kiss you? Or what about– what about when you left the party last week after I sat on your lap?”

Ah. He knew it. He knew he should have admitted it. Despite his consistent apologies for his body acting on instinct to run away from you, he should have really tried to see from your point of view rather than his own. Even if he only ran to hide the fact that he is horribly aroused by you at all times, in every given moment.

You can hear a pained groan fall from his lips, and a door opening on his end.

“I’m coming over.”

He doesn’t let you protest, and instead hangs up the phone. You sit there in silence at his rejection of your break up. As if it were his choice? As if he had any say in it? You want to break up, that’s final.

Still, that doesn’t explain why you don’t call him back to tell him not to come. It also doesn’t explain why your heart is thumping against your chest in anticipation.

Or, maybe there is something to explain why you’re feeling butterflies over his blatant refusal. Perhaps, this is the first time you’ve felt wanted by him?

That also makes it worse. Why should your boyfriend make you feel this way only when you’re breaking up with him? Why can you only see that he cares when he’s faced with the idea of losing you? By the way he’s acting, you can argue that he wouldn’t be losing anything precious to him if you were to walk out of his life right this moment.

Still, you sit here in wait. More curious now to see if maybe you'll figure out why he refuses to look at or touch you in a way that would show you he wants you.

The first thing Chan does when he steps through the door of your apartment is slip his shoes off. The second thing he does is stand there awkwardly, as if every thought left his head upon seeing your face.

You look like you’ve been crying.

“This is my fault.” He says with a slight crack in his voice. “Because I keep hiding from you….right?”

You nod silently, remaining on your couch that faces his timid and stiffened figure.

He stares at you, examining the consequences of his own actions.

“You want to break up because I haven’t tried to, like, do things with you.” He winces as he says it, struggling to not feel awkward talking about having sex. He’s embarrassed, but would be even more embarrassed if he lost a girlfriend over this.

“That’s not the only reason.” You shake your head, looking away from him and to your hands as you pick at your nail beds. “I’d be okay with no sex if you’d simply tell me why. The fact that you haven’t told me anything–” Your voice cracks a little bit, feeling stupid for being so emotional over such a short lived relationship. “It kind of destroyed my confidence.”

He watches the way you refuse eye contact, which is something that stabs him directly in the stomach. He can feel it drop to the floor, adrenaline making its way into that empty space you’re creating for him.

“Before we break up, I just want to know why it took this for you to act like you genuinely might have feelings for me.”

He stumbles over his thoughts the same way he stumbles over his feet trying to approach you.

By now, he doesn’t think he can ever feel more embarrassed than he does at this moment. He crouches down in front of you, sad that you didn’t laugh at the way he nearly knocked himself out on your living room floor. Then he looks at you, chasing your line of sight as if to reassure you through nothing but the air in the room.

“I was afraid you’d laugh at me.” He starts, and after seeing that your expression doesn’t change even a little bit, he continues. “You seemed so into me that I–” He takes a deep breath, willing himself to be as honest as he can be. “I just didn’t know how to act.”

You look at him with irritation at those words.

“Of course I was fucking into you. Why else would I have agreed to be your girlfriend?” You roll your eyes, pushing yourself back into the couch cushions and away from his crouched body. “Think about how I feel. The fact that you just watch me throw myself at you time and time again? The fact that you rejected me every single time? How is that not giving you the answers you need as to why I’m breaking up with you?”

He takes note of that heightened voice of yours, defensive and likely more hurt than you’re letting on.

“Listen–” He breathes in, trying to internally hype himself up to bite the bullet.

You were listening, but he’s keeping whatever it is he’s thinking about in his head for just a second too long.

“No, I think we’re done h-”

“I’m a virgin.” He interrupts you, lowering his gaze to the floor and refusing eye contact with you.

Your eyes shoot to him though. The last thing you would have expected was for him to be a–

“You’re–” You try to repeat his words for confirmation, but he interrupts you again.

“I can promise you it’s not because I don’t want to do these things with you.” He says, still staring at the floor. “It’s because I was afraid that you’d lose interest over it.”

Your mouth falls open as you look at him, every feeling of frustration in your body disappearing almost immediately.

“It’s because I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to, like, be any good at it.” He continues to admit. “I was trying to work up the courage to tell you, or to just like, do it.” He rambles, now scooting back and standing up to his feet. “And if you still want to break up, I understand. I just thought I at least owed you an explanation.”

You watch as he nods to himself in an unsure way, turns on his heel, and heads back to the door to slip his shoes back on.

You sit in stunned silence as your brain erases every single insecurity you gained over this month and a half relationship before jumping to your feet. If anyone could have been more insecure about this than you were, it was him. And now that you can see that, the guilt hits you twice as hard as the presumed break up would have.

“You’re a virgin?” You ask, though that wasn’t at all the words you intended to say. “I mean, you kept pushing me away because you didn’t want to disappoint me?”

He nods timidly, halting his body and still refusing to look at you.

He has one shoe on, and his other foot half in the other when you make your way over to him, closing the distance quickly and confidently.

“Don’t leave.” You say first, before physically moving his body for him to remove that foot from his half-on shoe. “Chan, I’m your girlfriend. We can wait for as long as you need, I just...”

You pause, now feeling annoyed with yourself for making it about you. Then again, it’s not like you could read his mind. Though, thinking back to all of those instances where he pulled away from you before, perhaps you could have read context clues a little better.

“I didn’t know–” You trail off, now determined to save the relationship that both of you accidentally started to sink. “Did I make you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

He feels…relieved by your words. Saying you could wait, asking what it is that made him so afraid to admit it.

Finally, he presses one foot against his other, pulling his foot out of his shoe and stepping back, looking at you with eyes fonder than you’ve ever seen them.

“It’s not that I felt I couldn’t tell you. I was just embarrassed.”

You very nearly coo out at him, but you keep your distance with both your words and your body now.

“It’s not that I’m not ready to lose it. Especially with you.” He admits, glancing at you for a reaction before sighing. “I think I’ve been ready for a long time, again, I was just embarrassed and also knew that I should probably tell you at some point…”

“You want to give your virginity to me?”

You watch as he blows his hair up through puckered lips, rolling his eyes before smiling at you.

“It’s not that I view virginity as sacred or anything either. There’s just a lot of weight that people tend to put on it, and I wasn’t sure how you’d react.” He tries to explain as his body relaxes by the minute. “I wanted you to be my first time, yeah. When I asked you to be my girlfriend, I knew I wanted you to be the one to show me what all the hype is about.”

You’d laugh if it weren’t for the fact that this is still kind of a touchy subject. You’re not entirely sure how you feel about being someone’s first time, but you know you have feelings for him and to deny him of sex after you blatantly wanted it so bad from him…Okay, maybe you’re just in your head. Of course you’d be happy to be his first time.

Ecstatic even.

“So….” You sway on your feet, looking up at the ceiling before landing your eyes on him playfully. “It’s not because you think I’m disgusting or like, not living up to the standards you want for a girlfriend?”

“Jesus, no.” He says.

You watch him scratch the back of his head, still probably embarrassed by how low this relationship had fallen due to the awful communication skills.

“And you’re also kind of admitting that you have thought about it?” You continue, prying out the words you’ve wanted to hear so badly since you met him.

He pulls back only a little bit, his cheeks warming at the words and the way his brain automatically thrusts him into the thoughts of all of those nights where he absolutely fucking thought about it.

“Y-yeah. Yes. I have thought about it.” He nods in a self-reassuring way as his eyes land on everything in the room but you.

You’re quick to give him your own reassurance though, trying to learn his boundary now that the secret is out and the relationship appears to have a second chance at succeeding.

He can feel you close in on him, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling your face against his neck. There, he holds you back, breathing in deep and feeling the scent of you wash through his body.

Quite literally actually. As he would normally avoid, his lower half reacts far too quickly to even the simplest of touches from you.

He pulls back on instinct, but you don’t release your grip this time.

“You seem as ready as ever, I’ll admit.” You laugh upon feeling him stiffen against you, but you really do try not to shame him for it. “Still, we can wait until you feel ready enough to give it a shot, okay?”

He nods, entirely reassured by the way you don’t press up against it or comment any further about the happenings in his pants right now. Then he sighs out.

“I can imagine I must look like an idiot right now, getting hard over a fucking hug.” He finally says as he pulls from the hug and makes his way back to your living room. “But we’re okay, right? You’re not breaking up with me?”

You follow after him, keeping your sexual distance, but absolutely indulging in the loving, sweet, and careful cuddling you’ve wanted to do with him for so long now.

He appears comfortable when you tuck yourself under his arm and rest your head on his chest before answering him.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” You say, feeling his chest heave with each breath and intentionally ignoring the blatant tent in his pants slowly fall back into its flaccid position as he calms down. “It’s kinda cute, you know? That you were so worried about it.”

His cheeks are still on fire, willing his body to calm itself through this sweet session of cuddling. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment with you, and still, it is embarrassing in the way he knows you’re ignoring it for his sake too.

But goddamn, how heavenly it would be for you to like, touch it right now…..or something.

“Never thought of it as cute, if I’m being honest.” He tries to joke. “If anything, maybe it's a little pathetic on my part.”

You shake your head against him, feeling more confident of your place in his life.

“Pathetic? Don’t be mean to yourself. Besides, it’s kind of hot knowing that you got so turned on over a simple hug.” You laugh, hoping you’re not crossing a boundary. “No wonder you ran so fast when I sat on your lap, I definitely would have felt that on me.”

“Alright, alright–” He tries to hush you of your playful remarks, but ultimately, if you really think it’s an attractive aspect of whatever sexual dynamic the two of you will come to have, he’s going to make damn sure you see just how fucking turned on you make him.

Things are good. Great even, now that you can pin point each moment your boyfriend gets a little too overwhelmed with you. He does still push you away, probably out of instinct but he doesn’t shy away nearly as much from intimate moments with you. Especially if the two of you are alone together.

You’re a bit more careful in public or with friends though, because the last thing you want to do is make him feel insecure about it. Still, there are playful moments where you indulge in the act of touching him or kissing him just to get him excited, just to watch him stutter his way through ordering something.

The point is, you almost ended a relationship with someone who, arguably, makes you feel more wanted than you ever knew you could. It’s nice, and it feels good.

Even now, this is only your second full on make-out session with him, you feel absolutely adored. It’s cute in the way he’s trying to train himself to not get hard at even the simplest of touches, it’s even cuter when his efforts fail miserably and he’s arching his body away from you as if he could even hide what he’s packing.

You don’t push for more, despite wanting it badly. He also doesn’t push…despite also wanting it just as much as you do, if not more. He still seems to need a push of confidence to actually go any further than a nice, non-body touching makeout session.

This is fine though, and you indulge far more than you ever knew you would when it comes to this kind of thing. As if simply licking into his mouth is foreplay enough to counter a fucking blowjob for him.

Never in your life did you think you’d be this into the fact that your boyfriend is a virgin. And it’s not even that he’s never had sex, it’s that he seems to want it so bad, and there’s just something about a man who is desperate that gets you going these days.

Still, kissing him is something that fulfills you, especially with the way he’s avoiding his lower half and keeping it away from you.

He kisses you back in a telling way though, more telling than that tent in his sweatpants that you can visualize even while your eyes are closed. He radiates the arousal through the way he moves his lips against yours, and the way he lets out little suffering sounds when you kiss him harder and harder.

His hands stay against your face, neck, and sometimes your waist, but god. His kissing is genuinely just so good with the way it tells on him every few seconds.

And when he pulls back, he’s out of breath, flushed, and looking as if he would want nothing more than for you to hint, to lay down some sort of implication that he can cling to for relief from the heaviness that’s been in his pants since the fucking relationship started.

You wonder if tonight is the night, because he doesn’t appear to want to stop making out like he did last time. If anything, as he looks at you with those heaving breaths, you can tell he’s thinking harder than he ever has about it.

“Chan,” You whisper out to him, just inches from his face. “Do you think of me?”

When he keeps his eyes on you, seemingly stunned by your question, you continue.

“Do you think of me after you leave? When you’re all by yourself in your room–” You turn your head so that your eyes can trail to the space he is attempting to keep from you. “When you’re touching yourself?”

He feels the words run straight through him, causing an utterly pathetic twitch in his pants. The way your voice comes out soft and sensual as you ask him, as you look at him. He doesn’t even remember words at this moment, not even a simple “yes”.

He tries to answer by losing a little bit of his self control, turning your head back to him with his palm just so he can chase against your lips out of the sheer arousal, but you pull away.

“Do you?” You continue, encouraging him to answer you.

“So much,” He wills himself to whisper confidently, ignoring the fact that his body just forced him to rut up and against nothing, all for you to see. “Every time I leave,” He puts emphasis on his words. “Sometimes I can’t even make it home first.”

You smile at the image of him rubbing against himself in his car, so desperate to relieve himself of what you do to him each time he comes to see you. Not even making it out of the seatbelt before releasing all over himself, all in his pants. Shaking, panting, all alone and without you.

“Cute,” You chuckle, finally turning your head slightly and landing a pop kiss on him. “I think of you when I do it too, every time you leave.”

He looks at you, willing his hips to stay put as he thinks about the image of you doing that in this very room, to images and thoughts of him.

“You do?” He asks for reassurance easily.

“Mhm,” You look away from him as you sit straight up and then scoot down the bed. There, you lay yourself down against your pillows and look at him. “Come here.”

He’s reluctant to take your hand. But even he can admit that this side by side makeout session is starting to hurt his neck, and you’re clearly asking him to get on top of you right now.

“You don’t have to but, Chan–” You say, looking down, “I don’t want you to leave this time.”

Well, shit, all you had to do was say that. Honestly, the way you look at him with pure acceptance is enough to push him past the wall in his head that keeps him from finally trying to take the next step. You accept him as he is now, surely you’d accept him if he…. doesn’t last, right? What about if he isn’t good at it?

Still, he finds himself planting one hand on the other side of your head to balance himself on top of you. Still just hovering, not yet wanting or willing to, you know, put it against you.

You smile.

“It’s okay, I can tell you’re nervous. We don’t have to do anything else, I’m happy with just this.”

And then you both fall back into another, much more comfortable and natural feeling, makeout session.

As much as you’d love for him to try and take control, his reluctance allows you to contain yourself. It allows you to respect him and his decision of whether or not he wants to do anything more than this. Still, this satisfies you. And if he really does stay, maybe he wouldn’t be entirely against watching you take care of your own arousal for him. Maybe he’d feel better watching even, taking notes on what you like, learning where to touch you.

And you know, that really would have been okay but you can’t help but feel like he’s definitely wanting more. With the way his lips grow hungrier rather than more tired, with the way he’s starting to moan shamelessly into your mouth, with the way his hands are trying to travel to more intimate places on your body before stopping himself.

You might be pushing it with the assumption, but it doesn’t hurt to try and help him, right?

When you feel his hands moving to your waist, up, up, and up until they’re just barely brushing against the underside of your breast, he pulls back again and pulls your shirt down to cover the exposed skin, all while kissing you harder.

You place your hand over his, wasting not even a second as you guide him back under your shirt, right up to where you know he wants to touch.

And holy fuck does he. He doesn’t even pull back when you lay it against the warm and exposed flesh from under your shirt. His hand immediately starts groping. His lips immediately stutter against you in a relieved sigh from him, and all you can do is kiss him now with the same energy he seems to have in that one single hand.

“You’re allowed to touch me, but if you need help doing it, just tell me–” You pull back to whisper, trying to take it another step further in the act of kissing against his jaw and down his neck. “I want to touch you too, but I’ll keep my hands to myself unless you tell me otherwise.”

It’s like he really forgets how to talk or give proper consent when his entire body is acting like a fucking greenlight for you right now. He feels so pathetic, on the verge of orgasm with nothing more than the soft fabric of his sweatpants to relieve him, and yet your breast in his hand, nipple hardening under his palm before he musters the courage to put it between his fingers, it’s a lot to take in, okay?

Still, he tries to say something, and he’s even more embarrassed by the way his voice sounds like it isn’t even his own. He sounds broken when the sound reaches his ears.

“Don’t–” He starts, cutting himself off at the feeling of your lips kissing against the pulse point of his neck.

“Hm?” You ask, pulling back and away, hoping you didn’t press too much.

“Don’t stop.” He mutters out again, a little less embarrassed now that he feels you sigh against that same pulse point with the way his fingers fondle your nipple mindlessly. “Don’t keep your hands to yourself.”

Your brain falls into a stunned silence at his words, bringing a type of nervousness to bubble up in your own body. Is this really it? Is this when it’s going to happen? On a saturday night, against your pillows, muffled cartoons playing in the background…..past ten in the evening?

You can’t help it as you kiss against his neck. You really can’t, with the way he opens himself up to be vulnerable with you while actively being on top of you, while playing with your breasts, while containing himself.

He seems to need you to do the pushing, but you really cannot shake the nervousness of being his first. You’re almost certain he is nervous about so many things, but still he appears to be eager to try. He’s eager to be with you, and, ultimately, to know what it feels like to be with another person that matters to him in that way.

“Is there–” You stop, breath caught in your throat, only to fall out against his throat when he finally seems to have the confidence to make his first move. One that would seem so small to anyone else, but he– he raises a hand and holds the back of your neck, trying to press your lips and guide them to the area of his neck that he wants you to kiss.

And you do, with blatant encouragement to him for doing that, all while trying to finish your previous thought.

“Is there anything you want me to do for you?” You ask, kissing and now, licking against the spot on his neck that makes him shiver.

He sighs in a shudder, craning his neck to expose more skin for you before his hand stills against your nipple and he pulls his hand from your shirt.

“All of it?” He starts, a bit unsure of himself. “Everything?” He adds, pulling himself back from your lips and watching you fall back to your pillows. He leans his body up, relieving his legs from his weight and sitting on his heels in front of you, only slightly between your legs now.

You can see that he has a bit more confidence with the way he’s looking at you.

“I want to try all of it.” He continues, placing two hands on your knees, pushing your legs together and using his palms to make them sway left and right. It’s as if he’s thinking hard. “I mean, if you want to.”

You smile.

You want nothing more than to do this with him, for him, and for yourself.

“Yeah?” You ask for confirmation, now lifting yourself and re-positioning yourself onto your knees to mimic his own stance.

He nods in a blatant and shy way, knowing that you can physically see how badly he wants this, and how badly he wants you to be the one to do this with him. He’s achingly hard, and he isn’t sure if he’s ever managed to get this fucking hard in his entire life.

It really is painfully arousing, with the way his pants stretch against the head when he’s sitting like this. The way the fabric offers little to no sensation but while looking at you, he feels all fucked up and warm. He tries to forget that there’s precum all over him, seeping through the pants that are presented before you, and god, the way you look right at it.

He doesn’t shy away despite being as shy as he could possibly be right now. In fact, when your eyes trail back up to him, licking your lips before smiling, he a fucking goner. He knew he wanted you bad, but never did he know he needed you this badly.

He’s so fucking lucky.

“It looks… big.” You comment, leaning forward only slightly and sizing your boyfriend up. “But for your sake, I’ll try to control myself from moving too fast. I’ll go slow, okay?”

He doesn’t even nod, he’s too entranced with you in front of him, fully clothed, lifting his own shirt off of him as if he is incapable of doing it himself. Then again, he kind of is incapable at this moment. He swears his IQ must’ve dropped to a single digit by this point.

And when that shirt comes up and over his head, you note that he doesn’t even blink. That small moment where his face was obscured as you pulled it off of him? His eyes stayed on you both before and after, only now– his hair is a total fucking mess and all you can do is feel endeared by it.

“God, you’re so fucking attractive,” You groan in sexual frustration with an eyeroll. “I can’t believe someone hasn’t jumped your bones yet.”

Now he breaks eye contact at the praise, glancing away from you and trying his hardest not to smile like an idiot at those words.

“To be fair, I’ve fucked up my fair share of relationships being embarrassed.” He laughs. “Kinda glad I did though.”

You land your eyes back on him, staring blankly at his naked chest and trying your damnedest not to look at him like he’s some piece of meat. But goddamn, the body of this man.

“Come here, switch places with me.” You smile, reaching forward and trying not to think too hard about the way his arms flex when you grip them to move him. “Here, lay back.”

And within seconds, you’re between his legs and looking down at his half-lidded, arousal driven eyes.

“Fuck, really?” You groan again, glancing away. “It’s really taking everything in me, Chan, it really is.”

His heart is doing flips as he stares up at you. He feels doted on, adored, attractive. So he encourages more of those annoyed praises from you.

“Taking everything in you to…?”

You chuckle, because the audacity of this drunk and in love fool.

“Do you have any idea how badly I’ve wanted to be in this exact position?” You smile, reaching down to run your fingers down his chest and straight to that happy trail that he so readily hid from you. “It’s taking everything in me to slow down–”

“Then don’t.” He says proudly, albeit still a bit shy at your words.

You can see how red his ears are, only partially hidden by that head of messy ass hair. His stupid pretty eyes and gentle smile are directed straight at you without any type of reluctance.

“There’s my confident boyfriend.” You chuckle, toying with the hair beneath his belly button and trying to not comment on the way his body jumps a bit at the feeling. “Was wondering where he went after he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

And he remains silent after that, watching the way you take the reins and lean down to kiss against that same spot of his neck. Warm breath fanning over the skin before attaching yourself there.

Surely you can feel the way his hips react, humping up at each flutter of your lips. If you couldn’t, he knows for a fact that you’ll be able to now. With the way you trail down, across his own sensitive nipples, and then down, down, down.

He glances down at you at the same time when you glance up at him and right then and there he thinks he melts. He’s never seen a woman look at him from this angle, and it’s only a little bit detrimental to his heavy and pathetic cock. The twitching never stops, he feels so fucking sticky in his pants and it really just doesn’t stop. Continuous leaking, and he really had no idea that there could even be this much pre-cum.

Then, he’s pulled out of his thoughts with….a tickle?

“Oh?” You smile, leaning down to repeat that lick up his happy trail before landing a kiss straight on his belly button.

His body jumps again, and he lets out a moaned chucked unintentionally.

“Oh.” You smile wider, gripping both of his hips with your hands and holding him down in a playful way. Repeating the act once again.

Your suspicions are confirmed with a third jump of his body, and another chuckled, frustrated moan.

“So, he’s ticklish too?” You say with another kiss against his belly button before fluttering your fingers at the side of his hips.

His entire body goes rigid before melting against the bed in an attempt to not react to the way you take advantage of a hidden weakness he had. God, he should have known that…like, sex stuff could be ticklish.

“No– I’m not.” He lies, jolting again when you continue to test the resilience he thinks he has against your lips and fingers. “Hey–!”

And, well, you would’ve stopped if it weren’t for the fact that his hips raise with each tickled sensation, and you can genuinely feel how damp and heavy he is in his pants. It’s entirely arousing in the way its weight is obvious through his attempts to wiggle from your ticklish touches.

“Alright,” You finally relent, landing one final kiss to his belly before licking down that same line of hair he offers his body. “Chan, I want to–”

His hips immediately raise to your words, the wetness from your tongue feels like ice against his skin when the air hits it and at this point, he thinks he knows what you’re suggesting.

“Please–” He nearly cries out in a stutter. “Touch it.”

You smile as you nuzzle your nose against his abdomen before giving him a short nod that you know he doesn’t see. Considering, well, he just threw his arm over his face and keeps his hips tensed, and his ass only slightly lifted off of the bed.

Desperate. Willing.

You prepare yourself for seeing it for the first time by not seeing it at all just yet. Instead, you kiss down until your lips are met with warm, damp fabric. Immediately you can feel his length twitch under your lips when you reach it, and all you can manage to do is flatten your tongue out and against it to feel it pulse again.

And again, until that same arm thrown over his face reaches down in a desperate attempt to take the pants off for you. He’s the one losing his self control now, no embarrassment or nervousness in sight from him, and it’s so fucking attractive to see him do it.

His shaking fingers fumbling with the waistband, shoving the pants down just an inch or so more to reveal more of that trimmed hair.

You don’t comment on the way he’s acting out of fear that it’ll make him feel shamed or even mocked, despite you truly believing it might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen a man do in front of you.

Instead, you help him. Sinking your own fingers beneath his pants and tugging them down all in one go before allowing your eyes to land on it.

“Jesus fucking christ.” He moans out, the air alone offering an overwhelming amount of sensation due to the temperature change he now feels between his legs.

You finally look at it, so dark in color. As if all of the blood in his body resides only here. You gently move your hand just over it, feeling the heat radiate from him, seeing the precum continuously dribble from the head, and then, finally–

“You’re so….” You trail off, in awe of the way his body just….keeps reacting. So much pre-cum. “Hard.”

He releases a broken little sound at the feeling of your fingers finally touch him, and it feels insanely different from when he touches it himself. As if he’s not in control of his pleasure, and it’s all just you. You are the one who feels good against him.

You’re shocked briefly when his hand makes it’s way back down to yours, grabbing it and essentially trying to get you to stimulate him more. He puts so much pressure against your hand, sandwiching it between his own palm and stiffened cock.

You’re tuly in awe. This man has essentially edged himself to a world record, surely.

“Slow down,” You try to soothe him, moving your hand against him and watching him retract his hand. “Relax, It must feel good, right?”

That little sob he lets out shows you his frustration. So needy, so ready. And even with you moving your fingers to circle his pulsing length, his hips continuously fuck up, not allowing him to have even a moment without a forceful amount of stimulation.

“So good,” He moans, entire brain focused on what your hand is doing and unable to open his eyes. “I want it so bad.”

You don’t think he hears you chuckle and you’re thankful he doesn’t. You can imagine he would genuinely be embarrassed to know you’re witnessing his pure blissed-out and aroused-state of mind right now.

And it’s not shocking that he’s entirely focused on himself at this moment, because he’s the one experiencing this for the first time. Even if you find it hard to believe that another woman has never touched his dick, you’re entirely flattered that it very well may be the case and that he wanted you to be the one to make him feel this good.

“I’ll give it to you, just relax. I’m not going to stop.” You reassure his needy movements, and the way his body squirms at the slightest of touches. “What feels good?”

God, he’s so frustrated.

“All of it.” He groans shortly, trying to take in a deep breath and just relax like you asked him too.

You nod to his closed eyes and slacked mouth, fighting against his hips to be the one to pleasure him rather than himself and only when you blow a gentle breath against the head of his cock do his hips still and he shoots his hands up to your pillows, gripping them as if he’s preparing for something.

You watch intently at the way he’s actively fighting to move now, waiting impatiently for you to do something now. Licking his lips, chewing on his bottom lip– god, he’s so pretty up there.

Then, you grant him a new sensation. Only because by this point you’re the one who is about to lose control.

You stick out your tongue and lick all the way from his balls to the head of his cock, making sure to keep pressure against it so that you can taste all of the arousal he’s spilled up until now. And while you were going to pull back to examine his reaction, this is the part where you release your self control.

The taste alone was enough to have you moaning, vibrating your voice against the vein of his length and then circling your lips around the head.

Instantly, you suck at the feeling of pre-cum still pouring out of him. This time, there seems to be more. Coating your tongue with an almost sweetened salty taste.

You feel briefly the way his hips chase the new warmth, clearly wanting to tuck itself into your mouth and quite possibly, down your throat, but you pull back and blow once again against the head.

His entire body shivers as you glance up at him.

You can barely comprehend just how into you he looks right now before rolling your own eyes in arousal at the image before immediately giving him everything your mouth has to offer.

Who cares if he comes too fast? Fucking look at him. You’d be stupid not to suck the absolute life out of him! That’s your boyfriend up there, chewing on his bottom lip, eyes sparkling through hooded lids, chest heaving–

And god, you almost wish he wasn’t as big as he is because it’s difficult to keep your eyes open when you take it in. You have to focus on sliding it through your lips, against your tongue, and right up to the back of your throat where the head of his cock bumps.

He can feel the way your fingers grip his legs through it, and by this point he has gone entirely non-verbal at the feeling.

The only sound he can make comes from deep within his chest, and he can only release those sounds with heaved out and rigid breaths. His heart is pumping faster and faster the deeper you managed to take him, and–

“Ah! W-wait!” He panics, sitting straight up and becoming fucking floored at the way you stay on him. Moving your hands to his stomach and trying to shove him back. “Fuck,” He seethes as he takes in a sharp inhale, legs shaking as he flops back against the pillows. “Fuck, i’m sorry.” He continues to murmur, feeling himself hit the wall of orgasm and practically pulverize it.

And you, oh, you. You taste it. You feel the twitching and the way his muscles stiffen under your fingers. You can hear him muttering apologies as it spills into your mouth, down your throat, and even out of the corners of your lips.

You try to take all of it, up until you can’t fucking breathe, and only then do you pull up and replace your mouth with your hand, watching in awe at the way he just……

It doesn’t fucking stop.

He went from rigid to stammering his words, to now blatantly and full-on moaning through both the pleasure and frustration of losing the warmth of your mouth.

“God, Chan….” You whisper in a raspy voice, slowing your hands and intentionally pumping it out of him by now.

“I’m sorry–” He stammers, body still shaking as you pull the rest of it out of him. “I tried to,” He winces with another unintentional moan. “I didn’t think it would feel that good.”

You smile both proudly and fondly, watching him stumble through his words and whatever excuse he tries to come up with.

“I don’t think you know how hot you look right now.” You finally say, in a more stern voice. “You couldn’t have stopped me if you wanted to.”

Only now, when he’s absolutely drenched himself in his release does he open his eyes in a drowsy way. He looks at you and that little smile on your lips and decides that, yeah, he can believe you. He trusts you, and he’s entirely obsessed with you.

“But we still haven’t–”

You cut him off quickly.

“We have all night. All day tomorrow. All week, month, year. I don’t care.” You dead-pan, reaching for his, somehow, still hard length. “Chan.” You add, gripping it and testing the actual hardness of it. “You’re still hard, which is fucking amazing by the way, and you have no idea how wet I am right now.”

Oh, my god. He forgot.

“You– you’re turned on?” He asks, looking away from you.

“So fucking turned on.” You confirm for him, now releasing his length to give him a bit of a rest, considering he must not realize he’s still shaking. “Look, feel.”

You say it as you crawl up and on top of him, seating yourself right up against his abdomen and grabbing his hand.

He just stares, watching you guide his hand straight to the seat of your shorts.

“Oh.” He sighs out.

“Even through my shorts. See? Feel it.” You continue to move his hand against you, trying not to rut your own hips up much like he was doing before.

Brain malfunction. He doesn’t even have a fucking IQ at this point as his cock immediately reacts in all of it’s sensitive, pathetic glory.

“Do you want me to, um,” He swallows around a breath he didn’t know he needed. “touch you? Can I try?”

You sigh, relieved that he’s willing and immediately push yourself off of him and take care of all of the busy-work as quickly as possible. ie: taking off your clothes.

Unfortunately, you somehow briefly forgot that the man is still a fucking virgin. You can very nearly see his mouth fall open at your nude body being revealed to him. Even more so, you can see the dribble of saliva that he doesn’t quite catch fast enough, and his cock reacts.

“You’re so cute, god.” You praise with the same compliment you’ve been giving him all night.

And when you seat yourself next to him, hugging one of his arms and tucking it between your legs before closing your thighs around it, you smile at him and the way he literally cannot stop staring with his mouth agape.

“Babe, you’re drooling.” You chuckle, shifting your hips a bit to rub yourself against his knuckles, where you’re still hugging his arm.

Only then does he slurp up his embarrassment and try to remain calm. His fogged brain comes back to him quickly upon your comments as he wills himself to sit up beside you.

He gets to….touch you.

And boy does he.

Eagerly, messily, and quite frankly, kind of embarrassingly.

You make it easier for him though, laughing as you flop back and spread your legs for him. He’s quick to simply…explore. He’s not aiming for any singular area of your pussy because to be quite honest, he’s still struggling to stop staring at the entirety of you.

You watch his eyes, the way they stare at your tits, then your thighs, your pussy being petted by his fingertips, and then– eye contact.

He seems so sure of himself despite still managing to barely touch the clit. It doesn’t bother you one bit, because his eager fingers still find ways to touch you beautifully. There’s so much intent behind the messy movements.

Slipping and sliding two fingers between your lips, up your folds, and then stopping just short of your clit before sliding back down and feeling where his cock would go if he manages to make it this far.

I mean, surely he will, right? He’s losing his virginity as he does this right now, even. Foreplay still counts, right?

And then, after several minutes of him exploring, learning, and practically teasing you half to death, you reach down to guide him.

“Right here,” You soothe out in a soft voice, pressing his fingers against your clit and seeing him take note of it. “And here.” You trail his fingers down until they reach your clenched hole, and you very slightly press against his fingers so that the tips just barely enter you.

He tilts his head at you, concentrating on where you lead him before releasing his hand and essentially leaving him to his own devices now.

And you know, he did tell you he was a quick learner, because almost immediately he’s experimenting with putting a finger into you, and using his other hand to find a rhythm to rub against your clit.

The whole time, he checks for your reaction, noting when your breathing hitches and when your body tenses. He continues, trying to only do things that make your body react and soon, you’re already turning to mush beneath him.

His fingers circle and tap your clit at a quick pace, with the other twisted inside of you. When he slides his finger out, and then back in, he rubs your clit harder, and god, yeah. Okay. You see his effort, and it’s such a good fucking effort too.

“Feels good,” You finally moan out for him, allowing yourself to give in to the pure arousal of the entire situation taking place. Thinking hard about what it would feel like to have such a desperate cock inside of you. “Use two fingers?”

He listens instantly, moaning along with you when he slides the other in with the next thrust. His fingers against your clit trail down shortly after, curiosity getting the best of him when he spreads your lips open to see you stretch around his fingers.

“It’s so warm–” He comments more to himself than to you, watching the way you pulse around him, watching the way your slick seeps out of you. It’s so hot for him to see it up close like this, and his pace slows at the image before him. “Can you take more than two?”

You lift your head in amazement at how he could ask such a thing.

“Chan.” You smile at the way he jumps in surprise at your sudden, louder voice. Fingers nearly slipping out of you. “I can take way more than just two fingers.” You glance down between his legs. “Way, way more.”

He glances down to what you’re looking at before letting out an embarrassed sob.

“You’re really going to let me?” He nearly whines in excitement.

You nod, reaching for him and pulling him to you by his shoulders. You land a kiss against his lips, trying not to shake at the way his fingers angle different inside of you as he moves to chase your lips.

“Mhm,” You soothe against his lips, intentionally scooting your hips down to your best ability to sink his fingers into you more. “Move your fingers– it feels good like this.”

He listens, feeling you throw your arms around his neck and cling to him through it, all while moaning and groaning right up against his lips. You’re not even kissing him, you’re just….acting like this and it’s fucking great.

He thought he would be the only one to be desperate in this situation, yet here you are, clinging to him as he works his fingers in you.

“When?” He finally asks upon noting the way you start to move your hips against his fingers.

You peek your eyes open and pull back to look at him.

“Now? Do you want to do it now?”

He nods, slipping his fingers out of you and inspecting how wet they’ve become.

“Can I?”

You finally fall back, leaning against your elbows and spreading your legs wide in front of him. Lending him a nod, you watch the way he just freezes after the fact.

All you can do is laugh at this moment with the way he loses any ability to remember how sex works.

Then again, you wonder if he ever even watched porn, considering how he’s acting and couldn’t manage to find the clit.

“Do you want me to be on top?” You question, blinking up at him and his blank expression.

He shakes his head at you, still frozen in his spot before his eyes slowly make their way down to the glistening sheen against your pussy.

“Don’t we like, need a condom or something? I can’t promise I’ll be able to pull out.” He asks, finally glancing away. “I don’t know if I can last as long as you want me to….”

And with that, all you do is lunge forward, grab your boyfriend by the cock, and pull him to you.

He laughs, you laugh, and then it’s silent when he leans over you, feeling his length lay against your core, already feeling spent but so, so ready to give himself to you.

“I’m on birth control. You don’t need to pull out.” You smile evilly, wiggling your hips and watching the way he closes his eyes tightly as if to regain his composure of those words.

“I’m seriously in love with you.” He mutters, pushing his hips forward and letting his length slide through the mess he made of you.

You smile, feeling that by this point, your face may actually be stuck like this permanently, and lift your head to kiss against his lips once more.

“You’re ready?” You ask quietly, against his lips. “I can help you adjust to where it needs to be. After that, I want you to do what feels best for you, okay?”

He nods timidly, taking in a deep and nervous breath before feeling your hand guide his length to the opening.

“Go on, slide in it.” You encourage him.

And he does.

Slowly at first, gently, until he feels your wet hot walls envelop the head of his cock in full, clenching, pulling him in.

His arms shake from either side of your head as he balances himself there, and it doesn’t take long for him to drop his head against your shoulder in deeper breaths than he was taking before.

The sensation is so much, it’s no wonder people like to have sex. It’s so good, you feel so, so good around him. He can’t help it when he slides in deeper, not stopping until he’s releasing a wet moan against your shoulder and holding onto you as if his life depends on it.

He thought that once he got it all the way in, it would get easier. But it doesn’t. Even as the two of you are unmoving, with your hands in his hair and soothing him through it, you still clench him. Your pussy still stimulates it without either of you doing a damn thing.

You on the other hand, won’t admit to struggling through that one, long and languid thrust inside of you. It felt as if he was splitting you open despite how wet you already were, and still are. The heaviness, the consistent twitching, all of it stretches you out more than you even knew you’d need and god, it feels so good to have him just hold onto you like, to have him adjust to the feeling.

He’s no longer a virgin, and that’s not even what matters right now.

What matters is the way he continuously nuzzles his nose against you, snaking his head to your neck and moaning consistently against your ear when he manages to finally move.

He pulls out only a little bit before his hips stutter at the sensitivity, then he pushes back in.

In and out, in and out, until–

“Fuck.” He moans, lifting suddenly from your neck, sitting up, staring directly at where his cock sits inside of you, and he just… lets go.

Knuckles white against the grip of your waist, he powers through the sensitivity, he fucks through it. Fast, with no real rhythm or ability to realize just how deep he’s pushing himself into you, and then….

He’s done for.

“That’s it,” You encourage him through half moans at the feeling, your swollen clit begging for a little bit of attention too. “Shit, Chan, that’s it.” You continue, losing yourself in his reaction to you.

He only moves faster, his hips only stutter more, and thank fuck he already came once because he wouldn’t have made it a solid inch into you before coming undone if he hadn’t. Now though? He’s pleasantly surprised to be lasting even this long.

Until he’s not, of course.

And there, between your legs, he presses in as far as he can reach and loses his breath.

Eyes rolling back, eyebrows furrowing, mouth agape, a deep moan rumbles from his chest as his shiver flows through his body at the first release inside of you.

You immediately shoot your hands to your clit, feeling it pump inside of you much like it did in your mouth. Already so much, you feel entirely full, and entirely ready if he can manage to keep coming for as long as he did before.

You fingers assault the swollen nub so fast, working yourself up much like you would during a quick session of masturbation, not wanting him to miss out on what it feels like to have a girl come on him–

It hits you faster than you can realize.

Even when he buckles and falls back to your chest out of breath, you can’t even tell him that it’s happening.

Thankfully, he doesn’t move just yet. Well, until he feels your pussy clench him tigher than before. In a rhythmic way, almost.

Only barely can he lift his head to watch you, and that’s when he notes that you’re holding your breath.

You pussy is pulsing, and then–

“Are you?” He questions, experimenting with the idea of trying to thrust into you as he asks.

There’s the breath you’d been holding.

“Yes!” You call out, both to answer his question and to appreciate that little thrust he gave you.

Even if his cock is slowly becoming flaccid, you’re still full, and he can still feel the orgasm wash over you.

He’s silent through it, wincing at his hyper-sensitive cock and very nearly cursing it out for not having waited just a minute longer to release– then, you’re hugging him.

Tightly. So tightly, you’re holding onto him and breathing into his hair. He can barely breathe himself with this hold you have on him. Still, he doesn’t fight it, he simply lets you.

Letting you cling, letting the last jolting pulses of your core push the rest of him out of you. There, he manages to lift from your weakening grasp and throw himself beside you.

Out of breath, sweating, a total mess, he looks at you like he truly will never be able to love another person the way he does right now.

And it falls silent for a long while before you roll over, throwing both an arm and leg over him.

“Man,” You sigh out. “How does it feel?” You ask this time, opening your eyes to playfully look at him.

“Huh? What?” He asks, quirking a brow.

“You know, now that you’re not a virgin anymore. How does it feel?”

He thinks hard for like two seconds before taking in a deep breath and smothering himself against the top of your head.

“Like I’m in love with you, maybe.”

And you know, given that this relationship is barely even considered one in the eyes of most people. You don’t think you care.

“Because I made you feel good, or because you want to let me make you feel good for like…” You pause, lifting your head to look him in the eye. “the rest of your life?”

He doesn’t even have to think twice.

“The second reason.”

“You’re such a simp, Chan, really.” You joke, skewing your head fondly to look at him. “But I think it’s worth a shot.”

Chapter two: LOSER. [wonwoo] ― coming soon!

series m.list

#lee chan smut #seventeen smut #hon <3 #i feel insane #i want you to know that i just finished reading this and there's nothing in my skull #it's all just liquid #this is the hottest fic you've ever written to me i think. i think it tops the one where mingyu subs for the first time holy shit #sorry for not remembering the name I'm going through it right now 💀#i think i understand how and why people masturbate to fanfics #because the urge hit me like a train many times throughout this #i think this is joining my hall of fame of fics from you and it's arguably my new favourite dino fic #i really like the way you approached reader making sure he was cool and comfortable with everyone god my EMOTIONS hon #the way he was so reactive jesus christ help me i do love a sensitive man #reader feeling the impulse to put her mouth on him wow she's just like me fr #honestly this is basically just me lmao #dino nearly having a stroke anytime reader did anything is my kind of man actually #it was equal parts hot and endearing #love that we all think this man has a girthy dick but like consider that i am fragile you know?#honestly you made him last longer than i thought he would #but god i do love a man who is just so into you that he loses any and all composure #nah see i get why you didn't write for him before this #you simply would've been too powerful amd destroyed too many lives (read: my life)#you can never write for dino again thanks /j #.....honestly this might be my new favourite fic of yours I'm not even joking #i will have to evaluate once i am less insane but honestly this might be top 3 for me #you've done it again #sorry for being a deranged mess in the tags but good lord this was so hot and well-written hon my god #q: painting with hyunjin #oh also i want you to know those reactions are only a fraction of how i feel #AND i know wonwoo's chapter is going to ruin my life as well :D

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hannieehaee · 4 months ago

Text

BED CHEM

18+ / mdi

summary: when chan's friends decided to start a betting pool on how long it'd take him to lose his virginity at the start of college, none of them expected him to remain a virgin all the way to senior year. desperate to prove them wrong, chan goes to his best friend in hopes you'll take him out of his misery (and maybe fall for him in the process) OR when chan uses a stupid bet as an excuse to get his pretty bestie in his bed.

content: virgin!chan, f2l!chan, sub!chan, mutual pining, college au, chan is characterized as a fucking loser but what else is new, some will they wont they, the rest of svt bully chan, afab reader, smut, dry humping, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 11k

a/n: i wrote this so long ago i don't even remember what it's about #oops

masterlist | patreon

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a virgin!"

— lied Chan for the nth time.

"It's been years and it's still not believable. Plus, Vernon told us you were whining about it at Soonie's party last Friday," responded Jeonghan nonchalantly.

"Vernon!", Chan turned to him, betrayal in his eyes.

His whines were only met with chuckles from all the other men surrounding him, most of which were nursing some different variant of an alcoholic beverage as they lounged around uselessly.

Most weekends were spent like this.

Chan had the misfortune of being the youngest in his large thirteen member friend group, one which was also well known throughout school due to a few of his friends' reputations. Chan, however, did not live up to that idea.

Unlike all his other friends, — well known to be either heartthrobs, or at least, you know, not virgins — Chan found himself as an outlier.

On the outside, he may have easily emulated that same popular and charismatic persona all his friends held and lived by, but he truly had no idea what he was doing. Sure, he knew himself to be likable and attractive (at least he liked to think so), but his sexual prowess was still very much below average (is anything lower than zero?).

Luckily for him, this was not known by anyone outside of his friend group. To everyone else, Chan was as pursued as his older friends such as Mingyu and Wonwoo, except it was all a lie.

Hell, even you, being his best friend since middle school, were blissfully unaware of his virginal state. And to be quite honest, this was something he wanted to keep that way.

You see, Chan had hopes of airing out his not-so-discreet crush on you one day ('maybe not today, but someday!', he'd tell himself). And the knowledge of him being a loser virgin would probably not help matters when that day came.

His virginity was such a hot topic among his friends that a running bet had tormented him since his first weekend at university. With all his friends being merely one year older, he was the victim of constant teasing as they watched him crash and burn any time a girl showed interest in him, only for him to psyche himself out of actually getting down to anything.

His constant failures only prompted more teasing throughout the years, especially in the form of Jeonghan and Seungkwan berating him about losing his virginity and confessing his pathetic crush on you. Sometimes Dokyeom and Mingyu would join in, insisting he could kill two birds with one stone if he'd only play his cards right.

The mere thought never failed to make Chan blush. To think of you in that context always had a physical effect on him. His palms would become clammy, his face would redden, and sadly, his hardness would make an appearance.

But he'd be lying if he hadn't wanted to will the thought into existence.

The two of you never really spoke about such things, but he was still painfully aware of how opposite of him you were in that aspect. It was no secret to him that your virginity was long gone. To his knowledge, you'd spent your freshman and sophomore years basking in all the attention you received, landing in a few beds in the process. You had this charisma that Chan envied (and was simultaneously extremely attracted to). In your junior year, however, you'd calmed down a bit, spending your Fridays nights cuddled up with Chan in the corner of one of his friends' frat parties rather than out on your own.

"Okay, so are you giving up? You're losing the bet?," Jeonghan piled on, calling Chan's attention away from his internal monologue.

"Giving up on what! I never participated on that bet. You guys came up with it to bully me!," he responded, exasperated.

Joshua rounded the couch to take a seat on the arm of it, patting Chan's shoulder condescendingly as he sipped at his beer with a chuckle.

"We could set you up with someone, you know?", he suggested, knowing Chan would deny his suggestion but trying anyways.

"N-no. I don't want someone to fuck me out of pity," Chan grumbled.

"And that'd be cheating. We're not supposed to help him," added Vernon.

"You guys made up rules?!"

"Shh. The adults are talking," tsk'd Seungkwan.

"You're still a junior. You have time to lose it before graduating still," aided Wonwoo from his side of the room.

"We decided against that. It has to be before we graduate or else it doesn't count," said one of the many seniors in the room.

"Okay, maybe queue me in on the rules if I'm going to be the main character of this bet, guys," grumbled Chan, giving up.

"That's still four months til graduation, Channie. C'mon, it'll be good for you. Maybe you can find a girlfriend and then you won't be all alone after we graduate."

"Yeah, man. Why do you have no friends your own age?" poked Mingyu, chuckling along with the rest of the seniors currently picking at a defeated Chan.

"It looks like I have no friends at all."

Vernon laughed, getting up to sit next to a slumped-back Chan, completely defeated on the couch. He patted his back, though unlike Joshua, he seemed to do it in solidarity.

"Listen, man. Just ask Y/N out. She likes you. We all see it. Just be a man and ask her out. We've told you before — two birds, one stone," encouraged Vernon.

Chan sat back up at the mention of your name, now having you back in his mind.

Should he?

Should he throw all caution to the wind and go on a limb? He'd sensed some more-than-friends vibes from you before, but he'd never been sure enough to actually try and go after you.

Annoyed and confused, Chan stood up with a huff, heading for the door before turning around to grumble at his friends.

"You all suck!," he began his tipsy rant, "I'm going to go out there and prove you all wrong. I'm going to lose my virginity ten times harder than any of you ever did," he declared, his intoxicated brain not realizing he wasn't making much sense, "And then you'll all owe me that stupid betting pool. You'll see," he went to point at Jeonghan, "Specially you!"

Jeonghan gaped at him in amusement, which only provoked further laughter from all the drunk men who had already been laughing at a pent-up Chan. Chan made his exit with this last statement, annoyed enough to disavow his friends for the rest of the night.

Still tipsy and with frustration charging through his veins, Chan made his decision. He knew his next destination for the night and marched there decisively.

"Chan? What are you doing here? Hurry, come in! Guys aren't allowed in here after hours," you ushered him in quickly, taking a look outside to check for any onlookers before locking the door behind you.

In the meantime, Chan turned around, ready to face you once you'd ensured yourselves some privacy. On his walk here, he'd sobered up enough, but his decisive demeanor somehow remained. He had one task tonight and he was going to fulfill it no matter what.

What task was that? He was going to beg you to put him out of his misery, hopefully obtaining an annoyed affirmation from you and ridding himself of his lack of experience once and for all — and also finally getting to have a taste of you, but that was besides the point!

And then that all his courage died the longer you stood there, staring at him expectantly.

But he couldn't back down now. He needed to prove a point, both to the guys and to himself. Also, he was growing quite fed up of his predicament. There was only so long a guy like Chan could go without the touch of a woman, and 22 years seemed to be the limit for him.

"I, uh, I wanted to ask you for a favor," he mumbled, eyes unable to look into your own.

"At 3 in the morning? Was it urgent?"

"Yes!", he found himself quipping with far more energy he'd meant to.

You eyed him curiously.

"Okay, what is it?"

Well.

That was a difficult question.

But this was the moment of truth.

He needed to come out and say it. Just get done with it.

Any moment now.

It was just like a bandaid.

A single moment of bravery and then-

"Chan!"

Oh, right.

He huffed, nervous, annoyed, frustrated, all of the above, before mustering the courage to spit it out.

"Ineedyoutotakemyvirginity," he mumbled out all at once.

"Please tell me you didn't just say what I think you just said."

"What?! You actually understood that?"

"Why would you say it if you didn't want me to hear you?"

"Yeah, but like. How can you be sure I said what you think I said?", this was a lost battle and he knew it.

You were his best friend. You were fluent on his drunken rambles, his annoyed mumbles, his overexcited speeches. Of course you could understand what he said, no matter how mumbled or quickly he'd said it.

"Chan."

"Okay, fine! Want me to say it so bad, I'll say it."

He took a short pause, taking two steps towards you before taking your hands in his own and looking to you with pleading eyes.

"Will you please take my virginity?"

"Since when are you a virgin?"

"As much as I want to take that as a compliment, I'm pretty sure you're implying I'm a slut," he frowned at you.

"God, Chan, you- Come on. Come sit with me," you pulled him by the hand, dragging him over to your couch and taking a seat with him.

Your body faced his own with complete ease and confidence while his remained slightly avoidant of yours. He was slightly faced towards you, but it'd be clear to any spectator that his body language lacked any confidence, especially considering his eyes were facing your lap rather than your face.

"Explain," you instructed, lacking any real emotion in your voice. If anything, you sounded annoyed — something which, to be fair, was not unusual between you and Chan.

"Uh," he started, scratching his head, "Do I have to?"

"Chan!"

"Okay, fine!"

Chan took a breath, body leaning against the back of the couch with a groan and resulting in a slouch of his back. He continued to make no eye contact with you, face now in his hands as he attempted to rub the embarrassment out of his eyes.

"I might've sworn to the guys that I'd lose my virginity," he groaned.

"Sworn how ..?"

"There was a bet involved," he grimaced to himself.

"Chan, you idiot," you chastised, "I didn't even know you were a virgin."

"How could you not?"

Before he could hear your response, Chan suddenly felt a ruffle of the couch. Pulling his hands away from his face, you forced him to face you, now sitting even closer to him on the couch.

"Have you seen your friends? No offense, but they're all kinda ... slutty," he could hear the humor in your voice and knew exactly what you meant. His twelve elders were never shy about their promiscuity.

"Plus, you're always flirting with me. I thought this was something you did with any girl you wanted to sleep with," you added nonchalantly after.

Well, you were half right.

That was something he did with girls he wanted to sleep with. Except you were the only girl he did it to. Because you were the only girl he wanted to sleep with.

A slippery slope.

Chan was his own damn enemy.

"I, uhm, I'm shy around other girls," was his lame excuse.

"So, what, you want me to take it from you?"

"Well, it'd be helpful."

He proceeded to stare at you with what you usually called 'dumb boba eyes,' knowing they had a tendency of breaking you down if he used them just right.

"Dude," was all your response, deadpan as per usual.

"Listen! I'll pay you!", he chirped exasperated, not realizing how his words could be interpreted.

"You want to pay me for sex? Walk that one back for me, Channie."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I take it back. My bad," he couldn't help but flush at the way you laughed at him after he took it back.

"Chan. You don't have to lose it if you don't want to, you know?"

Great, now you were going to comfort him. Chan usually loved how in tune with his emotions you were, but what he needed right now was for you to defile him.

"I know! I just- I just want to. Please? I- It won't get in the way of our friendship, I promise," he went to grab onto your hands, attempting to convince you and himself of his certainty, "It's not sudden either. I've thought about asking you before."

"Why me, though? It's not that I'm saying no," you went to say when Chan was about to interrupt, "I just don't get why now and why me."

Because he was in love with you and because a year from now you'd both be graduated, no longer in each other's constant vicinity. That's when he'd lose his chance altogether.

"Because I know you and I trust you. You'd be nice to me," he allowed himself to be a big vulnerable around you as per usual.

"I'm always mean to you."

"Shut up, I'm making a point here," he disregarded you, "Plus, don't tell me you've never thought about it."

You laughed, tilting your head to the side with a giggle.

"Maybe," you mumbled between chuckles.

Oh. Okay.

Chan would just have to take this confirmation and store it for later.

"So, what do you say?" he looked at you expectantly.

"I think you're the bane of my existence, but what else is new?"

He pinched at your leg like a petulant child who was being denied of a treat, "Answer the question!"

"God, you're even more annoying as a virgin," you chastised, squeezing your eyes closed with a groan before actually responding, "Fine!"

His head turned to you like a magnet, expression completely dumbfounded.

"Wait, what?"

"Are you really trying to get me to change my mind?"

"N-no! Just- Shit, are you serious?", he scoot over closer to you, invading your personal space in the same manner a child would.

"I mean. I kinda feel bad for you. Plus, I've always thought you were pretty cute, so why not?", you said in a way far too casual for Chan to compute.

Was this good? I mean, you did call him cute. But did this mean this would be completely meaningless to you. Would that mean he had absolutely no chance with you past this one instance?

"Can you stop thinking so loudly?", you interrupted him.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to comprehend this. It's a big moment in a man's life when he finally gets his cherry popped."

"Please never say that again," you laughed.

He chuckled with you, still a bit dumbfounded but overall content with the unexpected turn this night had had. His face must've shown the turmoil of thoughts bubbling up in his head, as you suddenly scoot even closer, putting your hand on his leg in a comforting manner before speaking up.

"What, changed your mind already?", you were joking, but there was still kindness in your eyes.

"It's not- it's not that. Just nervous, I guess," he mumbled.

"Tell me about it," you encouraged.

"I, uh, what if ... what if it's disappointing for you?"

"Well, luckily for you, we're best friends. I'll guide you, if you want. What matters most is that it's good for you."

"Yeah, but, but I want to make you feel good."

Careful, Chan. Might give yourself away on accident.

"Chan, I've seen you dance. There's no way you won't make me feel good," you chuckled almost to yourself.

Oh, well, that's-

Chan felt himself getting a bit flustered.

Did you look at him like that when he danced?

"Oh, I- uh, thanks," he managed to mumble.

You must've not caught onto how awkward he felt, as you made no comment about it as you usually would.

"So," you dragged the 'o,' "when do you wanna start?"

"Oh! Uh, I don't- I don't really know. I didn't think I'd get this far."

"Did you think I'd say no?"

"I'm still not sure I'm not dreaming."

You giggled at this, "I can hit you, if it'd help."

"I always thought I'd be way smoother at this," he half groaned, half chuckled, sitting back against the couch while you knelt on it, facing him.

At least he felt more relaxed now. This had gone way better than he ever thought, not that he ever even considered asking you to take his virginity before tonight.

"So, my question?", you pushed again, scooting closer. Chan was beginning to fear you were suggesting something.

"Oh, uh, well-"

Before he knew it, you were even closer, knees pressed to his side as you leaned your body towards him, confident body language while his own reeked of awkward alertness.

"How far have you gone before?", there was a smile on your face. Not a happy one, though. It seemed more satisfied than anything. Kind of as if you had a higher ground (which you did).

Chan's body couldn't help but lean back as you got closer. It's not that he didn't want your touch, he very much did. The issue at hand was just how deprived of it he was. Having never felt such touch before, the mere thought of it could very well be his early undoing. He needed to mentally prepare for such a thing.

"Well, uh," he scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact, "I've kissed a few girls before ..."

"And?"

"That's, uhm, that's kind of it," he mumbled.

The avoidance of eye contact became harder now that you were closer in proximity, but he continued to attempt it.

"Really? Only kissing? Uh, what kind of kisses were they?"

"W-what do you mean?", he knew exactly what you meant, he was just an idiot.

But how was he supposed to tell you that in his entire twenty-two years of life he'd only ever shared a few short-lived kisses. There was nothing in his repertoire of experiences to write home about, much less to tell his best friend.

You half-muffled a giggle, now invading all his personal space, "What type of kiss, Channie?", you repeated.

"It was just- they were just regular kisses, uh, you know?," he gulped.

He couldn't help it when his body tilted a bit to face you. Chan still felt unsure and nervous, but his body did not lie to him. If anything happened, he'd welcome it despite the risk of embarrassing himself.

"I'm not sure I'm understanding what you mean," you whispered, leaning even closer.

Within a mere passing second, one of your hands went to his chin, tilting his head towards your own before finally invading the entirety of him. Your eyes were hooded and glued to his lips, a pleased smile still on your own lips.

You pressed a quick peck to his lips before pulling back, causing a pathetic little whimper to leave Chan at the surprise.

"Was it like this?", you asked against his lips pulling away for a mere second before pressing your lips to his own once again, this time for longer.

While the first kiss had barely been there, the second one was anything but shy. This kiss evolved very quickly, with your tongue entering his mouth and tangling with his own. Chan attempted to follow your lead, but was initially very awkward. His teeth clanked against your own, his tongue was too shy and then too excited. You had to silently lead him and teach him the right way to kiss you, eventually resulting in what Chan could very embarrassingly describe as an orgasmic kiss.

He whimpered when you finally pulled away, lips pathetically chasing your own up until you nibbled at his lower lip with a hum.

"Or like this?", you went to ask a light-headed Chan.

"H-huh?"

"Ever kissed someone like that?", you giggled.

"Oh, uh, n-no, I just- no," he stammered his way to his answer.

"Well, glad to be your first," you winked, finally sitting back down next to him.

"Are you- uh, I mean, was it good?", he found himself asking.

You giggled again, unnerving him once more.

"Yes, Channie, it was really good. Don't worry, I'll let you know if there's anything you need to work on."

This made him nervous, but it was preferable, right? Even though he hoped he'd somehow be a natural at blowing your mind, he was glad you'd be the person leading him. The fear of causing disappointment or embarrassing himself diminished tenfold at knowing it was you who'd be with him through this process.

However, his undying crush on you remained in the back of his mind (and sometimes the middle, front, and, well, everywhere in his mind). Chan knew this would become a problem the very second you touched him. Hell, it was already a problem after just one kiss. His mind was already going in circles, attempting to create scenarios in which those kisses were a regular occurrence between you.

"When do you want to start?", you interrupted his thoughts.

The slight chub forming in his pants was begging him to tell you that it was imminent you started now. However, he wanted to at least not smell like frat house when he was finally deflowered.

"W-when, uhm, when do you want to do it?", he mentally face-palmed. He could not be smooth about this even with a gun to his head.

Once more, you chuckled at him. You appeared to greatly enjoy his awkwardness around the topic.

"How about Sunday? I be completely prepared for you. To make your first time special and all, you know?"

Chan did not want to begin imagining what you meant by that. His mind was already scrambled over the results of tonight's events.

All he could do was numbly nod in agreement at you.

"You know, I think this is gonna be very fun," you hummed with a giggle, pinching at his cheek teasingly.

You got up from the couch after that, too nonchalant for the life-changing kiss that had just happened all while Chan continued to process it. That kiss was only the beginning, he realized. On Sunday he'd get to see your naked body, feel it up, have your breasts pressed up against his chest, your wetness will land on his lap, your cunt will wrap around his-

" —Channie?" you called out from the kitchen, head peeking out the doorframe just moments later.

Chan shook his head to rid himself of any of the unseemly thoughts he'd just been having before asking you to repeat yourself.

"I asked if you're staying the night. I'll make you some hot chocolate before we go to sleep," you asked, though it clearly wasn't a question. You had already deciding he was staying, not that he was complaining.

"You know, all that sugar before sleeping can't be good for you," he tsk'd, following you to the kitchen.

"Shut up. You're not my nutritionist, you dweeb."

"This is why you never fall asleep before 3AM."

Despite his chastising, he aided you in the making of the drinks, grabbing the whipped cream from the fridge after you'd boiled the milk and poured the liquid into the matching cups he'd gotten for you last christmas.

"You expect me to take health advice from the guy who showed up tipsy at my dorm room at 2:45 in the morning? Just come to bed," then you walked off, drinks in hand as you settled them on each bedside table and made yourself comfortable.

Ah, right. Sharing a bed.

Chan had momentarily forgotten that you were in a point in your friendship where sharing a bed was as normal as breathing. It had been a while since you'd been able to have a sleepover, but Chan felt particularly awkward about this instance in specific.

You see, before tonight, any sleepover was had with nothing but platonic thoughts in mind (at least for the most part). Now, Chan had to sleep next to you while knowing you were likely thinking about how you'd rob him of his innocence just a few days later.

And him? He'd be thinking about how well you fit in his arms. How well other parts of you would fit with his own.

Within minutes, Chan found himself clad in some pjs he'd left over at your place after the endless times he'd crashed with you. Meanwhile, you were already in bed, whining at him from your place under the sheets for him to move his ass and cuddle with you.

Yeah, Chan was basically a dead man walking.

Regardless, he couldn't leave you waiting for too long. He never could.

"Chan! Hurry, I wanna go to sleep!", you exaggerated your whining a bit for the effect, he could tell.

"God, just say you're in love with me already," he whined back as he made his way to your bed and joined you under the sheets.

"Stop projecting."

Those were your last sleepy words before nuzzling your way to his side, falling asleep almost immediately while Chan sat awake with your head on his chest. One of his hands absentmindedly toyed with your hair as you slept, with his mind completely filled with contemplations about tonight's events.

Chan knew it had been an idiotic, spur of the moment decision to show up to your dorm room tonight. He was well aware of the regrets he'd have if he actually went through with it, knowing there'd be no way for him to feel platonically about your relationship after the fact. Hell, any platonic feelings he had about you were already dying day by day, and that was just due to your mere existence!

Sadly, Chan's desire for you ran deeper than his ability to think critically.

Jeonghan had been right, after all. Maybe this was the way to go. It'd be shooting two birds with one stone, like he'd said. After this, he would maybe finally find the confidence to find another girl, get over you (despite how unlikely he found that to be), and not have to worry about getting rejected for being a loser virgin, as he liked to call himself.

All Chan needed to do now was enjoy your embrace and mentally (and physically) prepare himself for you this coming Sunday. In just a few days, you'd be changing his life.

The following morning was not much for the books. You had an early shift at the supermarket you worked at near school, so you left pretty quickly despite it being a Saturday.

Meanwhile, Chan stayed in bed for a while longer, mind still fuzzy from last night. When you'd given him a kiss on the cheek as you usually did when bidding him goodbye, he began malfunctioning at the memory of the steamier kiss shared between you the night prior.

He only allowed himself a short time to go over last night's events in his head again before finally deciding to leave your dorm room. As a frequent visitor, he had a pair of keys which he used to lock the door behind him, taking his dirty clothes from last night with him and heading over to his own dorm.

Sadly for him, he had the misfortune of sharing a room with a nosy Kim Mingyu, who began berating him about his whereabouts last night after storming out. Along with him were Vernon and Jeonghan, who he recalled being annoyed at last night in specific, though he didn't remember exactly why.

It was extremely uncommon for Chan and Mingyu's dorm room to be empty of at least one other member of their friend group, but out of all times in which Chan wished he could be alone, today was the biggest instance. Except that even alone, Chan knew he'd have to deal with their teasing at one point or the other.

What was even worse, however, was his stupid decision to confide in them with what had gone down last night. They were his friends, after all.

Their reactions were exactly as expected, going from shock to laughter to mockery and eventually landing on a weird demonstration of understanding.

"Well, I guess this was the best course of action, all things considered," hummed Vernon as he rummaged through the mini-fridge Mingyu had gotten a few weeks prior.

"Dude, you're an idiot. Good job," Jeonghan snickered at him, offering up a high-five Chan vehemently denied. Mingyu responded to it in his name.

"C'mon, man. You should be happy! Isn't this what you wanted? You'll finally rid yourself of your virginity and bag your crush. What could possibly go wrong?"

Chan couldn't help but glare and at Mingyu in complete silence. Vernon's snort at the interaction was what brought him out of it.

"Dude, how is this a win? She's only sleeping with me out of pity. Plus, it's going to be so fucking embarrassing when I nut in my pants the second she lets me see her boobs!", Chan whined, completely exasperated.

But he didn't stop there.

"And what even happens after this? Am I just going to be stuck in the friendzone? I'd rather not have her at all than have her once and have it go nowhere. I know me, I'll never get over it," he let himself fall back on his bed, groaning at his predicament.

His friends continued to lounge in his room, at some point even turning on a console to play and not really paying much mind to his dramatics, though still providing sufficient feedback for his situation.

"Okay, then call it off," challenged Jeonghan.

Chan sat up to stare at his friend, not surprised to find him on his couch, eating his food, yet still finding entertainment in his misery.

"Well, I- I don't-"

"See! You want this. Just let yourself have something good, Channie. Wouldn't you rather your first time be with the girl of your dreams rather than with some random?"

"Yeah, my first time sucked. I'd pick Y/N over the girl I lost it to. It was so awkward," Vernon physically shuddered, "Also, this is a step in the right direction, if you really think about it."

Chan ignored the allusion to you and Vernon in that context, choosing to retain the very little sanity he had left in him.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think she'd sleep with you just for the fun of it. We're friends too and she just doesn't seem the type. I think she might like you back and is just using this as an excuse," theorized Vernon.

Before Chan could deny his assertion, Mingyu clapped his hands as if he'd discovered something grand, his mouth in an 'O' shape at Vernon's theory.

"Dude, you're so right," Mingyu agreed dumbly, "Wasn't she the one to start the kiss? Dude, she like-likes you."

"Of course she like-likes him. Anyone with eyes can see it," interrupted Jeonghan, "This idiot just needs to play his cards right and he'll be virgin-less and with a girlfriend by Monday morning."

"Easier said than done," grumbled Chan.

"No, it's pretty easy, actually. You're just an idiot," Jeonghan's statement was met with agreement from the other boys in the room, leading Chan to groan again.

"She said she was going to prepare something for me. What ... what does it mean when a girl says that?", he asked with a bit of apprehension in his voice.

Chan felt like he was violating some sort of secret between you by sharing all this with the guys, but he also did not want to make a complete idiot of himself when he finally got a chance with you — putting all context around it aside. So he opted to try and gauge to see if his friends could give him any type of useful advice.

"Oh, god, she's gonna eat you alive," Vernon chuckled, earning a similar reaction from the other two boys.

"What does that mean?", Chan was afraid to ask.

"He means she's going to rock your world," snickered Jeonghan.

Their responses were sort of absentminded by nature, seeing as they had at some point turned all their attention to the old Xbox Wonwoo bad recently handed down to Chan. They were still lucid enough to amplify Chan's anxieties, though.

"Okay, that gives me nothing."

"God, Chan, what they mean is that she wants you and she's going to make this a good experience for you. She's probably dolling herself up for you and getting you fancy flavored condoms or some shit. Stop overthinking it," grumbled Mingyu as he hacked at his controller, not even facing Chan once as he said so.

Chan felt himself falter at Mingyu's comment. He wasn't sure what to do with this information. Were you really making yourself pretty for him? Chan felt that was completely unnecessary, I mean, god, seeing you in your tiny pajamas last night had been more than enough for him to grow a chub unprovoked.

Should he do something too? Was there any prep he needed to do in order to please you? Maybe he should ask his friends to see if-

"Before you think about it, do not do anything stupid in preparation for it. Just let her take care of it. I know it's your first time, but as a guy you should focus on it feeling good for her," Mingyu scolded precautiosly, "She'll know what to do, just do whatever she asks you to."

Chan's mouth closed before it could even open, nodding to both himself and Mingyu in affirmation.

The conversation seemed to lull out there, with his friends still giving occasional feedback but with Chan checking out at some point due to his anxieties for what was to come.

Despite their advice, Chan decided that he'd at least hit some online forums to do some last minute research on how to optimize your pleasure despite his lack of experience. Along with that, he made a quick stop at a Target nearby to stock up on aftershave (despite not growing any facial hair), some cologne you'd once mentioned you liked on him, some condoms (just in case), some of your favorite snacks, a few aftercare products he saw listed on Reddit, and a few other amenities he thought might be useful.

At some point during the day you'd texted him letting him know at what time you'd be expecting him at your place, instructing him that all he needed was an overnight bag and to make sure his stamina would be up to par with your own (a comment he was sure you'd said in jest but had sweat dripping down his neck).

After having packed the stuff he'd bought in his overnight bag, he decided to call it a day and go to sleep to be well-rested for what he was sure would become the best day of his life.

What he felt was a mixture of jitters and dread. One side of him was overly excited to not only lose his virginity but to also finally be able to have you in a way he'd dreamed of for years. However, the other side of him dreaded the possibility of disappointing you and embarrassing himself. That, and knowing that this would be a once in a lifetime experience and that he'd have to live the rest of your friendship thinking of this moment knowing it'd never happen again.

These thoughts invaded his mind for a little while before he had to retort to some sleepy tea and some melatonin to ensure he'd maintain his energy for tomorrow as instructed by you.

Chan had woken up with a mission.

After all the research he'd done online, he might've gone a little overboard with the superstitions behind his preparation, but being overly prepared did no harm, right?

It had all begun with a very meticulous shower, ensuring he was cleaner than he'd been in his entire life. He'd even gone as far as using essential oils with your favorite scents to attain a smell he knew you'd enjoy. That, paired with his cologne had him confident you'd at least be happy with both his appearance and aroma.

He'd even gone as far as preparing himself a smoothie with a healthy mixture of fruits he'd come to learn would aid to his taste. He was slightly iffy about this fact, but decided against asking his friends about it to avoid any further teasing — they'd all been spamming his phone with good luck messages already.

A few hours were killed as he paced back and forth in his room, passing by the mirror every so often to fix his hair in order for it to be as perfect for you as possible. Hell, he'd even stopped by a flower shop to get you some tulips as some sort of token of his appreciation for ... for your pussy? He had no reason for it, it just felt right to get you flowers.

Your meeting was meant to be at seven, which gave Chan the impression that you'd probably spend all night at it ... The thought had him shuddering every hour that passed by as he waited.

When the time finally arrived, Chan felt extremely out of place as he stood outside of your apartment, flowers and overnight bag in hand as he pondered when to knock on your door. It was 6:58PM, was it too early? Should he have arrived a bit after seven? Would you think he was a loser for being so punctual, or for having brought flowers and snacks for you?

Okay, fuck. He needed to chill. You were his best friend. You already knew the most embarrassing things about him and he knew yours, there was really no reason to be this anxious or to feel inadequate in your presence. He needed to just man up and take anything you were prepared to give him.

When he finally ended his internal monologue, it became 7:01PM, which he thought a good enough time to finally knock on your door.

But he was beat to it by you, as per usual, as you suddenly showed up on the other side of the now open door, laughing at him as you always did for some reason. Not that he didn't enjoy it. He had gotten used to most of his friends laughing at him, that was sort of his goal most of the time.

"Are you planning on knocking any time soon?", you berated him in jest.

"How'd you-"

"The peephole, you dumbass," you giggled before pulling him in, seemingly ignoring the nerves radiating off him.

Once inside, Chan was able to take in what you were wearing, or more like what you weren't wearing.

In front of him, you stood with in nothing but a floor-length robe, though it was clear to him your hair and makeup had been done to perfection, with matching nails you hadn't had last time he'd seen you.

Fuck, he was terrified to find out what you were hiding under there.

"Dude, stop that. You're overthinking this," you scolded him, "Here, let's go to my room, gimme your bag."

One of your hands held onto the bag while the other grabbed onto his own as you led him over to your room.

Before he could make any quip or fun comment to alleviate his nerves, his attention was taken up by the brand new decor in your room. It wasn't anything too fancy or breathtaking, but the implication was enough to knock his breath out of his lungs.

Your bed was partially undone, with what Chan knew were your favorite sheets (as you'd berated him about the one time he'd laid on your bed with his shoes on), the lighting was best described as sensual, not too dark but dark enough to provide a lustful vibe, mostly provided by some dimmed fairy lights and a few candles here and there.

"You like? I didn't wanna be too cliche, but I thought you'd appreciate the atmosphere," you laughed when you noticed him mutely eyeing his surroundings.

"Y-yeah, thanks. Honestly, you're kind of making me nervous."

"Shut up, you'll be fine. What'd you bring?", you asked as you rummaged through his bag.

He thought about stopping you, but you were too stubborn for it to work. You were already pulling things out of it, giggling at some of its contents. Chan had to hold back a physical wince when you pulled out the condoms and lube he'd packed just in case.

"Flavored condoms. You're a man of taste, Lee Chan," you giggled, "You didn't need to bring anything, you know. I have everything we need."

You decided to ignore his bag now, instead walking over to him and sitting him at the edge of your bed, taking a seat next to him and turning to face him.

"I know you're nervous, but this really isn't as nerve-wracking as you think. It's usually worse for the girls. All you really have to do is sit there. It'll be fun for you regardless."

"But I want it to be fun for you too," he practically whined.

Chan already knew this would be a good experience for him no matter what. God, seeing you dolled up for him was already eternal spank bank material for him. The kiss a few days ago? He'd jerked one out to that mere bit of contact this same morning when he took a shower. His pleasure had never been something he worried about. It was making this good for you (and hopefully making you fall for him in the process) that he was wracking at his brain for.

"God, Chan. It will be fun for me, are you serious? You're such a people pleaser, there's no way that doesn't translate over to sex. Plus, you're hot. That in itself makes the experience ten times better than usual."

Hot? You wanted to kill him. That much was already obvious to Chan.

"So, when do you wanna start this, Channie?", you asked as if it was nothing.

"What, uh, what exactly are we going to do?"

"Ever watched porn, Chan? You have to get me wet first. We need some foreplay before you can put it in. Maybe we can just start by kissing like last time? God, it sounds so lame when I say it out loud, just get over here," you grumbled by the end, grabbing him by the shoulder to make him face you better.

Despite asking him to come closer, you were the one to take initiative and straddle him as he sat on the bed, leading his hesitant hands to hold onto your covered hips. Chan gulped at this, fingers instinctively squeezing at your hips as you leaned in closer.

"Don't overthink it," were your last mumbled words before closing the gap.

The kiss began soft and shy, almost as if it were your first. It progressed into open mouthed kisses up until the point your tongue introduced wetness to it, encouraging Chan to do the same. Similarly to last time, he was awkward about it at first, but your guidance got him comfortable enough to reciprocate your kiss.

"You're good at this, Channie," you mumbled, not giving him a chance to reply with anything but a moan.

Your hands were exploring him, unlike his own static ones. You played with his hair, toyed with the collar of his shirt, even unbuttoning the first few buttons, caressed at his cheeks and jaw. You had fun mapping him out while he remained stagnant and shy.

"Can I take this off?", you asked gesturing to his shirt, hands already fiddling with the leftover buttons.

All he could do was nod numbly as he stared up at you, gulping when your hands expertly did as you'd said. Your hands proceeded to push it off his shoulders, feeling up the skin of his chest with your cold hands.

"You're so strong, Channie, so pretty," you mumbled almost entranced as you felt the strong muscle on his torso. Your lips didn't leave him for long as you did, constantly reconnecting with his in open-mouthed kisses that were making him dizzy.

"Take off your pants for me, Channie?", you asked in a tone sweeter than Chan had ever heard from you before. Sure, you were probably the nicest out of all his friends, but your tone was slightly winded and soft in a way that made him shudder at the mere sound.

A few moments later, you got up, moving Chan's hands away from your hips (to his misery) and giving him space to get up and quickly remove his pants, sitting back down on his boxers as his hands insisted on pulling you back to his lap. He hissed a bit when he felt your weight back on his hardness.

"Fuck, you're big. Didn't feel like sharing that bit of information with your best friend?"

Chan could only groan at your comment, both in annoyance and hornyness. You were incredibly infuriating to him in all the best ways, specially as you pressed up your weight against his hardness and humped at him once to test the waters. Drawing another grunt from him, you giggled, losing the gap between you again.

The kissing continued for a while, and Chan had no complaints. If this was meant to be a learning experience, then he was learning a lot from you. As time went by, he felt less and less shy about the pants and moans he'd release against your lips as you sucked at his tongue. His hands remained mostly shy, but would at some points reach up to your back to pull you closer and then make their way back down to the meat of your hips.

Things became slightly problematic when you suddenly decided to begin moving your hips.

It was barely-there movement at first, but that only lasted a few moments. It progressed into full-on dry humping when Chan least expected it, catching him off guard at how good it already felt. Pushing him to fully lay down on the bed, you repositioned yourself to fuck yourself against him in a way that had him choking on his own tongue.

"F-fuck, wait," he rasped, hands digging into your hips in a lame attempt to stop you while knowing it was the last thing he wanted.

"Don't like it, Channie?", you asked despite knowing the answer.

"You're gonna make me cum," he grumbled half annoyed, half incredibly horny.

"Isn't that the fun part?"

"I- I want-" to fuck you, he meant to say

But he couldn't bring himself to say it when you were on top of him, shoulder now bare due to the robe sliding down and pretty eyes staring down at him as if he were a meal.

Not that he'd be able to verbalize anything so explicit to you otherwise.

"You want me to fuck you, right? But there's so many other fun things we can do first, angel. The night is young," you giggled, going back to your dry humping, now allowing yourself to moan at the friction along with Chan.

'Angel'?

Did you find him as perfect as he did you? He was an angel? You were a goddess.

That's when he gave himself up to the pleasure. It was a frustrating type of pleasure. His body ached for more, but this in itself already felt so damn good, he didn't have it himself to fight it. He knew the real thing was coming soon.

At some point you became desperate, huffing and puffing above him as you clearly stole all pleasure you could take from him, riding him through your clothes as you pressed yourself up against his hardness. Through the fabric, Chan could feel the warmth of your cunt dragging against him, making his eyes roll back at the thought.

He was aware you were wearing some sort of lingerie under your robe, — he'd caught a few peaks already — but the anticipation to see it was too much that he found his hands coming up to the loose knot located to the center of your waist, nudging it as he asked for silent permission to undo it.

Your frantic movements did not stop, but you still nodded in affirmation, aiding him in throwing off your robe when the tie came loose.

Chan grumbled into his throat at the sight.

Fuck.

He always knew your body to be a dream, but decorating it with a lacy babydoll was completely unnecessary. It felt like a targeted attack at his sanity and a mockery of his self control.

It was baby blue and sheer, which allowed him perfect view of the equally sinful lingerie laying underneath, accentuating every curve and dip of your body that he'd always remained curious about.

"God, you're so fucking mean to me," was all he could say in reaction, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt his balls tighten, an orgasm surely heading his way.

The sight combined with the making out, the extended foreplay, the caresses, and the dry humping left Chan a defeated man. You knew you held victory the moment he walked through that door and now Chan was willingly giving you the orgasm you clearly wanted to pull out of him.

All he could do was whimper pathetically as his orgasm took over, biting his lip in an attempt to quiet himself as he gasped at your continued movements against his stimulated dick, seeking out an orgasm of your own.

"F-fuck, Channie ... So good, so, fuck, so perfect," you cried as you let yourself fall into him when your orgasm finally took over.

With your face buried in his neck, Chan pulled you as close as he could, hips occasionally humping upwards without meaning to.

You remained laying there for a few moments, completely spent at your shared orgasm.

Meanwhile, Chan held you close as he attempted to catch his breath and maybe recuperate some of the sanity he'd just lost at the most intense orgasm he'd ever had — one due to mere dry humping, at that.

"How was that?", you chuckled when you caught your breath, sitting up again.

"You're insane," was his response.

"Just wait til I actually fuck you."

He shuddered, hating how easy it was for you to have an effect on him.

But you seemed to enjoy it, so it wasn't all bad.

"But for now you need to rest a bit," you got up from his lap then despite his complaints, laughing at his grabby hands.

That's when he got a better look at your outfit of choice, making him groan to himself once more.

"Like it, Channie? Got it just for you," you even twirled for him as you said it.

God fucking damnit.

For him? You'd bought lingerie for him?

Chan remembered Vernon's words then. Maybe you did like him back. God, the need to make you feel good just multiplied right that second.

He gulped as he sat up and let one of his hands reach out to you with shyness he wished he could rid himself of. You smiled at him with what felt like adoration, moving closer to him to let him touch you.

Chan was in a trance as he pulled you closer, getting up to match your stature better and letting his hands hesitantly find your waist.

"You're so pretty," he breathed, eyes running up and down your body before staying locked on your own eyes, which were conveniently stuck on his lips.

Taking his chance, he kissed you again, immediately moaning into your mouth at the intensity in which you kissed him. It took no time for you to take control of the kiss, making it as fervent as all others you'd shared and turning yourself around so you could guide yourself to lay on the bed, now pulling him to lay atop you.

Your hands were frenzied as they felt at every inch of him, pulling at his hair and scratching at his muscles in ways he had no idea could turn him on so much. His hardness was already beginning to come back.

Chan pulled away from the kiss to make his way to your neck, internally panicking at doing something wrong but taking the chance anyways. His hands explored you a bit more now, going beneath the baby doll and feeling the nude skin of your stomach while occasionally gracing against the lace of your bra and panties.

"I want you so fucking bad," he found himself breathing out when his kisses reached your chest, mind reeling at what laid beneath the pretty bra you'd worn for him.

"Then take me," you challenged.

Your hands joined his own in ridding yourself of the troublesome lingerie, throwing it out of the way as if it'd offended you and finally giving Chan a peak at what would now become the main character of all his wet dreams.

"Oh, fuck."

"Am I what you imagined, Channie?", you giggled, licking into his open mouth while he aw'd at you.

"Fuck, god, shit," his hands were frenzied as he felt your body under them. Any shyness in him left the moment he received unadulterated access to you.

"Shit, Channie," you gasped when Chan began grinding into you, this time harder due to him being on top and you being now fully nude.

"I, fuck, I want you so fucking bad," he repeated.

Chan's lips followed his hands, exploring every available inch of your body. They went from your neck, licking and sucking at any place that had you whining a little louder. Their next stop were your breasts, where he spent enough time to have you writhing under him, pawing at him to do more. Your stomach was his next victim, though he quickly skipped over it to make way to your thighs, which he opened further as he now knelt at the foot of the bed.

Wet yet desperate kisses were pressed against the skin of your inner thighs, ghosting at the place Chan wanted to claim the most. With your moans of encouragement, Chan braved a few love bites on the ample skin offered by your thighs. His hair somehow became an erogenous zone as you pulled and pulled at it in frustration at his avoidance of your center. The feeling was slightly painful, but Chan still keened at it.

Eventually even Chan grew frustrated of kissing around the place where you needed him most. With a deep breath and furrowed brows, he finally lowered his head to your cunt, hoping his half-assed research on Reddit gave him good enough advice on how to make you feel good.

His tongue licked a stripe at your middle, going from bottom to top and landing on your clit, which he recognized soon enough and began licking intently at. Slightly worried at your lack of reaction, he let himself take a peak above, only to find a sight that had him moaning into you.

Your mouth was open and your eyes tightly shut, with your eyebrows furrowed like his own. Paying close enough attention, Chan realized you'd been releasing silent noises of pleasure, stuck in your throat as he continued to lick and suck at you.

"Cha-channie, fuck," you finally breathed out, hips inadvertently pushing up against his face.

As if it were second nature, his arms went to push you down, holding you onto the bed to allow himself free rein over your pleasure.

At some point Chan's worries went away. He began to freestyle your pleasure, to put it in simple terms. He went off of your reactions, licking or sucking any time you pulled at his hair a little harder or whined a little louder.

The experience ended up being far more enjoyable than Chan had ever imagined. Sure, he knew he'd have enjoyed being on his knees for you, but never had he imagined he'd lose his inhibitions so easily whilst between your legs. His face was practically buried in you, devouring every inch of you whilst his hips took a life of their own as they humped at the bed.

Your noises were making him lightheaded, your whines of his name and your breathless gasps. It was all too much for Chan, he completely lost himself in you to the point in which he completely missed your first orgasm, too focused on his task to process it.

"Channie, f-fuck, I already came, you don't have to- shit. You don't have to keep going," you hiccuped at him, hands pulling him away from your cunt but hips continuing to attempt to get closer.

But he needed to keep going. He was slightly scared that he'd cum in his pants (again) by how consistently he kept humping at the bed, but he needed to draw that second orgasm out of you more than he needed his next breath — which he also needed, as he was basically suffocating between your legs.

Your whines and pleas became higher and even more winded as he continued, enjoying the torturous pleasure he knew you were feeling at that moment. Chan had never felt such ecstasy in his life.

"C-cumming, Channie! Cumming!" you gasped out before beginning to shake under him.

And even then, Chan could not bring himself to stop. He liked and kissed and sucked until you kicked at him to stop, groaning his name between breaths.

"Shit, fine," he grumbled in a chuckle when he finally separated himself from you.

He had no time to be cocky before you pulled him up, somehow managing to get him to lay on the bed and straddling him once more. Maybe you'd caught him off guard or maybe his body was too willing to do anything for you to ever fight you. His hands were able to immediately go to your hips, which was rewarding enough in itself.

"Shit, that was insane," you giggled with wide eyes as you looked down at him. Then you paused, your eyes squinting at him while the ghost of a smile took on your lips, "Wait you have a little something ..."

That's when you kissed him again, not shy at all in licking any leftover slick from his lips and even sucking at any remnants from his tongue. Chan, being only but a man, easily fave in to it, kissing you back as you'd shown him timeless times throughout the past hour.

"Who taught you that?" you asked in amazement as you pulled back.

"Reddit?"

"God, you're such a fucking loser. Why is that hot?", you mumbled the last bit to yourself.

You bit your lip as you watched him under you, likely looking like a complete mess. All his preparations for you had been undone by now. He probably reeked of sweat and his hair was completely fucked up (courtesy of you), yet you looked at him as if you wanted to eat him.

A few seconds later and your hips began moving from their spot on his crotch. You leaned down again, this time kissing at his neck while you ground on him. Chan whimpered pathetically at the stimulation, already too pent up to put up with it.

"I- I can't- I need to, fuck," he swallowed, "Please fuck me."

"God, how can I say no to you when you're so ..." you groaned into his skin, not bothering to complete your sentence.

That's when you got up without a word, aiding Chan in removing his boxers before pulling a condom from your the pile you had on the bedside table and sitting back on him.

Chan both salivated and gulped at the knowledge of what was to come. His hands tightened on your hips when you began eyeing at his dick. Half of him was self conscious while the other half was too turned on to even think.

The girl of his dreams was currently sitting on him, completely naked as she eyed at him like he was meat. There wad a mixture of fear and immense anticipation building in him.

"Such a pretty dick, Channie. I should've known. Everything about you's so pretty."

"T-thank you," he hiccuped when your hand went to lightly trace at his cock, almost as if entranced by it.

He was slightly embarrassed when he cried out when you finally got him into the condom, but what could be done? He was incredibly turned on and would likely continue to embarrass himself the moment you got him inside you.

"Ready, Channie?" you asked from above him, breath slightly scattered just like Chan's.

He nodded snd 'uh-hu'ed at you, hands pressing at a bruising strength into the skin of your hips as you lifted yourself just enough to press his cock against your folds. As the tease Chan knew you to be, you played around with him a bit first, tracing your folds with his tip before circling your clit with him to stimulate yourself even more.

When Chan's whining got too loud, you hushed him by lowering yourself down on him with no warning, slow in your descent and making sure to make noises that'd drive him crazy. Unluckily enough, Chan's own noises battled your own.

This was an unparalleled experience for Chan. His mind was hazy yet he felt more alive than ever. He whined and cried and moaned and whimpered at your heat. You hadn't even moved yet, but Chan's world had already been turned upside down.

"Oh- oh, fuck. That's so- You feel so fucking good," he rasped out. His hips canted forward a bit just as he spoke, causing another whine to leave his lips.

"It's so good, isn't it, Channie? Fuck, so good and perfect for me," you sighed when you began to move.

Taking on an increasingly rapid pace, you still made sure to angle yourself perfectly in order to get him as deep as possible, Your legs were practically in a knelt pancake stretch above him as you took turns bouncing and grinding. Red marks were left on his chest as you raked your nails across it, but Chan was in too much pleasure to register any of the pain; he was on Cloud Nine.

"Didn't think it could, shit, feel this good."

"That's cause it doesn't, baby. This is all you," you whined out.

Chan was entranced by you above him. It was clear you were enjoying yourself. Endless noises left your mouth and ecstasy made a home in your features. Your movements had finesse, but were mostly done in desperation. Chan felt his stomach knot at the knowledge that he was the cause of your pleasure.

"Gonna ruin me for anyone else," you complained in between pants, causing Chan to hump upwards without meaning to. This made you both gasp, eyes rolling back in unison, "F-fuck, Channie. Do that again."

And your commands were impossible to not follow. His hips immediately began canting in sync with your own. With his feet planted on the bed and his hands secured on your waist, Chan fucked into you with a complete lack of finesse and a mind full of depraved desperation.

The only noises leaving the two of you after that consisted of cries of each others' names and grunts. The mixture of skin slapping and disgruntled sounds of pleasure was nasty in nature, but Chan found the sheer need shared between you mind-numbing. This was a physical representation of how much he'd always wanted you, and it was finally taking form.

When Chan felt his orgasm approach, his hips sped up, causing you to hiccup out praises and moans, with a warning for your impending orgasm in between. Your hand went down to your cunt, toying at your clit messily as you continued to ride him.

It became a mess pretty quickly, but Chan didn't care. His mind was too focused on your shared pleasure.

"Gonna cum with me, handsome?", you gasped out between heavy breaths.

"Mhm!", was the most Chan could do at the moment. The pleasure was blinding as it led up to his orgasm. It was impossible to keep control of himself at that moment.

And then it came.

It felt like he was completely blinded, like his senses were overturned while also shutting down completely. Everything felt way more sensitive, especially when he felt you tightening around him for your own orgasm.

His brained tuned out your noises of pleasure and his throat muted any of his own. The feeling was so good that he choked on the loud noises he knew he'd be letting out at this moment. It was like he short-circuited. It all went black for a few moments as the pleasure overtook his entire being.

By the time his senses came back to full function, you were lying on top of him, breathless as you took turns nuzzling against his chest and pressing kisses on the flushed skin. Just before his arms wrapped around you, you disconnected yourself from him to lay beside him, removing any distance between you to cuddle into his side.

"I think you might've ruined me for anyone else," he breathed out finally.

You chuckled.

"Well, good thing I don't want anyone else to have you," you said nonchalantly, unknowing that Chan's heart rate sped up 100x.

"Do you mean-"

"Yes, I like you back, you absolute dumbass," you said in faux annoyance before pressing a kiss to his lips and getting up, mumbling something about needing to clean up before catching an infection. Girl stuff.

Meanwhile, Chan sat back on your bee completely dumbfounded yet more pleased than ever before.

Fuck, maybe he should buy Jeonghan a drink or something.

to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, loser!chan getting bullied by the members and reader all at once (with love ofc!), mentions of sex, mentions of prior overstimulation, sort of dom/sub dynamic, begging, oral (m receiving), etc.

wc: 169 (teaser); 1858 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Dude, you totally owe me money," cackled Jeonghan as soon as he spotted you and Chan walking into the frat house hand in hand.

"What? That was never the bet," Vernon gestured towards you and Chan, who were now settling onto the couch across from them, "The bet was that he wouldn't lose his v card, which it looks like he did – congrats man," he finished off with a high five to Chan.

"I'm talking about the other bet," rebutted Jeonghan, "I told you he'd confess within this week. You said it'd take him til after we graduated."

"Wait, what? We bet on that?"

"You guys had multiple bets based on my love life?", gaped Chan, half annoyed and half confused — he was making that question mark face you loved on him. He looked like a curious puppy when he did it.

You continued to watch amused, eventually joined by Seungkwan as he took a seat to your opposite side and offered you a sip of his fruity drink.

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

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