teukbyeolbitch

digital diary alt rite, ed blogs and p*rn blogs DNI

[dreamon8]

Christopher?

[dreamon8]

BANGCHAN IM NOT OK

[jj-one]

EPISODE 1: HELP! MY HOT GIRLFRIEND CAUGHT ME CRYING AFTER GIVING HEAD! (NOT CLICKBAIT)

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

jisung thought tutoring the hottest girl on campus would ruin his GPA— not his pants. one month later, he’s somehow getting called ‘pretty’ mid-thrust and offering you pocky as a post-orgasm snack.

pairing: nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader, established relationship genre/tags: college au, smut, fluff, jisung is a loser with a capital L, humor sprinkled in bc i’m unserious asf, lots of references to anime and other dumb stuff, lowkey perv!jisung, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), piv, protected s*x, kinda subby!jisung but he’s still a whore lol words: 5.4k (wasn’t expecting it to be this long… guess i yap too much)

[ note. ] — i had to make another nerd!ji fic bc i literally cannot stop thinking about him 😣 feel free to read my other fic for more context since it’s set in the same universe but i wanted to make a smut ver so here we areeee <33 also, i will be making more parts eventually, hence why it’s labeled as ‘episode 1’ so stay tuned for more !

cross posted to AO3

Jisung thought for sure that was going to die a virgin. Not in a sad, self-loathing kind of way, but more in a “yeah, that checks out,” kind of way. The type of peaceful resignation one might have while unplugging a broken router for the eighth time before crying into a bowl of instant ramen. Because guys like him— guys who quoted Dragon Ball Z unironically, who panicked when girls sat next to them in lecture halls, who built custom keyboards for fun and screamed at League. They didn’t date girls like you.

And they most definitely didn’t sleep with girls like you.

Still, that didn’t keep him from fantasizing. Constantly, shamelessly, unhingedly.

He’d never known what it felt like to have warm walls wrapped around his cock. Never heard those broken whines girls in hentai would make— unless he counted the ones he accidentally let out when he edged himself too long. His hand was simply never enough, no matter how many times he convinced himself he could “recreate the pressure.”

The bottle of lotion and box of tissues on his nightstand weren’t even hidden anymore— they sat like holy relics beside his gaming PC, ready for immediate access the second he closed League and opened incognito mode.

Porn never fully satisfied his craving though, he always wanted more. Even the best JAV compilation or doujinshi fan dub couldn’t compare to the real sickness consuming his brain: you.

You, with the glossy Instagram that he scrolled through like it was the damn Louvre. You, wearing micro bikinis in pool selfies with captions like ‘hot girl summer’ while he rots in bed, sweating and crying at the curvature of your ass.

You, biting your glittery, gel pen in class, leaning across the desk to ask for help, accidentally flashing a glimpse of cleavage so dangerous it made him pause mid-equation like he got hit with a stun grenade. Stalking your Instagram, seeing you in the tiniest baby tees and mini skirts. It was the perfect gooner material.

He’d stroke himself under the covers while biting a t-shirt to keep quiet, muttering your name between gasps like he was summoning a spirit. Fantasies playing out in his head that ranged from soft and romantic— like kissing you breathless during office hours— to completely feral, like bending you over his anime pillow while you called him “pretty boy” and ruined his life.

It didn’t help that you flirted with him now.

That you asked him to tutor you.

That you sat so close during study sessions he could sense your perfume from a mile away and taste the salt from the fries you always stole off his plate.

You laughed at his jokes, called him cute, even once said he had “nice hands,” and he nearly evaporated on the spot. Had to excuse himself to the bathroom with a boner and a prayer.

Every night ended the same. Him, fisting his cock in pathetic desperation at the thought of your pussy swallowing him whole, whispering ‘please’ like a man on the verge of religious enlightenment.

And every night, after he came all over his own stomach, out of breath and guilt-ridden, he’d sigh dramatically and say,

“I’m going to die alone. I know it. I’ll be the guy with the Zero Two body pillow and the unopened condom pack from 2017 that he keeps in case of a miracle.”

He did not, under any circumstances, expect you to be that miracle.

Never in a million years did he think he’d actually have a chance, let alone be dating you. You were just too perfect. The literal girl of his dreams.

Popular. Gorgeous. Cool in the kind of way that made any and everyone want to be around you without knowing why. You had that magnetic charm about you, an easily contagious laugh, a confident stride when you walk, and that dangerous habit of licking your lip gloss mid-sentence like you were in a CW drama.

And yet, somehow, here he was, currently horizontal on his bed, shirtless, breathless, with you on top of him wearing his oversized Bleach t-shirt and not much else, grinning like you’d just won first place in a science fair and a dance battle.

“Are you glitching?” You asked, poking his cheek. “Do I need to unplug you and plug you back in?”

“I- uh- w-what? No- yes? No.” He stuttered like every word had just magically left his vocabulary, he was definitely malfunctioning.

You laughed, head dropping onto his bare chest as he laid stiff as a board, arms hovering midair like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you even now. Even after dating you for a whole month.

“A month,” he whispered, still stunned by the timeline. “That’s like… thirty days of you voluntarily being seen with me.”

“Thirty one,” you corrected, lifting your head to smirk down at him. “Don’t forget the bonus day where you kissed me in front of the vending machine and the entire basketball team clapped.”

“I thought I was going to throw up.”

“You looked like you did throw up.”

Jisung covered his face with both hands and groaned.

God, he still didn’t know how this happened. When you had asked him to tutor you in stats, he assumed you were just kidding— or high. But you weren’t. You’d actually shown up. You’d flirted, sat on his lap one time when all the seats were taken at the library, and then acted like it was no big deal while his soul left his body.

And now here you were. Straddling him. Teasing him. Literally wearing his t-shirt with the anime print on it and calling him “baby” in the kind of voice that should be illegal.

“You’re so tense, Sungie,” you murmur, lightly dragging your fingers down his chest. “I know you like it when I touch you. You make these cute little gasps like a baby bird.”

“I-I don’t sound like a baby bird,” he mumbled, absolutely sounding like a baby bird.

You leaned down, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Chirp.”

Jisung squeaked.

You lost it, giggling into his neck while he covered his blushy face with a pillow. “Oh my god, stopp- why are you like this- why did you choose me,”

“Because you’re smart, and sweet, and you get all flustered when I call you hot. And because,” you sat up again, hips rolling ever so slightly and watching his pupils blow wide as you rocked against his clothed erect, “you say things like ‘This is just like my fanfic’ under your breath and then deny it.”

He groaned at the sudden friction, arms falling limp at his sides. “You heard that?”

“Babe, I hear everything. Like right now, I can hear how bad you want me to ride you.” You bit your lip, feeling your wetness growing at a rapid pace as you continuously grind on him.

Jisung whimpered. “Okay. I- this is really happening, right? This isn’t like, some kind of VR dream or like a… cursed hentai plotline where I wake up and you’re actually a sentient toaster?”

You blinked. “What the hell kind of anime are you watching?”

He slapped a hand over his eyes. “Nevermind, pretend I didn’t say that..”

You kissed him then. Slowly. Tenderly. Like you had all the time in the world and like you couldn’t believe your luck either. Because yeah, you were the cool girl, but Jisung was the first guy who actually listened when you talked. Who remembered your favorite boba order. Who’d stayed up until 3 am tutoring you and still walked you to your dorm with sleepy, nerdy affection twinkling in his eyes.

So yeah, you were gonna roast him forever— but you were also gonna ruin him tonight.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered, reaching down to tug his sweatpants lower.

Jisung was in the midst of catching his breath like he’d just run a marathon. “Y-yeah?”

“After I make you cum, will you tell me all about the sentient toaster anime?”

“…Maybe.”

+

“Okay,” Jisung panted, curling into your side like a baby koala clinging to its mother, “that was better than every hentai I’ve ever seen.”

You snorted into his shoulder. “High praise coming from the man who owns a $300 body pillow.”

“She was limited edition!” He quickly defends himself.

You playfully roll your eyes, kissing his flushed cheek. “So are you, Sungie. So are you.”

And yeah, Jisung still thought he was going to die a virgin once upon a time.

But now, wrapped in your arms with kiss marks littering his neck and your laughter still echoing in his ears— he was just really, really glad that he’s been proven wrong.

+

The moment you straddled Jisung and kissed him again, something shifted in the room.

And not just him having an outer-body experience for the sixth time in an hour.

You pulled back from his lips to look around, and the first thing you said was, “Okay, I have to say it- your room is the most aggressively virgin-coded space I’ve ever been in.”

“I told you not to look too closely!” He whined, burying his face into your neck as you giggled and craned to inspect the chaos surrounding you.

“Let’s see…” you started ticking things off on your imaginary list. “Anime wall scrolls? Check. Neon RGB light strips that make your room look like a gaming dungeon? Check. Is that Hatsune Miku in a glass case next to middle school spelling bee trophies?”

He groaned. “They’re collector’s items—”

“You were runner-up in 8th grade and you framed it.”

“I peaked early, okay?!”

You laughed so hard you fell forward onto his chest. “I love you.”

He froze. “Wh-what?”

You blinked. “I said I love you.”

He looked like you’d just offered him a lifetime supply of ramen and also stabbed him in the heart.

“…I love you too,” he whispered, barely getting it out before he hid under the covers.

You tugged the blanket back down just enough to see his red face. “Hey. Don’t hide. I wanna see you. Look so pretty when you blush.”

“PRETTY?!” He yelped.

You nodded in confirmation, brushing hair off his forehead. “Mmhm. Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. Especially like this- messy hair, pink cheeks, all breathless under me…”

He made the most broken noise you’d ever heard.

His hands gripped your hips like he didn’t know what to do with them, like he was trying not to crush you or himself with how desperate he felt. His eyes were dark now, glazed and locked onto your every move as you slowly ground against the bulge in his sweats.

“This is real, right?” He meant to ask that in his head but blurted it out instead, voice slightly cracking. “This is really happening?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Feels pretty real to me, baby.”

At this point Jisung was spiraling.

Not just emotionally. No, that happened daily.

This was a full-system shutdown.

You’d tugged your shirt off without warning and smiled down at him like it was the most casual thing in the world, and now his hands were hovering awkwardly mid-air like he wasn’t sure if he had permission to touch you or if he was being Punk’d by the gods of horny delusion.

Your skin. Your smile. Your fucking tits.

And worse— worse— as your fingers brushed through his messy brown locks and your thighs shifted over his hips, his brain suddenly screamed,

‘I can’t believe I’m about to get pussy before Jeongin.’

Jeongin, his slightly cooler, slightly taller, still-a-virgin roommate who had three rotating Discord kittens and a suspicious amount of cologne but somehow still never scored.

Jeongin, who walked around shirtless after push-up sessions and said things like “it’s not rizz, it’s charisma” unironically. Jeongin, who once said “I want my first time to be passionate and respectful” but also accidentally downloaded a virus trying to pirate a hentai dating sim.

Jisung had always assumed if one of them was gonna make it out of virginhood first, it’d be the guy with the Uzumaki clan symbol tattooed on his ribs and a social life.

But no.

It was him. Han Jisung. The guy who owned a limited-edition anime titty mousepad and squeaked like a kettle when a girl touched his arm. And now? You were grinding up against him slowly, teasingly, and he was barely clinging to reality.

“Y/n,” he whimpered, clutching your waist like you’d float away. “Can I- can I eat you out? Pleasepleaseplease.”

You blinked rapidly.

“…You wanna—?”

“So bad,” he choked. “I think about it all the time. Like in class. And when I watch those ‘how to’ videos online. Like, the diagram ones, not the porn ones, though I watched those too- but like educationally! For science!”

You stared blankly.

He was sweating.

“Okay,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You’re really cute when you beg, y’know that?”

He nearly ascended.

You barely had time to giggle before he flipped you gently onto your back, hair falling into his eyes as he ducked down between your thighs like a man on a mission from God. His hands trembled as he slid your shorts down, breath hitching at the sight of your soaked panties.

“Oh my god,” he breathed out. “It’s real.”

You snorted. “What were you expecting? A hologram?”

“I don’t know!” He cried. “I was starting to believe you were some kind of high-level succubus sent to punish virgins.”

You cupped his flushed face. “Wouldn’t be the worst punishment.”

And then he locks in— eyes meeting yours as he sticks his tongue out, licking a long, fat stripe across your clothed slit. Soft. Slow. As if he was trying to memorize you with his tongue, the heat of it makes you jolt. He’s not just tasting you— he’s learning you, tracing intricate patterns with his tongue like he’s trying to decode you one flick at a time. Every motion is precise yet hungry, like he’s writing a love letter in Morse code directly to your pussy. His glasses slipping adorably down the bridge of his nose, solely focused on pleasing you.

You gasped at the feel of him against you, the pressure of his mouth sent heat curling low in your belly, it was torture. Too much and not enough. You needed to feel him without the barrier of soaked lace clinging to your folds, and he must’ve read your mind, because he groaned like he was the one being denied. He kissed your pussy like he was thanking it, mouthing over your clothed core before dragging open-mouthed kisses across your inner thighs, leaving your skin slick with spit and bites to your inner thighs. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, everything about him felt so warm.

His teeth grazed you— playful, hungry— and your hips twitched as he whispered something nasty under his breath, half to himself, half to your cunt. By the time he slid your panties down, your thighs were trembling, tossing the flimsy fabric aside carelessly, like he didn’t care where they landed, only that they were gone. Then he buried his face between your legs like you’d been starving him for his entire life.

His tongue slipped between your folds, hot and greedy, lapping up everything you gave him like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He flicked up and down with obscene precision, wet, messy, relentless— his nose bumping your clit as he moaned deep in his throat, like he needed this, like the taste of you could make or break him. You were soaked, legs shaking, lips parted in a silent cry, and all he did was keep eating like he was trying to crawl inside you with his tongue.

You were loving the way it feels, every bit of you being hit with electricity. Your fingers tangled in his hair the second his mouth met your pussy, gripping tight, yanking just enough to make him groan into you like he was grateful for the pain. He never slowed down. If anything, it made him hungrier, tongue flattening against your slit before flicking up again, sloppy and fast and fucking filthy.

“God- fuck, you’re so messy,” you gasped, thighs twitching around his head. “You like that? Being my dirty little mouth toy?”

He moaned. Moaned. Into your pussy.

Nodding obediently, even as you tugged harder, grinding him closer. His glasses were long gone, hair disheveled, chin dripping with spit and slick as he slurred out something unintelligible against your clit. His tongue working overtime like he was trying to spell your name in cursive with every flick.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled, words caught in his throat. “I could live here.”

You threw your head back with a laugh— and then a sharp gasp as he got bolder, messier, more desperate. His hands kept you spread, his tongue curling and licking and worshipping like this was the only chance he’d ever get. He was sure that he’d jizz his pants just from giving you head— sure it’s pathetic, maybe even tragic. But he couldn’t help it. You were just too hot, too perfect, too fucking unreal, and the taste of you on his tongue, the feel of your thighs squeezing around his head, it was better than anything his fist or filthy imagination had ever given him.

Your fingers remain tangled in his hair, holding onto him for anchorage. He looked up at you with glassy, pleading eyes, the lower half of his face glistening with your arousal and rosy cheeks. “Tell me I’m doing okay? Please? I read five articles about this. I practiced on a peach.”

You gasped. “You practiced on what?!”

“Nevermind. Just- keep calling me pretty. I swear I’ll die happy right here.”

You tugged his head back down, voice ragged and ruined.

“Then make me cum, pretty boy.”

And he did.

Like a man with something to prove.

Like a nerdy little virgin who had just found his true calling.

Your eyes closed shut at the feeling, falling apart at the seams. Every stroke of his tongue making your insides tighten. You suddenly couldn’t remember how breathing worked, all you saw were flashes of white invading your vision, cumming so hard that you almost saw stars. You cried out, high and broken, hands grasping at his head as you came hard against his mouth.

Jisung moaned through it— loud and messy— tongue never letting up, licking you through every twitch, every gasp, every last jolt of overstimulation until you were tugging at his hair for dear life and gasping for air. Only then did he pull back, lips shiny, eyes half-lidded, face absolutely drenched, and smiling like he just beat the final boss of his entire life.

Somewhere in the past twenty minutes between Jisung nuzzling your thighs like a man starved and moaning like he was the one cumming, you had apparently blacked out, transcended the mortal plane, and been reborn as a puddle of girl.

Now, you lay sprawled across his unmade bed, fully clothed from the waist up and violently ruined from the waist down, chest heaving, eyes wet and glassy, one sock half-off your foot like a casualty of war.

And Jisung?

Jisung was cuddled up beside you like the world’s horniest golden retriever, chin resting on your shoulder, looking so smug and soft it was almost offensive.

You could still feel the ghost of his tongue between your legs.

“You sure you’ve never done this before?” You croaked out, blinking up at the ceiling like it had answers.

Jisung tilted his head innocently. “What, that? Nah. I just… researched. A lot. And I… uh, practiced on a fruit.”

You turned your head slowly. “Was it the peach again?”

“…It might’ve also been a mango. For tongue agility. But I named it after you, so it was romantic!”

You tried to snort, but it came out as a wheeze. “I can’t feel my legs, Jisung.”

He beamed. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Still taking it as one.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your forehead like he hadn’t just destroyed your entire nervous system with his mouth.

“I feel like I just unlocked a secret side quest,” he victoriously cheered. “‘Satisfy hot girlfriend until she sees God.’ Bonus XP for oral stamina. Am I your favorite now?”

You blinked at him, still fighting for air. “I don’t even know my name right now. You’ve ruined me.”

Jisung squeaked and tucked his face into your neck, practically vibrating with joy. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“You should. I saw the afterlife. It was just a video game buffering screen.”

He laughed, then rolled onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe this is real. You’re real. Your thighs are real. I had a girlfriend and head privileges all in the same night. I feel like I need to call my mom.”

“Please don’t.”

“Too late. She deserves to know her son peaked.”

You smacked him lightly with the nearest pillow, still grasping for air, still dazed.

And then he smiled at you— so big, so genuine, so sickeningly in love that your tired heart clenched.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat, y’know,” he mumbled, brushing hair from your face. “Just say the word.”

You looked at him, the boy with anime figures on his shelf, lotion still on his desk, and love in his eyes, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Next time,” you whispered, “I’m returning the favor.”

Mindlessly reaching into his sweats, the second your hand wrapped around his length, you froze.

“…Jisung.”

“H-huh?”

You gave a blank expression. Looking down. Looking back up.

“This is- you’re.. how is this even—?”

“I DON’T KNOW,” he cried. “IT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE, I’M ONLY 5’7!”

You stared at him like he just told you he had a second life as a Marvel superhero.

“Oh my god, I just assumed you’d be, like—”

“Average?!” He gasped, scandalized.

“No! I just- I mean- look at you! You’re this cute little nerd with anime socks and a keyboard with cat ears.. how are you packing all this?!”

You were in utter disbelief, there’s no way your sweet, stammering little boyfriend had been walking around with a dick that big and had no idea what kind of weapon he was carrying. Just raw, untapped dick potential— XL stats on a man who still apologizes when his knees crack too loud. Poor baby had been lugging around a whole third leg, and didn’t even know the first thing to do with it ;(

He simply shook his head, fully tomato red now, flailing beneath you like he was about to spontaneously combust. He watched you like he was afraid to blink. You pumped him once, slowly, watching him shiver under your touch. His lips parted. His back arched. You hadn’t even gotten started and he already looked completely ruined.

“Can I ride you?” You asked sweetly.

He nodded so fast his head could nearly fell off. “Yes. Yes, oh my god, yes- please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” You cocked your eyebrow.

“I’ll uninstall League right now if you ask me to—”

You giggled as you rolled the condom down over him, letting his hands greedily grab at your thighs. He was panting, forehead glistening with a sheen of sweat, like his brain was overheating just from the anticipation.

Then you finally lowered yourself, sinking down onto him, gradually, feeling the way you take him so easily from being soaking wet. Jisung mumbles something illegible under his breath as your cunt swallows his cock whole. It didn’t take long for you to reach the end of him since you were already so ready for him, staying in the same position to feel all of him inside you. His cock was splitting you open so nicely, it felt like you were in utter paradise.

And he made the sound.

Like his soul physically left his body, floated into the air, and gave you a salute on the way out.

“F-fuck.. you’re tight, I can’t—” he clutched your waist, eyes fluttering. “I’m gonna die. This is it. This is how I go.” He desperately bucks into you, wanting to feel more movement from you.

You move your hips to match his rhythm as you gain your balance, pressing both hands on his shoulder blades. You bounce slightly up and down on his cock, feeling your walls being filled up by every inch of him. You shifted from grinding on him real slow to picking up your pace indefinitely. Jisung threw his head back against the pillow from the pleasure, the sound of his balls hitting against your ass with the combination of it jiggling as you rode him like a bunny was enough to make him want to burst on the spot.

You leaned down and give him a chaste kiss. “Best way to go, huh?”

He nods vehemently. “Please don’t stop. Ever. I’ll cancel my Crunchyroll subscription for you. I’ll stop buying figurines. I’ll even delete my Genshin account.”

“Okay, now you’re being dramatic.”

He groaned helplessly as you continuously rode him like your life depended on it, breath hitching with every drag of your hips. He was so sensitive, so overwhelmed with it all that he couldn’t stop moaning into your mouth, mumbling broken, incoherent things like, “You feel soso good,” and “I can’t believe I get to have this,” and “Am I still breathing? No? Cool.”

You kissed down his jaw, showing no signs of stopping. You knew this was going to be one of those moments you’d both play on loop in your heads for a long, long time. “Still pretty, baby.”

He pants out. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You simply keep moaning as you kept bouncing on his cock, he was thrusting back into you, going even deeper. Your eyes reaching the back of your skull from the way he was hitting all the right spots. It wouldn’t take long before you started screaming his name and showering him with endless compliments.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Ji.” You were a broken record at this point, nothing but your whines and his grunts filling the room. You felt tense, your clit was throbbing, the pressure build up making you dizzy. Jisung couldn’t keep his eyes off you for a second, the way your tits bounced through your shirt, the way your long acrylics dug into his skin, he wasn’t even sure how he was still alive.

This was better than any of those fake scenarios that he’d absentmindedly create in his head, better than finally beating a level that he’d get stuck on for hours. He was in pure heaven, and he felt his high approaching any minute.

“I-I think ’m gonna cum,” he desperately choked out, rocking into you like a dog in heat.

Jisung was wrecked beneath you. Hands fisting into the sheets, mouth agape, his eyes rolling back every time you sank down fully and clenched around him.

“Fuck, please- please, I-I can’t,” he whimpered, voice shaky, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. His stomach tightening with every motion, trying so hard not to lose it.

You leaned forward and cupped his face, riding him a little harder, the slap of skin soft but steady. “You said you could take it, baby,” you whispered, voice syrup-sweet. “You begged for this.”

“I know, I- just- pleaseplease can I cum?” he panted, nearly on the verge of tears. His voice was raw, wrecked, like every second you didn’t let him was a cruel punishment. “’m so close, I’m- I’ll be good, I swear, just let me.. please—”

You seal his lips with yours, just to quiet the begging, grinning against his mouth as his hands fumbled for your hips again. He moaned into the kiss, his hips twitching helplessly under yours.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you beg,” you airly chuckled, pulling back just enough to look down at him. His eyes were wild, glazed over, the pretty sounds he made were like music to your ears.

“Th-thank you,” he sobbed, the gratitude in his voice borderline ridiculous. “’m gonna- I’m- oh my god—”

And with that, he finally let go. Releasing every last drop of his seed into the condom, muscles tensing up, gripping you like you were his only tether to reality. He looked down to see your arousal creating a white, creamy ring around the base of his thick cock, almost about to cum again just from the mere sight alone. Your legs felt like jello, you were weightless, collapsing onto his sweaty, sticky chest as you try to catch your breath, brain all foggy in your post-coital daze.

You didn’t expect him to cry.

Okay— not, like, full sobbing. But a little misty-eyed? A little “what did I do to deserve this?” A sparkle in his gaze as you lay draped across his chest, both of you blissed out and glowing in the soft, RGB-lit afterglow?

Yeah.

He was trying so hard not to sniffle.

“You okay, baby?” You murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of his jaw.

Jisung nodded, eyes wide and glassy. “I just… I thought my first time would be like, awkward. Or disappointing. Or I’d accidentally sneeze into someone’s mouth and get banned from touching boobs forever.”

You laughed against his skin. “Definitely didn’t happen.”

“No,” he grins, wrapping his arms tighter around you, “this was better than anything I could’ve ever imagined in my head. Better than my first SSR pull in Genshin. Better than when I tried the seasonal spicy chicken ramen and lived.”

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “That’s a pretty long list of victories to beat.”

“You’re the only victory that matters.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned playfully, “who is this smooth man and what has he done with my sweaty, anime-obsessed virgin boyfriend?”

He huffed, burying his face into your hair. “He’s still sweaty and obsessed with anime. He just… also happens to be madly in love with you.”

You smiled into his chest.

“Also,” he added, completely deadpan, “I think I saw the shadow realm.”

You snorted. “When?”

“When you said I was pretty and grabbed my—” His voice cracked. He covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, I can’t say it. My ancestors are watching.”

You giggled, shifting to lay next to him and intertwining your fingers with his.

And for a while, it was just quiet. Safe. His hand slowly brushing over your side. Your heartbeat syncing with his. The faint whir of his PC fan still spinning in the corner because, of course, he never actually shut it down.

Then he jolted upright suddenly, as if he remembered something urgent.

“Wait.”

You blinked up at him, amused. “What?”

He slid off the bed, naked except for one, singular sock and scurried to his cluttered desk. You watched, dazed and curious, as he fumbled with drawers and cracked open a cabinet that definitely shouldn’t have had food in it.

Finally, he turned around triumphantly. Holding out a white, rectangular box.

“Pocky.”

You stared. “…Seriously?”

“I always imagined I’d give my girlfriend Pocky after her first time with me,” he said solemnly. “Like a weird little anime reward.”

You sat up and grinned. “You are a weird little anime reward.”

He climbed back into bed beside you and opened the box, pulling out one, white chocolate-dipped stick and offering it with both hands like it was a sacred gift.

You bit it gently from his fingers.

“Mmm. You’re such a good boy,” you purred with a playful smile, “giving me snacks after ruining me.”

He short-circuited. Almost choking on his own Pocky. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I hope so.”

You kissed his cheek, then his nose, and then— just to mess with him— you whispered, “Still thinking about how big you are, by the way.”

Jisung made a noise so high-pitched it could only be heard by dogs. He flopped face down into the sheets, flailing helplessly while you laughed and straddled his back.

“You have to stop saying things like that,” he muffled into the pillow.

“Why?” You asked sweetly, brushing his hair back. “You’re my pretty boy. I’m just appreciating what’s mine.”

He peeked up at you, still pink, still glowing.

“…Promise you’re mine too?”

You leaned down and pressed your lips against his, soft and slow.

“Always.”

[crazynonsensicalbitchcore]

celebrities don’t kill fuck or date minors challenge go

[ybklix]

whimsical

summary: Felix grants you all your whims, even the “rarest” ones.

𐙚 pairing: lee felix x fem reader

⊹♡ genre: smut, pwp ⊹♡ warnings: light sub!felix, bestfriend!felix, handjob, oral sex, cum eating, cumplay, pet names, mention of pubes idgaf—so yummy it’s felix, unprotected sex, creampie ⊹♡ word count: 3.7k

masterlist ⭒ taglist

wen’s note: i warned you i needed felix so bad😭 bf brainrot!! it was time to post it, i had this since saturday lol / also naming a fic is lwk hard haha

One of your biggest desires right now is to fuck your best friend. That’s it. You said it—not to him directly—, but you thought about it.

You don’t know what’s going on, but it’s just a drastic change. You’ve always liked your best friend Felix a lot, but for some reason, you’ve been liking him a little more lately.

And you’ve always been direct, but when it comes to your feelings for him, you don’t know exactly how to tell him.

So you start teasing him, like that time you asked for ice cream. All you have to do is say you feel like some cookies and cream, and he immediately calls you excitedly, saying he’d love to take you to his favorite ice cream shop. But no, that time you didn’t feel like going out, you wanted ice cream with him, in your apartment. Felix quickly adapts to your every need and, in return, comes to your apartment and waits a few minutes for your favorite ice cream to arrive at your door, which he ordered for you.

You’re a bit capricious, you admit, so you don’t want to be ungrateful... so lately you’ve had this particular idea in your mind to thank him... a few kisses, caresses, nothing harmful. You’ve been dying to taste Felix for a long time. He is... simply incredible and breathtaking.

That day remains glorious. It was the first time you gave him a sign.

As you eat your ice cream, standing up, walking towards the sofa, you tease him by saying:

“Mmm, those shorts are a little big for you, don’t you think?” you say, amused, taking a lick of your ice cream and looking him straight in the eyes.

Felix has noticed the different way you look at him for some time now and must admit that it makes him nervous, but he likes it. Even so, he feels that you are not at all the sweet best friend he has known for so long.

And then, a subtle movement for you, but something that makes him uneasy and almost tremble. After your comment, your gaze slowly travels until it falls completely on his belt and his very exclusive masculinity, and you playfully lift his shirt a little, revealing a bit of his happy trial, and pull on his belt buckle, just playing and reaffirming your comment a little.

Felix remains motionless, not at all expecting your knuckles to caress his skin and fine hair, right near a very strategic part for him, down his navel, with such an intense gaze.

“Mmm, yes, ah—well, you know I’m thin,” he begins to stammer.

You love putting him like that. He always seems so confident, showing you his abs, telling you if a photo is good enough to post on his Instagram, and now... the slightest touch makes him like this.

It’s no surprise that you’re starting to like Felix; it was only a matter of time. He’s extremely handsome, cute, attentive, and gives you absolutely everything, and that means everything. He spoils you, and you easily treat each other like a couple.

But you’re tired of waiting too long. If you wanted it, you got it fast; it’s the only way Felix taught you. Your only man in your life right now.

So everything happens on an innocent weekend, your weekend when you get together to watch movies and dress up according to the theme of what you’re going to watch, a silly and sweet tradition that kills you with cuteness every time Felix, with his very cute big eyes and angelic face, tries hard to keep doing it with you.

He sends you a message.

Felix🩵 Nemo tonight, right? 🫠 I don't have anything orange, but I wore something nice Hey, don't you think it's weird that we're going to eat sushi while watching Nemo? HAHAH

You feel like he’s not picking up on your signals. You sigh and know that what comes next will be either a joke or something in very poor taste, awkward or satisfying.

You answer him.

hahaha, yess NEMO 2NIGHT i want new lipsticks:((

He replies immediately.

Felix🩵 I'm on my way, almost there Lipsticks? Which ones? I'll get them Give me your sephora cart, I'll buy it

He’s unbelievable; you adore him. Only Felix would buy you all the makeup you could ever dream of and more. You smile mischievously. God, you can’t believe what you are about to say to your poor best friend.

i just idk what shades to pick

Felix🩵 Mmm idk, you like, pink? Everything looks good on you 🤍

i need the perfect shade, lix plss help me

Felix🩵 Ok y/n, show me

You are already typing fast, guilty, so you don’t regret sending it.

And then, finally, Felix knocks on your door even though he knows the passcode to your place, but always waits for you to open the door.

But you had already sent the text.

haha ok nice i think the perfect shade is wait, what’s your tip color?

Your heart races when you realize he’s here. There are so many emotions. You’re embarrassed, proud, you don’t really know. You jump out of bed as soon as you hear him knocking on your door, not even checking to see if he saw the message.

But he did. And his eyes open in amazement. His tip color? Like, his cock tip color? What the fuck?

Felix is still in shock, blushing, and doesn’t even have time to process what’s happening when you’ve already opened the door, smiling broadly, looking radiant as if you hadn’t said anything.

Then he thinks it’s just a joke and that he should let it slide, but he can’t. He wants so badly to know if you liked him too, as much as he likes you.

“Hey, come in,” you said happily, pretending not to suffer from an intense heartbeat. “I’m the girl with the braces... and you...?”

He forgets about everything as soon as he sees you, smiling at you warmly and tenderly.

“Cute pigtails,” he touches one briefly, but remembers why he’s a little agitated when he notices your intense gaze, “ Ahm, I’m the... mmm, the old black and white fish” he starts to stutter, clearly nervous suddenly.

He is wearing his black and white adidas jacket, unzipped, a white sleeveless shirt underneath, and oversized cargo shorts. He looks really cute.

“Ohh, I see. Well, it’s been a while since I watched Nemo.”

And so, you start watching the movie, you lean your body against his, and like always, you’re touchy with him, you can’t help it, his bleached blonde hair is soft, smells good, but its texture is so addictive somehow to tangle your fingers in, his cheeks are soft, his whole body warm; but, you could see and feel him a little tense, different. He returns your touchy affection very slightly, finely, when he is always needy for your caresses and explores your body—in the most innocent spots of you. You know him.

The first 45 minutes of the movie pass and Felix tells you he’s going to get a bottle of water, so you pause the video.

“Do you want anything?” he asks, getting up from the couch.

You shake your head. Felix feels relieved because he thinks that if he spends more time with you, something could happen between you at any moment. All you had to do was pay attention to the way you touch him, not just in a friendly way, your hands on him are with a purpose disguised as innocence. He drinks his water, quenching his sudden thirst for you, just barely, you, his best friend, his... dream woman. He loves you and needs you too much... but how can he express it? If it’s always just you and him, best friends forever.

You wait for him, in a very short time, yet you find yourself checking your cell phone a little and notice that he did indeed see the message. You wonder if he read it... and you also wonder if that’s why he’s been acting strange.

You know Felix, you know it’s not awkwardness, if anything, something was up. His expression is serious, and he seems focused on everything but the movie.

You bite your lip, thinking that maybe tonight will be more special than it seems. Will you take advantage of the situation to hook up with your sweet friend Felix? It would be a dream come true. Your latest whim coming true, like all the others.

Felix returns, trying to act nonchalant, but as soon as he reads your body language of wanting to get dangerously close to him, he understands everything.

You can’t wait any longer. You’ll be direct. If he wants it, he’ll take it now, you’ll enjoy it uncontrollably, and if not, well, you’ve never thought about no. Felix always says yes to you.

He clears his throat.

“Um, should we watch a romcom after this?” he asks nervously.

“Sure,” you reply, standing up from your seat and facing him. It’s time to confront him. “So... Felix Lee, did you read my text?”

“Y-your text?” He avoids looking you in the eye, but glances at you from time to time.

You nod, challenging him and seductively running your tongue along the inside of your cheek, a small gesture that drives him crazy.

“Uh-huh. Yes. About the lipsticks, I really need your help.”

“Oh! That! Of course, which ones do you want to buy? You know you have my card, sweetheart.”

“I know. Thanks, Lix. But you know that’s not the problem.” You start playing with the zipper on his jacket, and you’re so close to him that you notice every angle of his attractive, nervous face, even his body tensing up. “I really want the perfect color. I still think that...” You watch your fingers play with his jacket and then slowly and seductively look up to make eye contact and say, “Your tip’s color is the perfect shade for my lips.”

You smile mischievously and notice how his Adam’s apple moves, showing his reaction and excitement. Okay, you have to admit it sounded a little strange... but you weren't joking when it came to Felix. Your intentions are serious and clear. You want to give it a try.

“Oh! That text... that was” he chuckled nervously, “that was funny.”

He tries to play it cool. He’s so anxious and agitated that he’s afraid it will show.

And it does show. He’s needy for you.

“I wasn’t joking, Felix,” your gaze falls on him, heavy and intense.

You want to make him give in so sweetly.

“Oh, you weren’t?”

“So, will you help me?” you interrupt him.

“Excuse me?”

“Will you help me with that? Will you show me?”

Felix stammers, unsure of what to say. But he could never say no to you, especially about something he's wanted for so long. It’s clear that the tension is building and things are escalating between you.

“Wait. So, are you for real?”

“I really mean it, Lix,” you whisper close to his lips.

You tease him by moving closer and brushing against his body.

“So... will you let me see it now?” you repeat, closer to his lips.

Felix tenses up even more. He wants to say yes, to move, but he’s under so much pressure, mesmerized and so turned on. You take the water bottle he was clutching so tightly and place it on your coffee table, turning back to him, caressing the smooth skin of his arms, your fingertips delighting in his gently protruding veins.

Felix sighs and nods softly, his Adam’s apple moving once again, his lips parting, ready to speak, not quite sure what to say; but you think that the idea of seeing his cock for the first time, just like that, is a little rushed. Yes, you want to fuck him, you’re so horny that you need him and his hard cock right now, and the tension between you wasn’t helping. But you also adore him madly, so it impulsively occurred to you that you should start slowly, taste his lips first. You always wanted that too; it was unfair.

You see his hands reaching for his belt, but you stop him.

“Wait, kiss me first.”

He just does anything you say. His eyes looking big, shiny, and submissive.

“Sure,” he whispers, barely audible, trembling.

You bring your lips close to his. You embrace his body, and he quickly does the same with yours, delicately taking you by the waist and timidly exploring your body, your back, and your hips. It’s the same paradise for both of you. At first, it’s rushed, passionate, clumsy, but tender. It takes a few seconds for you to adapt to each other’s movements and find a delicious rhythm.

Felix’s lips are plump; you always wanted to kiss them but weren’t sure if you should cross that line. But that doesn’t matter right now. It’s a passionate moment, sweet but sizzling, mouths colliding, breaths cut short, exquisitely dirty sounds, his tongue playing with yours, and your body sticking to his, rubbing delicately against his much-needed erection that he is currently experiencing.

You separate, although neither of you seems to want to. You still linger in each other’s mouths, breathing hot and slowly, brushing lips. Felix feels so consumed by the situation that he whispers, somewhat dazed,

“So... does this mean...?”

He can’t finish his sentence, but he knows that kiss had a deep meaning. It was like saying what you never dared to say. That you not hesitating to kiss each other was a very clear sign that there was already something there.

You smile. You know what he’s talking about and finish his sentence. “That I like you, Felix, yes. And... I want to thank you for always being so good to me.”

Your gaze rises from his softly sucking lips to his docile gaze, tender yet lascivious, then descends to the beautiful freckles on his face, which give him an innocent and harmless appearance. And, to tell the truth, that is exactly how he feels now under your touch.

He wants to think it’s the innocence of seeing each other like this for the first time, with desire, or at least revealing it to one another. The innocence of your first caresses with passionate affection, of your first kiss… but your intentions go beyond something innocent.

“I like you too, Y/N.”

You smile and kneel slowly, caressing his body on your way to his erection.

“I know,” you reply, lifting your chin and looking him in the eyes. “We can work this out.”

You sigh without him noticing and look at his bulge. You’re just as nervous and aroused, despite appearing confident. You feel your femininity pulsing, you’re so ready.

Felix blushed, watching your hands unbuckle his belt. He doesn’t want to say it, he’s embarrassed, but he also doesn't want to stop, or give you an unpleasant surprise, so he suddenly blurts out nervously:

“W-wait,” which catches your attention abruptly. You’re about to pull down his boxers. “It’s just that… I-I haven’t fully shaved yet.”

Felix didn’t expect his best friend, whom he has a crush on, to suck his dick like that, right there in her own living room.

A big smile forms on what was once your attentive and concerned face at whatever Felix had to say. You find him cute, since he’s blushing.

“Oh, I don’t care about that, Lix. It’s okay.”

You pull down his underwear, making Felix moan from the sensations of releasing his cock and the fabric rubbing against his sensitivity. You glance briefly at his penis and then look up at him. Felix looks down at you, still looking so damn handsome even from that angle. He’s still embarrassed about not having his private area ‘clean,’ but you give him a warm, knowing smile; you find it cute that he’s like this because he only overreacted a little.

He looks perfect. It almost pisses you off how perfect he looks. His cock looks perfect—thick, needy, throbbing. Just the right size to fill your mouth, to make you taste every inch of him. And for some reason, it turns you on even more that he’s clearly shaved recently—but it didn’t help much; his hair is already growing back. You wouldn’t even have noticed if he hadn’t mentioned it. Now it’s just a tiny detail that makes you even wetter—the subtle roughness of his skin, the faint stubble where he’d shaved, trailing toward his thick, hard shaft. So ready for you to taste him.

You’ll still take him just like that, and you do. You’re slightly desperate. You take his cock in your hand, feeling the softness of its texture, and you can’t resist bringing it closer to your lips. You rub his mauve pinkish warm tip on your lips, gently smearing yourself with his precum, and then you open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and let his throbbing cock rest on it while your hand pumps the rest of its length.

Felix gasps, groans from deep within, moans hoarsely, with difficulty, and heavy, ragged breathing. He feels so hot that he takes off his jacket and throws it weakly onto the sofa. And finally, he decides to take your head, caressing your hair, the two high pigtails that he initially thought made you look extremely cute, and now desire and dirty thoughts surrounded him, thinking that he could cum on them if possible. You are both so horny.

You start to put his cock in your mouth, filling yourself with every inch of it, sucking it hard and starting to swallow it. In seconds, it becomes dirty and obscene. You savor and revel in it, caressing every part of him —your tongue and hands greedy, gliding from the smooth skin of his abs to the soft weight of his balls. You take his cock out from time to time, licking and savoring its entire length. You’re dripping. Saliva strings from your lips to his tip, your chin sticky, your breath messy, and between your thighs, your cunt clenches, throbbing, demanding its turn.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, so you can’t help but smile as his cock fills you up. You look into his eyes, Felix is whimpering, babbling, and cursing in muffled moans, being so stimulated that his pretty eyes start to water. He’s so close.

“I just... want to thank you for always giving me what I ask for. How do you do it?”

You start talking, speeding up your hand to satisfy him. Felix whimpers and throws his head back, sounding so needy, letting you do whatever you want to him.

“I’m doing everything I can, love. For you,” he replies with difficulty.

All his muscles tense, every part of him begging for release.

“Fuck! I’m about to cum,” he announces, his voice trembling.

Adrenaline and desire fill your body, making your heart beat fast, waiting for his much-desired cum. You look into his eyes as you feel his body tremble, his cock twitching in your hand, so you hurry and put it in your mouth, filling yourself with his warm burst of ejaculation. Felix whimpers even more as he cums intensely and releases every drop of himself.

You drink his semen with satisfaction, remembering the particular flavor of your best friend, and take his collapsed cock out of your mouth, playfully fiddling with his shaft near your lips, adorning yourself with small white drops.

But you still can’t stop. You suddenly stand up.

“Should we continue?”

You’re always so unpredictable. Felix looks at you expectantly and lets you gently push his body, leading him to sit on your sofa. He’s still recovering, his cock is somewhere between soft and hard, but his situation becomes more difficult when he sees you quickly undressing.

He moans as he feels your warm pussy press against his sensitive member, sitting on top of him, his cock twitches under you, still slick, still recovering. Your folds on his new erection, moving subtly on top of him. He stiffens again when he feels your labia grind down on him. He’s sensitive as hell, but helpless to resist you.

You take his shirt off, appreciating his abs and the cute, barely visible freckles on his shoulders. You hold on to them, position his cock at your entrance, and slowly let yourself fall onto it. You both moan at the sensation that surrounds you. Felix feels your wetness and walls throbbing around his length, and he bites his lower lip hard, still so sensitive, but he wants to fuck you, or you to fuck him. He grabs your waist and lets you ride him at the pace you set. Everything feels so good to him.

You start to sway your hips, sliding on his cock, lifting your ass, first slowly and precisely, then desperately, fast and needily. You kiss him hard, hug him, press your forehead against his, and let yourself be carried away by the moment. Felix slowly loses his shyness and plays with your breasts; you can feel his desperation and pleasure. You are so close, and your pussy and body feel so particularly satisfied that you arch your back and throw your head and torso back, without losing the rhythm.

You come back and cling to him, whimpering his name in his ear as you feel overwhelmed by your next orgasm, and you come, your thighs trembling, his cock inside you to the hilt. Felix cums with a cry, hips twitching under your thighs, spilling his semen inside you seconds later, pleasantly used. Finally, filling you with all his desire for you.

“You’re a spoiled little brat, you know that?” he jokes breathlessly.

You smile, breathing deeply into the crook of his neck, collapsed and satisfied, and then you lift your head weakly to look at him.

“I adore you,” he confesses.

You gently rub your nose against his.

“Me too,” you give him a quick kiss. “Should we watch Shrek next?”

He rolls his eyes playfully at your sudden change, as usual.

𐙚 taglist: @rylea08 @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @hyune-sssne @oddracha @choso4u @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @bokkiesluv @thvsuga @myrkhive @vernorica123 @enhacolor @mintchocoddeonut @ysljoon

[channies-fatass]

Thinking about… rockstar!roommate!felix 😵‍💫😵‍💫

~•rockstar!roommate!felix who looks intimidating, but is truly a sweetheart once you get to know him.

~•rockstar!roommate!felix who is always listening to music or strumming his guitar, his pretty ringed fingers always catching you attention and making you… wonder.

~•rockstar!roommate!felix who is a virgin, but isn’t innocent. Always making dirty jokes, but blushing when your touches got intimate.

~•rockstar!roommate!felix who is just a needy little princess when you let him hit, moaning and thanking you as he thrusted into you. He also praises you, hoping you know how much he loved you :((

~•rockstar!roommate!felix who can finger you and eat you out like a beast, always making you see stars. It didn’t matter if his fingers were small, he made it work.

~•rockstar!roommate!felix who lets you pull his hair when you two fuck, almost immediately cumming at the sharp and quick pain.

~•rockstar!roommate!felix who let you bend him over and peg him in hid studio, adding the moaning and slapping sounds into his latest song.

I have school tmrw. 😟

[crazynonsensicalbitchcore]

AHHHHHHH

[stray-hawke]

OM NOM NOM

[rosylix143]

burnin' tires | y. jeongin

pairing: racer!jeongin x racer!fem!reader

genre: f1/racer au, smut, and a bit of fluff

synopsis: you are a rookie racer trying to make it in the big leagues, but you have one problem: the #1 champion of arrogance yang jeongin

cw: MDNI, enemies to lovers core, jeongin's a bit of a dick (but he's hot so it's okay), slow burn, this fic be LOOONNNGGG, vaginal fingering, cum swallowing, unprotected sex (do not guys), p.i.v

let me know if i’m missing anything!!

wc: 12.2k

a/n: REUPLOADED!! i love this fic bruh i can't believe i had to reupload it :,) comment, reblog, and leave a like if you enjoyed this fic. support is always appreciated <3

masterlist | join my taglist

———————————・❥・——————————

Your heart was pounding in your chest so hard that it could burst. Sweat dripped down your face, making all the air in your helmet humid. The adrenaline was rushing through your system, and your hands were tightly gripping the wheel. The number on the dash was about eighty or ninety–it was hard to tell when your focus was on the track. Everything was passing by fast. No time to take in the views of the trees, large brand logos, and the empty rows of seats surrounding the track. Your foot was completely pressed down onto the pedal, and you were ten seconds away from finally beating the score.

“Come on…” You said to yourself as you swerved past all the obstacles and kept your eyes on the white and black checkered flag in the distance. “Please, please, please, please…”

You were close. You were so close. You sucked in a breath, feeling like you were on the verge of flying. Your eyes were widened, and all the adrenaline was about to burst out of your veins. three seconds until you get to beat the highest score. You were about to reach the finish line, and—

Boom!!

Another red race car sped past you at a speed beyond yours and crossed the finish line. You choked on air, your eyes widened with disbelief, and all the blood vessels under your skin were popping with sudden anger. You couldn’t even take the time to process everything within those few seconds because if you did, you’d crash the car.

“And Yang Jeongin beats the high score!!” Changbin’s voice boomed through the speakers, echoing across the empty track.

You crossed the finish line, but not with profound happiness, excitement, or a sense of fulfillment. You crossed it with the feeling of being robbed and humiliated. After many days and nights of training and running and driving, you still didn’t get to beat your stupid rival and his stupid grin. Your eyes burned with fury as you watched the red car pull over to the side. There, stepped out a man dressed in all red and black racer gear covered in all kinds of logos and the number twenty-three largely placed on the back of his racer jacket. His helmet was also completely red and glossy and covered in pointless stickers, and he removed it to reveal his somewhat messy black smooth hair, his fox eyes, and his shit eating grin. Oh, you wanted to slap that grin off his stupid face.

“How many seconds was I at?” he asked.

“About five seconds,” Changbin replied, clapping his hands. “Good job, Jeongin! This is higher than your score of seven seconds.”

“You fucking piece of shit!!” you shouted, bursting out of your purple race car. You stormed out of the vehicle, taking off your purple helmet and tossing it to the ground. “I was going to cross that finish line first, but you had to ruin it, asshole!”

Jeongin turned around, and his face immediately contorted into a scoff. He stood up even prouder, with his arms crossed and shoulders shrugged, as he took in your hunched shoulders, tightened fists, and heavy stomps toward him. To him, you were just a petulant rabbit fighting a wild fox.

“Guess your tires got cold, Cutie,” he said, “Better luck next time.”

Oh, you wanted to punch him. However, for the sake of keeping your already vulnerable spot in the team, you settled with a shove, which only caused Jeongin to stumble back a little bit but not fall.

“That was my shot! And you took it!” you yelled, “You already got the highest score last time we did this.”

Jeongin looked at you with offense, not taking your sour attitude lightly.

“Come on, Cutie, there are other ways to handle losing,” he rolled his eyes, “What happened to ‘good game’ or ‘you earned it?’”

“Well, this game wasn’t good,” you seethed, “And I should’ve earned it, but you had to steal my chance at getting a top score after hours of hard work—”

“Work harder then.”

He said it so sternly, but of course, he had to finish it off with a cocky smirk. That damn smirk he uses whenever he’s mocking you in some way. Your fists clenched tighter, your heart pounded, and you were sure harsh steam was blowing out of your ears. You were ready to launch at him, but Changbin quickly stepped in between you and Jeongin, his arms creating distance between you two.

“That’s enough fighting,” Changbin said, “You both are supposed to be a team and work together to win the Grand Prix coming up, and we can’t have that without you getting along.”

“Well, he should at least give me a chance to excel,” you crossed your arms and glared at Jeongin, making sure that you were serious about losing. “It’s not fair that he gets to steal the thunder.”

“Crying isn’t going to get you anywhere, Cutie,” Jeongin sighed, “As long as you have me, we’re going to win anyway.”

You couldn’t say much. Your jaw was too tight, and all your brain was doing was coming up with the next string of insults to throw Jeongin’s way. Your knuckles were whitening so much that it was almost painful, your hair was frizzed up, and one of your blood vessels may be on the verge of bursting. All you could do was turn away and storm off, kicking whatever rocks were in your way. You busted through the doors of the racecourse, your skin getting hit with the cool air conditioning. Everyone in the room looked at you, their faces immediately struck with worry.

However, you didn’t pay them any attention because you just wanted to get into your reserved room. You slammed the door shut, furiously ripped off all of your racer gear, and crashed onto the bed. Your eyes were hot and bottling up with tears, and you punched the pillow next to you with every last bit of energy you had. You hated him. You wished he would just stop being so arrogant and so cocky, that he’d give you a goddamn chance. If he was going to make you train harder, then you’ll train harder. You will do whatever it takes to take Yang Jeongin down.

x•x•x•x

“I don’t know why she gets so worked up,” Jeongin leaned back in his seat, propping up his feet onto the desk, as he sucked on a cherry-flavored lollipop. “I did what I was tasked to do, which was to finish the lap.”

“Yes, you did that well, Innie,” Changbin said. He was sitting on the other side of the desk, looking over the footage of Jeongin beating you on the track and the number of seconds it took to get to the finish line for both of you. “But maybe you should’ve acted less…mean to her.”

“Ha! Mean? I’m not mean, Changbin. I’m just not going to hold her hand and let her win for the sake of ‘fairness.’ I’m only doing what I do best, and she needs to step up her game if she wants to ‘beat me.’”

“Well, yes, while she can train harder, you also have to understand that she’s a rookie, and technically, your job is to help her. You both are team TOPLINE, and we can’t have a team if one is falling behind and the other is doing all the work. I say that you apologize to her, and you will make sure that she’s on equal footing with you.”

Changbin turned off the footage on his computer screen and looked Jeongin in the eyes, telling him that he is serious about this proposition. Jeongin popped the lollipop out of his mouth, a string of cherry-flavored saliva connecting his lips to the red, rounded candy. He looked at Changbin, seeing the way his buff arms were crossed and his eyebrows raised. Jeongin then groaned and lolled his head back to look at the ceiling.

“Fine,” Jeongin said, “I’ll be less…‘mean’ to our precious rookie.”

Jeongin put his legs down from the desk and stood up from his seat. He stretched his arms out before heading to the door.

“Any idea where she’d be?” Jeongin asked.

“Knowing her…probably the simulator room,” Changbin said.

Jeongin couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Yeah, of course…” Jeongin opened the office door. “Anyways, I’ll catch you later.”

“I believe in you,” Changbin said.

Of course he does, Jeongin thought. He stepped out of Changbin’s office and walked through the incredibly white hallways. The walls were decorated with pictures of race cars, both old and new, maps of the track, and framed pictures of tires used in the races. The squeaks of his red leather boots echoed across the halls, and his presence sent a shiver down the spines of those he came across. The way to the simulation room wasn’t that far from Changbin’s office. In fact, it was close to the repair and car engineering room, which was often full of people fixing any race cars that were damaged during either races, test runs, or simple practices.

Jeongin found the door to the simulation room, a room with no light except for the light coming from the giant screen that surrounded not only the entire room but also the fake race car in the center. The screen showed a race track and a pov of a racer zooming through the road at a very high speed. Jeongin looked at the fake race car in the center of the room, and he saw you through one of the windows. You were wearing your racing gear, your determined eyes visible through the helmet, and Jeongin could feel the frustration burning from you.

“Come on…” You seethed. Your grip on the steering wheel tightened again, and your foot pressed against the pedal that it reached the floor. You were going as fast as you possibly could, but you reached the finish line within the typical eight seconds. “Fuck!”

The simulation paused, and you let go of the wheel. The doors of the race car opened up, and you reluctantly stepped out to take off your helmet. As you took off your helmet and shook some of your hair, your eyes met Jeongin’s. He was standing tall and proud, as he usually does, with his arms crossed, and your bad mood had increased tenfold.

“Are you here to mock me?” you asked, your tone bitter like dark coffee.

“Eight seconds…” Jeongin said, “Not bad for a rookie.”

“Piss off.”

Jeongin let out an amused laugh.

“Come on now, Cutie,” he said as he walked up to you. “That isn’t a way to treat your teammate.”

“Oh really?” you stuck your nose up and looked at him dead in the eye. “Well, maybe I can say the same to you when you took my chances at beating the high score. What was that thing you said again? ‘As long as you have me, we’re going to win anyway?’ As far as we’re concerned, we’re not teammates.”

You pushed him aside and walked past him to make your way to the exit.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta get back to training—”

Suddenly, Jeongin grabbed your wrist to stop you from walking. You tried to escape from his grip, but it’s too tight and strong.

“Let go of me—” you struggled.

“Meet me at the track at 8:00,” Jeongin said.

“Are you serious?”

“You want to get better at racing? Then meet me at 8:00.”

Jeongin’s voice was firm, almost like there was no choice in the matter. His fox eyes were sharp and commanding, and you couldn’t help the chills you felt down your spine. You swallowed and pulled your hand away from his. You didn’t even say anything back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying yes. Your back turned to Jeongin, and you simply walked away, leaving the simulation room. Meanwhile, Jeongin only sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Is this even going to work?

x•x•x•x

The large clock on the stadium board read 8:00 p.m., and Jeongin was waiting outside, wearing his typical gym attire: a black tank top, grey sweatpants, and sneakers. Even though the sky was an incredible dark blue with the full moon shining bright up there, the weather still had that summer air: hot, sometimes sticky, and maybe a coastal breeze. A few minutes passed by, and Jeongin looked around to see if you were going to come at all. However, no one was in sight. It was only him and the sounds of crickets.

“Jesus, of course, she wouldn’t want to come…” Jeongin scoffed, “Arrogant rookie…”

He was ready to get back inside and return to the living quarters, but to his surprise, you actually showed up. You showed up in your typical racer gear: all black and purple fabric with any random brand logos people go feral over.

“Where’s your racer gear?” you asked as you approached him.

“We aren’t driving tonight,” Jeongin said.

“Huh? Then what are we doing?” You felt your voice rise a little, out of the fear that Jeongin’s taking the time out of his night to waste yours.

“We’re going to take a run. So lose the racer gear. Or don’t. I don’t care.”

Jeongin’s tone was firm but a little sarcastic. It ticked you off to no end, but since you chose to be outside at night alone with him, you might as well cooperate if you wanted to get better at racing. You unzipped your racer’s jacket, since you didn’t want to sweat your tits out.

“Leclerc? Really?” Jeongin asked, eyeing the loose-fitted red Ferrari tank top you were wearing that had a picture of Charles Leclerc and his number sixteen in bold, plastered all over your chest.

“What?” Your cheeks heated up a little, noticing the teasing smirk creeping up on Jeongin’s lips. “He’s just…cool.”

“Wearing that on the track might make you a traitor, Cutie.”

“Shut up,” you huffed and crossed your arms, looking away from Jeongin. “He just motivates me…”

“I’m more of a Piastri kind of guy,” Jeongin stretched his arms out and lowered himself to the ground to get into position. His palms were flattened against the pavement. His right knee was close to his chest, while his left leg was a little extended back, and his back was curved upward. He posed like he was about to start a marathon.

You couldn’t help but stare at his shoulders. The way they looked more broader and defined under the stadium lights. You could even see some of his toned back muscles peek out from his compressed black tank top. The veins in his arms were popping out from the pressure he’s put on himself, and you saw the determined look in his eyes. He looked like he was ready to pounce and hunt like a wild fox.

“Ready to go, Cutie?” he asked.

You quickly snapped out of your thoughts, already feeling the embarrassment wash over you from eyeing the man you’re supposed to take down. You tossed your racer jacket to the side and got in the same position as Jeongin. He turned to his right to look at you, noticing how toned your muscles were. They were more toned than he thought, and he couldn’t help but feel a rush down his spine when he noticed how well your racer pants hugged your ass.

“Alright…” Jeongin started, “On the count of three…”

“Wait, are we racing each other?” you asked.

“Duh.”

“Then why aren’t we in the cars?”

“Because running is good for you, Dummy. Now, on the count of three…”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t protest any further. You took a deep breath and waited for Jeongin to finish counting to three.

“One…two…three!”

And just like that, both of you bolted. Jeongin was already ahead of you because of course he was. He gritted his teeth and let out the quickest breaths as he ran, and you were determined to beat him. You quickened your pace and managed to get an inch behind him. Your legs were burning already, sweat began to drip down your skin, and you could hear your heartbeat with every step on the road. You wondered how much of the track that you and Jeongin were going to run, but it didn’t matter at the moment. You needed to beat him. You swallowed and huffed and puffed as you finally managed to run past Jeongin. Triumph flowed through your veins, and you were determined to make it to whatever finish line there was.

Jeongin looked at you, seeing the way that you were running. You were running so unbelievably fast. All he could do was sigh and keep at his own pace, while you were stuck on your own mission to be the best. You looked behind you, noticing that Jeongin was a bit far behind you. You grinned and ran more and more. However, your lungs were forcefully pumping in and out as much air as they could, and your legs were aching and burning. You even felt your arms getting tired from all the back-and-forth movement. Your head was spinning a little, as your whole body heated up.

No…I can’t be tired now…I need to win…

You pushed and pushed, trying to keep up your speed. However, all the energy was draining out of you, and you had no choice but to stop running. Fuck…no…

Your hands covered your knees, your chest was heaving, and your head was still spinning. Your throat and tongue were dry, and your body tilted a little from the borderline exhaustion. Suddenly, your body jolted when you heard footsteps behind you.

“What’s the matter, Cutie? We just started running.”

Jeongin finally stopped running and stood behind you with his arms crossed.

“I won, by the way,” you breathed.

“No, you didn’t. You only ran about half a mile.”

“Oh, shut up, you stopped too.”

“Well, you exhausted yourself, so no one wins.”

You stood up straight and looked at him in the eye, ready to rebut, but no words would come out of your mouth. You just stared into his eyes, noticing how relaxed they seemed. You saw the way his smooth skin and black hair were covered in a sheen of sweat, droplets dripping down from the tips of his hair strands. His Adam’s apple was bobbing, and his tank top was stuck to his body like a second skin, letting his defined pecs speak for themselves. He looked so fucking hot, and your irritation only increased.

“What’s wrong? Got nothing to say back?” Jeongin challenged.

“What’s your point?” you asked.

“My point is…we can’t be a team if we’re trying to beat each other.”

All you did was laugh.

“Says the guy who stole my chances at beating the high score.”

“I didn’t steal your chances,” Jeongin rolled his eyes, “I just so happened to have more experience than you, Rookie.”

“Well, why am I even in your team then, huh?” you retorted. Your voice rose a little. “Why aren’t you in the higher-ups?”

“Ask Changbin. You think I chose to be paired up with you? A fucking brat who is literally one-track minded?”

“Excuse me?!”

Your mouth was agape. Your heart rate quickened, your body heated up like a hot pot of boiling water, and your fists tightened that your knuckles turned white.

“You heard me,” Jeongin said. His arms were still crossed, but his voice got more stern and laced with venom. “You can’t even drive without thinking about beating me, and you just think that driving fast will get you anywhere.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do if you keep on winning the race by yourself?! You talk about teamwork, but let’s be so fucking for real here, Yang Jeongin. You’ve always acted like this is a one-man show, and you keep your stage partner locked up backstage.”

Silence was between the two of you. All Jeongin could do was glare at you, like you said the craziest thing imaginable. All you could do was stare at him, wondering if your words actually got through to his skull. But despite how powerful your words might’ve been, his posture didn’t falter. He managed to stand still and proud, and his glare wasn’t a sign of a change of heart. All you could do in that moment was scoff and walk past him, bumping your shoulder against his on purpose, and going back to where you came from. Jeongin watched you walk further and further away from him, completely frustrated. He rolled his eyes and scoffed. Dammit, Changbin. I told you this wasn’t ever going to work. Now, she might fucking quit.

x•x•x•x

“That damn bastard!” you huffed, throwing your red stressball across Changbin’s office. It bounced off the walls, and you caught it when it went back at you. “Stupid fucking idiot who all of a sudden doesn’t want things to be a competition. If he didn’t want it to be a competition, he shouldn’t have acted like it was one in the first place!”

You threw the stressball again, but this time it was aimed at the window. You were ready to catch it, but the ball didn’t bounce right back at you. It was flying towards Changbin, but he quickly caught it before it could hit the side of his head. His eyes then met yours, and he tossed the ball to you. You swiftly caught the ball as he moved a little closer to you.

“I know how you feel, Y/N,” Changbin said, “You’re frustrated because Jeongin is trying to take the spotlight, and I’ve talked to him about it the other day—”

“What did he say?”

“He…said that he was just doing what he does best, which, in a sense, is true.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, but Changbin put his hand up, urging you to let him continue.

“But I told him to give you a chance,” he said, “Because you can’t be a team when you’re struggling and he isn’t.”

“Well, he’s certainly doing that,” you said dryly, “Be honest, Changbin. Why did you put me and him in a team together? Why isn’t the great Yang Jeongin up there hanging out with Lewis Hamilton or Oscar Piastri?”

Changbin didn’t answer right away. His expression was more thoughtful, as if he were trying to piece together what he was going to say. He took off his glasses, pressed his palms together, and looked at you straight into the eyes and soul.

“He may be proud and skilled,” Changbin said, “but he is not as skilled as the higher-ups. And he’s very aware of that…which could explain why his determination is pushing you away.”

“So you just think pairing him with me is good?”

“Why, yes. He can learn a lot from you, and you can learn a lot from him.”

Changbin tilted his head as he looked at you, giving you a moment to take in what he said. You thought more about the night before. You thought about how he wasn’t bolting across the track like you did. Then you thought about his words. “Well, you exhausted yourself. So no one wins.” That fucking bastard…

“The Grand Prix is in three days,” Changbin said, “I believe in you both.” 

You didn’t say anything afterward. You only nodded and walked out of Changbin’s office, and for some God forsaken reason, you couldn’t figure out why you were in front of Jeongin’s door. The door to his room was plain and white, but there was a large twenty-three sticker, proudly displaying his number as if he were someone important. The door was closed, but if you leaned in closely, you could hear the sounds of highlight reels playing.

“And just like Oscar Piastri is the first Australian driver to take the lead in fifteen years!”

You opened the door to see Jeongin lying back on his bed with his eyes locked on the TV screen across from him. He was dressed in a plain black T-shirt with black sweatpants: nothing super special. The TV showed old footage of a race from a few months ago, and Jeongin looked at it intently. He watched it like he was carefully analyzing it, like it was the 100th time he’d watched it. Jeongin didn’t notice you. Or maybe he did and didn’t want to give you any sliver of attention.

You stepped further into his room. You didn’t understand why your heart was pounding so much. Maybe it was the alarms in your head screaming at you to step out of enemy territory. His room looked like your suite: white walls with framed pictures related to the race track and sports, yellow circle lights, and a nice queen bed with black sheets. The only difference was that Jeongin’s racer outfit was hanging from one of the hooks on the wall, ready to grab when the time comes. 

“What are you doing here, Cutie?” Jeongin asked. His voice sounded a little detached. He didn’t even turn his head to look at you.

Your heart jumped from the sudden acknowledgment, but you quickly recovered and swallowed.

“Why are you watching Piastri’s highlights?” you asked.

Jeongin smirked and let out a dry chuckle.

“He just motivates me,” he finally looked at you as he repeated your words from last night. His eyes were narrow, his grin teasing, both actively trying to get under your skin. And boy, was he already under your skin. Your heart pounded more, you felt more breathless every minute, and warmth spread all over your body. “Anyways, what do you want? Shouldn’t you be out training to beat me?”

“Well, something’s bugging me,” you said, as you tried to keep your breath steady.

“Oh, color me shocked.”

“Shut up! This is serious!”

“Okay, okay, Cutie,” Jeongin laughed before reaching his hand out to you to make a “come here” gesture. If he wasn’t under your skin before, he was already possessing you in some way because you were already sitting on his bed. There was some distance between you two, but it felt closer than you’d prefer. His gaze was hard to avoid, too. Something about his fox eyes, smooth skin, and the way his black hair framed his face drove something mad in you. You mentally scolded yourself for failing to stop looking at his plush lips. “Tell me all about it.”

Jeongin’s smile may have been simple, but there was a hint of mischief, as if he was brewing new ways to mess with you.

“What you said last night,” you started, “About neither of us winning…were you serious about that?”

His expression changed a little. From what seemed to be less mischievous or annoyed, he’s now a little serious.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

“I think…” You mentally kicked yourself for even considering what to say next. “You’re right…Even though you might have been repeating whatever Changbin said before. The Grand Prix is in three days, and if we want to win this, we have to work together.”

“Did Changbin tell you that?”

“Yeah, and…I agree with him. We may hate each other, Jeongin, but if we’re honest with ourselves…we’re not in the higher-ups. We’re fresh meat, but Changbin believes in us. We just need to focus on the race and winning together. And maybe we can go back to hating each other afterward.”

Jeongin couldn’t help but chuckle a little at your last sentence, but he was silent afterward. Your words were sinking into him, marinating in his head. Even though he wanted to rebut and argue with you, he couldn’t. All he could think about was the rigorous days he spent driving, running, lifting, dieting, and doing whatever exercise he could to make sure that he was the best. However, none of that work was going to be sufficient if he were on the road by himself in a team-based sport. He may be fast, but not as fast as his idols. He knew you were right, which annoyed him to no end. He sighed and inched a little closer to you.

“You’re right, Y/N,” he admitted reluctantly. “And yes, what I said last night…I was serious about it. If we’re going to win the Grand Prix…we need to be more strategic.”

You swear you could feel your eyes light up at his admission. Nothing more satisfying than Yang Jeongin saying that you were right.

“So are we going to train together?” you asked.

“You want to?” Jeongin raised his eyebrow, a little surprised by your proposal.

“Well…if we’re gonna be a team on the track, might as well be a team in the gym.”

“Want to meet tonight at 6:00 then?”

Normally, you’d hesitate or not give a straight answer. But this time, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Yes.”

x•x•x•x

The next two days, you were training with Yang Jeongin. Yes, you were willingly training with him, even though you were sure that he still hated you and that you hated him. You both were running laps outside together, took turns with the driving simulator, raced each other on the track, and you were now at the gym. You were fully prepared, wearing your tight white tank top that hugged your curves perfectly, your navy blue track pants, and white sneakers. Your hair was tied up in a ponytail, and you were warming up by sitting on one of the benches, lifting your dumbbells. It was fairly easy for you to do. You weren’t pushing yourself too hard, since the plan was to do the bench press.

Jeongin finally arrived at the gym, wearing his casual gym clothes: a black compression shirt, matching shorts, and his regular black sneakers. He was going to announce his arrival, but he couldn’t help but stop for a moment to look at you. He’s seen you in tight clothes before, but something about you in your gym clothes stirred something in him. The way your top fitted like a second skin, making the swells of your breasts more prominent, but he couldn’t help but like the way your pants made you look like some badass. Hell, even the way you’re lifting the dumbbell was fucking attractive. His throat went dry, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment from the growing tent in his shorts.

Jeongin, for fuck sake, calm down.

He shook away the intruding thoughts and walked over to greet you.

“Hey,” Jeongin said.

Your head snapped up to meet his eyes. You immediately felt like you were in a dream. Why was he so hot? His fucking compression shirt. It was so tight and so right that you could see his abs through the fabric. And his shorts? Something about them felt illegal. Your brain was buzzing. No coherent thought in your head, and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered.

“Hi,” you cleared your throat, trying to avoid the pink glow in your skin. “You’re a little late.”

“Oh, come on, I’m not that late,” Jeongin laughed it off. “Only about two minutes late.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

You playfully rolled your eyes before putting down the heavy dumbbell and presenting the bench press.

“Wanna bench press?” you asked.

“Well, isn’t that what we agreed to?” Jeongin smiled.

“Yes.”

“So yes.”

“You wanna go first? I can spot you.”

“Sure.”

Jeongin laid his back down against the hard but also semi-soft bench. His head was underneath the large metal barbell, which was perfectly perpendicular to his shoulders. You went ahead to grab the weights.

“How many pounds?”

“Maybe 100.”

You nodded and grabbed two of the fifty-pound weight plates to put on the large barbell. Jeongin wrapped his hands around the barbell, maintaining a proper distance between his arms, and you were positioned behind him to spot.

“On the count of three,” you started, “One, two, three.”

Jeongin lifted the barbell, gritting his teeth together, and brought it a little closer to his chest. You stepped a little away from him, not to distract him. Once Jeongin brought the large weight near his chest, he pushed it back up and then repeated it. He only let out a couple of grunts, his muscles flexing with every push and pull. You couldn’t pull your eyes away. You couldn’t help but stare at his veins popping underneath his skin with his bulging muscles, and his flexed abs that you could see through his compression shirt. The sweat pouring down his body wasn’t helping much either, making his shirt stick to him even more. He lifted the barbell about two more times, letting out more pants and grunts.

“I’m done, Cutie,” he said.

You quickly helped him put the barbell back on the J-cups, where it’s meant to be, and Jeongin sat up.

“Damn, that was good,” he said, as he massaged his newly exercised muscles.

“You should spot me,” you said.

“You sure?” Jeongin smirked, “100 is a lot to carry.”

“I can try.”

You got on the bench, pushing Jeongin to get off. He rolled his eyes playfully, stood up, and got into position to spot you. He was about to ask you if you were ready to lift the weight, but he immediately stopped to look at you. As if you didn’t look tempting before, now you looked extra tempting with you lying back and your doe eyes looking up at him. Jeongin swallowed a breath, and his mind began to wander to not-so-innocent places, wondering what it would look like if you were truly underneath him. The image of his hands gripping your wrists, keeping them above your head, his hard crotch rubbing against your sticky and wet track pants, and hearing your sweet whimpers plagued his mind.

“Jeongin, I’m ready,” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Jeongin shook his head, bringing him back down to reality.

“Oh, right,” he said. He wanted to avoid eye contact with you, but he couldn’t help it. You looked too cute. “On the count of three…One, two, three.”

You tried to lift the barbell with all the strength you had. You felt the strain in your arms, all the gravity coming down on you with immense force. You pushed the barbell a bit high above your chest. Your teeth were tightly pressed up against each other, your chest caved in with the amount of air you sucked in, and your eyes widened when your arms began to give out. Jeongin quickly grabbed the barbell before it fell completely on your chest and eased it back on the J-cups. 

“Told you it was going to be too heavy,” Jeongin said.

“Shut up,” you pouted, as you sat up on the bench. “I thought I had it.”

“I’m only surprised that it didn’t fall on you right off the bat. You did hold it up for a good five seconds or so.”

“That makes it sound like I’m weak.”

“One step at a time, Cutie. One step at a time.”

You rolled your eyes, but you jumped a little when his hand found its way in your hair, ruffling it up a little. Your face turned red, and your mind was buzzing. The butterflies in your stomach were fluttering like crazy, and you felt goosebumps rise on your skin from his slight tug on your hair.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Nothing, Cutie. Just giving you some encouragement.”

You were going to say something back, but the words were lost on you the moment you saw his cheeky smile. The way his eyes formed into small crescents made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re just messing with me,” you huffed.

“Well…it seems like you don’t fully mind,” he said.

“What? Of course I mind.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Hey!—”

“C’mon, Cutie. Let’s exercise your muscles more.”

Jeongin walked away for a moment, and he replaced the fifty-pound weight plates from the barbell and replaced them with the twenty-five-pound weight plates.

“One step at a time,” he said, prompting you to lie back down on the bench.

You rolled your eyes a little but went ahead to lie down. Jeongin spotted you while you were lifting the barbell. The thing was still heavy, but it was easier to lift it up without putting so much strain on your arms. You both then proceeded to work out with the other equipment at the gym: the treadmills, the pull-up bars, and the leg extension. You also did regular exercises like push-ups, crunches, and sit-ups.

While both of you mostly got through the workout routine, you could not for the life of you keep your eyes off his buff muscles. You were obsessed with the way his veins protruded from his skin. Even the way he was taking a breather was fucking hot. His long tongue would just hang out from his lips, sweat dripping down his black hair, with his chest heaving, and the way he dryly laughs whenever he says that he should keep going.

You blamed your mind for making you picture what it would be like to have him in your sheets. His testosterone all the way up, his large hands grabbing your plush skin, and his tongue in places where it shouldn’t be. His heavy breaths against your heated skin, and all the things he could say to you while he has you under him. Would he sound so soft, or would he take all of his frustrations out on you?

No, Y/N! You can’t be weak for him. Not now!

Jeongin’s hands were tightly gripping your feet, keeping you in place while you did your set of sit-ups. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven….you almost lost track, but thankfully, Jeongin was the one paying attention. Your goal was twenty sit-ups. You were at about fifteen.

“You’re almost there,” Jeongin encouraged.

“Sixteen,” you panted, “Ugh, Jeongin, I’m tired.”

You weren’t lying. Your lungs were fighting for their lives, and the rest of your body was already sore from the other exercises you’d done for the past hour. You were even getting lightheaded, but you weren’t sure if it was from the exercises or from looking at Jeongin’s shifty fox eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, your mouth dry from the constant panting, before going back to do more sit-ups.

“Hmm….nothing, Cutie,” Jeongin said.

“You have something planned, I know it.”

“To win the Grand Prix, yes.”

“Hmm….you’re obviously hiding something from me.”

“What is there to hide?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a plan to sabotage me on the track or something.”

Jeongin laughed.

“I would never,” Jeongin said, “I mean, come on, we agreed to work together, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Although….I guess I can embarrass you in front of Leclerc.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” you asked, your face contorted in confusion and your cheeks reddening.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll just tell him all about you in the off-chance I meet the Charles Leclerc face to face. Spill all your darkest secrets to him.”

“What dark secrets do I even have?” Your face was completely red with slight embarrassment, and what’s worse is that you don’t think you could handle the idea of your favorite racer knowing of your existence.

“Maybe….the fact that you have a cute journal dedicated to him,” Jeongin smirked.

“How did you know that?!” you bolted up, immediately stopping your sit-ups, and looked at him with your eyes wide open, adrenaline rushing through your veins, and your heart pounding like there’s no tomorrow.

“I caught a glimpse of you making your little collage the other day. You, in your pajamas sitting on your bed, stickers and markers surrounding you, and of course, the many pictures of him.”

“Don’t ever tell him!” So much heat radiated from your skin that water could evaporate if it touched it. You even looked away from Jeongin, hiding your face in your knees. Embarrassment was an understatement.

“No promises, Cutie,” Jeongin smirked before lifting your chin up to meet your eyes. “I think he’d find it endearing anyway.”

You sucked in a breath when you realized just how close your nose was to Jeongin’s. They were practically touching. His hand was already holding your chin, and you couldn’t help but stare at his lips: pink, plush, and utterly kissable. Jeongin’s Adam's apple was bobbing as he swallowed, his eyes failing to avoid your lips. God, he wanted to kiss you. Kiss you so much that he could devour you. You looked too cute: your lips were soft like a pillow, and you just looked at him with the biggest doe eyes he’s ever seen. And of course, your goddamn workout clothes were hard to look away from.

“How about we call it a day?” he asked.

You blinked, finally broken out of the weird trance. Jeongin pulled himself back, his hand letting go of your chin, leaving your skin cold. You reluctantly nodded, and just like that, you later found yourself in your shower, letting all the hot water trickle down your body. You stared and stared at the marble wall, noticing your very faint reflection. Your body was on autopilot, but your mind was stuck on Jeongin’s face. His face when he stared at your face for longer than ever. His face when his hand tightly gripped your chin. His face when his Adam’s apple was bobbing with every beat of his heart. His eyes haunted you. They were full of nothing but carnal want.

What would you have done if he just kissed you at that moment, you wondered. He’s your enemy, as you are his. You hated him. You wouldn’t let him, but what would his kisses even be like? Was he a good kisser or a bad one? Would his kisses be hard or soft? What would it be like to have his big, veiny hands on your thighs? How would he hold you—

No! I need to stop. I don’t want him, and he doesn’t want me. He’s just messing with me, that’s all.

Even with that assumption, you still couldn’t shake off the feeling. The water dripping down your body was running cold, making your skin textured with goosebumps. You felt a twitch in your spine, and yet, a rush came down your body, heat building up in your stomach. His eyes, his hands, his damn shoulders, his hard abs, and his stupid smirk that you’d slap right off wouldn’t let you be. 

Damn you, Yang Jeongin.

x•x•x•x

Tonight was the night. It was finally the Grand Prix. The big stadium lights were on, the crowd was cheering and screaming with excitement, and you were putting on your racer gear. Normally, you’d wear purple and black, but since you were representing your team, red and black were the colors. Jeongin was already dressed, and you immediately had to look away. Why the fuck was he so hot? The way his racer suit clinged to his body like a second skin made your mouth water, and you tried to keep your eyes away from his crotch, not wanting to act like some pervert during the big day.

Come on, Y/N! You’ve got a race to win. Focus!!

You huffed and finally put on your special jacket, put your hair up in a ponytail, and grabbed your helmet.

“This is it,” Jeongin said.

You turned your head to look at him, adjusting his boots, tightly pulling the laces together, and tying them. His hair looked slightly messy, but his face was wide awake.

“Yeah…” you said, “You better not screw it up.”

“Oh, please, Cutie. You know I won’t.”

Jeongin stood up and crossed his arms, eyeing you up and down.

“Let’s kick some ass,” he said before extending his hand out to you. You looked up to see his eyes, formed into crescents as his lips formed into a smile. Not a smirk. An actual smile. You smiled back and took his hand.

“Let’s kick some ass,” you said back.

“Good to see you two come around,” Changbin said. You and Jeongin turned to look at him, noting how proud he looked to see that there was no hostility between you. “I knew you could do it.”

“Thank you, Changbin,” you said a little bashfully. 

“I believe in you both. Even if you don’t win today, you can always win tomorrow.”

Changbin circled around you and Jeongin and stood behind you both. He put his hands on both of your shoulders, giving them a soft massage of encouragement.

“Go get them!” he said before walking away.

“We will, Changbin,” Jeongin chuckled.

The race was about to start, so you and Jeongin put on your helmets and stepped out to your track station. Several people were at the pit stop, working on final preparations for the racecars. You took a peek outside to see the screaming crowds and the scoreboard towering over everyone in the racecourse. The scoreboard was pretty empty since the race hadn’t started, but it showcased all the teams that would be participating. You couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of pride when you saw your team name on the board: TOPLINE. You felt prouder when the large screens in the distance displayed a picture of you, standing so confidently and ready to conquer the race.

“Come on, Cutie,” Jeongin called as he hopped into his racecar. “This race isn’t gonna win itself.”

You nodded and hopped into your racecar. Once you were seated, you tightly buckled in all the straps, and your hands found the steering wheel.

“Cutie? Can you hear me?” Jeongin said through the intercoms.

Shivers were sent up and down your spine, hearing the deep husk of his voice. Why did he sound so seductive? Your cheeks heated up, making your helmet hotter and humid with your breath.

“Cutie?” he asked again.

“Yes, I can hear you,” you said, trying to keep your head straight and not completely mad over his stupidly attractive voice.

“We’re queued to get in line.”

“Okay, I’ll line up.”

You looked through the windshield to see that Jeongin started to drive and left the pit stop. You shifted the gears in your car and followed him, reaching the track, and the adrenaline was already running through your veins when you realized that you were placed right behind a Ferrari racecar. Your heart was pounding, and you couldn’t help but feel very giddy. Your favorite team as a kid was right in front of you. However, you were very aware that you needed to focus on the race and not fall behind because of severe fangirling. You looked ahead of the Ferrari to see that Jeongin was placed a little ahead of you. You sucked in a small breath, hoping that your worst fear wouldn’t come true in this race.

I hope he doesn’t do what I think he’s gonna do. All that time training had better be worth something.

“Now all the racers are perfectly lined up!” the commentator’s voice boomed through the large speakers in the racecourse. “Today’s race is quite special, since it’s technically the official debut of Team TOPLINE with rookie racer Y/N L/N with her stunning determination and talent. And let’s not forget the pleasant surprise of Yang Jeongin, who originally auditioned to be part of McLaren, but he didn’t make the cut. Well, we’re glad to have him join us on the racecourse anyway.”

Your eyes widened a bit at the sudden fact that the commentator dropped. You didn’t know Jeongin actually tried for McLaren. You couldn’t help but wonder what it was that stopped him from joining the team. Maybe he wasn’t fast enough for them? Impossible. Jeongin’s the fastest. You imagined what expression his face could be making in that moment. Was he reveling in his failure to make it on one of the biggest racing teams, or was he motivated to do better than they ever could?

“I know you’re behind your man, Cutie, but you have to stay focused,” Jeongin said through the intercomms, interrupting your train of thought. His voice didn’t sound humorless, and instead had that same teasing tone he always had. 

“Hey!” you retorted, blushing once more. “I’ll be focused!!”

“Alright, Cutie.”

“Just don’t try to take the victory for yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Jeongin didn’t say another word to you, and you didn’t say another word to him. You hoped that he actually meant it. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of everyone, and you were very sure that he didn’t want to embarrass himself either. All you had to do was breathe. Inhale and exhale. Your heart was pounding so much that you felt your limbs tremble. You looked through the windshield to see the red lights ahead blinking one by one. Once the final light turned on, all the cars started to move. Your foot was fully pressed against the accelerator the moment you gained enough distance. Your hands were tightly gripping the steering wheel, and your eyes were trained on the track you practiced on so many times. You could hear your heart pound as you sped past the cars with logos you remember fangirling over as a young teenager. Your heart pounded so much that you could hear it in your ears.

“Y/N? Are you catching up?” Jeongin asked.

“Yeah…” you said, “I’ve passed like three of them now…I’m still a little behind.”

“Hmm…okay. Just try to get past as many cars as you can. Finish those laps.”

“Got it.”

You increased your speed and managed to get past another car, only to suddenly find yourself right next to a Ferrari. You were so tempted to look through the windows, maybe as an attempt to get one of your idols to notice you. However, you couldn’t afford to get distracted.

“And look at that! Y/N L/N has just passed another Ferrari!” the commentator announced. “She’s not giving any mercy to the veterans on the road. That rookie is surely determined! Hopefully her tires won’t give out midway through the race with this speed.”

“Jeongin! How far ahead are you?” you called.

“I’m about five cars away until I take the lead,” he replied, “Where are you?”

“I think I’m two cars behind you.”

“Keep that position, and only focus on defense.”

“Defense? Don’t tell me you’re trying to win the race on your own!”

“Trust me, Cutie, I wouldn’t have given you directions if I were.”

“Ugh, this better work.”

You looked at your rearview mirrors, noticing that someone was trying to get past you. You immediately huffed and blocked the car’s path, and when it tried to go another direction, you swiftly blocked that way too.

“Looks like Yang Jeongin has finished his first lap of the night!” the commentator said, “Will his partner Y/N L/N be able to catch up?”

“Jeongin!” you said.

“You’re almost there, Cutie, just hold on tight,” Jeongin assured, “I’ll have to make a quick pit stop anyway, so take the lead.”

Your foot was against the floor, pressing fully against the accelerator, and you fought your way to get past the cars that were in front of you. You saw Jeongin drive to the pit stop, and with a surge of adrenaline, you sped to where you were right next to the leading car, which had the very distinctive white, blue, and had the Red Bull logo all over it. You slightly averted your gaze to your right to see that the car was moving towards you and gently clashed against the side of your car, rubbing its side up your car. The scratching noise of metal rubbing against metal echoed in the small space of your racecar, piercing your ears through your helmet.

“Shit!”

You tightened your grip on the wheel, and you pushed back, not harshly but enough. The Red Bull car was pushed to the side of the track, orange sparks flying from its side. Immediately, you sped right into the lead.

“And Y/N L/N has taken the lead!!” the commentator hollered through the speakers, and the yells and cheers from the crowd echoed across the track. “And look at that! She completed her first lap of the night! Yang Jeongin has also finished his pit stop, and he’s now speeding his way to join his mate!”

“Stay in the lead, Cutie,” Jeongin said through the comms again. “I’ll focus on defense.”

“Not focused on winning for yourself, eh?” you smirked, “You for real?”

“Unless being in the spotlight is too much for you.”

“No, no. I was just wondering.”

“Alright then. Just stay where you are and do your laps.”

A whole hour went by. You and Jeongin were going back and forth on the track between taking the lead and focusing on defense against the other racers trying to increase their ranking on the board. There were some moments where other racers ended up being faster than you, some pit stops lasted a few seconds longer than you’d like, and Jeongin was in the lead more than you. You were behind about seven cars. You had about forty-six laps down, but Jeongin was already past fifty. The time was ticking, and you wanted nothing but to just speed past the cars and cross the finish line. However, despite the urge of wanting to scold him for having more laps down than you, you also knew that you just had to trust him. Trusting Yang Jeongin was a crazy idea, but maybe trusting him was the only way to win.

“We have only fifteen minutes left in this Grand Prix,” the commentator said, “And it is between McLaren and TOPLINE to take the win! Jeongin is at fifty laps, trying to catch up to Piastri’s records from the last couple of races. Who will cross that finish line first?”

“Jeongin! I’m falling behind,” you said, trying to get past the other racecars in front of you.

“Hold on, Y/N. We’re almost to the finish line,” Jeongin said.

“Well, you are close to the finish line. What about me?”

“I’m about to do a pit stop again. You can take the lead now.”

You quickly sped up again, passing all the racecars in front of you. Your teeth were grinding against each other, your knuckles were white, and you were ready to jump the moment you finally got another lap in. You weren’t sure when Jeongin was gonna come back from the pitstop, but that didn’t stop you from zooming through the track. Any car you saw ahead of you, you overtook it. Any pit stop you had to take, you made sure that it was as quick as possible. You were finally at about fifty-seven laps. Jeongin was at fifty-six.

“Looks like Team TOPLINE is taking over the leader board!” The commentator said, “Yang Jeongin is at the highest number of laps for this Grand Prix, and Y/N L/N is catching up to him. We have three minutes left until they finally cross that finish line.”

You were still in the lead, far away from everyone else. Your heart pounded, the adrenaline was coursing through your veins, your body was twitching, and your tunnel vision was unmatched. All you were focused on was the track, making sure that your speed was above eighty miles per hour. You didn’t even notice that Jeongin was finally right beside you. He glanced to his side, looking right at your determined face. You were ready to win, pushing past every obstacle to get what you want. A soft smile crept up on his lips, and he found his foot ease a little on the accelerator.

“On the count of three,” he said.

You sucked in a breath, and your pupils began to open more. His voice felt more electrifying than before. Everything began to feel silent. All the tensions in your body were gone. Even the roughness of the road you couldn’t feel. You were flying.

One…two…three!

Boom!!

Time stopped. Cheers echoed across the racecourse, confetti was flying everywhere, and you and Jeongin were speeding across the track all wild and free.

“And just like that!! TOPLINE takes the win for this Grand Prix!!” the commentator announced with so much energy in his voice. “Y/N L/N and Yang Jeongin crossed the finish line together. Y/N L/N finished the race with fifty-eight laps, and Yang Jeongin finished with fifty-seven! Very close tie in laps!”

You eventually stopped the car, smoke rising from the pavement. You couldn’t move. You were stuck. Sweat was dripping down your skin, soaking all the fabric of your racer outfit. The plastic shield of your helmet was all fogged up with every heavy breath you huffed out. Your arms and legs felt like jelly, as if it all were some crazy dream. Suddenly, you jumped when you heard a tap on your window. Your eyes met Jeongin’s through the glass.

“Come on, Cutie, get out,” he said, “The podium’s waiting.”

You stepped out of the racecar, slamming the door behind you. Nothing felt real at all. The crowd cheering, confetti dancing around you, the stadium lights focused on you, and Yang Jeongin, the man you’ve been hating since you were even paired with him, was smiling at you. It was like he was proud of you. He put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close, and you didn’t bother pushing him away.

“We did it,” he said, “We won.”

“Yeah…” you replied, “We won.”

x•x•x•x

Three glasses of celebratory drinks clanked against each other, the music was blasting, and the TVs in the bar were playing the highlight reels of the Grand Prix. The place was rather crowded, but the majority of the people in the bar were mostly focused on the amazing win that just happened an hour ago.

“And what did I say?” Changbin said, “You both could do it!”

“I can’t believe I won my first race,” you giggled as you pulled the large gold trophy closer to you, casually smirking at Jeongin.

“Well, it was also my first race, too.” Jeongin playfully rolled his eyes and pulled the trophy close to him before taking another sip of his victory beer.

“Oh, piss off,” you scoffed.

“Come on, Cutie, it’s true.”

He leaned close, and you could smell the alcohol on him, making your mind feel a little fuzzy. His arm was nearing your waist, but it wasn’t brave enough to touch yet. Your cheeks were flushed, and you were sure it was from your strong, bitter drink too.

“Okay, come on,” Changbin chuckled, “It was a team effort. You both won your first race! That’s huge!”

“Eh, I guess you’re right, Changbin,” you laughed.

“Well, tonight is a night of celebration. You and Jeongin should treat yourselves. And don’t worry about the drinks. They’re on me for tonight.”

“Wow, Changbin,” Jeongin’s eyes widened, “You really didn’t have to—”

“It’s my gift to you both. Go have fun, you two. I will be enjoying my drink with the other team chiefs here.”

Changbin grabbed his glass and walked away from the bar, leaving you and Jeongin alone. You drank more from your glass, and Jeongin drank more from his.

“So…I guess we’ll go back to hating each other, right?” you asked.

“You think we could even do that after this?” Jeongin replied.

“Well, yeah…You still tried to take the win, didn’t you?”

You looked into Jeongin’s eyes, noticing the way they sparkled under the orange lights in the bar. His eyes really were like a fox’s up close. His smile was small, but it was wide enough to show his pearly teeth. His cheeks were glowing slightly pink, and he leaned closer to you. Your shoulders began to feel more relaxed, the lights got slightly blurry, and the music only became more distant in the background. Jeongin was the only person in your line of focus.

“I slowed down at the last second, Cutie,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

“What?” Your eyes widened, and you looked at him with confusion.

“When we were closing in on the finish line, I saw how ready you were to take that trophy. So, I decided to let you take it. Besides, I already beat Piastri’s record from the last race. I’m at his level now.”

You couldn’t believe it.

Yang Jeongin, your worst enemy. The man you swore to take down. He gave you your first victory.

“Jeongin, I…” you started, your words a little slurred and stuttered. “I don’t know what to say…”

“You’re welcome, Cutie,” he said, “Thought I’d be generous to you.”

You wanted to kiss him. You weren’t even sure if it was the damn alcohol or the fact that he looked so damn hot, admitting that he finally gave you a chance, but you really wanted to kiss him. Your eyes fluttered a little, your breath became light and shallow, and your nose lightly touched Jeongin’s. Meanwhile, Jeongin’s heart was pounding, his mind short-circuited, and his hands finally wrapped around your waist. No brain was between you both. You didn’t want to think too much about anything from now on, and neither did he. All you wanted was to touch him, and all he wanted was to touch you.

You weren’t so sure how you both ended up back in the hotel room, but you somehow found yourself colliding against the wall. The lights were very dim, giving an intimate atmosphere. Jeongin’s hands were gripping your waist, and your lips were crashing against each other. Deep breathless kisses like you both were putting all the tensions from however long you’ve known each other into them. His knee ended up right between your legs, coaxing a breathy moan out of you.

“Fuck!” you whined, as he rubbed his knee against you. Heat rushed down your body, and you suddenly feel wet and sticky, not just in your panties but in your racer pants. You were so fucking wet already, it’s embarrassing.

“What’s wrong, Cutie?” he whispered before sinking his teeth into your sensitive neck. You whined and dug your nails into his back. He rubbed his knee against your pussy more, so that you could feel it right up against your clothed clit. “You like that?”

You couldn’t speak. Your mind was so fuzzy from the alcohol and his touch that you were overheating. Your back arched against the wall, and you were sure that you were soaking the fabric of his pants too. Jeongin nibbled on your neck so that a purple splotch formed, and his hands reached down from your waist to your ass, firmly grabbing it, squishing the flesh through your pants.

“Fuck, you’re so hot like this, Cutie,” Jeongin groaned, letting his hot breath steam up your skin.

“Jeongin, please,” you begged.

“Please, what? What is it that you want, Cutie?”

He lifted you slightly up against the wall, his knee getting a slightly better angle of rubbing your clit, making you whine out loud. You were sweating so much in your racer suit that you were gonna die from the heat, and you could tell Jeongin was feeling the same way. But you knew that the man was so fucking stubborn. Unlike the victory at the Grand Prix, he wasn’t going to give you anything unless you begged.

“Fuck me, please,” you whined.

“Oh, really?” Jeongin feigned shock, “You want me to do that? Your sworn enemy?”

“Yes, Jeongin. Yes!”

Jeongin smirked before kissing you hard once more and finishing it off with a bite on your lower lip. You moaned against his lips, and he effortlessly carried you to the queen bed that was in the center of the room, very close to the large, uncovered windows that revealed the other dazzling buildings of the city. It was like that, the world was ready to watch their newest winners take their second reward of the night. Once you were pressed against the soft marshmallow sheets of the bed, Jeongin kissed you again, but this time he opened up your racer jacket, revealing your black sports bra underneath.

“No Leclerc?” he raised his eyebrow, amused.

“Didn’t wanna be a traitor on the track,” you casually rolled your eyes.

“Good. That means you’re loyal to me, right?”

You softly gasped when Jeongin reached down to grip your chin, carefully tilting it up so your already glassy eyes were looking straight up at his. He stared down at you with intent and a hint of possessiveness, just like his grip on your chin with his thumb rubbing against your bottom lip. You couldn’t help but think about the one time in the gym when he had you exactly like that. He looked at you with so much want and need, and you were unbelievably horny. Even hornier than before.

“Yes,” you said plainly without any extra thought. It was like your one-track mind only led to Jeongin and Jeongin only.

“That’s right, Cutie,” Jeongin smirked, “You’re mine, and no other fucking racer is going to take you away from me.”

Jeongin kissed you again, but this time, you weren’t feeling his knee up against your pussy. It was his damn crotch. You moaned and clutched onto him tightly, feeling how fucking bricked he was in his pants. He was grinding his hips against yours, and you felt all the wet stickiness drip down to your thighs.

“Jeongin,” you whined, “Stop teasing me.”

“But teasing is so much fun…” he laughed breathlessly.

“It’s not fair…”

“Oh, Cutie. Life is unfair.”

“Jeongin!”

“Alright, fine. Fine. I got you.”

Jeongin kissed your neck as his lips traveled down your body. His face was right up against your tits, his nose fitting right in between them. You feel like you could scream with the way his teeth pulled down on the fabric of your sports bra, revealing your perky nipples to him. And in fact, you did scream with the way his lips latched onto one of your sensitive peaks and suctioned onto them so tightly. You moaned, and your hands found his dark hair, tugging on the strands tightly. He moaned against your skin, sucking and kissing your sensitive skin, and he gave the same amount of attention to your other breast. Meanwhile, his free hand found its way down your pants to the band of your sports underwear. His long fingers crept underneath the second layer of fabric and finally touched your soaking wet slit.

“Fuck!” you moaned again.

“Jesus, Y/N,” Jeongin groaned, after his tongue released your swollen nipple, a string of saliva connecting them. “You’re soaking.”

A whine escaped your throat when he stuck his one finger inside of your folds, swirling it around. Jeongin thrusted his finger, hitting your sweet spot so easily and deliciously. You moaned more, feeling your wetness soak everything.

“Jeongin,” you whimpered.

“You’re so fucking tight, Cutie,” he said, “Squeezing my one finger too…I wonder if you can take more like the champion you are.”

He begins to pull your pants and underwear down a bit more, revealing your glistening, wet skin to him. Jeongin held back a breath, otherwise he would completely explode on you. But he couldn’t let himself explode on you. He wanted to take his time, even if it drove you insane. He shoved a second finger inside you, forcing your back to arch.

“Jeongin!” you whined.

“Oh my god, Cutie. You’re sucking my fingers in.”

Jeongin continued to thrust his two fingers in and out of your desperate pussy, reveling in how tightly it clenches on them. You moaned and whined, feeling the knot in your stomach begin to form.

“Fuck, Jeongin! I’m gonna fucking cum!” you whined, not caring if anyone could hear you through the blue walls of the hotel room.

The knot in your tummy was getting tighter and tighter. Your mind was getting foggier with every time Jeongin’s fingers hit your sweet spot, coaxing squeaky moans out of you.

“Is that so?” he asked, smirking again with mischief brewing in his head. “You wanna cum, Cutie?”

“Yes!”

“Really badly? So soon? Without having my cock first?”

“Fuck, Jeongin! Let me cum!!”

He playfully rolled his eyes, and Jeongin thrusted his fingers harder into you, stretching your tight cunt out and hitting your sweet spot again and again until your eyes rolled back and spilled all over his hand and your half-way pulled down pants and underwear. You heaved out heavy breaths and whined when Jeongin pulled his fingers out of you, making a pop sound. You looked intently at him, watching the way your essence was dripping down his fingers and the way the hunger in his eyes only grew. He took his two fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking in every last drop he could get of you, reveling in the sweet taste on his tongue.

“My, my, Cutie…” he said. His voice was so dark and low like sin, and combined with his foxy glare, it only sent shivers down your spine. “You taste like Heaven. Can’t wait to feel you around me…”

Jeongin moved a little away from you, finally stripping off his clothes. He took off his racer jacket to reveal his hard and smooth abs, and he took off his pants to reveal his hard cock, ready to go. Your eyes widened at the sight. His body looked like it was personally crafted by the gods. Every chisel and dimple in his skin was made with intent, and his veins were protruding so much that you wanted to bite them. And oh God, his fucking cock was not what you could’ve imagined. And Jeongin wasn’t oblivious to the way you were looking at him. He could tell when your pupils were blown wide and if your mouth was watering.

“Like what you see, Cutie?” Jeongin asked.

You could only nod. His looks have completely left you speechless. Jeongin’s heart melted at how adorable you looked.

“God, you’re so cute,” he said before getting close to you again and completely pulling down your pants and underwear, disregarding them on the floor. One of his hands was placed right beside your head, and the other found its way on your waist. Your arms also found their way around him. “On the count of three. One…two…three.”

And just like that, Jeongin easily slipped his cock into your cunt. You gasped, and with Jeongin’s immediate thrust, you let out a loud moan. He thrusted in more, and by God, did he feel better than you could ever imagine. You clenched around him like you were made for him, as he continued to fuck you harder and faster.

“Jeongin!” you moaned, letting your blunt nails dig into his bare, muscled back, which only fueled his desire even more.

“How does it feel, Cutie?” he groaned, pounding his hard cock into you more and more, the tip colliding with your sweet spot.

“So…good.”

“That’s right, Baby…You’re fucking gripping me like crazy….like you were made for me.”

Jeongin’s grip on your hip tightened even more as he kept going at his rough and fast pace, and he reached down to play with your sensitive and swollen clit. You whined and felt the knot in your stomach form again. Your mind was so foggy that you didn’t ask to cum for the second time. You just squirted on him, and Jeongin only had three more thrusts left until he completely exploded and spilled all of himself inside you. Jeongin slowed his pace down, and he looked into your dazed eyes, flushed face, and frizzy hair. You looked completely drunk on lust, and he was not complaining.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Hmmm?” you couldn’t hear him at first, your mind still stuck in the clouds, but you noticed the way he caressed your cheek with so much tenderness; a complete contrast to his rough pounding. “It felt so good.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, and Jeongin smiled softly before leaning in to kiss you. However, this kiss was more soft, unlike the rough making out from before. You kissed him back, still relishing the way he felt inside you. He felt so fucking good, and you would have never thought things could have turned out this way. Yang Jeongin. Your sworn enemy in the world of racing. The man who you tried so hard to beat in this competition you had with him. Who would’ve thought you’d let your sworn enemy fuck you so good?

You may have won the Grand Prix, gotten your name in lights, and taken the trophy home. But nothing could have been more rewarding than the warm embrace of your sworn enemy Yang Jeongin. The man who finally gave you a chance to win.

Fuck you, Yang Jeongin. Fuck you for feeling so damn good.

——————————・❥・———————————

tags: @enhacolor @yeonii08 @felixsonlyrealwife @staytinyluva

[rosylix143]

cyber sex | h. hyunjin

pairing: camboy!hyunjin x fem!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: hyunjin has spent a couple of weeks trying to build up his following on onlyfans. thankfully for him, you tuned in to one of his livestreams.

cw: MDNI, onlyfans, live-streamed sexual activity, masturbation, cum swallowing

let me know if i’m missing anything!!

wc: 1298

a/n: another reupload of a fic i posted yesterday :D hopefully the anon who initally requested this fic finds it. leave a comment, like, and reblog if you enjoyed it! your support is always appreciated <3

masterlist | join my taglist

———————————・❥・——————————

It’s been a couple of weeks since Hyunjin opened up his OnlyFans account. He didn’t get much revenue or views, but he had been spending every night creating content for anyone to stumble upon. During those few weeks, he wondered if his efforts really were worth it. What was he even gaining from jacking off in front of his camera if no one cared to see it? Were his nudes really mid, compared to the other men who got more subscriptions and attention than him? Nonetheless, he kept pushing. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and the same applied to his success.

And just like any night, Hyunjin set up his camera and microphone in front of his bed. The curtains were drawn, the door was locked, and the only light in the room came from the large monitor next to the camera and the lamp in the corner of the room, standing next to one of his framed art pieces. It was only a few minutes into the livestream, and Hyunjin was already taking his shirt off, giving his hypothetical viewers some time to appreciate his abs. Hyunjin smirked and ran his hands through his abs, feeling the hard ridges and chiseled edges.

“You like these?” Hyunjin asked the camera, his voice already breathy and rough. “I worked hard for them, ya know…Maybe I can show you sometime. Maybe I can give you guys a fun little gym session.”

A comment then popped up on the monitor, which caught Hyunjin off guard.

y/nx143: i wanna lick those abs already

He didn’t expect that to be the first comment he’d get in his first couple of weeks as a camboy. This whole time, he was talking just to talk, trying to figure out what dialogue would grab someone’s attention, even if it was a bit unnatural or cringey. But damn, that comment was surely better than none. Hyunjin chuckled, and he got closer to the camera, so that his abs were the only thing the lens could see.

“Oh yeah? You wanna lick these, Baby?” he teased, “Lick them all you like, even if it’s through the screen.”

He hummed deeply against the camera’s microphone as he felt himself up, sending shivers throughout his body with every touch. Hyunjin could even feel the strain in his sweatpants at the mere sight of his own body on the monitor, and he hoped that his new viewer felt something similar.

y/nx143: my screen is all wet now….

Hyunjin smirked at the comment, his face already getting more flushed and his cock getting harder.

“Oh yeah? Your screen’s all wet, Sweetheart?” he cooed. His grin grew even more once he took a good look at your profile picture, which was clearly your face, all dolled up and pretty. “You sure it was all because you couldn’t stop licking it? Or was your pretty face getting all wet too?”

y/nx143: show me more pleaaassseeee :333

y/nx143 tipped you $20

Hyunjin’s eyes widened at the sudden tip: the first ever bit of money he got from this silly endeavor. His heart pounded, and adrenaline surged through his veins. He stepped a little away from the camera, giving you a full view of his body. Hyunjin reached down to fiddle with the loose string of his sweatpants, slowly teasing you through the lens.

“You wanna see more, Baby?” Hyunjin asked as he pulled on his string. “Well, since you asked nicely and gave me a tip of twenty dollars….I should give you a tip in return.”

He exhaled a heavy breath, and Hyunjin pulled down his sweatpants, revealing his hard cock to the world. He could imagine it: the way your pretty face flushed at the sight of him, all naked and ready to burst. Your eyes were probably widened, and your mouth was most likely salivating just like your lower lips. God, the image was turning him on. Hyunjin couldn’t help but imagine you on your knees, looking all dolled up, and giving him the messiest head. You would’ve looked so pretty, he thought.

Hyunjin’s hand reached down to the base of his cock, and he squeezed it tight. A moan left his lips, and Hyunjin went further. He started to move his fist up and down, pulling and playing with himself. Hyunjin moaned more, his back arching against the edge of his bed, and his mind already clouded with pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned and swallowed, his pace relentless but also teasing. He couldn’t help it when his thumb would graze the tip of his dick, getting all that little bit of wetness everywhere. “You like that, Baby? You like the show I’m putting on?”

He didn’t even need to look at the monitor to know that. He knew you were enjoying yourself. You were probably spamming him with comments and tips, which only pushed him further. Better yet, you were probably touching yourself, too. God, Hyunjin knew he was insane for imagining his only audience member like that, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help but imagine you, all alone in your room just like him, shoving a finger or two in your soaking cunt. He imagined what your moans would’ve sounded like. They were probably so cute and to die for. Hyunjin moaned more and more, feeling himself get harder in his hand and trying to imagine his fist as your desperate cunt.

“Fuck, Baby, are you watching? You better be…” he moaned, “Maybe I can fuck something else if you’re into that.”

The knot in his stomach was getting tighter, and his legs were on the verge of shaking. Hyunjin’s heart was beating out of his chest, his grip on his swelling cock tightened, and just like that, within the next few seconds, white covered his hand and started to drip all over his sweaty skin. Hyunjin panted, his head so high up in the clouds with thoughts of only you. After coming down from his high, he sat up on the bed and spread his legs, giving the camera a good view of the mess he made.

“Look at this, Sweetheart,” Hyunjin said, his voice raspy and breathless. “Are you loving this view?”

y/nx143: you’re so hot. i think i just came.

Hyunjin saw your comment in the monitor, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Awwww, you did, Baby?” he asked. Hyunjin then stood up from the bed and approached the camera, giving you a much better view of his creamed cock. “I bet you wanna suck this clean now, right?”

Hyunjin slowly brought his cum-stained hand to his mouth, licking all the fluids off his skin and swallowing it, all while looking directly at the camera lens. He moaned at the taste of himself: salty but with that pineapple sweetness.

y/nx143: fuck, you’re so hot!

y/nx143 tipped you $50

“Damn, you really liked that,” Hyunjin laughed, “Well, thanks for the tip, Sweetie. Unfortunately, I’ll have to go. See you in my next stream.”

Hyunjin kissed the camera lens and turned it off, right before pressing the button to officially end the livestream. Once he did, all Hyunjin could do was lie back down on his bed, letting all the exhaustion hit. He grabbed his phone that was sitting somewhere underneath the blankets of his bed to check his OnlyFans balance. He earned a total of $150. All that money from you. His eyes widened, and his heart clenched. He didn’t think you’d be that eager to watch him jack off on camera, but damn, did he feel a bit grateful. Maybe all that effort was worth it after all.

y/nx143 requested to message you.

A smile crept up on Hyunjin’s face. You were now his favorite subscriber.

———————————・❥・——————————

tags: @enhacolor @yeonii08 @felixsonlyrealwife @staytinyluva

[hyunchans]

BANG CHAN :: BOUNCE BACK @ ASIA ARTIST AWARDS 2025

[bangchanwifey]

HES SO FINEE AGHHH

[starlostjisung]

okay who looks like THAT in an airport????

[ghostlyscripture]

ribbon.

synopsis: while you and chan are wrapping christmas presents, one thing leads to another until eventually he’s wrapped in ribbon and you’ve made yourself at home between his knees.

pairing: sub-ish!chan x f!reader genre: smut contains: ribbon used as a blindfold, ribbon used as hand restraints, kissing, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart), reader calls chan ‘chris’ like- twice, blowjob, head pushing, face fucking (kinda) word count: 5.4k

now playing: strings - taemin

event taglist is open!!

[a/n]: this one is for my subby chan enjoyers >:) did i go a lil overboard on this without even realizing… yeeeees. and what ab it? he’s fine as FAWK and i’m just appreciating fr :p this has not been proof read!!

the living room floor is a chaotic sprawl of wrapping paper and ribbons, gift boxes sprawled about in various states of completion.

you sit cross-legged amidst the festive mess, carefully folding a corner of silver paper over a rectangular box while chan hums along to the holiday playlist playing from a speaker somewhere to your right.

"i think we bought too little tape," chan mumbles as he holds up a nearly empty dispenser with a sheepish grin.

"that's because someone uses half a roll per present," you tease, eyeing toward the gift he'd just finished wrapping—a box of his own that’s more tape than wrapping paper.

your boyfriend is good at so many things, but gift wrapping unfortunately is not one of them.

you shake your head fondly and reach for a roll of red ribbon that rests between the two of you, measuring out a length of it against your forearm. the scissors make a satisfying snip as you cut it to your needed size. chan has already moved on to his next victim: a oddly-shaped item that he was attempting to wrap with increasing frustration.

"why would anyone make something this shape?" his complaint is grumbled, turning the object this way and that as wrapping paper crinkles, refusing to cooperate. "it's like... a weird triangle situation."

"here," you set aside your own project and scoot a little closer. "let me help, channie"

together, you manage to wrangle the paper around the awkward angles, your fingers brushing against his as you both reach for the same piece of tape. chan's hand lingers for just a moment, warm and gentle, before pulling back with a soft smile.

"thanks. you're better at this than me."

"practice," you reply, tying a neat bow on top of the newest wrapped present. "and patience."

"two things i apparently lack," chan manages with a laugh as he stretches his arms above his head. his sweater rides up slightly, and you can’t help the way your eyes gravitate to the sliver of skni.

the next hour passes you by in comfortable companionship.

you wrap presents with practiced efficiency while chan provides running commentary on everything from the optimal bow-tying technique (which he absolutely does not possess) to whether snowflake or reindeer paper is superior (an ongoing debate).

"your bows are so perfect," chan says with a tinge of awe, watching as you created another flawless loop. "how do you do that?"

"it's all in the wrist," you demonstrate, but when chan tries to mimic your movement his ribbon ended up in a lopsided knot.

"i think my wrists are broken," the announcement is a little dramatic and it’s promptly followed by him holding up his hands like they’ve betrayed him.

you laugh, reaching over to fix his attempt in only a matter of seconds. "they're perfect wrists. the ribbon is just being difficult."

chan's expression softens at that, something fond and warm flickering across his face. "you're always so nice about my complete lack of wrapping skills."

"well, that's because watching you struggle is entertaining." you hum.

"wow, using me for entertainment. i see how it is."

"would you rather wrap presents alone?"

"absolutely not," he says immediately, giving you one of his little looks—brow raised, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“no?”

"nah, this is the best part of the holidays. just... this." he gestures vaguely at the scene around you—the mess, the music, the two of you sitting close together on the floor. there's something so sincere in his voice that it makes your chest feel warm.

"yeah," you agree softly. "it really is."

chan picks up another ribbon and winds it absent mindedly around his fingers as he studies the remaining pile of gifts. "we're making good progress though. only... what, ten more?"

"twelve," you correct, "but who's counting?"

"apparently you are," he grins. before you can respond, he loops the ribbon loosely around your wrist like a bracelet. "there. now you're festive."

you look down at the makeshift decoration. when you glance up you’re met with a pleased expression, the sight of it making that warmth in your chest expand. "very stylish, channie"

"what can i say? i'm a trendsetter," chan declares with a shrug, already reaching for more wrapping paper, completely unaware of how endearing he is in this moment—hair slightly mussed, that bright smile. you say nothing, but you have a passing thought about how he seems brighter than the lights decorating the tree tucked in the corner.

you pick up your scissors and cut another length of ribbon, content to spend the rest of the evening exactly like this.

as chan returns to wrestling with another stubborn piece of wrapping paper, you eye the spool of ribbon beside you—the same one he’d used to fashion out your bracelet.

a cruel thought pops into your head, one you can’t be blamed for. he started it, after all... right??

"hey, chan?"

"mm?"

his head raises to spare you a glance, but before he can actually take in what’s happening you’ve vut a generous length of ribbon and leaned forward, carefully wrapping it around his head so it covers his eyes like a blindfold. you tie it loosely at the back, just secure enough to stay in place.

"there," you say, fighting back a laugh. "now you're festive."

chan's hands immediately come up to touch the ribbon, his mouth falling open in surprise before dissolving into laughter. "oh my god- are you serious right now?"

"completely serious. it's a great look on you."

"i can't see anything," he states the obvious while still laughing, his fingers tracing the edge of the ribbon carefully. "this is a safety hazard. what if i cut my finger off??”

"i’m sure you'll manage, baby" you hum, unable to keep the amusement from your voice. "consider it a challenge."

chan tilts his head, the ribbon shifting slightly with the movement but his smile is still there—bright and easy. "okay, okay. you got me. very clever."

he reaches up again, presumably to remove the ribbon, but his movements are slow, a little hesitant maybe. his hands hover near the knot at the back of his head.

"should i...?" he starts, but the question fizzles out into silence.

it’s that singular moment of hesitation that causes something in the air to shift

laughter fades, replaced by something heavier, quiet but tense. you're suddenly very aware of how close you're sitting. the way chan’s next breath comes a little heavier doesn’t go unnoticed.

"you could leave it," you hear yourself say, the words coming out without you even having to think about them. "just for a minute."

with that chan's hands drop slow back to his lap. "yeah?"

"yeah."

he's still for a moment, and you watch the way his throat works as he swallows.

without his eyes visible, every other detail becomes magnified—the slight part of his lips as he exhales, the faint blush that's been there earlier now spreading down the pretty column of his neck. his broad shoulders seem to curve inward just slightly, making him appear slightly smaller despite his arguably large frame.

"this is... different." chan’s voice comes quiet, something vulnerable lingering around the edges.

"good different?"

he huffs out a breath that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t been so airy. "i don't know. i just- i can't see you, but i can feel you looking at me."

"…is that okay?"

"yeah." the word comes out too quickly, almost breathless. "yeah, it's... it's fine."

without really meaning to you find yourself scooting closer, drawn in by the way chan seems to be holding himself so perfectly still. it’s almsot like he's afraid any movement may shatter whatever spell has settled over you both.

"chan," his name falls soft from your mouth and is met with his hum of acknowledgement. "you can take it off whenever you want."

his hands twitch in his lap but he doesn't move to remove the ribbon. your lips pull into something deceivingly sweat as he breathes out slow, deliberate. he says nothing, only offering you a nod in confirmation.

you take his confirmation as the unspoken permission that it is, shifting forward slow and deliberate.

watching the way chan's chest rises and falls with each breath sends a dull heat thrumming alongside the blood in your veins.

he doesn't move away—doesn't even seem like he wants to. if anything, he seems to sink back slightly, his shoulders meeting the edge of the couch cushions behind him as you close the distance between you.

"comfortable?" you ask, your voice quiet in what little space remains between you.

once again chan doesn’t offer you words—just a sound that rolls low in his throat, one he pairs with another of those single nods. his hands are grip his own thighs like he needs something to hold onto before he snaps.

you let your fingertips ghost over his knee first. it’s barely there, testing, but it still makes chan's breath hitch. he doesn’t twitch away though, and that’s all you need to keep going.

encouraged, you let your palms flatten against his thighs, feeling the warmth of him through the fabric of his sweats as you drag your hands upward in a slow, deliberate path that you know makes his mind go blank.

"this okay?" you murmur even though you can see the answer in the way he's gone pliant under your touch, lips parting around a shaky exhale.

"more than," chan manages, his voice rough around the edges. "you’re- yeah. keep going."

there's something intoxicating about this—about the way he's letting you set the pace, letting you explore without question or hesitation. chan doesn't usually ask for this kind of attention, rarely lets himself be the center of it, and the knowledge that he's just… giving in sends a thrill of satisfaction straight through you and pools low in your stomach.

your hands travel higher, brushing over the planes of his stomach and feeling the way his muscles tense and release instinctively under your touch. you trace the lines of his chest through his sweater, slow and intentional, before letting your fingers drift up towards his shoulders and down the length of his arms.

chan shivers, head tipping back to rest against the couch cushion.

the ribbon shifts with the movement and you can see the flutter of his eyelashes beneath it, the way he's keeping them closed even though the fabric is doing the work for him.

"you're doing so well," your hands find their way back to his chest, feeling the way his heartbeat thunders beneath your palm. "just sitting here, letting me touch you."

chan's jaw tightens, and you watch the muscles work as he clearly fights to maintain some semblance of composure. "i can-" he starts, but his voice cracks slightly before he can stop it. he has to clear his throat before he continues. "i can handle it."

"i know you can," you purr, something teasing in your tone now. "you're always so good at staying in control, aren't you channie?"

his breath stutters at that, and you feel the way his chest expands unevenly under your touch.

chan is always the one who takes charge—in the studio, with the members, with you. he's steady, reliable, the foundation everyone else builds on. but right now, with that ribbon hiding his eyes and your hands mapping the geography of his body, he looks anything but stable.

"yeah," he agrees but it comes out strained. "always."

your following hum is a thoughtful, condescending thing. letting one hand drift lower, you let your fingertips graze along the line of his waistband. chan's hips shift almost imperceptibly, but you catch the movement, the way he's already fighting against himself to not react.

"what if you didn't have to be, though? just for a little while?"

chan's lips press together and for a moment you think he might protest, might pull the ribbon off and take back the reins like he always does.

instead, you watch as his hands flex against his thighs, fingers spreading wide before curling into loose fists.

he exhales slowly through his nose before speaking, or trying to, at least.

"i don't-" he pauses, swallows hard. "i'm not used to this."

"i know, baby"

"it's not that i don't want to, i just…" another shaky breath. "it's hard to let go."

"then don't let go all at once," you say, thumb stroking small circles just above his hip bone, trying to ease the tension coiled there. "just lemme take care of you, channie. one piece at a time. yeah?"

chan makes that same sound again—something caught between agreement and surrender—and the last bit of resistance seems to bleed out of his shoulders.

he sinks further back against the couch, his thighs spreading just slightly wider, and you take that as the invitation it is.

you move to position yourself between his legs properly, your knees digging against the carpet.

from the new angle, you can see everything—the way his chest is rising and falling faster now, the muscle twitching at the side his neck, the way his hands are gripping his own thighs so hard his knuckles have gone pale.

"breathe," you remind him gently, and it takes barely a second before chans drawing in a deep breath that makes his whole body expand and release.

"there you go," you praise, not missing the way his breath catches again at the word, expression shifting into something soft and sharp all at once.

you let your hands roam more freely now, tracing the lines of his torso with increasing confidence.

when your fingers find the hem of his sweater and slip beneath it, chan makes a soft sound—barely audible but, lucky you, you're just close enough to catch it.

his skin is warm, smooth, and you feel the way his abdomen jumps under your touch.

"cold.” the word is hissed through his teeth, the muscle along jaw ticking tight.

"should i stop?"

"no." immediate. emphatic. "no, don't- don't stop."

it’s at that moment that you know without a doubt that you hwve him right where you want him.

you smile, even though he can't see it, and push his sweater up slowly, exposing more skin inch by inch. chan lifts his arms automatically when you tug at the fabric, and you pull it over his head carefully, mindful of the ribbon still tied around his eyes.

the sweater joins the wrapping paper chaos somewhere to your left.

without the barrier of clothing, chan looks even more vulnerable—bare-chested, blindfolded, whole body taut with barely restrained tension.

you can see the rise and fall of his breathing more clearly now, can see the way his nipples have already pebbling under the cool air, the faint flush that has spread down from his cheeks to his chest.

"you're so handsome, chris…" the compliment is quiet bit so, so deserved.

because fuck, just look at him.

the red dusting his skin flushes deeper. chan turns his head slightly to the side like he's trying to hide from the compliment despite having nowherr to go. "you can't even see my face right now."

his deflection only makes you laugh.

"don't need to. i can see everything else."

that pulls a new sound from him, one that’s soft, maybe a little wounded.

you watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows hard.

you lean in, letting your breath ghost over his collarbone before pressing your lips there—just once, feather-light. chan's entire body goes rigid, back arching slightly off the couch before he can catch himself. when he realizes how easily he’s bent, he tries to sink back down.

"it's fine, baby," you murmur against his skin. "you don't gotta keep still."

"i'm-" his voice cracks again, and he has to stop, has to breathe before he can even think about continuing. "i'm trying."

"trying to what?"

"not fall apart," it’s a whisper. a whisper that has something so raw, something honest and unguarded that he probably wouldn't say if he could see you looking at him.

you press another kiss to his collarbone, then another to the hollow of his throat. you can’t keep from smiling when you feel his pulse hammering under your lips. "and what if i want you to fall apart?"

chan makes a choked sound, his hands closing into fists where they now rest against the floor. "that's- that’s not fucking fair, sweetheart.”

"no?" you trace your tongue along the line of his throat, tasting salt and something uniquely him. chan can’t help the full-body shudder that runs through him in response. "seems pretty fair to me."

"you're-" he gasps when your teeth graze his skin, gentle but present. "you're evil."

"and you're being so good for me," you counter, letting your hands sooth up his sides, thumbs brushing dangerously close to his nipples. "staying right here, letting me do what ever i want."

chan's breath punches out of him, hips jerk up involuntarily before he can stop them. you can feel him now—can feel exactly how much this is affecting him, the evidence of it tenting his sweatpants, unmistakable.

"that's it," you encourage, your voice dropping lower. "you don't have to hide it, honey."

"not trying to hide," chan manages. his voice is wrecked, all pretense of control completely shattered. "can't hide anything from you anyway."

you hum in agreement and finally, finally, let your thumbs drag across his nipples.

chan's reaction is immediate and visceral—his back bows off the couch again, harsher than before. his mouth falls open around a gasp that's so nearly a moan, his whole body trembling with the effort of not completely losing it.

"fuck." he breathes out, the curse barely audible, and you feel a surge of satisfaction at breaking through that careful composure.

"sensitive?" you ask, doing it again, watching the way his chest heaves and his fingers twitch to curl in the fabric at the side of his thighs.

"yes- fuck. yeah, i—" he can't seem to finish a sentence, can't seem to do anything except react, his body portraying every thought before he can have the chance to voice it.

when you lean down to replace your thumb with your mouth, chan makes a sound you've never heard from him before—high and desperate and completely unhinged. his hand comes up to tangle in your hair, not pulling, just holding on like he needs the anchor.

but the moment his fingers graze your hair, you go completely still.

then you pull back. it’s not gently, not gradual—just away.

the space you put between the two of you is immediate and no doubt jarring. chan’s chest pushes forwards to try and chase your lips, his brows pinched in something close to frustration as cold air washes over where your warm lips had been only seconds ago.

chan's hand hovers for a moment before falling back to the ground, confused, and you can see the moment uncertainty crashes over his features.

"what.." he starts, breathless and disoriented. "did i- baby, did i do something?"

you don't answer.

you don't say a word, actually—just stand up from where you've been kneeling between his legs to leave him there—blindfolded, shirtless, hands braced against the floor as his chest rises and falls with rapid, uneven breaths.

"wait, sweetheart i'm sorry, i didn't mean to-" chan's voice cracks with genuine worry now, his head turning as if trying to track your movement by sound alone. "please, i shouldn't have—"

the silence stretches.

you count the seconds—ten, fifteen, twenty—letting him sit with it, letting him feel the absence of your touch, the weight of not knowing. chan shifts on the couch, his hands flexing uselessly, his whole body tense with the effort of staying put when every instinct is probably screaming at him to fix whatever he's broken.

"i'm sorry," he says again, quieter this time, and there's something devastating in his voice that almost makes you cave. "look,i won't touch you again, i promise, just please…"

chan's head snaps toward the sound of you shifting, his lips parting around what might be relief or another apology. whatever it is, you don’t give him the chance to say anything.

"hands," you say simply, voice calm. even. it make chan freeze.

"what?"

"give me your hands. in front of you."

there's a pause—confusion flickering across his features—before he gives in, hands lifting from where they’d been sitting useless at his side until their in front of him, wrists pressed together. his fingers tremble slightly.

you have another length of ribbon in your hands. a ribbon that you wind around his wrists carefully, not tight enough to hurt but secure enough that he'll feel it, that he'll know exactly what it means.

chan's breath hitches as you tie the knot, his whole body going very, very still. "oh," he breathes out, and it sounds like an understanding than a breath. "oh."

"you don't get to touch," you say quietly, finishing the binding and letting his bound wrists fall to rest in his lap. "not unless i say so."

chan swallows hard, his throat working around the words he can't quite seem to form. when he does find it in him to speak, it’s singular and barely above a whisper.

"okay."

"okay?"

"yeah," he says, a little stronger. "yeah, i understand."

you let your fingers trail along his jaw and the tension you feel there sends another wave of bone deep satisfaction through you. how could you not get off on the way he so clearly fights to not lean into the touch?

"good boy," you muse, taking chan’s chin between your fingers and shaking him gently once. chan chokes like all the air has been punched from his lungs.

his bound hands flex in his lap, instinctively trying to reach for something—for you, probably—before he remembers the ribbon that keep him from doing so.

you can see the effort it takes, can see the way his whole body is wound tight, torn between the need to touch and the determination not to.

chan's lips part, whether to say somethiing else’s or just to breathe you aren't sure, but you don't give him the chance to do much of either.

you lean in and kiss him properly—your mouth covering his, swallowing the surprised gasp that escapes him.

for a moment chan goes completely still, shocked into stillness before he’s melting into you with a desperation that makes your heart stutter. his lips move against yours with an urgency that borders on frantic, like he's trying to pour every ounce of want into this single point of contact since it's all he's allowed.

you can feel him straining forward, trying to deepen the kiss, and you let him—just for a moment.

you let him taste you, let him chase the warmth of your mouth with his own. his bound hands lift slightly from his lap, an instinctive movement he catches and stops immediately with a frustrated sound caught in his throat.

and then you pull back.

not far—just enough to break the kiss, to leave a breath of space between your lips and his. something deep rolls in chan’s throat as he leans forwards to try and follow you. you have to press a hand to his chest to stop him.

chan's chest is heaving beneath your palm, skin warm and slightly damp with sweat. you can feel his heartbeat—rapid, uneven—hammering against your fingertips as he tries to catch his breath.

"stay still," you say while applying just enough pressure to keep him pinned back against the cushions.

"please," he breathes out, and the way his voice is frayed around each syllable makes your thighs twitch. "please, don't. i need it, baby-"

"need what, chris?"

"more," chan admits, shameless now in his wanting. "please, just need more."

you hum thoughtfully, letting your fingers trace idle patterns on his chest while he sits there blindfolded and bound, lips still parted and kiss-swollen, waiting for mercy you have little intention of granting yet. "maybe later," you hum. "if you're good."

the sound chan makes is somewhere between a whimper and a groan, his head falling back against the couch in defeat. "you're killing me."

"you'll survive," you assure him, letting your hand drift lower. it skims down his sternum. chan's breath catches, whole body tensing in anticipation.

you take your time working your way down, pressing kisses to his chest—soft ones at first, barely there, until chan is practically vibrating with need.

when you finally reach his nipple again and close your lips around it, he jerks so hard you have to brace yourself against him.

"fuck-" the word punches out of him, desperate and harsh, and his bound hands clench into fists in his lap.

you work him over slow, thorough, alternating between gentle suction and the careful graze of teeth until chan is a trembling mess beneath you. every sound he makes goes straight through you—broken gasps and bitten-off moans and your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

"please," chan it over and over again though you aren't sure he even knows what he's pleading for anymore. "fuckin’ hell, please-"

you switch to the other side, giving it the same attention, and chan's hips buck up involuntarily.

you can see how hard he is now, how his sweats have grown tight and uncomfortable. you ignore it though—focusing instead on reducing him to nothing but sensation and want.

his bound hands lift again just to hover uselessly in the air for a moment before he forces them back down, shaking his head as if silently scolding himself. "i want to touch you so badly," he draws, voice broken. "want it so bad it hurts."

"i know," you murmur, your voice soft and soothing as you let your hands drift down to his thighs. "i know you do."

chan's breath hitches at the contact, his legs tensing under your palms.

it starts slow—just gentle pressure at first, your thumbs tracing small circles through the fabric of his sweatpants. the muscles beneath your hands are coiled tight with tension, and you work at them patiently, massaging in slow, deliberate strokes.

"relax," you try and coax, applying more pressure as your hands move higher up his thighs. "just feel it."

chan makes a choked sound, his legs falling open slightly under your touch.

you encourage it, your hands spreading wider, pushing his thighs apart to your liking. he doesn't resist—can't resist, really. not when every touch seems to unravel him more and more..

"that's it," you praise, watching the way his chest flutters when you graze a hand over his dick print. "so good for me."

you shift yourself lower until you can ease yourself between his knees, pressing your lips to his stomach just above the waistband of his sweatpants. chan's whole body jerks at the contact, a gasp knocking out of him.

you take your time working your way down, trailing kisses across his abdomen—soft, open-mouthed things that make him tremble.

his stomach is taut beneath your lips, all hard muscle and definition that you take a moment to appreciate, letting your tongue dip along the defined lines of his stomach

"you're so beautiful," you murmur against his skin, and chan makes a sound like he's been stabbed instead of praised.

you hook your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants to tug them down. it’s not all the way, just enough to expose the dark fabric of whatever designer boxers he’s wearing today.

the evidence of his arousal is impossible to miss now, and you let your breath ghost over him through the thin material.

chan's reaction is immediate and visceral, hips jerking up and a broken moan bubbling past his lips. "oh god-"

you press your mouth to him through his boxers, wrapping your lips around the wet spot where heads been leaking a steady steam of pre. chan practically sobs. his thighs tremble on either side of you, his whole body shaking with the effort of staying still and completely falling apart.

"fuck, please sweetheart." his voice is wrecked beyond recognition now, desperate and pleading. "please, i can't- i need—"

you mouth along the length of him, letting the wet heat of your mouth seep through the fabric.

chan is incoherent above you now, just broken sounds and half-formed words, his bound hands clenching and unclenching in his lap.

you pull back just enough to hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, dragging them down slowly. chan lifts his hips to help, a desperate, eager movement that makes something warm unfurl in your chest.

when you finally free him he lets out a shuddering breath, cock hard and flushed against his stomach.

"so pretty," you mutter, wrapping a hand around him as you admire. chan's whole body jerks at the contact, a broken sound escaping his throat.

you don't make him wait any longer.

without warning, you lean in and take him into your mouth properly this time, no teasing, no barriers. just wet heat and suction that has chan crying out above you.

his bound hands fly up instinctively, and before you can process it, he's maneuvered them over your head despite the ribbon binding his wrists together.

suddenly his bound hands are behind your head, fingers tangling in your hair, and he's pushing—guiding you down down down until you can feel him hitting the back of your throat.

you could stop him. should stop him, maybe. but something about the desperation in the gesture, the way he's so far gone that even being bound and blind can't keep him from seeking what he wants. needs.

you let it happen. let him push you as far as you can take him, let him use your mouth the way he so clearly needs to.

"oh fuck-" chan's voice is airy and lost as his hips starting moving in shallow thrusts. "fuck, fuck baby, you feel so good, so perfect…"

his bound hands tighten in your hair, holding you in place while he fucks into your mouth with increasing desperation. you can feel him trembling, can hear the way each of his inhales are sucked in through clamped teeth, can taste the salt of him on your tongue.

you hum around him in permission, in encouragement, and chan makes a sound like he's dying.

his movements become more erratic, bound hands pulling you down harder as he chases release with single-minded focus.

"close," he warns, voice breaking on the word. "m’ so close"

that’s all you need to know for you to hollow your cheeks and suck harder.

apparently that’s all it takes for chan too, because in the next second he’s coming down your throat with a choked cry, hands holding you in place so he can use the warmth of your mouth to ride out his high.

when he finally releases you, his hands falling limply to his side.

it’s then that you pull back to look at him, and you can honestly say that it’s the most delicious sight you’ve ever seen.

chan is slumped against the couch, chest heaving in silent gasps. his head his hanging down, chin pressed hover right above his collarbones as he tries to get a grip on himself. the ribbons still covering his eyes and binding his wrists.

he looks completely undone—lips parted, skin flushed, trembling with aftershocks.

chan makes a soft, vulnerable sound and tries to lean into you when you move to perch on his thigh. his bound hands lift to hold yhou before he remembers and stops himself. "can i-" he starts, then hesitates. "take this shit off.. please."

it’s less of an ask and more of a statement.

you reach up and carefully untie the ribbon from his wrists first, then the one covering his eyes. when he can finally see again, when his hands are finally free, chan immediately wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, burying his face in your neck.

"thank you," he whispers against your skin, and you can feel him smiling. "that was…"

"good?" you supply, running your fingers through his hair.

"understatement of the century," chan murmurs, pressing a kiss to your throat. his hands are everywhere now, making up for lost time, and you let him—let him touch and hold and ground himself in the feel of you.

you know damn well that all other presents this season will be ruined for you. because honestly, how could anything one up pulling a blindfold off your lover?

whos next?

chan

minho

changbin

hyunjin

jisung

felix

seungmin

jeongin

Voting ended onDec 15, 2025

event taglist: @ariaaleelynn @yunhorights @thequeenofdramaqueens permanent taglist: @interdimensionaldrunk @ihrtlix @elylyyy @catermybeloved @hanjisngs @not2bh0rnyonmain @mingislightlybiggerfrontooth @nightmarenyxx @hanjisunnnng @tricky-ritz @enhacolor @enhaskzverse

[christalpinkskiesandsagelands]

*sighs* okay, where's the strap?

[nostalgiabby]

From Lana Del Rey’s 2008 MySpace account

[depsidase]

[crazynonsensicalbitchcore]

fuck man that’s my city

[celestial-choc0late]

TikTok - Make Your Day

Alright to edging, dominance, “daddy”, punishment, vocalizing, control. What else Chan?

[ddaenig]

ꞝ 𖥻stray kids 𔘓