#SCOUPS

[jihooniesss]

im gonna bite him

[priisprii]

Insatiable — K.MG & C SC

Summary :Mean mean assholes.

Warnings: dom! Seungcheol,dom! Mingyu, sub!fem reader, blow job, handjob, reader's crop top used as a blindfold, degradation,face slapping, cum swallowing, tit pinching, they are mean but you like them mean :3

Word count: 1.8 k

Read the warnings and click at your own risk and minors don't interact.

mingyu and seungcheol are two simple guys with same fucked up mentality and fantasies. they encourage each other run after things they desperately want no matter how wrong it is. They support each other. It's simple.

And you?

You were obsessed with both of them,not just at surface level like memorising thier hangout places and lurking around there or stalking them on social media. Yeah you did that all but it wasn't enough to satisfy your hunger for them.

You meticulously planned coincidence after coincidence, enrolling into the same classes as them, showing up at every party they would be and what not. To the outside world it would seem a series of coincidence just like you hoped but mingyu and seungcheol aren't as stupid and oblivious as you think they are. They know you were embodiment of lady Gaga's song paparazzi.

Seungcheol wanted to maintain distance from you, according to him you weren't the of girl who would be interested in his and mingyu's ways of mind breaking and ruining the girls they bring to bed. Too vanilla he says, how fucking wrong he was. Mingyu helped him change his mind, he knew you were a sick in the head pervert; just like them and you were expert of hiding that side of you behind your innocence filled eyes.

Nevertheless, three of you got what you all always searched for. You —two hot guys with mean and dirty mouths and huge dicks and them; a girl who is just abnormally obsessed with them. They can sometimes be the sweetest people in your life, catering to your every need, providing you with everything you demand, sometimes sneakily beating up your professor cause' he graded your paper unfairly, seungcheol never holding back a punch on guys who eyed you even for a second and mingyu pirating endless movies for you to watch in your free time. They were everything you ever wished for.

♥

A stinging slap was delivered on your face, the impact of it making you come back from your haze. Your eyes were covered with some rag which happened to be your favourite top — until seungcheol decided to tear it off.

"want us to find some other slut who can actually suck a cock properly?" Mingyu asked. annoyed.an underlying threat clear in his voice. you wanted to argue, scream and cry. your throat was all bruised up —a consequence of them using your mouth like a fleshlight from the past half an hour. they sat comfortably on couch playing whatever shitty game you had no idea about while passing you around between them like a cigarette, your knees burning and on the verge of giving up.

Body decorated with their cum, hair, chest, stomach, any part —you name it. Those sadistic assholes can't seem to get tired no matter what.sitting next to each other and conversing about all the fucked up things they are about to do with you, things that would land them in prison for sure but the worst part was—you loved it , loved each and every word, syllabus, command and insult they directed towards you, you loved it more than they could ever.

"Mingyu, be kind, That's not how we treat our fuck toys" seungcheol chides , but you could feel he's just being pretentious and you were right cause' just after few seconds you felt somone back handing you, not with sheer strength but enough to draw out a choked moan out of your lungs. "See that's how you treat erm" seungcheol chuckles followed by mingyu. They were enjoying this a little too much, having someone like you who's far too gone to think straight and allow them to treat you like an absolute rag doll. It's so fun for them to see you breaking down over and over.

Someone bought your mouth closer to their cock, again, probably Mingyu . You weren't even able to smell the cum or his scent, nose too blocked and runny— completely useless. "Now be a good and useful cock sleeve"

You nod aimlessly, licking your lips in anticipation.that wasn't enough for Mingyu though "words dollface ,words" he commands, tightening his grip around your hair. You let out a choked yes and it was enough for Mingyu to get started with you yet again.

"so beautiful yet so filthy" mingyu grunts, outlining your lips with tip of his cock, faintly coating them with your existing spit and cum. once he was satisfied enough he slapped it few times on your cheek "Need you to choke on it" , forcing his dick into your mouth, a choked noise escaped your throat as he buried himself deep touching the back of your throat roughly, he threw his head back, moaning in pure ecstasy .

He continued with his cruel pace, thrusting his hips upwards making you constantly gag and choke around his length , drool pooling around his balls. Your nails were digging into his muscular thigh, anchoring yourself with help of it as you couldn't feel any sensation in your body except the cries of your pussy —begging to be filled up with anything,cock, fingers, dildos it doesn't matter the emptiness was almost painful, clenching around air helplessly.

"mingyu slow down, she will pass out I don't wanna fuck unconscious body" seungcheol complains from side, half focused on the game and half on the porn show happening beside him. He's no better than mingyu, even worse sometimes, when seungcheol is frustrated, he takes it on you— in the most delicious way possible. Landing slaps on your ass and cunt till it's red and swollen up or making you gag around your own panties, his strange obsession with challenging you to be silent while he ruins your insides. Yeah he's no better than mingyu.

the prospect of your passed out body being used by these two men is extremely hot and intense. having your pleasure completely disregarded and thrown out ,just being a real fleshlight for their big and veiny cocks. You need to talk about this some other time with them.

"hyung, can't help it— her mouth is so warm and wet almost as good as her tight cunt" mingyu whines, his cock twitching inside your mouth as his grip on your hair becomes more rigid , a clear sign of him being close. Something about having such a big guy like Mingyu whining because of you makes your chest tight with emotion similar to happiness and pride.

Seungcheol throws the gaming console somewhere, the loud thud echoing in your ears. He takes your hand and spits on it generously before bringing it to his cock , making you wrap your palm around it, his own palm wrapped around yours. In your head which is floating in another dimension this is practically intertwining hands. almost romantic.

"you feel it baby? How hard I am? It's your fucking fault. parading around us in your slutty outfits. told you to wait for few minutes but you just don't understand " seungcheol sneers, biting his lips remembering how they even got you like this in the first place. Teasing them while they were deeply engrossed in their game, hands reaching down your shorts threatening to touch their property, that made them snap.

you whined against Mingyu's cock, sending vibrations down his spine, he pulled your head back, only his tip remaining in your mouth before slamming you down against his length in a quick motion, making you gag uncomfortably, he kept you like that, his unforgiving grip on your hair making you unable to move while seungcheol made you give him a hand job, guiding each of your moments. You were overwhelmed, not sure where to focus; on Mingyu's pulsating length or Seungcheol's painfully hard cock, unsure whether to cry or scream, eyes blinded by the blindfold.

"fuck cumming" Mingyu slurred thrusting his hips upwards one last time before cumming inside your mouth. Ropes of thick, creamy white pooling around your tongue.

" Dare you waste any drop slut" Mingyu rasps still coming down from his high. " She won't gyu, she needs cum like oxygen, right slut?" Seungcheol comments, seeing you swallow his bestfriend's cum like your life depends on it while having you fist his cock with your tiny hand made him so feral, he has never had such a perfect girl at his disposal. Seungcheol found his own orgasm near but he didn't feel like wasting his cum , it belonged in deepest corner of your cunt.

Finally after few seconds or minutes mingyu decides to let you breathe, pulling you away from his cock. you look like you walked straight out his favourite porn; spit and cum smeared all over your face and dripping down your breast. he looks at seungcheol, both being proud of each other to see your defiled state. "Pathetic whore" seungcheol groans.

Seungcheol reluctantly lets go of your hand which was timidly rubbing against cock. He comes near, yanking the excuse of a blindfold off your face, sharp lights hitting you at once, vision blurry due to tears. Mingyu gathers the tears around your eye bags carefully scoops with his two fingers, then puts it in his mouth. The simple action making your pussy needy with desire.

"please touch me" you beg, voice unfamiliar to your own self. your knees finally give out, ass hitting the floor and sitting pathetically. Your headspace was all mushy and soft, blurry vision drinking up their visuals. their upper body was fully exposed,sweat glistening down their skin which you might lick happily if they gave you permission to do so. "touch me please, anyone" you whimpered again.

seungcheol hmms, like he's thinking deep about something before he smirks, getting down on the floor at your level . His hand moves to your exposed breast, carelessly pinching the perky sensitive nipple. "Poor baby, dying to have her desperate pussy filled" seungcheol sings in a patronizing way, continuing his cruel torture on your breast, cupping and pinching the poor bud till it turns into angry shade of red.

"mingyu what do you think? Should we fuck this slut or leave her here all exposed and dripping on the floor like a broken cum dump?" seungcheol leaves the question hanging in the air, slapping your right tit, an evil smirk dancing on his face.

"please, don't leave please I am —" your words were cut off by Seungcheol's slap on your cheek, eyebrow raised, looking at you with disapproving glare.

"are you mingyu dumb slut?" he asks, massaging the area he just hit previously.

"sorry" you mumble, voice barely audible.

Mingyu cooes, feeling bad for you, just a tiny bit, he gets down on the floor, pulling you closer, your back pressed to his chest. hand circling around your neck lightly.

"she's begging, it's only right decision to fuck her hyung till she's begging us to stop" mingyu says tightening his hold around your neck, hand moving down between your legs, moving between your folds and collecting your wetness. " she's so fucking wet" mingyu says, bringing his fingers up near seungcheol, which Seungcheol proudly puts in his mouth, groaning at your taste. He sucks them clean.

"let's take this to our bedroom" seungcheol says, he cups your cheek tenderly"shall we Love?" He asks, masking the lust behind his eyes, mind corrupted with all the possible positions he's about to put you in.You got yourself insatiable freaks who would always stay hungry for your taste.

A/N: I have so many evil ideas for this au .would you all like to read them?

[97latte]

ᥫ᭡. bf seungcheol x your camera roll

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want to see more of my work? ⁀➷ click here !!

[kikixmisfortune]

🩷🩷🩷

SEVENTEEN LALALI (2024)

[sseungcheols]

goodnight from cheol i will also not be sleeping today lol

[thirteenheavens]

hiii can you do cockwarming with seungcheol 😽😽

Let’s try to stay like this|| Seungcheol

Word count: 2k

Notes: I’m going to be opening my requests for a day only just to get some messages and new requests <3

Seungcheol pulls you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. He nuzzles your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "I've missed you," he murmurs against your skin. "Can I just hold you like this for a while?"

"Of course, Cheol," you reply softly, snuggling closer to him. "I've missed you too." Seungcheol smiles warmly and lifts your hips slightly, positioning himself at your entrance.

"Just stay still and let me feel you," he says huskily. "I want to be inside you, even if we don't move." You slowly sink down onto his cock, both of you moaning at the feeling of being connected. Seungcheol holds you close, his hands roaming over your body as he savors the warmth and tightness of your pussy.

"You feel so good," he groans, burying his face in your chest. "So warm and perfect around me." You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling content and safe in his embrace. Seungcheol kisses your forehead tenderly, his cock twitching slightly inside you.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers. "I'll keep you nice and full for as long as you want." The two of you sit there in silence for a while, simply enjoying the intimacy of the moment. Seungcheol's hands occasionally squeeze your hips, but he makes no move to thrust or take control.

"You're so beautiful like this," he says softly, looking up at you with adoration. "So beautiful and mine." Seungcheol's cock throbs occasionally, but he remains still, his patience surprising you. He seems to be genuinely content just having you sit on him, feeling your warmth and closeness.

"I could stay like this forever," he admits, his voice filled with affection. "Just having you near me is enough to make me happy."

"I love you, Cheol," you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck. "And I love how gentle you are with me." Seungcheol's grip tightens slightly at your words, and he kisses your shoulder in response.

"I love you too, Y/N," he says softly. "More than anything in this world. You mean everything to me." As time passes, you can feel Seungcheol getting more and more restless beneath you. His breathing becomes heavier, and his hands start to wander lower, gripping your thighs tightly.

"Y/N," he groans, his voice strained. Seungcheol looks up at you with apologetic eyes, his face flushed with arousal.

"I'm sorry, baby," he pants. "I've been trying to hold back, but you're making it so difficult. Your pussy is just squeezing me so tightly."

"You don't have to hold back, Cheol," you say, lifting your hips slightly. "I want you to feel good too." Seungcheol lets out a relieved sigh, his hands moving to grip your hips again.

"Thank god," he mutters. "I was about to lose my mind." With your permission, Seungcheol begins to thrust up into you slowly, his movements careful and controlled. He groans loudly, clearly relieved to finally be able to move.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunts, his fingers digging into your skin. "I've been dreaming of this all day." Seungcheol's pace gradually increases, his thrusts becoming deeper and more forceful. He buries his face in your chest again, his moans muffled against your skin.

"I'm not going to last long," he warns, his voice muffled. "You're too tight, too perfect." You look down at Seungcheol, his expression a mix of pleasure and concentration. His eyes are half-lidded, and his lips are parted as he moans.

"Look at me, Y/N," he says breathlessly. "I want to see your face when I cum." You keep your gaze locked on his, your own moans mixing with his as he continues to thrust up into you. Seungcheol's pace becomes erratic, his movements becoming more desperate.

"I'm close," he gasps. "So fucking close. Cum with me, baby."

"Cheol, I'm cumming!" you cry out, your walls clenching around him tightly. Seungcheol lets out a deep growl as he feels you tighten around him, his thrusts becoming frantic.

"That's it, baby, that's it," he grunts, his hips stuttering as he reaches his peak. "I'm cumming too, fuck!" Seungcheol pulls you down hard onto his cock as he cums, his hot seed filling you up. He holds you tightly against him, both of you trembling from the intensity of your shared orgasm.

"Y/N," he moans, his voice shaky. "I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Cheol," you say softly, running your fingers through his hair soothingly. "You did so well for me." Seungcheol nuzzles into your touch, his body still shaking slightly as he comes down from his high. He kisses your chest tenderly, his breathing gradually returning to normal.

[cheol-e-kat]

shy cheol >>>>>>> just facts srry

and the twt link if you want to go there

[shina913]

Tumble Dry | CSC

Tumble Dry

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x AFAB!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Established relationship; domestic AU; smut; some fluff

Warnings: mentions of ovulation/menstrual cycle; cussing; breast play; fingering; oral (both giving/receiving); unprotected sex; PIV sex; ass smacking; dirty talk; creampie

Word count: 3.3k words

Summary: Sure, a man doing chores is hot. But a man who does the laundry, folds it, and puts it away? Absolutely irresistible.

A/N: The monkey is off my back and I finally channeled my Cheol Burstday comeback brainrot into this!!! Thanks to @roaminginthenights for always enabling me in the DMs. This is for you!

Throughout the workweek, you and Seungcheol text frequently. It’s your way of letting each other know you’re thinking of one another. You share the most mundane things, like mismatched socks on laundry day, or talk shit about coworkers you’d gladly dump on a deserted island along with your other annoying acquaintances.

Occasionally, the messages turn spicier, sent during quiet moments at your desks.

But today has been brutal. The kind of nonstop insanity that barely lets you glance at your phone, let alone reply. You feel guilty for leaving him on ‘read’, but you couldn’t get a moment to break away since there were too many fires to put out.

Seungcheol could tell the week was eating you alive. You’d been venting about that looming deadline, and judging by your radio silence, he connected the dots. Without saying anything to you, he heads out of work early to start dinner and knock out a few chores, just so you can walk in the door and finally decompress.

Back at your desk, you glance at the clock. Just a couple more hours until you can escape the madness and burn off every last ounce of tension with him. The thought alone has you pressing your thighs together. You lick your lips, letting the anticipation settle into the base of your belly, using it as motivation to power through the rest of the day. And you can come home and claim your well-deserved reward.

******

The scent of dinner cooking welcomes you as you walk through the door after a long and trying day. At the end of the hallway, you catch a glimpse of Seungcheol in the kitchen, his broad back turned to you while he unloads the dishwasher.

The exhaust fan hums softly, and music is blasting in the background. You figure this is why he hasn’t responded to your text that told him you were on your way.

You cock your head and watch him for a moment. Your heart swells with appreciation at the sight of him taking care of some chores at home without you asking him.

He looks up at the jangle of your keys as you hang them on the wall. He beams instantly when his gaze lands on you. “Hey, love! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

He’s in sweats and one of his old college shirts, whose sleeves he proudly hacked off himself. It used to hang loose around his shoulders, but now it clings and stretches nicely over his biceps. They’ve been looking more defined lately, and you’ve mentioned more than once how good he looks in that shirt.

You spot the V-shaped sweat mark beneath his collar that tells you he just finished a workout. You can’t help but hope he’s not completely spent, and that he’s saved some energy for you.

Honestly, you’re hoping for a little more than “some.” You want—no—need to be manhandled tonight. After hours of trying to hold things together today, you’d want nothing more than to give up control and have him take over.

He strolls over and greets you with a kiss. A grin spreads across your face. “You didn’t have to cook!” you say. “I was going to order takeout, because I thought you’d be working late tonight.”

He turns back to the stove, lowering the flame beneath one of the simmering pots. “I was,” he says, “But Joshua owes me a favor, so I asked him to finish up the rest of the cases. Told him there was an emergency at home.”

You tilt your head, brows knitting in curiosity. “Oh? What kind of emergency?”

He crosses the room again, cups your cheeks, and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. His eyes soften as he meets yours. “The kind where I need to take care of you.”

He’s so cheesy—but your heart still melts. “Ugh... I love you,” you gush.

“Love you too. Now go get changed—dinner’s almost ready.”

******

After dinner, as the food coma settles, you and Seungcheol curl up on the couch to catch up on your favorite show. You’ve changed into an oversized sleep shirt and stretched out sideways, your legs draped across his lap. His eyes are on the screen while his thumb traces lazy circles over your knee.

You’re not really watching the show—your gaze keeps drifting to his profile, bathed in the soft, warm light of the nearby lamp.

“Thank you for dinner,” you murmur. “It was perfect… especially after today.” A slow smile spreads across your face.

He turns to you with a gentle look. “You’re welcome. I know this week’s been a lot,” he says, his voice low and warm. “I thought if I came home early and took care of a few things, maybe you could just… breathe a little easier this weekend.”

“Like what things?”

“Just a few chores. After grocery shopping, I stopped by the pharmacy to pick up your prescription…”

You could cry listening to him list many of the errands you planned to do this week, but never found the time for. How is it possible to love him even more than you already do?

“Then, before I started cooking, I did the laundry.”

Your shoulders tense up.

Every time he did the laundry, it was utter chaos—darks, lights, and delicates tossed into the same load. You never knew if your white tees would survive unscathed or come out with a tinge of pink. The last time, he left everything in the dryer overnight, and you spent the next morning re-running cycles just to tame the wrinkles. Since then, he’s been unofficially banned from doing laundry unsupervised.

He sees your expression shift and quickly adds, “Don’t worry. I sorted everything. Even used the pre-wash on the sheets—just like you showed me.” He gives you a reassuring look, promising there wouldn’t be a repeat of last time.

Your eyes go wide. “You did what?”

He hesitates. “I… did the laundry?” He breaks into a sweat as he starts to question every decision he’s made in the last couple of hours.

You shake your head. “No, no—what did you say after that?”

“I sorted it and ran a pre-wash cycle?” He winces, hoping this answer will get him in less trouble.

When he sees your jaw drop with a gasp, he assumes the worst and scrambles for an explanation.

“Okay, hear me out. I know I messed up before, but I swear, I did it properly this time. I even folded the clothes and put them away in our closet. I’m just waiting for the last load to finish in the dryer.”

You find yourself…inexplicably aroused by all of this. The thought of him in his cutoff shirt, doing a load of laundry, and carefully folding everything. Not only that, but most importantly, doing it exactly the way you like it—is enough to get you hot and bothered.

He sits there anxiously, completely unaware of the effect this has on you.

“I was just trying to help. Are you mad?”

Instead of answering him, you lunge forward and kiss him.

“Whoa, what? What’s happening?” He’s perplexed, yet pleasantly surprised by your sudden aggressiveness.

You shift to straddle his hips. “You had me at ‘sorting the laundry,’” you breathe against his lips before kissing him again, harder this time.

He pulls away again, still looking confused. “Wait, seriously? The laundry?”

It’s not just the laundry. Your hormones are already raging from ovulating, which not only piles onto your stress and irritability at work, but it also leaves you feeling unbearably horny.

The dinner he made had briefly distracted you, but now he’s stirred the memory of what you’d really been looking forward to since walking through the door.

You glare at him in exasperation for trying to derail your plans again. “Yes! Now, are you going to interrupt me again or do you want to get your dick sucked?”

He blinks slowly, your words echoing in his head. Then a slow smirk tugs at his lips, and his gaze darkens. He mimes zipping his mouth shut, hands lifting in mock surrender. He sinks back into the couch, arms stretched, eyes locked on you with quiet amusement.

“Good choice!” You cup his nape and pull his mouth to yours.

You kiss him with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue—each one driving him crazy with want. Your hunger is intoxicating, only rivaling his scent: a heady mix of body wash, sweat, and the savory aromatics from the dish he cooked. It’s the perfect cocktail that sends your senses into overdrive.

When you break the kiss, you tug his shirt over his head. Then you lower yourself again, pressing soft kisses along his jaw, tracing it with gentle licks that elicit a low moan from his throat. Your mouth travels down his chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses as you slide from his lap, then finally sinking to your knees between his legs.

He lifts his hips when you tug at his waistband, helping you slide his bottoms, just enough to pull his cock out.

You tease the tip with a gentle flick of your tongue, making him inhale sharply. You slide your mouth down his length, drawing another gasp from him. At the first hint of suction, he sinks his head deeper into the cushions and groans in pleasure.

“Holy…f…uck…” The rush of wet heat from your mouth over his sensitive tip is so intense, he struggles to catch his breath. Your lips tighten around him, your tongue massaging that perfect spot on his cock that you know makes his toes curl.

You pull upward, then tease him with your fingers, stroking with just enough pressure to make him crave more.

His hands are in your hair, his neck straining to get a glimpse of your mouth sliding up and down his cock.

“Fuck, baby…” he hisses through his teeth, “So good.”

You peer up at him and see his lip caught between his teeth, eyes heavy-lidded, face etched with pleasure—the visual intensifies the throbbing between your legs. Unable to resist, you slip your fingers into your panties to ease the ache. Being extra sensitive during this phase of your cycle, it doesn’t take long before your fingers are coated in your slick.

The hum of your moans vibrates through him, fueling his torment and driving him closer to the edge. You can feel it in the way his thighs tense, hear it in the way his breath stutters. Then suddenly, his hands grab your sides, breaking your suction as he pulls you upward.

“C’mere.”

His hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt, gliding to cup the backs of your thighs and the curve of your ass. He pulls you in until your center hovers right over his face.

“Take it off,” he whispers, eyes gazing up at you with dark anticipation.

Without hesitation, your top comes off in one fluid motion.

He presses slow kisses across your stomach, each one making you sigh with pleasure and weak in the knees. His fingers hook into your panties, easing them down your legs, and he guides you back onto his lap.

You gasp as your overly sensitive nipples brush against his bare chest, sending a burst of sensation straight to your core.

“I want you inside me,” you whisper, nuzzling his nose with yours.

“Yeah?” His fingers find your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You whimper when the sharp but pleasurable pain makes goosebumps race across your skin.

“How bad?”

You grind your soaked folds shamelessly along the length of him, then tease the seam of his lips with your tongue. “Really, really bad.”

Seungcheol flashes a cocky grin, clearly pleased with your answer. For a second, you think he’s about to finally put you out of your misery. But instead, he surprises you, lifting you off the couch.

His hands steady beneath you, he tightens your legs around his waist. You band your arms around his neck, clinging to him as he carries you down the hall—both of you giggling and kissing between breaths.

He angles his body and bumps your bedroom door wider. Your thighs hit the edge of the mattress first, and then he lowers you gently onto your back.

With a sly, teasing smile, he leans down and kisses you quickly.

“My turn.”

He hovers over you, then down—his hot mouth trailing over your breasts, your stomach, and finally, your center. You gasp, arching as his tongue flutters over your clit, every flick sending jolts through your body.

His hands slide up to cup your breasts, fingers teasing your nipples while his mouth devours you with unrelenting focus. The more you beg him to fuck you, the longer he makes you wait, savoring every sound you make, every tremble of your body.

“Cheol, please…”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just slips two fingers inside you and curls them, pressing and stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you.

You’re close to tears when he makes you come once. Then again. And again. By the time he finally lets up, your legs are shaky, your body limp with aftershocks. You lie still, your limbs heavy, your clit still pulsing from his relentless mouth.

You barely register him speaking when his finger strokes you gently across your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You nod weakly.

He chuckles, clearly pleased with the satiated look on your face.

“Time for bed?”

The second the words register, your eyes snap open, and you push up onto your elbows, protesting. “What? No!”

The corners of his mouth twitch. That’s exactly the response he wanted. He leans in close, his breath fanning against your skin.

“Can you take more?”

His teeth graze the shell of your ear, then his lips trace a path down your cheek before claiming your mouth again.

“Please. I just want you inside me.”

He’s seen that look in your eyes before—hunger, need. And because Seungcheol aims to please, he gives in.

“Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You give a vague nod and your body’s already moving, scrambling upright, too eager to wait another second.

He leans in again, his breath warm on your cheek as he gently tucks a few loose strands behind your ear.

“Say it.”

A small smile curves your lips as you kneel on the bed, hands resting obediently on your thighs, sitting back on your heels–like a good girl.

His teeth catch his bottom lip. God, he could come just from seeing you like this.

“Ask me again.”

He steadies himself, shifting his focus to hang onto his last shred of control. He wants to make this last—for both of you.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“Yes.”

He takes a couple of steps back, and your mouth waters as you watch him peel off his sweats. His hand wraps around himself, slowly stroking, before he climbs onto the bed with you.

“Lean into me,” he murmurs.

You shift until your back presses against his chest, resting your cheek against his shoulder. One hand cups your face, tilting your mouth up to his for a kiss, while the other slips between your legs, fingers pumping steadily inside you.

“You ready?” he purrs.

“I’ve been ready,” you whine breathlessly.

He chuckles. “Go ahead,” he coaxes, his tongue touching yours with teasing licks. “Put me in then.”

Reaching back, your hand wraps around his length. He adjusts to line himself up for you. You sink your hips as he pushes up simultaneously, both groaning at the sensation of stretch and constriction.

He wraps his hand gently around your throat, his palm flat against your stomach. He withdraws, then thrusts so hard into you that you could swear you see stars. He holds you firmly in his arms, pumping in and out of you steadily, his groans thrumming against your spine.

“Yes, yes…harder,” you pant, reaching behind and sinking your nails into the flesh of his ass, beyond needy.

You don’t have to ask him twice—he’s already on it. He pulls out, guides you down to the bed, and steadies you as you bend at the waist, cheek pressing into the mattress. His hands grip your hips firmly, and he slides in deep, pulling a whimper from your lips. This is exactly what you wanted, and he’s all too happy to give it to you.

Your insides tense, clenching desperately around him. He grunts through clenched teeth, pulling out just enough before pushing back in intensely. Again and again. Each time, hitting every one of those tight bundles of nerves inside you.

“Don’t stop…” You whine.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Let me hear you.”

He smacks your ass hard, the stinging sensation causing your insides to clench around him in a vice-like grip. Your fingers claw at the sheets, deep moans rumbling from your throat.

Your legs tremble with a particularly rough stroke, but you’re still desperate and hungry for more. The steady rhythm of his hips and the sounds you make only add to his own insatiable need for you.

He spanks you again, before he picks up the pace, pounding into you, his fingers circling your clit add to the torment. Your cunt squeezes around him as another orgasm nears.

His movements grow unsteady and erratic—after delaying his gratification for so long, he’s now racing toward his orgasm.

He comes with a drawn-out, throaty growl, your knees buckling with the rush of his release melding with yours.

You both collapse onto the bed, skin flushed with a gleam of sweat, limbs tangled in the mess of sheets that he had, ironically, just washed.

He lets out a hoarse, breathless laugh. “Sorry if I went too hard.”

You giggle. “Are you kidding? No complaints here—at all!”

You both settle into a comfortable silence as your breathing steadies and heartbeats slow to normal.

After a moment, he glances over at you and asks, “Hey… are you ovulating, by any chance?” His tone is light, but there’s a hint of apprehension to it.

You narrow your gaze, intrigued. “Y-eah,” you draw out the word. “Why?”

He nods, as if that confirms something. “Figured.”

You tilt your head in amusement. “And how exactly could you tell the difference?”

His voice drops as he locks eyes with you. “Because I can feel it.” 

Sure enough, you’re much wetter, and he slips right into you with ease.

You bite back a grin. “Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on that kind of thing.”

He shrugs, all nonchalant about it. “We’ve been together long enough for me to know you tend to like it rough around this time.”

You glance at him, cheeks warming. He wasn’t wrong. You wanted to be manhandled, and he delivered, as he always does. “Is that weird for you?”

His mouth curves into a smirk. “Weird? Nah. Hot?” He gives an exaggerated nod, eyes trailing over you, and blows out a slow whistle.

You tilt your head back, laughing softly at the ceiling. “Well, I never thought properly done laundry would end up on my list of turn-ons, and yet, here we are.”

You catch his cheeky grin from the corner of your eye.

“Well, in that case,” he drawls, “I should mention that I ran the delicates cycle. Even used that little mesh bag you keep stashed above the washer.”

You roll onto your side and slow-blink at him, as if he’d just grown an extra head.

“And,” he adds, his voice dropping, “I vacuumed.” His eyebrow arches in that cocky way that sends your pulse racing and your self-control straight out the window.

You sit up slowly, crawling toward him with purpose. “Oooh, Mr. Choi,” you whisper, fingers trailing up his chest, “Keep talking dirty to me.”

He breaks into that throaty laugh you love so much. “Round two, then?”

Main SVT Fic Masterlist

Thank you for reading!

Interaction/feedback is appreciated but *not* required. But just in case you feel comfortable enough to comment or just say hello, my inbox 📩 is open 💜💎

[cscstrap]

every time scoups mentions dieting or losing weight a couprang loses their life force

[nerdycheol]

A Seat Across from You

☘︎ pairings: choi seungcheol x reader [afab]

☘︎ warnings: strangers to lovers(?), fluff, a lots and lots of slowburn, reader is annoyingly dumb, miscommunication, too much running away & avoiding

☘︎ wc: 9.5k

(a/n): FOR YUKI'S 100 MILESTONE EVENT!! do check out everyone else's work too, they're all are amazing!! I had sm fun writing this. thankyou lexi (@ikeukiss ) for this amazinnggg banner <33 also thankyou to the ones who brainstormed ideas with me calli (@hhaechansmoless), yuki (@eclipsaria) daisy (@flowerwonu) ily'all smm :3 it was originally supposed to be this long, but i wanted to make it as natural as possible :| so forgive me and hope you like it ;) this is not proof read so ignore slight mistakes. tagging alaska (@cherry-zip) because i love them

playlist recommendation 🎵: traingazing-sam wills, sunny-rocco, from the start- laufey, dive- olivia dean, fool-kidsnot$aints, fall in love-jukjae, lily of the valley- daniel, l-o-v-e -rocco, hold me never let go- rocco

(inspired by traingazing- sam wills)

dividers by @cafekitsune

i’d love to hear your thoughts, i love reading your comments and seeing your reblogs! 💗

DAY 1

Morning comes the same way it always does — too soon, too cold, too reluctant to let you ease into it.

You woke up ten minutes late today. Not enough to send you into panic, but just enough to make the morning feel a bit rushed. Your sweater slightly mismatches your coat, but you tell yourself it’s fine. Your bag feels heavier than usual, though you can’t remember adding anything new to it.

The streets are damp from last night’s rain, and a few early risers move with purpose, clutching coffee cups like lifelines. You walk the familiar path to the station, following the same cracks in the pavement you always do.

The train is late today. Two minutes, maybe three. Enough to remind you that the world doesn’t run on your schedule.

When it finally arrives, you step in, immediately greeted by the usual low murmur of conversation, the shuffling of feet against the floor, the faint scent of someone’s too-strong cologne. You shift your bag higher on your shoulder, scanning the car for a spot, eyes moving without much thought.And that’s when you see him. He stands by the farthest door, one shoulder pressed against the glass, gaze turned outward.

You don’t know why you pause. Maybe it’s the way the early light spills across his face, casting faint shadows along the bridge of his nose and his sharp jawline. Or maybe it’s the way he seems entirely detached from the rush around him, earphones in, lost in something only he can hear.

He wears a brown high-neck sweater, the kind that looks soft even from a distance. One hand is tucked into his pocket, the other wrapped around the strap of a worn black backpack. His expression is unreadable—not bored, not impatient, just… distant.

You don’t think he notices you.

It’s silly, the way you keep looking. He’s just another passenger, someone you’ll probably never speak to, never know. But still, you watch him for a moment longer, as if memorizing this version of the morning before the spell breaks.

A man steps in front of you, shifting to adjust his briefcase. The moment lasts only a second, but when you glance back.

He’s gone.

You blink, scanning the space where he had been, but now, it’s empty.

For some reason, the thought lingers as the train lurches forward. You shake it off, exhaling softly. It’s nothing. Just another passing commuter, another stranger among many others.

As you grip the pole tightly, you wonder

Will he be here tomorrow?

DAY 2

The train doors slide open with a mechanical sigh, and you step in. Your usual spot is taken today by an older woman clutching a canvas tote, her head tilted forward in light sleep. So you move a little further down, fingers curling around the overhead rail.

And then you see him. You don’t mean to look, not really. But there he is again, standing in the exact same place as yesterday — leaning against the glass panel near the doors, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. Today, a book rests in his grip, fingers idly turning a page as his gaze flickers across the words.

You wonder, briefly, if he ever misses his stop. If he ever gets so lost in thought that he forgets where he’s going.

The thought lingers for a second too long.

A jolt in the tracks sends the train swaying, and you glance away quickly, feeling oddly self-conscious. It’s nothing. Just another passenger in the sea of strangers.

And yet, when you step off at your stop, you catch yourself glancing back. Just once.

_

DAY 10

It’s been ten days since you first saw him. Ten mornings of stepping onto the same train, gripping the same pole, and watching him from the corner of your eye.

Every day, he’s there — leaning against the glass panel, the same sky-blue book in his hands, which makes you wonder if he ever really reads it. His hands are always in his pockets; sometimes, his gaze turns toward the window.

You don’t know when you start expecting to see him.

He’s just supposed to be another passenger, another face in the blur of morning commuters. But now… now, the moment you step onto the train, your eyes move without thinking, searching and waiting.

The next day comes like all the others. But lately, there’s one thing that makes the mornings feel less mundane. 

You find yourself on the platform, scanning the crowd before you even realize what you’re doing. Maybe you’ll never know his name, never exchange a single word, but that doesn’t stop your mind from conjuring a thousand possibilities, fleeting thoughts that leave you restless.

The train arrives with a familiar hum, and as you step inside, your eyes instinctively seek him out.

There he is.

Standing in his usual spot, clad in a high-neck sweater and loose-fitted trousers. But today, something is missing — his book.

Instead of reading, he simply watches the city blur past, his reflection faintly mirrored in the window. One hand is tucked into his pocket, the other grips the strap of a worn brown suitcase.

And then his head tilts slightly.

For a brief second, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirs in your chest.

Is he looking at you?

The thought unsettles you more than it should. Your fingers tighten around your phone as you glance away too quickly, pretending to check the screen. A silly reaction. He’s probably just lost in thought, staring past you like people often do.

Even as you tell yourself that, the feeling still lingers.

DAY 11

You’re not a superstitious person. You never believe what people say about black cats crossing your path bringing bad luck. On the contrary, you feel good things happen to you when you see a black cat.

And weirdly enough, the man on the train feels like your black cat. It’s not that he actually brings good luck. It’s just that your day seems a little better whenever you see him.

Today, you oversleep. Miss your alarm. Burn your toast. Everything feels five steps behind as you shove your shoes on and fly out the door, heart pounding at the thought of the impending scolding from your manager for being late.

You’re breathless. Disoriented. Out of rhythm.

The train is already at the platform by the time you arrive, and you squeeze in just before the doors seal shut.

But it’s okay, you think — as long as I see him.

And then, your gaze lifts instinctively.

He’s not there.

Your eyes dart across the carriage — once, twice, again. Nothing. Just faces you don’t recognize. None of them are him.

Your heart sinks, and it shouldn’t. You know it shouldn’t. People have lives. Schedules change. Trains get missed.

Still, you lean your head against the glass, suddenly aware of how loud everything feels in his absence. The usual quiet thrill has dulled.

You spend the ride staring out the window. Trying to mimic the way he does it. Trying to imagine what he sees in the blur of grey buildings and sleepy streets.

It doesn’t work.

You get off at your stop and walk a little slower.

Funny, how much space a stranger can take up in your head.

_

DAY 13

Today, you see him again. And somehow, that alone makes you feel like the day might not be so bad after all.

You can’t find a seat in the morning rush, so you claim a spot near the door, your shoulder resting against the cool glass panel.

Just like any other day, he enters.

Today, he’s in a dark blue satin shirt tucked neatly under a black trench coat. He takes his usual place across from you, setting his suitcase down by his foot before pulling out the same sky-blue book he reads every day.

You squint slightly to catch the title — Ikigai. You make a quiet mental note to buy it later.

The train halts at the next station, and a new wave of commuters pours in. The space tightens. You try to brace yourself, but the crowd pushes you forward.

Your shoulder bumps into someone — him.

You freeze, flustered, about to apologize when he looks up from his book.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice deep and smooth like velvet.

You nod, maybe a little too quickly, mumbling a quiet thanks before turning your face away, hoping the heat on your cheeks isn’t too obvious.

And then he smiles. A perfect little curve that deepens into a dimple.

Oh man.

If you weren’t in deep before — you are now.

DAY 20

It takes a whole twenty days for him to finally notice you.

Like any other day, he enters the train and occupies his spot near the door. This time, you happen to be standing beside him. Like clockwork, he pulls out the book, slides the bookmark free, and holds it between two fingers; eyes moving smoothly over the pages.

The train screeches to an abrupt stop between stations, and the lights overhead flicker once before settling into a dim, humming glow.

Around you, the usual groans begin. A man sighs dramatically. Someone taps their foot like it might make the train move faster. The lady next to you mutters something under her breath about being late again.

The volume of your earphones must be louder than you think, because he looks at you and asks, “Laufey?”

You let out a sigh, glance at your watch to check the time, and look up instinctively because he’s here today too.

Just in time, his gaze lifts and finds yours. The corner of his mouth quirks up, and you can’t help it — you smile back.

Not entirely sure he’s talking to you, you pull out one earbud and mumble, “Sorry?”

He gives a little smile before repeating the question — and god, that damn smile will be the end of you.

You don’t put your earphones back in. Somehow, it feels rude now. Your gaze flickers around the coach, searching for something, anything to keep the conversation going.

“Ikigai! I’ve read it. It’s nice,” you blurt out, nodding toward the book in his hand.

“Really?” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I haven’t met many people who really understand it. It’s nice to find someone who appreciates it. What part did you like the most?”

Idiot. Why would you say that? 

You haven’t even finished the book. You bought it on a whim, sure — but gave up halfway through because it was too dense for your brain to grasp at 10 p.m. on a work night.

“Uhh… the… the living part.”

What the hell does that even mean? Could you make a bigger fool of yourself?

“That’s… interesting,” he replies, polite but clearly unconvinced. You can feel the moment your credibility starts slipping away.

“I mean, I really like the concept behind it,” you add quickly, grasping at straws. “You know, the idea of ‘the happiness of always being busy’… things like that.”

You let out a nervous laugh, hoping it masks the rising panic. He’s still looking at you, curious. That unnerving kind of silence that feels like he’s trying to decide whether you’re genuinely insightful or completely full of it.

Just when you’re about to change the subject or fake a sudden phone call, he smiles again. A little smaller this time. Softer.

“That is a nice thought,” he says, his voice warm now. “I think that’s what I liked too.”

You blink. He’s letting you off the hook?

Relief floods through you, and you feel yourself relax just a little, your shoulders easing out of the tense shrug you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“You probably understood it better than I did, though,” you say with a sheepish grin.

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, “but I haven’t finished it either.”

“You’re evil,” you mutter under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

You stare at him, stunned for a beat — then laugh.

Of course he hasn’t. Of course he let you sweat for a full minute before throwing you a lifeline.

He chuckles, and the sound settles somewhere low in your chest.

For the rest of the ride, you don’t put your earphones back in.

DAY 30

You finally get to know his name. Seungcheol.  It suits him, you think.

You’ve started greeting each other every time you meet. You don’t talk much, just small conversations here and there about your day, the weather, or whatever comes up.

At some point, you admit you gave up on Ikigai because it was a bit too complex for your “small brain,” as you put it. He laughs at that. Really laughs but ever since, he’s taken to explaining parts of the book to you whenever you meet.

And you can’t help but think… if you’d known him during your college years, you probably would’ve passed every exam with flying colors.

You find out that he works in finance and surprisingly, his office is near yours. The revelation makes you wonder why he never gets off at the same station as you, but you don’t ask.

Some things feel too delicate to question just yet.

One morning, you notice a small Captain America keychain dangling from the zipper of his suitcase — a new addition. Curious, you ask if he likes Marvel.

He laughs, shaking his head. “My nephew stuck it on and insisted I keep it. I haven’t really watched many of the movies.”

You gasp dramatically, loud enough that a few passengers turn to look. “You’ve never watched Marvel?!”

He winces, grinning. “Maybe one or two? I don’t remember much.”

From that moment on, your train rides take on a new rhythm. You start explaining the entire Marvel storyline, movie by movie, diving into characters and chaotic timelines, your hands animated and your eyes bright with excitement.

And Seungcheol? He listens. Really listens — eyes on you, smile tugging at the corners of his lips, occasionally asking questions or teasing you gently when your passion makes you trip over your own words.

_

DAY 40

Lately, Seungcheol starts getting off at the same station as you.

The first time it happens, you shoot him a curious glance, unsure if it’s just a coincidence. But when it happens again, and then again, you can’t help but ask.

“Sorry if it seems like I’m intruding, but… why didn’t you get off at the earlier station?” you ask, brows slightly raised.

Today, as the train slows to your stop, you notice he doesn’t move toward the doors like he usually does.

Instead, he waits beside you.

He catches your glance and smiles casually. “I used to get off early to grab coffee. Their brews were the best I’ve ever had.”

“So… no coffee today?”

He shrugs, hands tucked in his coat pockets. “I woke up early to get it before the train. That way, I could ride with you.”

Your heart thumps a little. Not enough to show on your face, but enough that you feel it in your throat.

You look away, trying to hide your smile.

“Ah… well,” you say lightly, “must be some really good coffee.”

“Second best part of my morning,” he replies without missing a beat.

DAY 46

Walks with Seungcheol are part of your routine now.

You used to drag yourself out of bed to start the day, but lately, you wake up on your own even before your alarm rings.

You learn he has a dog. Kkuma. A pretty little Coton de Tuléar with soft white fur and a habit of stealing the spotlight. He goes on evening runs with her every Sunday, and almost without fail, he sends you a picture afterward. Kkuma, dressed in a tiny hoodie or a frilly bow.

At some point, the two of you exchange numbers. It starts with simple texts — “I reached safely” and “See you tomorrow” — but quickly grows into something more.

Now, you text nearly every day, even though you see each other just as often.

And while Kkuma is adorable, you can’t help but zoom in just a little to catch a glimpse of the man holding the leash, his messy sunday hair. The hint of a smile he doesn’t realize he’s wearing.

__

It’s pouring today.

You’re already halfway to the subway when the first drops begin to fall. Too light to worry about, at least at first so you keep walking, brushing damp hair from your face as the drizzle picks up.

Seungcheol boards the train two stops after yours. And the moment he enters, his eyes scan the crowd searching until he sees you. Then he makes his way over.

You talk about your weekends — easy conversation, soft laughter. It makes the ride feel quicker than usual.

When you step out of the station, you realize you forgot to check the weather. The rain’s still coming down, steady and unrelenting. You don’t have an umbrella.

Seungcheol, like some savior from a drama scene, wordlessly opens his umbrella and holds it over your head. You offer to carry it, but he refuses. So you ask to hold his suitcase instead.

But a few steps later, he stops. With his right hand, he adjusts the umbrella and then with his left, gently pulls you closer, tucking you beneath the canopy again.

You walk side by side, shoulders brushing now and then.

After the third time, you shift slightly away, not wanting to invade his space.

Your arm brushes his.

“If you get sick,” he says, eyes forward, voice casual, “who am I supposed to go to work with?”

You don’t say anything, just look up at him and smile. But you don’t move away either.

DAY 50

You and Seungcheol start growing closer.

It isn’t just morning walks anymore. Sometimes, you stop by a café after work, sit across from each other with drinks in hand and talk about everything and nothing. You walk home together too, shoulders bumping every now and then, especially when the sidewalk narrows.

If one of you is running late, the other waits—no matter how crowded the station gets.

Even the metro rides become something you look forward to. You talk about dinner plans or what shows you’re binge-watching. Some days you just share a playlist, sitting in companionable silence as the train rocks gently beneath your feet.

The evenings are always busier than the mornings. Too crowded to sit together, too loud to talk. So you both end up standing on either side of the door, listening to the same song through your AirPods, synced through Bluetooth. It becomes a little ritual.

Still, you hate the space between you.

It’s silly. Just a few feet. But Seungcheol has this quiet warmth to him—like being near him makes the train feel less suffocating, the day a little lighter. And on the days when the coach is packed and you have to stand apart, you miss that.

Then, one day, you fish into your bag and pull out your wired earphones instead.

Seungcheol notices immediately. “What happened to the other ones?”

“Oh… um, they broke,” you say, not really looking at him.

He doesn’t ask anything else. Just smiles and reaches for one side of the wire, placing the left earbud in his ear while you take the right.

You stand side by side that day, close enough that your arms touch. Close enough to hear him hum under his breath. And when the train jolts forward suddenly, he reaches out instinctively to steady you—fingers curling briefly around your wrist before letting go.

Neither of you say anything about it. You just stand there, sharing music.

And somehow, the ride home feels shorter than ever.

That night, after dinner and a long shower, you flop onto your bed and reach for your phone.

No messages.

You stare at the screen for a moment before opening your playlist—the one you listened to with Seungcheol on the train.

You scroll down and tap on one song. The one that was playing when his fingers brushed yours.

You don’t think too much about it—you just send it to him. No caption. Just the link.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Seungcheol [11:47 PM] good taste also… I liked this part the best [audio snippet attached]

You play it. It’s the chorus.

Your phone buzzes again.

Seungcheol [11:48 PM] reminds me of train rides and someone hogging the right earbud 👀

You smile, cheeks warming.

You [9:49 PM] i offered to switch sides you’re the one with territorial issues

Another reply, instantly.

Seungcheol [9:49 PM] fine, next time I’ll hold the wire hostage

You laugh, phone resting against your chest.

DAY 69

You don’t expect to see Seungcheol on a Sunday.

Today is supposed to be all about the Han River. There’s a lantern festival happening, something your friends have been buzzing about for weeks. If it were up to you, you’d spend the entire Sunday curled up on your couch, binge-watching Friends for the third time this year.

But your friends are determined. They show up at your apartment in full force, barging in with iced coffee and snacks. Apparently, they don’t trust you not to cancel again.

And honestly? Fair enough.

Last year, you claimed you had “urgent office work.” The year before that, you said your grandmother was sick and needed to be taken care of. 

(Sorry, Grandma. You’re doing great. I love you.)

So here you are dressed, dragged out, and mentally preparing yourself to be social for the next few hours.

Your group decides to head to the river early to avoid the crowds and grab lanterns before they sell out. After a long walk under the sun, everyone is tired and hungry, so you volunteer to run to the convenience store and grab some ramen.

What you don’t expect is to bump into Seungcheol doing the exact same thing.

And judging by the surprised look on his face, he doesn’t expect to see you either.

He lifts a hand in a small wave, his voice matching it in volume. “Hey.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Jihyo appears at your side, arms full with four cans of beer.

“Oh, hello,” she says, giving Seungcheol a polite nod before turning to you. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, we go to work to—”

But Seungcheol doesn’t get the chance to finish.

“You go to work with someone?!” Jihyo gasps dramatically. “Wow, didn’t think you had friends outside of us.”

Before you can react, a blond-haired man strolls up to Seungcheol’s side.

“Cheol, there’s no space outside.”

“Then we’ll just sit here—” Seungcheol begins, but Jihyo is faster.

“You guys can join us!”

“Oh, that would be lovely,” the blond man grins. “Sitting with pretty ladies and eating good food? Count me in.”

“Jeonghan—” Seungcheol starts, but again, Jihyo cuts him off.

“This is going to be so fun!”

Just like that, she walks off with Jeonghan, chatting like they’ve known each other for years. You can’t help but envy her a little, for how effortlessly she talks to new people.

That leaves you and Seungcheol standing alone, both a little thrown off but smiling anyway.

You exchange a glance, share a quiet smile, then follow after the two of them, side by side.

By the time you all finish eating, the sun has dipped low in the sky. The festival is about to begin—lanterns being unpacked, children running around with glowing sticks, couples picking spots near the river.

You and Seungcheol haven’t talked much since the ramen store encounter. Not because anything is wrong, but because suddenly, things feel… different.

Awkward in a new way.

Even though you’ve known him for a while now, even though you’ve shared coffee, playlists, and half your mornings—something about seeing him here, outside your usual rhythm, throws you off.

You keep catching each other’s eyes and looking away just as quickly, only to glance back a moment later. Each time your eyes meet, he gives you a small smile. You return it, cheeks warm.

The boys couldn’t buy the lanterns because all sold out early, so you decided to share yours.

The six of you split into groups to light and lift the lanterns—Jihyo and Nayeon pair up, Jeonghan and Joshua team together, and that, of course, leaves you and Seungcheol.

You sit on the grass with the lantern between you, a set of markers in hand.

“Should I draw something meaningful or just… stars?” you ask, uncapping a pen.

“Stars are meaningful,” Seungcheol says, kneeling beside you.

You smile and begin sketching— tiny stars, a moon, a little ramen bowl in the corner for fun. Seungcheol adds a small Kkuma doodle near the bottom. Your hands brush once. Neither of you moves away.

When it’s finally time to lift the lantern, you both stand, holding it gently between you. Around you, dozens of lanterns floating into the sky, glowing orange and soft against the inky blue.

“Ready?” he asks, glancing at you not at the lantern.

You nod. “One, two, three…”

You let go.

And for a second, your gaze follows the lantern.

But his stays on you.

The sky is dark and clear, making every light stand out sharply. Lanterns float up one by one, glowing softly in warm shades of orange and gold. They move slowly, carried by the breeze, flickering light. The river below mirrors them perfectly, like the sky has dipped down to meet the water. It’s calm, almost still, just the soft rustle of grass and the low hum of people watching in silence.

The sky sparkles above you, but you feel the warmth of his eyes more than the lantern lights.

_

Later that night, back home, your phone buzzed with a message from Jihyo.

It was a photo.

You and Seungcheol standing shoulder to shoulder, watching the lantern rise. The light from the flame illuminated your faces, casting a glow that made the photo look straight out of the Tangled movie.

Then another message follows.

Jihyo [11:59 pm]  you & your lover boy 💗

You roll your eyes, already typing a response.

You [typing…] “it’s not like that—”

Before you could even hit send, another message pops up.

Jihyo [12:00 am]  “and don’t even try to say no. i’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

You stare at the screen, speechless.

Because, maybe you don’t really want to deny it.

DAY 70

Jihyo’s words stay with you the whole night. You keep reaching for your phone, opening it just to stare at that photo again. You don’t see it, the so-called look Seungcheol is giving you—not the way Jihyo describes it.

Still, it’s enough to keep you tossing and turning, caught between curiosity and denial.

When you wake up, there are faint dark circles under your eyes. You even stare at yourself in the mirror, wondering if it’s actually possible to get dark circles overnight.

You start your day later than usual. Not because you oversleep. No, you’ve been awake for a while—but because you’ve been trying to avoid Seungcheol. You time your routine to reach the station half an hour late, thinking—no, hoping he’s already gone.

You aren’t ready to face him. Not after everything in your head starts sounding like Jihyo’s voice.

But of course, life has other plans.

Seungcheol is still there—standing on the platform, eyes scanning the crowd like a puppy trying to find its owner. And when he finally spots you, his face lights up instantly. He waves too eagerly, too wide and jogs over to meet you.

“Oh! Seungcheol,” you say, caught off guard.

“Hey!” he grins. “I was this close to calling you.”

“Why didn’t you go?” you ask. “Won’t you be late?”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs. “Just a few minutes.”

“Seungcheol. I was thirty minutes late. That’s not just a few minutes.”

He smiles, almost like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I wanted to go with you.”

And just like that—your heart does that stupid thing again. The thing where it thumps in your chest a little too loudly, like it’s trying to remind you you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be.

You look away, down at your shoes, anywhere but at him.

Because Jihyo might’ve been wrong about the look. But you aren’t so sure about yours.

_

When it’s time to get off work, you make some excuse that you have to stay over longer because of some pending work and ask him to not wait for you.

To which he replies with a pout emoji and an ‘okay’ with it.

DAY 74

Over the next few days, you try to avoid him—subtly. At least, you think it’s subtle. But apparently, you aren’t as discreet as you’d hoped. Because on the third day, Seungcheol texts you, asking if you are avoiding him, if anything is wrong, or if he did something wrong.

You stare at the message for a long time, guilt creeping in.

You don’t mean to hurt him. Truly, you don’t. But the space helps. You need those few days to gather your thoughts, to figure out what’s going on inside your own head.

And somewhere in that quiet, you realize something.

You might actually like Seungcheol.

Not just the morning walks or the shared playlists or his little smile when your eyes meet. Him.

And now, all you can do is hope—really hope that Jihyo has been right all along about the way he looks at you.

So you decide not to avoid him anymore. And also maybe try to come clean about your feelings.

_

DAY 75

You wear your pink skirt and a white off-shoulder top today—the one Jihyo swears makes you look like an angel. You wake up extra early, wanting to take your time getting ready. Something different from your usual pencil skirt and tucked-in blouse. A little blush, soft liner, your favorite lip tint. Nothing too dramatic, but just enough to make you feel… pretty.

Because today, you decide. You are going to confess to Seungcheol.

You are nervous, no doubt about that. But mixed in with the nerves is something else—something bright and fluttery. A little thrill at the thought that this could be the day everything changes.

It feels like either the last day you’ll see Seungcheol as just a friend… or the last time you’ll ever see him.

When you reach the station, he’s already there. He hasn’t noticed you yet, which gives you a quiet moment to take him in.

He looks good. Too good for a regular weekday.

A crisp black shirt tucked into slate grey pants, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms. His hair is slightly messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it while waiting. He has one hand in his pocket and the other holding a coffee, eyes scanning the platform casually.

You walk over and gently tap his shoulder.

He turns, smiling. “Hi—”

Then his eyes widen slightly, his smile freezing for a second before softening into something warmer.

“Woah… you look amazing. Is there any occasion today?” he asks. “Wait, is it your birthday?”

You shake your head, shy. “No. I just… felt like wearing this.”

He tilts his head slightly, still smiling. “Well, you look really pretty.”

You mutter a quiet thank you, cheeks already heating up. Before you can say anything more, the train arrives, pulling into the platform with a gust of wind and that familiar screech of brakes. You both step in together, falling into your usual routine—music, small talk, the shared comfort of standing close.

Later, as you walk out of the station toward your offices, Seungcheol glances over.

“Hey… would you mind coming with me somewhere after work?” he asks.

“Where?” you ask, surprised.

“I need to buy a gift. For someone.”

You blink. Is he buying something for you? But that doesn’t make sense. Why would he take you along to pick your own gift?

Still, you nod. “Sure.”

—

You manage to finish your work quickly and leave the office earlier than usual. Outside, leaning casually against the building wall, is Seungcheol—head tilted down, focused on his phone.

He looks effortlessly handsome. Same shirt from the morning, sleeves pushed up a little higher now, hair ruffled even more from the long day. He glances up as you walk over.

“Hey,” you greet, and he slides his phone into his pocket.

“Hey,” he replies, smiling like he’s been waiting for you.

You fall into step beside him, the two of you making your way to wherever this little errand of his will lead.

The shop is located on the corner of an alleyway. No wonder you’ve never seen it before. Inside, it’s small but cozy, filled with shelves lined with candles, handmade accessories, tiny notebooks, and other gift-y things that feel both thoughtful and random. Seungcheol walks ahead, scanning the displays carefully. You trail behind, heart beating just a little too fast.

He eventually makes his way to the counter and leans in slightly, speaking to the worker.

“Do you know what would be a good gift for a lady?” he asks, voice polite.

The worker looks up. “What age range are we talking about?”

“Around 25?” he replies casually.

You don’t wait to hear the rest.

You quickly turn away and wander to the far end of the shop, pretending to browse a shelf of overpriced bookmarks.

Your stomach drops.

Of course he’s taken. Why wouldn’t he be?

You feel like an idiot. A man this kind, this funny, this good-looking—how could he possibly be single? You scold yourself internally for even letting the idea of confessing take root.

You don’t know what you feel more—embarrassed that you almost made a move, or heartbroken that he’s already someone else’s.

Maybe you should be grateful. At least you haven’t actually said anything. You can still keep the friendship. Things can stay the same.

Right?

Even if all you want right now is to go home, bury yourself in a blanket, and scream into your pillow.

DAY 87

You start avoiding Seungcheol again. This time, it isn’t subtle.

You don’t reply to his texts. When he messages asking, “Are you avoiding me again?”, all you can bring yourself to respond is a simple, “I’m sick.”

Technically not a lie. Just… not the whole truth.

You begin leaving for work fifteen minutes earlier than usual, hoping to slip away before he even reaches the station. On top of that, you start taking the women’s coach—just in case he happens to come early too.

It is ridiculous, you know that. But the thought of seeing him, knowing what you know—or rather, what you think you know is too much. You don’t trust yourself to act normal, and you don’t want him to see through you.

So you do the only thing you can think of. You disappear from his mornings. Even if it breaks your heart to do it.

—

But what you don’t expect is to walk through the door and see him there.

You decide you hate Jihyo.

She texts you earlier saying she and Nayeon are going out for drinks with some people, and asks if you want to come. You have been a mess for days—mopey, overthinking—so you figure, why not? A night out might help. Distraction can’t hurt.

You freeze just a few steps inside the bar, hand flying out to grab Jihyo by the wrist.

“What are they doing here?” you hiss, nodding toward the trio of familiar men at the bar counter—Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua, laughing over drinks like they have no idea they are ruining your life.

“Oh, I invited them,” Jihyo says with a shrug, like she just asked them over for coffee.

Your jaw drops. “How? How did you even get their numbers?”

“I exchanged numbers with Jeonghan the other day,” she says simply, brushing past your panic like it is nothing. And before you can protest, she is already walking over to greet them smiling, waving, completely unbothered.

You don’t have the energy to chase after her.

The rest of the night is a blur of noise and lights and everything-you-wanted-to-avoid crashing into you all at once. Seungcheol tries to talk to you more than once, always gentle, always a little concerned, but you keep brushing him off, pretending you don’t hear, pretending someone has called your name.

You laugh louder than necessary, drink more than you should’ve, and cling to Nayeon’s arm like it is a lifeline.

By the time it’s time to leave, you can barely stand without holding onto something or someone.

And when the drinks start to hit, you get drunk. Properly drunk.

Because maybe if your head is fuzzy enough, you’d stop remembering the way he looks at you in that photo or the way he looks at you right now.

Your head feels heavy, and your voice comes out slower than usual. Jihyo and Nayeon aren’t much better off. They giggle as they sling their arms around each other, tipsy and carefree. The problem is—they live in the same direction. You don’t.

Even in your dazed state, you can vaguely make out Seungcheol speaking to Jihyo.

“I’ll drop her home,” he says, voice calm and firm.

“YOU’RE THE BEST—thank you!” Jihyo shouts, completely unhelpful, before stumbling away with Nayeon, leaving you behind.

You stare at Seungcheol, swaying slightly, hugging your bag tightly to your chest like it is some kind of shield. He walks ahead, opens the passenger door to his car, and turns back to you with a tired sigh.

“Can you please get in?”

You blink at him. He raises an eyebrow. You don’t move.

“I’m not kidnapping you,” he adds dryly. “Just trying to make sure you get home in one piece.”

You hesitate for another beat before finally moving, sliding into the passenger seat with a clumsy thump. He closes the door behind you and circles around to the driver’s side.

“Can you put your address in the GPS?” he asks once he is settled.

You fumble with your phone, hands still trembling a bit. Eventually, you manage to type it in and pass it to him.

The car pulls out onto the main road, and for a while, there is only the hum of the engine and the soft sound of the air conditioning.

Then he rolls the window down a little.

The cool night air hits your face, it helps for a moment. You close your eyes, breathing in deep. The nausea settles just a bit, and your thoughts start to line up again, one by one.

Still a mess, still confused. But slowly sobering up.

You ask him to drop you off a little farther from your house—somewhere down the road, away from your actual address.

But, of course, Seungcheol doesn’t listen.

He stops the car right at the bottom of the slope that leads up to your place, shifts into park, and turns to you.

“Stay here,” he says gently, before getting out of the car.

You blink, confused, until you see him circle around and open your door for you. He holds out his hand.

You hesitate, but your legs aren’t steady enough to argue. You let him help you out, his hand warm around yours. He doesn’t let go even as you both start walking up the quiet slope together.

The silence between you stretches for a few minutes, just the sound of your shoes on the pavement and distant insects chirping in the dark. You aren’t sure if it is the alcohol still in your system or the storm in your chest, but eventually, you break the silence.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask.

He glances at you, eyebrows pulling together slightly. “What do you mean?”

You exhale slowly, avoiding his eyes. “You know it’s not exactly gentlemanly to lead on a lady when you’re already in a relationship.”

He stops walking.

“…What relationship?” he asks, voice cautious.

You keep your eyes forward. “The bag you bought the other day—it was for her, right? Your girlfriend.”

He says your name softly. Then again, firmer. “Look at me.”

You do. Slowly.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says. “In fact… there’s someone I like.”

Your heart sinks anyway. Just hearing those words “someone I like” even if it isn’t someone he is with, it still isn’t you.

You look away. “Then go tell her. Why waste all this time on someone who you won’t like back?”

Your voice drops to a mumble at the end, but he still hears it.

He squeezes your hand, just enough to make you look at him again.

“You’re the one I like”, he says.

You don’t know if it is the alcohol or the months of slow-burn tension finally snapping but you lean in.

“No,” he holds you back by your shoulders. “Not like this. Not when you’re drunk. Not when you might not remember.”

Your lips part in protest, but nothing comes out. Your face crumples instead, and without another word, you turn around and start walking ahead.

“Just go,” you mutter. “I’m fine. You don’t have to follow me.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t call out to stop you. But he doesn’t leave either.

He stays parked at the bottom of the slope. Watches you unlock your door. Waits until you step inside. Stays there until the lights in your house turn off.

You don’t know what exactly you’ve done.

But one thing you are sure of. The ghost of tonight is going to haunt you tomorrow.

DAY 90

You were right.

You don’t remember everything that happened last night. Bits and pieces come to you in flashes—your head pounds every time you try to force the memory. You vaguely recall leaving the bar, Seungcheol’s car, walking up the slope...

The more you try to piece it together, the worse your headache gets.

You pop some ibuprofen, hoping it will dull both the physical ache and the mental chaos. It doesn’t do much, but it helps just enough to drag yourself out of bed and into work clothes.

When you finally make it to the station, still feeling like your brain has been put through a blender, you spot him.

Standing exactly where he always does—except now, just the sight of him sends your stomach into a spiral.

You freeze in place.

Few memories flash by. You remember asking about the gift. You remember accusing him of leading you on.

Oh no.

Oh god.

Did you try to kiss him?

Before you can figure out how to vanish into thin air, Seungcheol is already walking toward you. Calm. Collected. Way too composed for someone who might’ve been kissed by a drunk mess.

He reaches into his pocket and holds out a hangover medicine to you.

You blink. Then take it with a quiet, “Thanks.”

“About yesterday…” he starts.

Panic flares.

“Nope,” you blurt. “I mean—OH LOOK! The train’s here, let’s go!”

You practically speed-walk past him and into the nearest compartment like your shoes are on fire.

The entire train ride, you keep a very safe three-foot distance between you and Seungcheol, standing awkwardly near the door like you don’t even know him. You avoid eye contact like it is your job. If someone had drawn a chalk line around you, it would’ve been labeled “emotional damage containment zone.”

You have no idea what to say or what he wants to say. But whatever it is… you aren’t ready.

_

DAY 94

You had, against all odds, successfully dodged the talk with Seungcheol. And honestly? You were kind of proud of yourself.

Sure, it wasn’t the most mature move, but avoiding awkward emotional conversations? You were practically a professional at this point.

Not that he made it easy.

He still waited at the station for you, even though you started leaving earlier than usual in the hopes of missing him. On the train, you avoided any and all eye contact like your life depended on it. And despite that, when evening rolled around, you’d still find him waiting outside your office building, casually leaned against the wall like he hadn’t been ghosted for a week straight.

You’d just mumble something about needing to finish up emails and hide behind your monitor.

Even your coworkers had caught on.

“Your handsome man is downstairs again,” one of them would say with a teasing grin.

“You shouldn’t keep a man that fine waiting. It’s rude,” another would chime in.

But today… Seungcheol clearly decided enough was enough.

As you walk out together after work, the sun just starts to dip low in the sky. He glances sideways at you and asks casually, “Do you like cafes or parks better?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The vibe, I mean. Like if you had to pick. Cafes or parks?”

You furrow your brows, confused but grateful he isn’t bringing up that night.

What you didn’t realize, of course, is that he wasn’t just making small talk—he is trying to figure out where you’d feel more comfortable. Where you’d feel safe enough to finally talk.

Which, honestly? Is kind of really sweet.

The park is quiet this time of day—just a few people jogging, some kids chasing each other near the fountain, the sky turning that soft, cotton-candy shade of evening.

You aren’t sure how you got here, really. One second you’re walking with Seungcheol, and the next he is leading you toward a bench under a big tree, acting like this is just another casual detour.

Except… you know it isn’t.

You sit beside him, not too close, not too far. Your hands rest in your lap, picking at your sleeves. You can feel your heart beating in your throat.

Seungcheol doesn’t speak for a while. He just sits there, hands resting loosely on his knees.

“I thought you were mad at me,” he finally says.

You keep your gaze ahead. “I wasn’t.”

“You avoided me like I had the plague.”

You let out a breath—part laugh, part guilt. “I panicked.”

“Why?”

You hesitate. “Because I remembered bits and pieces from that night. I thought maybe I said or did something I shouldn’t have.”

There is a small pause.

“You didn’t,” he says. “Nothing weird happened. Except maybe how fast you ran off afterward.”

You smile despite yourself. “I was embarrassed.”

“Why?”

You glance at him, then look back at your hands. “Because I started overthinking things. You were just being nice, and I made it weird.”

He is quiet again for a moment. “I wasn’t just being nice.”

That makes your heart skip a little, but he doesn’t press it.

Instead, he nudges your foot lightly with his. “Anyway, I just didn’t want it to be awkward.”

You nod. “Yeah… me neither.”

“Cool,” he says, leaning back slightly. “So… we good?”

You look at him, and something about the way he is watching you makes you feel lighter.

“Yeah,” you say. “We’re good.”

The conversation shifts to safer topics after that. You stay on that bench for a while longer, talking about random things—the weird subway ad you both hate, the café with terrible coffee he swears he only likes for the muffins.

And just before you leave, he glances at you and says, casual as ever, “Hey… let’s hang out next week. Like, properly.”

You blink. “Like… outside the train?”

It isn’t like you haven’t seen him outside other times, but this time it might be just you two. You and him.

DAY 99

The days passed quicker than you imagined.

You and Seungcheol still took the train to work together every day, but somewhere along the way, those commutes turned into something more. You started stopping by cafés on the way. Tried out that dinner place that had been all over your feed. Even ended up at an arcade once—half-tipsy from drinks at a pojangmacha tucked into the corner of some quiet street, laughing so hard you nearly cried when he lost to you in a dance battle.

Today, you stood on either side of a fogged-up train door.

Absentmindedly, you doodled a tiny smiley face on the glass with your finger. When you looked up, you caught Seungcheol doing the same—drawing a tiny heart just beside your smiley.

You didn’t say anything. Just smiled to yourself the rest of the way home.

Later that night, as you were drying your hair after a shower, your phone buzzed.

Seungcheol [9:13 PM]      hey!! can we meet tomorrow?

You blink. Sit down on your bed and quickly type back:

You [9:13 PM] (indented) sure!! where tho??

It takes him a minute to reply.

Seungcheol [9:14 PM] (indented) there’s this garden café near dongmyo… it’s quiet and pretty at night. 7pm?

You bite your lip, smiling at your screen like an idiot.

You [9:17 PM]     sure 😊😙 see you then!

DAY 100

You are nervous as hell. You are sitting on one of the corner seats at the café, fiddling with your hair, smoothing down your skirt, rubbing your hands against your thighs like it will somehow calm your heartbeat.

Now you sit in that café, trying not to look at your phone every five seconds. He isn’t late. You are just early. Painfully, ridiculously early.

You dress up more than usual today—okay, a lot more.

A sheer, light mocha-brown ruched blouse with soft, billowy chiffon sleeves and a deep V neckline. A high-waisted, dark chocolate brown maxi skirt with a gentle drape and ruched detailing at the hip. You even do a winged eyeliner—after three failed attempts. You check the mirror at least ten times before finally forcing yourself out of the house.

Five minutes pass.

Then the bell over the café door chimes, and you instinctively look up.

There he is.

Seungcheol walks in, dressed in a warm chocolate-brown crew neck sweater and cream-colored corduroy pants. His hair bounces slightly as he moves, and somehow, he looks even better than you remember—soft and put-together and annoyingly, heart-flutteringly handsome.

You stand up as he reaches the table, and he gives you a breathless smile, holding out a small bouquet—white lisianthus and garden roses, sprinkled with baby’s breath.

“You’re early,” he says, just a little out of breath, eyes scanning your face and outfit in a way that makes your skin buzz.

You nod, shy, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “So are you.”

He chuckles softly. “Guess we’re both a little eager, huh?”

And just like that, the nervous weight in your chest lightens, bit by bit.

Dinner is perfect.

Seungcheol insists you try everything. Every time you so much as glance at something on the menu, he tells the waiter, “We’ll have that too.” Your table is overflowing with plates by the time the mains arrive, and you lose count of how many times he leans forward to ask if you are full, if you like it, if the dessert is too sweet.

He keeps spacing out mid-sentence, staring at you with this dazed, boyish look before shaking his head and mumbling, “Sorry, what were we talking about again?”

You tease him for being distracted. He claims it is the lighting that makes him space out. You know it isn’t.

And even though he laughs and looks like he has everything together, you notice the way he fidgets with the hem of his sleeve when he thinks you aren’t looking. How he checks his phone screen just to lock it again.

After dinner, the two of you step out onto the quiet street.

The rush has died down. The air has cooled just enough to make you pull your cardigan tighter. Street lamps cast soft glows on the pavement, and the sounds of the city fade to a distant hum—just footsteps, laughter from across the block, and the occasional car passing by.

You walk side by side. Close, but not touching.

Until he stops walking.

You turn to him. “Cheol?”

He looks nervous. Palms in his pockets, shoulders drawn in slightly, eyes fixed on the road like he is rehearsing something in his head.

Then he looks at you.

“I know this is random,” he starts. “Well—not random, but kind of sudden? Or maybe not. I mean, it’s been a hundred days. That’s a lot. But also not enough, I guess, to say something like this—but it also feels like it is.”

You blink. He isn’t making much sense.

Seungcheol takes a breath and scratches the back of his neck.

“What I’m trying to say is…” He looks at you, really looks at you. “I like you. Like—really like you. More than a ‘train friend’ or a ‘text you memes at 11PM’ kind of way. I think I’ve liked you for a while now, and I kept waiting for the right time, and then today just feels like it. Because it’s special, right? A hundred days. And I—”

“Seungcheol.”

He keeps going. “—I mean, I didn’t want to make it weird, and maybe this is weird, and I’m talking too much—”

You step forward and wrap your arms around him.

He freezes. Then melts. His hands hover for a second before resting gently on your back, holding you like he doesn’t quite believe you are real.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “I like you too.”

It is quiet for a moment. His eyes search yours like he is waiting for you to take it back, like he has to double-check that he heard you right.

You smile. “I was kind of hoping you’d say something.”

A quiet relieved laugh slips from him.

Then, softer, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod.

Seungcheol steps in close, one hand resting lightly on your waist, the other hovering just beside your cheek like he is scared to touch you too fast. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips and back again, as if he is memorizing you right here, under the soft yellow glow of the streetlamp.

His fingers finally brush your jaw, a soft touch, careful—like you are something delicate. Your heart thuds in your chest, loud enough you’re sure he can hear it.

Then, slowly, finally, he kisses you.

His lips are warm, soft, hesitant at first—testing the waters, afraid to mess it up. You tilt your head and lean in, and that’s all the reassurance he needs. His hand slides to the small of your back, pulling you a little closer, and he kisses you again—this time deeper, more certain.

There is just the feel of his lips on yours, the quiet rhythm of his breath, the faint scent of his cologne—something warm and woodsy that makes your knees go weak.

When he pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, neither of you say a word. Not yet.

The night is quiet around you, just the hum of distant traffic, the glow of streetlamps, and the soft sound of your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

He finally speaks, voice low, like he doesn’t want to break whatever this is.

“Do you know what today is?”

You smile. “A hundred days.”

He nods. “A hundred days of you. Of seeing you on the train. Of wanting to say more, stay longer.”

You blink up at him, heart full.

“I want more,” he says, thumb brushing your cheek. “Not just another hundred. I want all of them. Every day.”

You lean in, kiss him one more time.

And as you stand there, in the middle of a quiet street with the man who used to be just a stranger on the train. You think the next morning, the train will still come.

And this time, you’ll be boarding it—hand in hand.

BONUS - SEUNGCHEOL’S POV (DAY 1)

The train pulls in, slowing with that familiar screech of metal. Seungcheol leans against the glass panel, one hand in his pocket, headphones in, watching people come and go.

Then she steps on.

He doesn’t recognize her — she’s new, at least to him. She looks around for a moment; the seats, the windows, the slow-moving scenery outside. There’s no rush in her expression, just quiet observation.

She finds a spot across from him, steadying herself on the rail as the train lurches forward. For a while, she just watches the buildings go by, eyes calm, thoughtful.

Then she pulls out her phone, scrolling through something, expression soft and unreadable.

He looks away, pretending to focus on the song playing through his headphones. But it’s hard not to notice her — how she stands a bit straighter than everyone else, how she seems almost peaceful even with the crowd pressing around her.

She doesn’t look at him. Not once. Or so he thinks.

Still, he catches himself checking.

And then the train keeps moving, same as always.

He hopes to see her tomorrow too.

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[ssentimentals]

Hi honey, first I want to congratulate you on your 1.8k! ♡ Next, I want to ask you for number 11 with Seungcheol and angsty. But could I add anything else? Something like Cheol doesn't want to sleep alone in the bed because he's gotten used to sleeping with you, and also, the bed smells like you. Thank you so much ♡

hi, dear! thank you soo much 💜 of course you can add it, i'm always happy when you guys make your request specific, at least that way i have more hope that you'll like it in the end :') thank you for requesting!

prompt: 'i'm not letting you sleep on the couch in your own house'

'i swear to god, seungcheol, one more word and i am getting out of here.'

seungcheol stills. it stings; the fact that you're so mad at him that you better leave your own house than stay here with him stings, but he knows he deserves it. the truth is, seungcheol is just as lost at the whole 'we will figure out this life together' shit as you are and sometimes he trips and makes mistakes and falls.

'go,' you say in a tired voice. all your anger faded away and you look so fragile that his heart squeezes. 'i can't be in the same room with you.'

these words are horrible. the way they hurt him make seungcheol wonder how bad he fucked up, how irreversible the damage is; has he lost you? for good? 'don't do it,' he croaks out. 'let's talk this out-'

'i don't want to talk anymore,' you interrupt, shaking your head. 'i am not breaking up with you, but i am telling you that i am done for tonight, alright? and if you won't leave then i will do it myself.'

without saying anything else you grab your pillow, blanket and storm past him to the living room. seungcheol turns and watches as you throw everything on the couch, seemingly ready to sleep there. he turns back and stares at the bed in the middle of the room like on a foreign subject - what he is supposed to do with it? he can't sleep alone anymore, not after he got together with you. so many months of falling asleep and waking up with you in his arms spoiled him, he can't possibly get on the bed without you. why would he? any bed in the world is made for you two, not for him only. and it hurts - the notion of you not wanting to share the bed with him, not wanting to stay in the same room with him - it hurts. seungcheol's throat tightens as he tries not to lose his mind. with slow steps he goes to the living room, where you're tossing and turning in futile attempts to get comfortable.

'i'm not letting you sleep on the couch in your own house', he says, stopping two steps away from you. 'please go to bed. i will leave, but please go to bed.'

you turn, eyeing him with a frown. seungcheol sighs, squatting until his face is right in front of yours. he grips the edge of the blanket, looking at you with regret: 'i'm sorry for being such a mess.'

seungcheol can add many more things. he can add how he never ever wanted to hurt you, how life without you is a life with no light or love, how he will kneel and beg for your forgiveness if he knew it'd help. you stare at him in silence before muttering: 'why are you acting like we're breaking up?'

'because it feels like it,' seungcheol lets out shakily.

you sigh, sitting up. you are not even close to forgiving him, but you can't let him think that this is it. 'i told you that we're not breaking up, cheol. i just-'

'i can't sleep without you,' he says, looking up. 'i can't- it's wrong. it's so wrong.'

when your hand wraps around his, seungcheol's breath halters. his eyes glimmer with hope as he looks at you. 'you, big baby. let's go to bed then.' you stand up, grabbing your pillow. 'i'm still mad though.'

seungcheol grabs your blanket and follows you to the bedroom, holding his breath. 'we will talk tomorrow?' he asks hopefully, hovering by the edge of the bed, not getting in.

you nod and smile weakly. 'yeah, cheollie. we will talk tomorrow.' you pat the space next to you. 'get in now.'

when seungcheol cautiously wraps his arms around you and your body goes lax, leaning on his, he finally breathes again.

a/n: i hope you liked it!! very random, but cheol is one of the easiest members to write these kinds of scenes for, idk why :D - nini

my other seventeen works are here

request your own here

[cherrynpink]

don't you love me?

pairing: toxicbsf!seungcheol x f!reader

genre: friend to lovers, toxic relationships (friendships), smut MDNI!!!

warnings: manipulation, toxic cheol, dubcon, gaslighting, controlling n possessive cheol, he isolates oc, scoups tummy mention (nom nom hot), kind of ddlg dynamic? (u can tell i have father issues), power imbalance, princess treatment, drinking, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f!recieving), dom!cheol, overstimulation, corruption kink, a little bit praise a little bit degradation but its barely noticeable, size kink (a little), manhandling, inexperienced oc, dacryphilia, crying, breeding kink, missionary bcs im a romantic sue me, big dick scoups hehe, unprotected sex (do NOT do it dawg), tummy bulge kink, mentions of baby trapping, creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

w.c.: 4.3k

playlist: don't you love me?

for more of my work, check out my masterlist!

note: i need toxic cheol sooo bad no one gets it but thank u @seventeensrat for getting me n proofreading n giving me ur deranged thoughts abt it. want dat gold cross necklace in the pic dangling over my face 😝 i kept making him a sweetheart but then realised no he needs to be an asshole (that i would fuck 100%) n i might make a part 2 of this so lmk...

anywaysss my requests are open if u have something u wanna read or just talk n so are my dms to make new friends here :) feedback is highly appreciated hope u like this one hehehe :3

if u wanna be tagged

Currently obsessed with the idea of toxic guy best friend seungcheol.

He is the bestest friend someone could ask for in your opinion. The sweetest, most selfless guy you’ve ever come across. Always drives you around in his g-wagon- hand resting just below the hem of your dress. Bought you a dyson last month; no particular occasion, just because “you talked about it once so I thought you’d like it.” Takes you to try out whatever cute cafes you want to and buys you all the pastries in the world. Calls you his “baby” and his “princess”. Not only pays for your nails but also helps you pick out the design. Carries all your shopping bags without breaking a sweat in one hand, other resting on your lower back so that the guys around you don’t think they have a chance. And of course, he pays for all your clothes with his black card :). Who would he spoil if not you? He sometimes gets into the dressing room with you in the Victoria’s Secret store while you’re changing because “we’re best friends, right?” (with a pout ofc) when you refuse because you’re not sure if this is what friends do, but you give in eventually. Now the fact that he makes you spin around in your pretty little lingerie, strong hands groping your thighs as you say “Isn’t this a little too tight, cheol?”, your hands adjusting the bra all while he’s staring at your tits spilling out of the see through material as he assures you that it’s perfect is something others don’t need to know, right?

Yeah. He’s your best friend. Always takes care of you, cooks for you, makes sure you have all your meals and that you study properly- scolding you when you miss any lectures. Makes sure you don’t drink too much at parties or guys other than him might take advantage of you. Doesn’t let you exchange notes with the guys in your class. Even got into a fight with a guy and almost got suspended because of something he said about you. He scolds you for talking to them, because you don’t know their intentions and all you do is keep your head down and nod, no other choice than to abide him. He does know what’s better for you after all, right? He scolds you only because he loves you! He just knows what’s best for you, and wants to make sure you know he’s the best for you.

All your other friends don’t really speak very highly of him tho :( they just feel like there’s something off about him. No one is ever that nice. That he’s like a guard dog around you and doesn’t let you talk to guys or date, always hovering around you and giving you orders. But you assure them that no!!! he’s your cheol :( he tells you that they’re just jealous of you. They’re jealous of your friendship with him. They envy you. Yes, he can be a bit strict sometimes and act like your dad, but that’s just because he doesn’t want to you to get in trouble! He just wants to protect you :) that’s why he always asks for tons of your pictures before you go out so that he can protect you from the creeps that think of your short dress as an excuse to get their way with you.

When you first became friends with him, you were a bit skeptical when he told you that your boyfriend was cheating on you. But then he said, “Don’t you trust me? Why would I lie to you?” with his signature pout and he was right. If you couldn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust anyone, right? Now it was surprising to you when your boyfriend was the one to break up with you later that day, but all seungcheol said to you while you cried on his shoulder was “He didn’t deserve you, baby.” You don’t need to know that he lied to you boyfriend that you had sex with him when he was out of town. He only lied because he knew you were meant for him. He just wants you for himself, is that so bad? He doesn’t think so, because he takes care of you so well. Makes sure all your needs are met and you have no complaints. You’re his girl after all :)

As soon your (ex) boyfriend broke up with you, seungcheol was quick to ask you to move in with him, because “You need someone to take care of you right now, you can’t live alone doll.” and you couldn’t argue with that logic. And he was so good to you. Didn’t even make you pay rent because why would he. Always was there for you when you wanted to rant about your day, but only while sitting on his lap facing him in just his oversized shirt and panties obviously :) that was a rule. Would come up slyly from behind when you were cooking in your cute little apron, hands resting on your tits because “It’s comforting to me y/n.” and you don’t complain. Whenever you denied him something he would say “Don’t you love me?” eyes furrowed and big arms caging you.  But it was a two-way street, the way you always let him cuddle you after a bad day. How you always brought him something to eat when he had been gaming for hours. How last week you reassured him when he said he would start a diet because he thought he was gaining weight by giving him a small kiss on his cheek, telling him that it was hot for you, that it made him only more reliable in your eyes. It was the small things. But they always counted.

The girls he saw or went out with always complained about umm, the bond you both shared; but he never cared. It did bother you though seeing him bring girls over to your shared apartment, hearing their moans through the thin paper walls :( all while you had your hand shyly tucked between your thighs resisting the urge to imagine yourself in their place, bent over for him. But you never touched yourself. It would be so wrong, thinking about your best friend like that! So you often resorted to grinding against the plushie bear he won for you at the fair as his oversized shirt slipped down your shoulders- quiet whines leaving your throat as you failed to reach your high. Little did you know he was imagining the girl under him to be you every single time. He can’t even count the number of times he’s jerked off to the pictures you send him (at his request obviously). The number of times he’s stared at your panties peeking out whenever your skirt rid up or your cleavage when you bent down.

You do notice that after a few months, he takes up more of your time. Not that you’re complaining!!! You love to spend time with him, but you feel it get to a point. It’s not sudden, rather subtle and painstakingly so slow you don’t even realise what he’s doing until you’re in it too deep (or until he’s in YOU too deep ahem). Whenever you’re getting ready to go out with your friends he always hugs you and somehow always falls sick so that you can’t go out because you have to take care of him. What kind of friend would you be if you left him sick and alone to go out and drink he says. You’re being a little bitchy he says. You don’t love him he says. And tears well up in your eyes, because you love him so much you can’t believe he thinks of you that way. And then there you are in your pretty pink dress, mascara smeared on your cheeks as you’re crying in his embrace while he comforts you. You begin to stop talking to your friends because he says they’re a bad influence on you. But don’t worry! Your cheol is right next to you always :) his clinginess increases ten folds. He is always on you, hands resting on your plush thighs or your waist at all times- neck nuzzled in your hair when you sit on his lap as he games. Brings out his puppy eyes and pout whenever you refuse him. “Don’t you love me?” he says and you would never want him to think that. So you let him do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He knows what’s best for you, right?

He dreamt of taking you, corrupting you but only bit by bit. It might make you sick if you found out but he wanted to make you cry while he defiled you, moulded you to his liking. Wanted to throw you around because it was just so easy for him. A small part of him thinks you instigate your playfights on purpose to get him to overpower you, manhandle you. He knew you had had a few boyfriends before so imagine his surprise when he found out you had never had an orgasm one night, head buried in his lap drunk and giggled out the confession in shame. You should be thankful he made your boyfriend break up with you, because how fucking incompetent does one have to be.

“What do you mean you’ve never had an orgasm?” he asked, hands running through your hair.

“They just never made me cum.”

“They never ate you out?” he asked in shock.

“Mhm.” You said shaking your head before passing out on his lap.

“God. What fucking assholes.” He thought to himself. He knew he had to be the one to take care of you, after all you’ve been deprived for so long.

Few weeks later and it was your semester end party, loud music all around you, girls passed out drunk, shots being passed around and wild chaos everywhere. And there you see him, across the room talking and laughing with his friends, one hand chugging down beer every now and then. He looked so hot, though dressed in a plain black T-shirt and jeans; the royal oak watch stealing everyone’s attention as he ran his hand through his hair. It was the way he carried himself, his confidence, his carefreeness. And the way he carried you with him, showing you off like a trophy to be desired (not that you minded it a bit). You’re too engrossed in ogling him when you’re pulled out of your entranced state by no one other than Vernon. You remember meeting him on seungcheol’s birthday, recalling him as one of his close friends. You always found him cute, texting him whenever he replied to your stories or sometimes sitting next to him in shared lectures.

“Hi y/n.” He says with a slight smirk, red solo cup in his hand.

“Hi Vernon!”

“Want a drink?” he says, offering you the cup.

“Mhm I’ve already had so much to drink.” You slur through your words. “Cheol will scold me.” You say with a slight pout.

“Coups isn’t attached to your hip tonight?”

“Mhm, we’re not always together!” you giggle, a bit buzzed because of all the drinking.

“Oh? He never lets me talk to you though doll.” He says with a pout, taking a step closer.

“What do you wanna talk to me about?” you say with a smirk (the flirting a courtesy of the alcohol) as your hand rests on his chest barely grazing him.

His hand reaches to grab your waist as he’s just leaning in, his lips just about to touch yours when in the blink of an eye you see a muscular arm pull him off of you with a force, and you hear seungcheol shouting something at vernon that you’re too drunk to comprehend, but you catch a few phrases here and there- “Are you fucking dumb taking advantage of here when she’s drunk?” and “Back off dude you know she’s mine.” You feel his grip tighten on your hand as he leads you through the room, murmuring a “We’re leaving.” as he opens the car door for you.

The entire car ride was pin drop silent. His hand wasn’t even on your thigh tonight like always :( and you could feel he was pissed off- the way his veins bulged with his grip on the steering and his jaw clenched so hard. he would usually let you pick out whatever song you wanted, watching fondly with a smile when you sung along to it; but he wasn’t even talking to you :( you think maybe it’s your fault. He had warned you about guys trying to take advantage of you, but you were just talking to Vernon. He’s his friend, right? but you feel bad for ruining his night :/ he was talking to his friends but then he had to run over to you because you can’t even take care of yourself properly. Maybe he was right when he said that you needed him. Needed him to protect you, be with you, take care of you.

When you get back to your shared apartment, he’s still quiet; not forgetting his manners for a second though- opening all the doors for you and taking off your heels as you lean your weight on him, your hand on his shoulder for support. But it’s too much for you now. Why is he still so mad at you? Tears start welling in your eyes as your voice breaks.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask between sniffles, doing everything in your power to not let that tear drop slide down your cheeks but he notices it. He sees the distress in your eyes. The fear you have of disappointing him. And he loves it. Loves that you crave for his approval. He’s proud that he’s made you into this. But apparently you still need to learn to be disciplined. Then so be it, he'll make you into his obedient little girl. Your brows are still furrowed at the lack of his answer as he stands up and begins to step away from you and that’s all it takes for the dam to break as tears start welling down your face, a shame in your chest because you feel like you’ve let him down.

“Cheollie please! I- I’m sorry!” you say between sniffles, head buried in your hands.

“Yeah? What are you sorry for Y/n? And fuck are you crying for?” he spits out and it only makes you cry more because not only has he never been this mean to you, but also has never called you by your name like this :( always calling you by nicknames.

“I’m sorry for talking to Vernon.” You murmur. “I’m sorry for making you mad.” You say, wiping your tears.

“Made me leave my friends to take care of you y/n, I told you not to talk to anyone without me right? Told you not to drink too much. This is why I always have to take care of you baby, you can’t do it alone.” He says, swatting your hands away and wiping your tears as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry cheol, let me make it up to you? Don’t want you to be angry at me.”

“Yeah? How will you make it up to me baby? I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive you yet, you were so careless.”

“Anything.” You whisper. “Whatever you want I’ll do.” You say in your slightly buzzed state, but he doesn’t care. That’s all the permission he needs as he’s reaching down, arm snaking around your waist as to not give you a chance to back out, gently yet passionately pressing himself against your warm mouth. Your eyes open wide as the realization hits- hands pushing his chest away as he separates himself for a second.

He's just about to lean back in, eyes half lidded full of lust before you say, “Cheol what are you doing?”

“You said you’d do anything I wanted to make it up to me, right?” he says as you give him a hesitant nod facing down.

“But I’m a bit drunk right now.” You say, voice barely a whisper.

“So you lied to me then? When you said that?”

“No! No, I’d never lie to you.” you say as your eyes reach up to meet him on the brink of tears.

“Then let me do whatever I want baby. Let me make you feel good. Don’t you love me?”

Don’t you love me?

Don’t you love me?

Don’t you love me?

Don’t you love me?

It spins in your head like a mantra, before you give into his demands as a sly smirk accompanies him. You see him cup your cheeks in one hand as he’s reaching down to kiss you once again, much more possessively this time as he melted into you- tongue slipping in smoothly, as if he’s going to be the only man from now on allowed to do this (he is). His hands find your waist like they belong there. You gasp as he’s guiding you towards his bedroom, hands roaming all over the body like they’ve never been before. His lips move down your jaw as his fingers toy with the hem of your short dress- finding abode along your inner thighs. You think back to all the days you chanted his name like a prayer when you were just so close, dreaming of his fingers in you instead of your own. But at the same time your hesitation throughout it never leaves you.

He's quick to pick you up, only to throw you on his bed like a ragdoll as he gets on his knees in front you, bunching your dress up to your waist. His hands massage your thighs as he pulls them apart, immensely satisfied by the wet spot forming at your center.

“These the ones I bought you doll?” he asks, eyes still transfixed on your core. You manage to whisper a quiet yes and before you know it, he’s ripping the material off of you quite literally, diving in like a man starved. Your state is hazy because of the alcohol and the sight of him between your eyes as his words reverberate in your head while his fingers aggressively toy with your clit- Don’t you love me? Don’t you trust me? I know what’s best for you. Let me make you feel good. He’s relentless in his efforts, showing you no mercy or sympathy for the fact this the first time someone’s eating you out. Even when you ask him to slow down, to stop. Even when you cry out his name repeatedly. His plump lips suck on your clit sharply as the same hand that adorned the very royal oak watch that got you so hot drives into you, hitting your g-spot again and again.

Tears start to well in your eyes as they wet your cheeks but as seungcheol looks up at you, the only thing he can think of is how much you’ll cry when he fucks you and you feel him fully in your belly. Your moans get louder as you keep begging him to stop, but he knows you’re close. He can feel you clenching on his fingers as you buck up your hips into him. And before you know it, you’re cumming all over his thick digits. But that doesn’t stop him. He doesn’t falter in his movements for even a second, fingers driving into you at the same pace as your orgasm washes over you. Your legs are shaking around his head as he animalistically groans against your clit.

“Cheol! P- please! Can’t…. can’t take more!” you cry out as your hand tightens it's grip on his hair.

“One more baby.” He grunts out. “One more on my tongue.”

He thinks he’s addicted. Addicted to the taste of you. Not only does he make you cum on his tongue once more, but pulls an orgasm out of you just but by playing with your clit. You think you’ve lost track of the amount of times he’s made you cum, but he’s keeping count. One for each time he’s wanted to take you, and trust there are many. But your entire body is quaking and covered in sweat because of the relentless overstimulation. Once he thinks he’s satisfied with the number of times he’s made you cum on his tongue, he finally gets up only to see you almost passed out on the bed, barely holding on. The sheets besides you are wet from your tears but that only makes his pants tighter. You see him lose his shirt and his pants as he stands in front of you in his boxers. His length is strained against the material as if trapped. He strokes himself from over the material before pulling them down as his thick long member hits his stomach and he sees you gulp. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you react to him.

“Scared princess?” he teases you as he locks his gaze with yours, spitting in his hand as he strokes himself- precum leaking out his dark pink tip.

“It won’t fit.” You say hesitantly, but you don’t want to disappoint him either.

“You’re cheol’s good girl right? You’re a big girl, you can take it.” He spits out rather meanly, making you pout. But he’s not showing you any mercy this time. You’ll take whatever he gives you. After all, you wanted to please him, right?

Once again he’s parting your legs as he lines himself up with your already ruined entrance, tapping his tip against your clit, before he hears you say, “Cheollie, you don’t hate me, right?” with eyes on the brink of crying. It’s endearing he thinks, that you’re still afraid of disappointing him, letting him down. He’s taught you sooo well.

“Could never hate you love.” He says, pressing a small kiss to your forehead. “Now let your cheol take care of you okay, like always.” And just like that, he’s pushing into you in one go, giving you no time to adjust as your wet velvet walls wrap around him, your slick covering his entire length. He’s pushing your legs up only to rest them on his broad shoulders as you continue to cry out his name over and over again. He doesn’t falter once as he propels into you, gold cross chain dangling over you, and when he opens his eyes to look down to where you connect, his eyes go wide at the sight of himself in your lower belly. He can see himself in you, literally. And oh, does it turn him on, the way you’re so tiny in front of him, so much so that his big dick bulges in you poor little belly. He taps your cheek lightly as to call you to pay attention to him.

“You see that baby?” he says, running his hand over the bulge in your belly. “See how deep I am in you, fuck! Like you were made for me.”

If that’s how deep he goes in you, what would happen if he came that deep in you he thinks. And that only makes him angle himself into you deeper as he lifts one of his legs. He could fill you up and it won’t even leak out. How would you look carrying his baby? No way you’d ever leave him if he knocked you up right now. You’d look so beautiful, his wife, his pretty little baby mama. The thought of you swelled up gets him closer to his release as his hips begin to falter and his strokes get sloppier- each one becoming a sharp thrust. And just like that, with a loud cry and a particularly sharp push of his hips into you, you’re cumming over his cock for the nth time in the night, completely spent and head blank, as you collapse back on the bed almost passed out at this point. You didn’t ask for his permission to cum, but it’s okay, he’ll discipline you next time :)

You feel him getting closer as well as his moans get louder and thrusts sloppier and you’re about to give out and rest in bliss when the realisation hits you- he’s not wearing a condom.

“Fuck ‘m gonna cum baby, pussy so tight like it was made for me.” He groans.

Your panicked eyes look up to him, “Cheol, please… please don’t cum inside.” You plead.

“No way baby, not pulling out…mhm!” he moans as his pace increases, chasing his release. “Gonna fill you up real good, you trust me right?”

“Mhm…” you sigh hesitantly. “Okay…if you say so.”

“Fuck! Thank you princess, love you so much, yeah? My good girl.” He says between grunts and the slap of his balls against you, as you grunt out a quiet love you too, and with that you feel yourself getting full of him as he fills you up to the brim, still fucking you through it slowly. When he’s done, he doesn’t pull out of you yet- making sure it’s inside you. Your bodies melt against each other as you feel his heavy breathes against your ear. The room smells of sex and sweat as he collapses besides you panting.

“You’re not mad at me anymore, right cheol?” you say, breaking the silence as he’s pressing another small kiss to your lips, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Hmm, you were a really bad tonight doll. We’ll have to see if you make it up to me after another round.”

It was gonna be a long night. But it’s okay. You would do anything for your cheol :)

[sweet12sthings]

beautiful

pretty little baby 🌷

[oceannote]

Seventeen Reaction—You get caught in the rain.

Note from author: Guysssssss, am I getting in my reactions era 😏😏? Hope you will enjoy this one as it is my first one eva. Requests are open, and I am working on bettering my short writing style without yapping for ages.🩵🩵 Summary: OT13's reaction to the reader (girlfriend) getting caught in the rain on their way home to their apartment/shared apartment. Warnings: Established relationship

1️⃣ S.Coups:

He was waiting for you. Leaning against the wall like some annoyed Greek statue, arms crossed, expression unreadable, except for the very judgmental eyebrow arched just for you and his biceps threatening to rip through the tight gym t-shirt. Then his eyes landed on you: a soaked, dripping, shivering disaster.

“Hi…” you mumble, giving him a sheepish smile as rainwater slithers down your cheeks like tears from a bad rom-com.

His brow twitches. “What did I tell you this morning?”

You groan. “I know, Cheol. But I was late, and I forgot my umbrella, and I’m totally fi…”

Your foot squelches in a puddle, and the universe betrays you. But Cheol doesn’t. He catches you effortlessly, arms wrapping around your waist like he knew you'd pull this stunt.

“I’m picking you up from work the rest of the week. It’s going to rain,” he says, deadpan, hoisting you upright like this is all routine.

You huff. “But…”

He silences you with a single finger to your lips, eyes softening even as his tone stays steel-solid.

“No buts. The rest of the week. Non-negotiable.”

2️⃣ Jeonghan:

“Well, well, well, look what the storm dragged in,” Jeonghan drawls, leaning against the apartment doorframe like a rom-com villain with too much time on his hands. He’s clearly proud of the line, probably practiced it in the mirror while waiting. His eyes roam over your dripping form, pausing on the way your soaked dress clings to your skin. “You bring the ocean with you, or are you just trying out mermaid cosplay?”

“Jeonghan, I swear to God, not today,” you bite out, brushing wet strands of hair out of your face. Mascara’s definitely running down your cheeks, you can feel it, and the cold from the airco is starting to bite. “Don’t test me.”

He snickers, completely unfazed. “I was expecting my gorgeous girlfriend, not a soggy sea creature that’s been personally victimized by the rainy season.”

“If I get sick, you’re going down with me,” you mutter, pushing past him, water squelching in your shoes. “Your immune system’s made of wet tissue paper anyway.”

Jeonghan follows you into the apartment with zero remorse, arms sliding around your drenched shoulders like this is the peak of romance. “Even better. We'll be sneezy, miserable, and in love, just how Shakespeare intended.” He presses a quick kiss to your temple, already plotting the matching pyjamas and shared blanket fort. “Quality time, baby. I suffer best with you.”

3️⃣ Joshua:

He’d been waiting patiently in your apartment for your long-awaited date night, just the two of you, flour-dusted hands, homemade pizza and pasta, maybe a bottle of cheap wine.

What he didn’t expect was for you to burst through the door like a storm yourself, completely soaked, rain dripping from your hair, your suit clinging to every inch of your body like a second skin.

“Oh my god, my love,” he shot up from the couch, startled, eyes wide as he rushed toward you. “What happened? Are you okay? Did you swim here?”

Your bag hit the floor with a wet splat as you sighed theatrically. “Apparently, yes. Forgot to check the weather, classic overconfident move.”

He frowned, already brushing your damp hair out of your face, his hands warm and grounding against your cold cheeks. “Baby, you should’ve called. I would’ve brought an umbrella, or a damn kayak.”

You leaned into his touch, a soft shiver running through you. “I need a hot shower before I get hypothermia.”

He smirked, eyes twinkling as his fingers found the first button of your soaked shirt. “Then let me assist… strictly for safety reasons, of course.”

You raised an eyebrow, but your lips curved. “Uh-huh. A true hero.”

“Always,” he said, already steering you toward the bathroom like a man on a mission. “Besides, nothing says date night like steamy showers and soggy socks.”

4️⃣ Jun:

Dodging the curious stares in the Hybe hallways felt like sneaking through a top-secret mission, complete with the suspense and the adrenaline rush. But eventually, you made it to the practice room, breathless and damp from the storm outside. You pushed open the door, and there he was, Jun, sprawled on the floor like a lazy cat in the middle of a very unserious yoga session.

His eyes found yours, and he froze like a deer in headlights.

“Oh. My. God,” he gasped, his goofy grin vanishing as he scrambled upright like someone just pulled the fire alarm. “Babe, my love, are you okay?! Did you walk through a tsunami?!”

You gave him a tired smile, water practically dripping off your lashes. “Yeah… you know, just Seoul doing its monsoon cosplay again.”

He was at your side in an instant, cupping your face gently with cool palms, his thumbs brushing the raindrops from your cheeks. You leaned into his touch like it was home, because, honestly, it was.

And then, of course, he laughed.

Loudly.

You blinked at him, thoroughly offended.

“I’m sorry!” he said between bursts of laughter, trying, and failing, to cover his mouth. “It’s just… you look exactly like one of my cats after a bath. All big eyes and soggy judgment.”

“Yah, Jun!” You smacked his arm, scandalized, though the corners of your lips were already betraying you.

Still laughing, he reeled you in by the waist, his hand settling warm and easy on your soaked back. “Okay, okay. My poor drenched kitten. You cold? Want to steal one of my shirts and pretend it's an emergency cuddle situation?”

5️⃣ Hoshi:

You were supposed to meet Hoshi at his parents’ place for your monthly dinner, but instead, you got ambushed by the rain. No umbrella, no warning. Now you were sulking in the apartment building’s entrance, soaked to the bone and shivering, refusing to walk in and greet his mom looking like a half-drowned alley cat.

It hadn’t even been five minutes of waiting and mentally composing your apology text for being late, when the front door creaked open. In stepped Hoshi, dripping head to toe, like he’d just swum upstream to get to you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groaned, pushing off the wall and stomping toward him, water squishing in your shoes.

“Hey babe, did you mak…whoa.” He blinked, taking you in like you were the eighth wonder of the world. “Y/N, you’re… drenched.”

“You too, genius,” you said, swatting at the cascade dripping off his hoodie and helping him peel it off like a wet second skin. “Did you seriously run here?”

He grinned, sheepish but proud. “Kinda. Yeah. Thought if I moved fast enough, I could outrun the rain.”

“That’s not how weather works,” you deadpanned, but laughter bubbled up anyway. “Of course you did.”

“At least now I won’t be the only soggy disaster at dinner,” he smirked, lacing his cold fingers through yours and pressing a warm kiss to your equally frozen knuckles. “We’ll make a splash.”

“You mean we’ll be the splash,” you muttered, shaking your head.

6️⃣ Wonwoo:

The thing is, Wonwoo was dead asleep after practice, face down, drooling into the pillow, limbs splayed out like a crime scene chalk outline, when the door creaked open and a shadow, soaked and sinister, sloshed into his room like something out of a horror movie.

He shot upright with a dramatic gasp, hair sticking up in all directions. “What in the…?! Is that a ghost? Am I dying?!”

“The storm caught me,” you deadpanned, stepping into the soft halo of his bedside lamp like the soggy embodiment of chaos. Water dripped from your clothes onto the floor, forming a small betrayal of puddles at your feet.

Wonwoo clutched his chest with theatrical flair. “Jesus, babe! Are you trying to send me into cardiac arrest? Do I look like I have the insurance for that?”

He scrambled toward you, arms open for a hug, all sleepiness forgotten, but you stopped him with a raised palm like a traffic cop on a mission.

“Do you not see this?” you said, gesturing to your drenched figure. “I am basically a walking natural disaster right now.”

Wonwoo blinked, then tilted his head slightly as a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. His eyes raked over you, shameless and amused. “I mean, yeah, you’re soaked… but also kind of hot.”

He stepped closer, fingers already finding your waistband, eyes glinting with faux concern. “How about I help you out of these disaster clothes before you catch a cold, or I catch feelings all over again?”

7️⃣ Woozi:

You burst into his studio like a chaotic summer storm, soaked from head to toe in your sundress, hair plastered to your cheeks, flip-flops squealing wet protests against the floor with every step. Woozi’s eyes widen in pure horror. Not at you. Never at you. At the dangerously expensive equipment sitting far too close to your dripping everything.

“Y/N!” he chokes out, half-standing from his chair like he’s just witnessed a crime scene. His gaze flickers to the mixer as if it just screamed in agony.

“I know, I know,” you say quickly, holding your hands up like a soggy fugitive. “I won’t go near the precious electronics. Breathe.”

But he’s already striding over, panic giving way to something softer the moment he sees your lips trembling and your arms hugging your torso.

“Babe, are you okay?” he asks, his voice low with concern as he pulls the studio blanket off the couch and drapes it around you, careful and tender. “You’re shivering. Why didn’t you call me?”

You give a small shrug, teeth clacking with the cold. “Didn’t wanna interrupt your genius-in-progress. You’re working on the album.”

He scoffs, pulling the blanket tighter around your frame and rubbing your arms through the fabric before leaning in to press a kiss to your damp forehead. It’s soft, grounding.

“I’m never too busy for you, dummy,” he murmurs, his words warm against your skin.

You crack a smile. “Says the man who looked ready to throw himself in front of a mixer to save it from me.”

His face goes blank for a second. “…No comment.”

You laugh, sniffling. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

8️⃣ DK:

The second you step inside, soaked head to toe like the final girl in a disaster flick, DK gasps like he's just seen the plot twist of the century. “OH NOOO, my baby!” he cries, flailing dramatically as if the rain personally betrayed him. He grabs a towel, then immediately tosses it aside to hug you first, ignoring the dripping mess.

“Yah, Dokyeom, I’m soaked.” You say, trying to squirm in his embrace. “I don’t care if I get soaked too,” he grins, holding you tighter as water soaks into his shirt. “It’s worth it for the drama.” You snort, but he’s already bundling you in the towel, muttering like a man on a mission. “Are you okay? Do we need to call your mom? The weatherman? God?” Moments later, he’s gently drying your hair, humming some sweet nothings under his breath like you’re in a K-drama montage, then hands you warm snacks with a proud flourish. “Today, we battle rain with snacks and songs,” he declares.

9️⃣ Mingyu:

You barely manage to unlock the door before Mingyu yanks it open and sweeps you inside like some overly dramatic bodyguard.

“What the hell, why didn’t you call me?!” he scolds, eyes scanning you like he’s checking for internal injuries. He’s already got a towel in one hand, helping your get your jacket off with the other, and a scowl on his face that somehow makes him look even more moody. He crouches to dry your soaked feet, muttering under his breath, “You’ll get sick. Your health is not a joke, babe. Do I need to tattoo that on your forehead?” You try to argue, but he silences you with a look and a steaming mug of tea. Within minutes, he’s thrown your wet clothes in the wash, lit a candle that smells like pine and something expensive, and pulled you into his lap like you're made of glass. “Sit. Blanket. No negotiations.”

His arms wrap around you tightly as he grumbles, “This is exactly why I need to build you an umbrella drone. Or at least install a weather-tracking chip in your jacket.” You laugh, and he finally softens, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Can I say a word now or should I mourn the rain again?” You say pushing his chest jokingly.

“Next time, call me. Or I swear I’ll start carrying you to work in a bubble.”

1️⃣0️⃣ Minghao:

Minghao looks up from his sketchpad, long fingers still curled around a steaming mug of tea, just as you burst in, dripping, breathless, and looking like a stray cat caught in a typhoon. His eyebrow arches, lips twitching at the corners. “You walked in that?” he asks, voice laced with disbelief and the barest hint of a laugh. “I missed the forecast,” you mumble, hugging yourself as the storm thunders behind you. He closes his sketchbook with a sigh, rising with that dancer's elegance that always makes your stomach flip. “Of course you did,” he murmurs, gliding over to take your freezing hands in his warm ones. “Let’s get you dry first. Then we will talk about whatever this decision-making of yours was.”

Minghao moves like he’s choreographing the moment, towel, robe, and herbal tea, all appearing like magic. He tucks you into the corner of his couch like a fragile porcelain doll, fussing with your hair and the temperature of the tea. “Storms have beauty too,” he says softly, brushing wet strands from your forehead with the gentlest touch. “But next time, text me, and I’ll come running with a giant umbrella. Or better, tell me to pick you up.” "You are acting as if I did it on purpose." You say while taking a sip of the tea. He chuckles, eyes fond. “Nothing that you do can surprise me anymore.”

1️⃣1️⃣ Seungkwan: Seungkwan opens the door mid-rant about a variety show clip he just saw, then screeches when he sees you soaked through. “Oh my GOD, my poor baby! What happened?! Was it a typhoon?!”

You can’t even get a word in before he’s dragging you inside, you see him running to the bathroom coming out in just under 3 seconds with a towel in one hand, his comfiest pajama set in the other.

He’s full-on dramatic, gasps, exaggerated shivers, fake crying. But in between the performance, he’s genuinely doting, drying your hair with such care you almost fall asleep.

“Babe, you are low-key punching me with the towel at this point.” You try to say as you push his hands away from your face. “Next time, I’ll call the weather app manager myself. How dare they not warn us?” he says with a sniff.

“Oh my god, you are such a drama queen.” You say holding his hands, feeling him melt under your touch. “Next time, please call me.” He says dropping the towel and holding your face. “Will do.”

1️⃣2️⃣Vernon: You come in soaked, and Vernon glances up from the couch, blinking once. “Whoa. Did it pour only on you?” he says, calm as ever. He gets up, trying not to laugh at how dishevelled you look, but the amused smirk is already forming. “You look like a Studio Ghibli character after a rain scene.” Still, he quickly moves towards you, helping you get out of the soaked trench coat and trying to salvage whatever can be done to your completely drenched work bag, and guides you to the bathroom. “Hot shower. Now. I’ll find some socks too.”

Later, as you’re curled up next to him, warm and dry, he nudges you with a grin: “Kind of romantic though. You, running through the rain to get back to me. Very drama-core.” “Maybe next time we can meet at my place since it is closer to work?” You say, nuzzling your nose in his chest. “How about next time you call me so I can make sure my girl does not transform into a mermaid halfway down the street?” He says, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

1️⃣3️⃣ Dino: As soon as you walk through the door, dripping from head to toe and hair plastered to your face, Chan blinks in shock, then bursts into action like it's an emergency drill.

“Wait, babe, don’t move!” he says, slipping across the floor in socks to grab a towel. He wraps it around you, muttering, “You’ll catch a cold, baby…” while fussing like an adorable mom.

He’s all warm hands, worried eyes, and awkward but sweet scolding. Helping you pat dry your hair, helping you get out of your squeaky sneakers and removing the uncomfortable weat and sticky clothes.

Five minutes later, he’s got you in his hoodie, a hot drink in your hands, and insists you sit on the couch while he throws your clothes into the dryer. “Next time, text me. I’ll come with an umbrella like a real boyfriend.” “I did call you.” You say, taking a sip of the tea. “Twice.” His face drops, not even daring to check his phone and argue with you on it. “How about you tell me what your schedule is for the week so I can pick you up.” He says with a guilty smile, patting your hair.

[sseungcheols]

if anyone finds the gif of this PLS send