This is an SOS from a Helpless Virgin

by sliceofcheese

Summary:

First love hurts... in the best possible way.

Notes:

so this took so fucking long 💀💀💀this has been in my drafts since last month and i've only got back to working on it but i couldn't get my sister to beta for me 😭🥀🥀🥀🥀

my briize oomfie/partner in crime- Don gave me the loser virgins idea and i just happen to find this prompt from tumblr x

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

You’d think Park Wonbin, certified math genius and campus heartthrob, would have better things to do on a Saturday night than get emotionally bullied by Osaki Shotaro with half a soju bottle in his system.

 

But here he was, lying stomach-first on Shotaro’s dorm mattress, flushed red, and gripping his phone like it was a landmine.

 

“Just do it,” Shotaro was saying, voice slurred but full of evil glee. “Send it. He probably gets these kinds of messages all the time.”

 

Wonbin groaned into the pillow. “He’s not… that kind of guy.”

 

Chanyoung wasn’t. That’s the problem. Chanyoung was… soft. Sweet. Warm-toned, sun-kissed, tall, and puppy-eyed. Always smelled faintly like chlorine and sunblock. Also absurdly ripped in all the right places thanks to swim varsity, but somehow still looked like he cried watching DreamWorks or Pixar films. And if rumors were true, he hadn’t even dated anyone since freshman year.

 

Wonbin shouldn’t know that. He just… heard it. Somewhere. Definitely not from stalking his swim meet stats and Instagram comments.

 

Shotaro grinned wickedly. “You said—and I quote—‘If I had to lose it to anyone, I’d want it to be him.’”

 

“That was three shots ago!”

 

“And now you’re just three taps away from destiny.” Shotaro wiggled his eyebrows.

 

Wonbin buried his face in the blanket. He was dying. This was death. Death by humiliation. Still… The idea pulsed in the back of his throat like a fever dream. If—if he had to do it. Wouldn’t he want it to be with someone gentle? With Chanyoung?

 

He’d gotten his number a month ago. Chanyoung had needed help with vector calculus and had awkwardly approached him outside the library, scratching his neck and mumbling “Sorry, I saw you solve that problem set in, like, two minutes. Are you a math major?”

 

Wonbin was. He also almost dropped his pen.

 

They’d messaged a bit after that. Polite. Academic. Safe. Then nothing.

 

Until now.

 

Shotaro grabbed his phone. “Okay. Drafted. Read it.”

 

Wonbin blinked blearily at the message already typed into his text bar:

 

this is an sos from a helpless virgin (who doesn’t want to be a virgin anymore) to you, the most virile person i know. please teach me how all this works. 🙏

 

 

 

Wonbin stared. “You can’t send that. That’s insane. That’s career-ending.”

 

“It’s romantic.”

 

“It’s deranged.”

 

“It’s honest.”

 

Wonbin opened his mouth to protest—and somehow hit “Send” with his pinky.

 

The bubble turned blue.

The silence turned nuclear.

 

Shotaro burst into laughter so violent he fell off the bed.

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

Chanyoung was halfway through air-drying his hair after a night swim when his phone pinged with the kind of vibration he had set specifically for him.

 

Wonbin.

 

His stomach immediately dropped.

 

They hadn’t spoken in weeks. Not since the tutoring session. Not since he made a joke about math being sexier when Wonbin explained gradients using his own leg as an example. Chanyoung had nearly blacked out.

 

He fumbled the phone with damp hands and read the message.

 

Read it again.

 

And then again.

 

this is an sos from a helpless virgin (who doesn’t want to be a virgin anymore) to you, the most virile person i know. please teach me how all this works. 🙏

 

 

 

“…What the fuck,” Chanyoung whispered out loud. “Is he drunk? Is this a prank?”

 

Then the full meaning sank in.

 

Wonbin. Hot math nerd. Model-level face. Absurd legs. The guy everyone assumed had probably already had sex with half the volleyball team. That Park Wonbin was saying he was a virgin. And he wanted him, Lee Chanyoung, to teach him sex?

 

His brain short-circuited. His towel fell off.

 

There was a knock. “You good?” Sohee’s voice came through the dorm door.

 

Chanyoung yelped. “NO—yeah. Yeah, I’m—fine.”

 

“You screamed.”

 

“Did not!”

 

Sohee opened the door anyway, saw the look on his face, and sat down slowly. “You look like you found out your crush just subscribed to your OnlyFans.”

 

Chanyoung passed him the phone.

 

Sohee read it. Blinked. Whistled. “Oh my God, he really said SOS? That’s so raw. That’s like… poetic desperation.”

 

Chanyoung was vibrating. “What do I say?! What if he’s kidding? What if I say yes and he expects me to—know things? I don’t even know how to put on a condom, Sohee!”

 

Sohee tossed the towel back at him. “You fake it.”

 

“What?!”

 

“Chanyoung, this is the universe handing you a hot, shy math major on a silver plate. You don’t have to be experienced. You just have to act experienced.”

 

Chanyoung groaned. “He called me virile. Do I even look virile?”

 

“You have arms the size of small children and thighs that make people sin in church.”

 

“That’s just from swimming!”

 

“Exactly. You’re sexy without trying. Now channel that energy.”

 

Sohee helped him draft a reply. Something cool. Something hot. Something that didn’t scream I’ve never even seen a real dick up close besides my own.

 

Eventually, with trembling thumbs, Chanyoung sent back:

 

if you're serious... i could show you a few things. whenever you're ready. my place's private.

 

 

Then threw his phone across the bed like it was possessed.

 

Sohee clapped him on the back. “Congratulations. You’re officially pretending to be a sex god.”

 

Chanyoung stared at the ceiling, heart in his throat, whispering: “I’m gonna die.”

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

Wonbin read the reply while brushing his teeth the next morning, nearly choked on the foam.

 

if you're serious... i could show you a few things. whenever you're ready. my place's private.

 

 

 

Chanyoung hadn’t said no. Hadn’t laughed. Hadn’t ghosted.

 

He’d said yes.

 

Holy shit.

 

He texted back with shaking fingers:

 

what about tomorrow night?

 

 

Bubble. Bubble. Bubble.

 

 

works for me.

 

 

 

Wonbin immediately flung himself face-first into his pillow and screamed.

 

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

 

The knock came at 7:03 p.m.

 

Chanyoung had been pacing his dorm room since 6:45, shirt freshly steamed, breath checked three times, and Google incognito mode still open on “how to unroll condoms without looking like a loser.”

 

He flinched when the door finally sounded, nearly tripped on his socks, and smoothed down his shirt like it would magically fix the stutter in his pulse.

 

He counted to three. Then opened it.

 

And promptly forgot how to breathe.

 

Wonbin stood there in a striped tank top that looked... expensive. His glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of his nose, eyes wide and glassy like he was trying really hard to look casual. The gold star on his necklace glinted right above a collarbone sharp enough to decapitate someone.

 

Chanyoung’s mind blanked. Entirely.

 

“...You look…” he blurted before he could stop himself. “Wow.”

 

Wonbin blinked. “Huh?”

 

“I mean—hi,” Chanyoung corrected, stepping back in a panic. “Come in. Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like—You look nice. That’s what I meant.”

 

“Thanks,” Wonbin mumbled, shuffling in, fists clenched around the hem of his tank. “You, um... too.”

 

They stood in silence.

 

The air was thick. Not even with tension—more like... unspoken virgin energy.

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

Chanyoung had cleaned the whole place. There was one discreet scented candle flickering on the desk. His laptop was open, paused on Spotify’s “Intimate R&B” playlist, volume turned painfully low. The bed was made with fresh sheets. Too fresh. It looked suspicious.

 

Wonbin glanced at it, then back at him.

 

“I wasn’t sure what to wear,” he said finally.

 

Chanyoung’s eyes trailed, for the fifth time, down those exposed shoulders and biceps and stopped at the thin chain sliding against his chest with every tiny movement.

 

He cleared his throat. “You wore that to... kill me?”

 

Wonbin blinked again. “What?”

 

“Nothing.” He spun around. “Do you want—uh—water?”

 

Wonbin looked like he wanted to say vodka, but nodded.

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

The glass clinked as Chanyoung handed it over, fingers brushing. Wonbin jolted like he’d been shocked. So did Chanyoung.

 

Jesus. They were hopeless.

 

“So...” Wonbin began, sitting on the edge of the bed and trying very hard not to look nervous. “About... the thing. The, uh. Teaching.”

 

Chanyoung choked on his own spit. “Right. That.”

 

Wonbin peeked up. “Are you... okay with it?”

 

He looked so genuine. So nervous. So soft, even with those shoulders out and lips glossed pink like he’d accidentally drank lip balm.

 

Chanyoung sat beside him, just close enough that their knees brushed. “Only if you are.”

 

Wonbin nodded quickly. “Yeah. I mean. I trust you.”

 

That sentence alone nearly took Chanyoung out.

 

He tried to find his Casanova mode, the one Sohee told him to channel. But all he could see was this gorgeous boy next to him, shy and vulnerable and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt like he was scared he'd say the wrong thing.

 

“I’ve never done this either,” Chanyoung blurted out, eyes trained on the floor, like admitting it might cause the ceiling to collapse on top of them both.

 

Wonbin blinked.

 

“What?”

 

Chanyoung winced, already regretting it. “Yeah. I just—I didn’t want you to think I was fake or weird or like… leading you on. Sohee said to act confident and I—I tried, but I’m kinda just—winging it.”

 

A beat of silence.

 

Wonbin stared at him, stunned.

 

Then: a full-body sigh of relief, like someone just defused the emotional time bomb in his chest. His spine visibly relaxed. His shoulders dropped. He even let out a tiny, involuntary “Oh, thank God.”

 

Chanyoung blinked. “Wait… are you okay?”

 

“I’m great,” Wonbin said, voice light, almost dazed. “I mean—I was prepared for you to pull out like, silk sheets and a playlist called ‘Certified Lover Boy.’ But you’re... just as clueless as I am.”

 

A laugh hiccuped out of him. He felt so much better. Also: he was internally screaming. Because Chanyoung was a virgin and still looked like that and still said stuff like “I’ll show you a few things” like some sensual swim-god.

 

How was that fair?

 

Wonbin’s brain short-circuited.

His hormones were malfunctioning.

His crush was still exponentially worse.

 

“Honestly,” he muttered, cheeks hot, “if we’re both fumbling... that’s kind of comforting.”

 

Chanyoung looked up, hopeful. “Yeah?”

 

Wonbin nodded. “Means we can… figure it out together.”

 

 

Chanyoung’s heart swelled and clenched at the same time. He smiled at Wonbin—crooked, soft, relieved—made Wonbin's stomach flip like a relay baton. They stared at each other. No tension this time—just something warmer, sweeter. 

 

Chanyoung wanted to hold his hand and tell him they could figure it all out together. He wanted to lie back with him and trace Wonbin's little star necklace until they both fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

 

But mostly... he wanted to kiss him.

 

“Can I—?” he started, voice lower, unsure.

 

But Wonbin was already leaning in.

 

Their noses brushed first. Then their lips. Soft. Too soft. It wasn’t even a kiss—just contact. Barely there. Until Wonbin exhaled, “please,” and Chanyoung tipped forward.

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

The first real kiss was messy in the best way.

 

Chanyoung's hand cupped the side of Wonbin’s neck like he’d imagined a thousand times, thumbs brushing the slope of his jaw. Wonbin’s lips parted immediately—like he’d been waiting for this. And they kissed, mouths hot and searching, nervous but hungry, the tension from weeks of pretending finally snapping like a taut string.

 

Wonbin whimpered—tiny, breathless—and Chanyoung pulled him closer on instinct, the other boy's hands fisting the front of his shirt like he was holding on for dear life.

 

Their teeth bumped once. Wonbin laughed into his mouth. Chanyoung blushed and kissed it away.

 

They parted slowly, noses brushing, and both of them just stared.

 

“I thought you were going to kiss me like a player,” Wonbin whispered, voice shaking.

 

Chanyoung’s thumb stroked his cheek. “Can’t. I like you too much.”

 

Wonbin blinked, stunned. Then smiled again.

 

Chanyoung reached out to tug at the strap of his tank top. “I want to keep going. But we can stop if—”

 

Wonbin cut him off with a nod and a soft, eager, “Don’t stop.”

 

 

Their lips touched—tentative, warm—and for a second, everything froze.

 

Then Chanyoung tilted his head, trying to deepen it, and Wonbin tilted in the same direction. Their noses bumped. Their teeth clacked. Both flinched.

 

“Sorry,” Chanyoung muttered.

 

“No, no—my fault,” Wonbin mumbled.

 

They tried again.

 

And then—oh. It clicked.

 

Their mouths found rhythm in the chaos, lips slipping, pulling, pushing—Chanyoung’s hand cupping the side of Wonbin’s neck, thumb brushing the hinge of his jaw. Wonbin whimpered into the kiss, clutching fistfuls of Chanyoung’s shirt like he’d waited a lifetime for this.

 

Tongues met.

 

It was a disaster.

 

Sloppy. Eager. So much spit. They were both trying too hard to take the lead, resulting in a weird back-and-forth tongue duel that felt less like a kiss and more like an accidental fencing match.

 

But it was working.

 

God, somehow it was working.

 

Because the heat in Chanyoung’s chest was spilling down his spine, pooling between his thighs, and the way Wonbin moaned when he sucked lightly on his bottom lip made something primal spark behind his eyes.

 

They pulled apart, breathless, lips swollen, eyes glazed.

 

“Holy shit,” Chanyoung whispered, forehead pressed to Wonbin’s. “That was…”

 

“Too much tongue,” Wonbin muttered.

 

“Yeah,” Chanyoung grinned. “But in a good way?”

 

Wonbin swallowed. “Very good.”

 

Then—out of nowhere—Wonbin added, softly, like a secret:

 

“I’ve… thought about this.”

 

Chanyoung blinked. “What?”

 

Wonbin’s ears turned red. His eyes dropped to Chanyoung’s chest. “You. Naked. I mean—not like in a weird way—I just… watched your swim meets sometimes. You take your cap off and your hair’s wet and your shoulders are just—there. And I’d think... y’know. Things.”

 

Chanyoung went still. Then pink. Then red.

 

“You fantasized about me?” he said, dazed.

 

Wonbin buried his face in his hands. “Please let the floor eat me alive.”

 

“No,” Chanyoung said, voice way too breathy to be casual. “No, that’s—wow. That’s really hot actually.”

 

Wonbin peeked up, wide-eyed.

 

“Yeah?” he squeaked.

 

Chanyoung chuckled softly, leaning in, brushing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah.”

 

Then he pulled back a little and cleared his throat, expression suddenly sheepish.

 

“Okay. So. If we’re gonna do this…”

 

Wonbin stared. “Yeah?”

 

“I think—uh—we should probably…” Chanyoung gestured vaguely at their clothes. “...get naked first.”

 

Wonbin went silent. “Right. Yes. Of course.”

 

“Do we—do we take turns?” Chanyoung asked, eyes darting to his own shirt, then to Wonbin’s tank top. “Or like… same time?”

 

“Maybe turns,” Wonbin suggested, already fumbling with the hem of his shirt. “In case we fall over or something.”

 

“Smart,” Chanyoung said seriously, trying not to laugh.

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

Wonbin went first.

 

He peeled the tank top off slowly, fingers shaky, revealing slim shoulders, soft muscle, a chest that rose and fell a little too fast. The star necklace stayed on.

 

Chanyoung watched like he was being fed Holy Communion.

 

“You’re…” he started, then gave up. “Jesus.”

 

Wonbin’s cheeks burned, but he looked pleased. “Your turn.”

 

Chanyoung tried to be smooth. Undid his buttons slowly. Got stuck on the fourth. Swore quietly—why he even wore a shirt with buttons of all days. He gave up and pulled the whole thing off in a frustrated huff.

 

Wonbin stared like it was Christmas morning. “You’re jacked.”

 

Chanyoung scratched the back of his neck. “I swim.”

 

“Yeah, well, I run and I don’t look like that.”

 

Chanyoung gave him a look like, Are you serious right now? Like you have the body of a sex god and a waist so small I might black out just thinking about putting my hands on you.

 

Wonbin didn’t even notice—too busy reaching out, brushing a hand over Chanyoung’s bare chest. Hesitant at first, then firmer. Like he couldn’t believe it was real. 

 

Chanyoung shivered. “That feels good.”

 

Wonbin looked at him, then down. “So… um. Should we lie down?”

 

Chanyoung nodded, then hesitated, lips still tingling from the kiss. “Wait. Before we do…”

 

Wonbin froze.

 

Wait???

 

That single word derailed every thought in his head.

 

 

Because the moment Chanyoung said “Wait”, his brain exploded into a hundred hypothetical equations of what ifs—what if Chanyoung wanted to take control, what if he kissed lower, what if he touched him there, what if—

 

His thoughts were sprinting faster than he could solve a differential equation mid-exam, spiraling into vivid theoretical scenarios like a mental whiteboard of lust.

 

He blinked hard, trying to reboot. “Uh. Yeah?”

 

Chanyoung’s cheeks were already pink, but now they turned downright red. He looked anywhere but at Wonbin as he mumbled, “Can I… like… go down on you?”

 

Wonbin’s brain completely short-circuited.

 

“I mean—” Chanyoung waved his hands nervously. “You don’t have to say yes! I just—I've never done it before and I kept thinking about it and you’re just—really pretty and—fuck, I’m sorry.”

 

Wonbin blinked. Hard. “You… you want to—”

 

“Don’t make me say it again,” Chanyoung groaned, hiding behind his arm. “I’m literally dying right now.”

 

Wonbin, fully pink from ears to chest, flopped onto his back like a fainting goat. “I’m not gonna survive this.”

 

“I’ll take that as a yes?” Chanyoung said, voice shaky but hopeful.

 

Wonbin covered his face with both hands. “If I say no, I’ll regret it forever.”

 

Chanyoung leaned over him, eyes soft, lips trembling with a smile. “I want to make you feel good.”

 

Wonbin squeaked. Squeaked. “Okay. Just—just don’t look at me while you do it.”

 

“I kind of have to, Bbin,” Chanyoung whispered, laughing nervously.

 

Wonbin kicked his legs in protest. “I hate this. I love this. Oh my god.”

 

Chanyoung kissed the inside of his knee. “It’s okay. I’ll go slow.”

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

It started sweet.

 

Chanyoung eased between his legs, kissing down his chest, pausing every few seconds to ask if it was okay. Wonbin whimpered at every touch, thighs twitching, breath catching when Chanyoung mouthed gently along his inner thigh.

 

“Spread a bit for me?” Chanyoung asked softly, breath warm against Wonbin’s inner thigh. His voice was uneven—more like a confession than a command.

 

Wonbin hesitated only a second, cheeks burning as he reached down and held the backs of his thighs. The position was embarrassingly exposing, but something in Chanyoung’s tone made it feel less like shame and more like being chosen.

 

And then—warmth.

 

A stripe of wet heat licked up between his cheeks, slow and cautious.

 

Wonbin gasped. “Holy—fuck—that’s—”

 

“Okay?” Chanyoung pulled back slightly, panting already, lips glossy, gaze wide and searching.

 

Wonbin nodded frantically. “Yes. Keep going. Please.”

 

Chanyoung ducked down again, his hands gripping Wonbin’s thighs tighter, thumbs brushing over trembling skin. He took his time this time—longer, deeper. His tongue dragged again through the cleft, shy but eager, catching every twitch and stifled moan like fuel.

 

Wonbin trembled beneath him, thighs threatening to close until Chanyoung anchored him in place with firm, reverent hands.

 

It was messy. Sloppy. Chanyoung wasn’t sure if he was doing it right—there were no step-by-step guides for this, no confident swagger, no experience to lean on—but judging by the way Wonbin’s fingers clutched the sheets and the shaky, broken sounds falling from his mouth, something about it was working.

 

Chanyoung grew bolder.

 

He let his tongue trace careful circles around the puckered entrance, teasing the soft rim with gentle pressure. Sometimes he'd flatten his tongue and lick broad, warm strokes; other times he'd press the tip inward slightly, just enough to make Wonbin jolt and whimper and clutch harder at the sheets.

 

Wonbin’s hips bucked up helplessly, not even knowing what he was chasing—just desperate for more of that. He covered his face with one hand, as if hiding the overwhelmed flush creeping up his cheeks, but he couldn’t muffle his moans.

 

“You—You’re really…” He bit his lip. “Oh my god.”

 

Chanyoung moaned softly in response, the vibration making Wonbin's legs shake. He didn’t stop. His licks grew hungrier, more focused. He lost himself in it—in the taste, the scent, the way Wonbin was unraveling under his mouth like he was falling apart and being put back together all at once.

 

Wonbin tried to say his name but it came out broken.

 

“Ch–Chanyoung, I—ah—”

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, and Chanyoung, dazed and lost in his own arousal, used his thumbs to spread Wonbin open even further, dragging his tongue deeper, needier, until Wonbin was writhing on the bed with a choked cry, completely undone.

 

His whole body was trembling now—hips twitching, breath erratic, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. There was a small wet spot blooming on his stomach, untouched.

 

Chanyoung finally pulled back, panting. His chin was slick, lips swollen, eyes blown wide.

 

“Did I…?”

 

Wonbin reached for him blindly, pulling him up and crashing their mouths together, tasting himself on Chanyoung’s tongue.

 

“That was—” he whispered against his lips. “God. That was everything.”

 

 

Wonbin was still catching his breath, legs trembling from the aftershocks, when he opened his eyes and found Chanyoung hovering over him—flushed, panting, lips swollen, pupils blown. His touch had gentled, now just stroking soft circles into Wonbin’s thighs as if grounding himself.

 

But then—Wonbin reached out and tugged Chanyoung by the wrist, pulling him up.

 

“Wait,” he gasped, voice still shaky. “Can I… try something too?”

 

Chanyoung blinked down at him, surprise flashing across his face. “Yeah?”

 

Wonbin bit his bottom lip, hesitating for a split second before steeling himself. “I wanna try… sucking you off.”

 

Chanyoung’s entire body went still. “Are you sure?”

 

Wonbin gave a small nod, cheeks pink but gaze steady. “I’ve watched enough to know the theory.”

 

Chanyoung let out a breathless laugh, hands falling to either side of Wonbin’s hips as he leaned down. “Okay. Just—be gentle though. He’s new.”

 

Wonbin grinned despite himself. “I’ll be nice to him.”

 

They exchanged a breathless kiss—more nerves than finesse—and when they finally pulled back, Chanyoung gave him a look that was equal parts affection and awe. Then they shifted, fumbling into motion, limbs tangled and clumsy.

 

Wonbin laughed softly. “Wait—how do we even…”

 

“I think I’m supposed to—uh—go this way?”

 

Their noses bumped, knees knocked, and Chanyoung nearly kneed the headboard trying to flip around.

 

Eventually, they managed it.

 

Bare skin against bare skin. Breath warm and shaky. Two flushed, nervous virgins trying their best.

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

The 69 attempt was... noble.

 

They rotated into position with all the grace of penguins trying yoga.

 

Chanyoung returned to Wonbin’s thighs like a man starved, tongue darting out to taste the skin he’d already memorized minutes ago. Wonbin’s head lolled back against the pillow, trying to steady his breathing—until his eyes caught sight of Chanyoung’s cock.

 

It was flushed deep pink, curved slightly toward his stomach, a drop of precum beading at the tip. Stiff. Real. Leaking.

 

Wonbin’s breath hitched. His heart was already racing, but now it threatened to leap right out of his chest.

 

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, eyes locked on it. “Just… open your mouth. Don’t use teeth. Don’t panic.”

 

He leaned in, lips parting, warm breath ghosting over the head. His fingers trembled as he wrapped one hand around the base—gingerly, like it might shatter under pressure. Then, slow and uncertain, he took Chanyoung into his mouth.

 

Immediately panicked.

 

It was hot. Heavy. Salty. The weight of it sat awkward on his tongue and brushed the roof of his mouth in a way that made his toes curl with nerves. His jaw stretched around it, clumsy, unsure how far to go, how much pressure to use.

 

Still, he sucked lightly—just to see.

 

Chanyoung let out a strangled groan, hips twitching.

 

Wonbin froze.

 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, voice muffled, words garbled around the length still resting on his tongue.

 

Chanyoung’s fingers dug into the sheets beside him. “No—God, no—do that again.”

 

Wonbin blinked, then did. Slower this time. Lips tighter. He sucked again, cheeks hollowing ever so slightly as he bobbed his head once, twice, then pulled back to the tip and gave it a hesitant swirl of his tongue. He was shaky, awkward—but focused.

 

He watched Chanyoung’s reaction like a student studying a lesson.

 

And it was a lesson: Chanyoung’s lashes fluttered, a moan escaped his throat, and his thighs tensed just the slightest bit. Wonbin could feel his confidence bloom in his chest, shaky but growing. He tried again—deeper this time, letting the head press further in, tongue cupped beneath it. His hand followed the movement, stroking the rest he couldn’t fit with a slow rhythm.

 

It wasn’t perfect. His teeth grazed once. He gagged a little once.

 

But Chanyoung never stopped moaning. Never stopped praising. His fingers slipped into Wonbin’s hair, not forcing, just holding, anchoring himself in the moment.

 

“You’re… fuck, you’re seriously good at that,” Chanyoung gasped, voice wrecked, hips trying not to thrust.

 

Wonbin pulled back with a wet pop, lips shiny, eyes dazed. “You’re just saying that.”

 

“I’m not,” Chanyoung whispered, catching his breath. He leaned down and kissed the inside of Wonbin’s thigh, slow and grateful. “You’re amazing.”

 

Wonbin’s entire face flushed, heart thudding under his skin.

 

Then Chanyoung rolled them carefully, keeping close, warm skin against warm skin until he settled between Wonbin’s legs again—like he belonged there.

 

Their flushed cocks brushed, sticky and leaking. Wonbin shuddered.

 

Chanyoung looked up at him, eyes dark and full of something that looked like wonder. “Ready?” he whispered, voice trembling with anticipation.

 

Wonbin bit his lip and nodded, breath catching.

 

“Yeah,” he whispered back.

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

 

Wonbin was having an existential crisis.

 

He was about to have a dick up his ass.

 

Chanyoung’s dick.

 

Which, now that it was free from pants and pressing hot against his inner thigh, was way bigger than he had mentally prepped for.

 

This was no freshman orientation. This was a final exam.

 

He tried to stay composed.

Failed.

 

Chanyoung was nervously rifling through the nightstand, murmuring, “I swear Sohee said he left lube in here—”

Wonbin’s eyes landed on a suspicious pink bottle. “Wait—is that it?”

 

Chanyoung picked it up. Squinted. “Why does it say ‘Bubblegum Blast’?”

 

There was a beat. Then they both cackled.

 

“Fucking Sohee,” Chanyoung muttered, but he was smiling—more relaxed now. He looked at Wonbin, cheeks pink but gaze serious.

 

“Is it okay if I, um... start with fingers?”

 

Wonbin’s breath hitched. “Yeah.”

 

Chanyoung kissed him—slow, sweet—before sliding down the bed and settling between his legs. He popped the lube open, the scent of artificial candy slapping them both in the face.

 

“Oh my God it actually smells like Hubba Bubba,” Wonbin groaned.

 

“I’m so sorry in advance,” Chanyoung said, laughing softly as he squeezed a generous amount of candy-scented lube onto his fingers.

 

Wonbin groaned into his arms, face buried beneath the crook of his elbow. “This is going to haunt me forever.”

 

“I swear this is not a kink,” Chanyoung added quickly, cheeks red as he rubbed the lube between his fingers to warm it up. 

 

Wonbin just let out a muffled, wheezy laugh.

 

But then Chanyoung’s voice softened, the air between them shifting. “Tell me if it hurts, okay?”

 

Wonbin peeked up from under his arms, nodding shyly. “Okay.”

 

Chanyoung leaned in, lips brushing his knee. “Promise?”

 

“I promise,” Wonbin whispered.

 

He spread his legs slowly, nerves twisting in his stomach like a knot of ribbon. He tried not to think about how exposed he felt, how this was the first time anyone had touched him like this.

 

Then—cool fingers, slick with candy-sweet lube, slid between his cheeks. Chanyoung paused, exhaled, and gently pushed in.

 

Wonbin gasped.

 

Not from pain—but from the sudden fullness. A weird stretch, like something foreign pressing into a place he’d never really considered before. It wasn’t bad. Just… strange.

 

He blinked up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it.

 

Chanyoung, sensing the tension, leaned in and pressed a slow, steady line of kisses along Wonbin’s stomach. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered against his skin. “That okay?”

 

Wonbin’s breath caught. His chest rose and fell rapidly. “Yeah,” he said shakily. “Keep going.”

 

Chanyoung smiled into his hipbone, then gently moved his finger, curling slightly, testing. The lube made everything slick and a little too slippery, but he went slow—careful not to push too far too fast.

 

When he slipped in a second finger, Wonbin’s thighs flinched, hips tensing around the intrusion. “Oh—oh my god,” he breathed, eyes wide. “That’s… that’s really in there.”

 

Chanyoung laughed softly. “I’m aware.”

 

He slowed again, peppering kisses on Wonbin’s thigh. “Tell me what feels good, okay? I’m figuring this out as I go.”

 

Wonbin nodded, lips parted, hands bunching into the sheets as Chanyoung slowly scissored his fingers—stretching him open with careful, shaking pressure. The burn was there, but it faded quickly into something else. Something low and tight and… wanting.

 

By the time the third finger slid in, Wonbin was panting, jaw slack, eyes glassy.

 

And then—Chanyoung crooked his fingers just slightly, brushing something inside that made Wonbin’s entire body jerk.

 

He gasped—loud and wrecked. “Holy—what the hell was that?!”

 

Chanyoung grinned, thrilled. “Right there?”

 

Wonbin nodded wildly, fists tightening around the sheets. “Don’t stop—don’t stop—God, I think I’m gonna cry.”

 

“You’re doing amazing,” Chanyoung whispered, awed. His voice was tender, shaking with emotion as he leaned in and kissed the inside of Wonbin’s thigh again. “You feel so good around me.”

 

Wonbin let out a broken sound, blinking rapidly. His body was trembling with how full he felt, how intensely the pleasure was building even without being touched anywhere else.

 

Chanyoung moved his fingers just a little more, stroking over that spot gently until Wonbin was nearly sobbing from sensation.

 

Then, slowly—reluctantly—he pulled them out, careful not to drag, his touch reverent. 

 

Wonbin was flushed to his ears, chest rising in quick, shallow breaths. His thighs quivered, still twitching with aftershocks, hole clenching slightly from the emptiness. The air felt cold against his slick skin. He blinked up, glassy-eyed, cheeks flushed to the tips of his ears.

 

“Wait—” he gasped, voice breathless.

 

“I’m not stopping,” Chanyoung reassured quickly, voice breaking as he sat back on his knees. “I just—need to…”

 

His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the foil packet on the nightstand, fingers fumbling with the edge. The tear wasn’t clean, and he swore under his breath when it caught weirdly at the corner.

 

Wonbin peeked down from where he lay, legs still parted, his stomach sticky and rising fast with each breath.

 

What he saw nearly broke his brain.

 

Chanyoung’s brow was furrowed in deep focus, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he concentrated on rolling the condom down correctly. His free hand cupped the base, slow and deliberate, trying to smooth the latex without letting it snap off.

 

It should not have been hot.

 

But it was so hot.

 

Wonbin blinked, dazed. “Why is that… attractive.”

 

Chanyoung glanced up with a startled laugh. His face was bright red. “I’m literally struggling to put this on. This is not peak sex appeal.”

 

Wonbin let his head drop back with a weak chuckle. “You’re biting your lip and frowning like you’re solving a math problem. It’s kind of doing things to me.”

 

Chanyoung huffed, hand still halfway through the process. “Well, that’s convenient, because I’m losing circulation in my hand.”

 

Finally—finally—the condom slid on snug and smooth. Chanyoung exhaled a relieved breath and reached for the lube again, applying more with a careful hand, slicking himself up with slightly more ease this time.

 

He knelt between Wonbin’s legs once more, heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. His hands were trembling, but he didn’t look away. His gaze locked with Wonbin’s, everything about him open, vulnerable, and so very real.

 

“You sure?” he asked, voice soft and trembling with anticipation.

 

Wonbin stared at him—at his flushed cheeks, at the taut line of his throat, at the way his cock stood achingly hard against his stomach, slick and twitching. At the boy who had touched him with so much care it made his chest ache.

 

He reached up, cupped Chanyoung’s cheek with one hand. His thumb brushed the corner of his lip.

 

“Please,” he said. “I want you inside.”

 

Chanyoung leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut for half a second—like that one sentence had undone him completely.

 

“You ready?” he whispered, voice low.

 

Wonbin looked at him—ruined, shaking, lips kiss-swollen and eyes wet—and nodded.

 

“Okay,” he breathed.

 

Then he lined himself up, exhaling shakily.

 

“I’ll go slow.”

 

 

 

He really did went slow.

 

So, so slow.

 

But even then—

 

“Ah—fuck—wait—” Wonbin’s back arched, face contorted in panic. “Wait—it hurts—Chanyoung—oh my God.”

 

Chanyoung froze, heart pounding. “Do you want me to stop??”

 

“No—just—” Wonbin whimpered. “Are you all the way in?”

 

Chanyoung blinked. Looked down. Then up.

 

“Baby,” he said, stunned. “That’s just the cockhead.”

 

Wonbin screamed internally.

 

“Oh my God.”

 

“I swear I didn’t know I was—”

 

“Why are you built like a dragon dildo?!”

 

Chanyoung blushed from his ears to his chest. “I thought I was normal size!”

 

“You’re not. You’re lying. That’s a cursed weapon.”

 

Chanyoung was laughing. Genuinely, breathlessly laughing. “You’re too cute right now, it’s actually killing me”

 

“No, I can do this,” Wonbin gritted, forehead pressed to Chanyoung’s. “Just... go slow. Please.”

 

And Chanyoung did. Carefully, gently, with hands gripping Wonbin’s waist like he was sacred. Inch by inch, until Wonbin finally whimpered and said, “Okay. You can move.”

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

It was awkward. At first.

 

Wonbin was tense. Chanyoung was stiff. They were both sweating with effort.

 

Then—somewhere in the rhythm—they clicked.

 

Chanyoung leaned down, pressed open-mouthed kisses to Wonbin’s neck. Wonbin grabbed at his back, legs trembling around his waist.

 

“Oh my God—Chanyoung—”

 

“I’m here,” he panted, hips rolling smoother now. “You feel so good, baby.”

 

The word baby made Wonbin moan so loud he slapped a hand over his own mouth.

 

Chanyoung grinned. “You like that?”

 

“Don’t—don’t say it again—”

 

“You’re so tight. So perfect around me. God—just for me, yeah baby?”

 

“Shut up,” Wonbin gasped. “If you talk like that I’m gonna—fuck—”

 

They were still clumsy. Still blushing. But the way they moved? Desperate. Perfect.

 

Chanyoung angled his hips a little different—there. Felt like he hit something.

 

Wonbin’s breath hitched—then tore into a broken sob.

 

“Right there—right there—fuck—”

 

Chanyoung buried his face in Wonbin’s shoulder, moaning low. “Can I go harder?”

 

“Yes. Yes. Please—”

 

And he did.

 

The bed creaked beneath them, every thrust slick and hot and overwhelming. Their skin stuck together with sweat and lube, the sweet scent of it mixing with the sharp musk of sex. Chanyoung’s hips snapped into him harder, deeper, chasing that spot again and again until Wonbin was shaking, gasping with every thrust.

 

Wonbin’s cock bounced between them, untouched, leaking and red—but he didn’t need a hand. He didn’t need anything.

 

Because when Chanyoung bottomed out and stayed, grinding deep—

 

Wonbin shattered.

 

He came hard, untouched, with a loud, cracked cry that turned into a sob halfway through. His whole body seized, thighs locking around Chanyoung’s waist as his vision blurred and his orgasm crashed through him like a wave. He felt it hot against his stomach, ropes of it spilling between them.

 

Chanyoung followed just moments after—hips stuttering wildly, rhythm breaking completely as he moaned, “Wonbin—I’m gonna—fuck—”

 

POP.

 

A sharp noise. Something ripped.

 

Chanyoung gasped, eyes snapping open.

 

Wonbin blinked, dazed. “Did the condom just—?”

 

And then he felt it.

 

The flood.

 

A sudden rush of heat filled him—hot, wet, and undeniably real. His mouth dropped open in stunned silence. His body jerked, overstimulated. His thighs trembled.

 

His eyes rolled back.

 

“Holy shit—”

 

Chanyoung froze in horror above him. “Wonbin—I’m sorry—oh my God—I didn’t mean to—”

 

But Wonbin didn’t look upset.

 

He looked wrecked.

 

And then, as if possessed, he grabbed Chanyoung by the neck and dragged him down into a dizzy kiss.

 

“That was so hot,” he whispered, still panting.

 

Chanyoung blinked, breathless. “Wait, really?”

 

Wonbin nodded, pupils blown, hair sticking to his damp forehead. “Way better than I imagined,” he whispered, voice barely there, eyes half-lidded and dazed.

 

 

“You imagined this?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

Wonbin was still processing it.

His legs were shaking.

His arms were limp.

His brain was on loop:

I just got creampied. I just got fucking creampied. My body was defiled in 4K and I liked it. Holy shit. I'm not even mad. I’m impressed.

 

Chanyoung, meanwhile, stared down at him, chest rising and falling against Wonbin’s, still buried deep inside. He could feel it—the warmth, the slickness, the fluttering aftershocks of Wonbin’s orgasm clenching around him even now. His arms trembled from holding himself up, his cock still hard, twitching from the overstimulation.

 

Where their bodies met, a slow, sticky mess had begun to seep out—candy-scented lube mixed with his own release, slicking down Wonbin’s thighs in slow, obscene trails. It clung to his skin, sweet and warm and real, a dripping reminder of just how much had spilled inside.

 

“Wonbin,” he breathed, voice cracking. “I… I don’t think I’m done.”

 

Wonbin blinked slowly, lips parted, still breathless.

 

“You’re… still hard?” he murmured, eyes fluttering as he shifted slightly—and felt it again, the stretch, the heat, the way Chanyoung was still inside him, thick and pulsing.

 

Chanyoung let out a shaky laugh. “I’m twenty-one. You’re perfect. And you’re full of me—I’m barely hanging on.”

 

Wonbin whimpered. His hands slid up to Chanyoung’s back, nails scratching lightly, instinctive. “Then don’t hang on.”

 

Chanyoung’s eyes darkened, lips parting. “Can I—can I move again?”

 

Wonbin nodded, cheeks flushed, voice wobbly but clear. “Yeah… I want you to.”

 

Chanyoung gripped the sheets beside his head, muscles trembling.

 

“Okay,” he whispered.

 

And he pulled out, slow and slick—and pushed back in again.

 

Wonbin gasped, full all over again—his back arched, thighs twitching as Chanyoung bottomed out, slower this time, but just as deep. His whole body felt sensitive, stretched raw, yet aching for more. He whimpered into Chanyoung’s neck, overwhelmed and already flushed to the ears again.

 

Chanyoung kissed his cheek, then his jaw, then stilled. “Can we—try a different position?” he asked, voice husky but hopeful.

 

Wonbin blinked at him. “Like… now?”

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

Shifting into a new position was... not smooth.

 

Wonbin accidentally elbowed Chanyoung in the ribs. Chanyoung kneeled on his own hand. Someone’s leg hit the headboard.

 

“I think this is the one where you lie flat?” Chanyoung said, trying to remember a video he definitely watched in the shower once.

 

Wonbin dropped his face into a pillow. “Dude, I’m literally a track athlete. I trust my spine. Let’s just do it.”

 

When Chanyoung pushed in again—raw, thick, slow—

Wonbin choked.

 

His eyes rolled. A broken sob clawed its way from his throat.

 

“F-Fuck—*Chanyoung—*I can feel you—deeper—”

 

Chanyoung was panting above him, gripping his hips like a lifeline. “You’re gripping me so tight, baby. I’m gonna lose it.”

 

Wonbin pressed his face harder into the sheets, hips jerking back like he needed it. “Oh my God—are my guts—rearranged?? I swear I feel you in my stomach—”

 

“I—fuck—I’m sorry, does it hurt—?”

 

“No, don’t stop. I love it, I love it.”

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

This position ruined him. Absolutely, completely.

Wonbin was just laying there, mouth open, drool pooling on the pillow, eyes unfocused, and letting it happen.

 

Chanyoung was thrusting deep and steady, one hand stroking down his spine, the other pressing on his lower back to keep him flushed against the sheets.

 

It was experimental.

Messy.

Rhythms breaking and reforming.

 

Chanyoung didn’t know if he was doing it right—he just kept watching how Wonbin’s body responded to him.

 

And god, did it respond.

 

“You’re being so good for me,” Chanyoung whispered, leaning over him to press kisses between his shoulders. “Takin’ it so well.”

 

Wonbin cried out, overwhelmed. “Don’t say that or I’ll cum again—”

 

Chanyoung laughed softly into his ear. “Wanna ride me after this?”

 

“Can’t even move,” Wonbin whimpered. “But yeah.”

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

They tried every position they could figure out after that.

 

Wonbin in Chanyoung’s lap, grinding like he was trying to break the speed limit.

Wonbin flat on his back again, legs over shoulders, whimpering every time Chanyoung hit that spot.

And finally—sloppily, clumsily—Wonbin on top, riding him with tears in his eyes and moaning like he didn’t care if the whole floor heard.

 

“I didn’t even think I’d like being on top,” he cried out. “This is so hot. Why is it so hot?!”

 

“‘Cause you’re so fucking pretty like this,” Chanyoung groaned, hands on his waist.

 

Wonbin leaned down, kissed him hard, sobbed again when Chanyoung thrust up into him.

 

“I’m gonna cum—Chanyoung—fuck—fuck—please—”

 

“Let go, baby. I’m right behind you.”

 

And they came again, shaking, sweating, completely spent.

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

The afterglow was silent.

 

Wonbin lay collapsed on Chanyoung’s chest, their bodies stuck together with sweat and lube, legs tangled, heartbeats still chaotic.

 

Their faces were buried in each other’s necks.

 

Chanyoung was the first to speak.

 

“You okay?”

 

Wonbin didn’t even open his eyes. “I can’t feel my legs.”

 

“I’ll carry you to class tomorrow.”

 

“You’re gonna have to carry me to graduation.”

 

 

Wonbin smiled, warm and sleepy, his cheek still smushed against Chanyoung’s chest.

 

 

A pause.

 

 

 

 

Then—quietly—Wonbin whispered:

 

 

“So what… what are we now?”

 

 

 

 

Chanyoung tilted his chin up gently, eyes soft and shining. “I don’t know about you,” he murmured, “but I think I’m yours now.”

 

Wonbin let out a quiet laugh, then shook his head. “Of all people… you asked me for math help.”

 

Chanyoung blinked. “Huh?”

 

“That day,” Wonbin said, voice fond. “You could’ve asked anyone—any of the smart girls in class, or even Sohee. But you walked straight up to me, all wide-eyed and polite, and just said... ‘I heard you’re really good at this. Will you help me?’”

 

He laughed again, quieter now. “I was convinced you didn’t even know my name. But you said it. Soft. Like it was something you’d been meaning to say.”

 

Chanyoung was staring, completely speechless.

 

Wonbin smiled up at him, gentle and full of meaning.

 

“That’s when I knew,” he whispered. “I think I’ve been yours ever since.”

 

 

Just as Chanyoung leaned in for a kiss—

 

 

 

The door opened.

 

Lee Sohee stood in the doorway holding three condoms and a chilled bottle of Pocari Sweat.

 

He blinked. Looked at the glowing mess of the two sweaty boys cuddling naked in bed. Looked at the discarded bottle of bubblegum lube. Looked at Chanyoung.

 

“BRO.”

 

Chanyoung jolted. “SHIT—Sohee?!”

 

Sohee threw a hand in the air. “WHAT THE HECK I was literally on STANDBY. You were supposed to text me before you started!!”

 

Wonbin, face half in pillow, groaned. “Oh my god.”

 

“I KEPT MY LINE OPEN FOR YOU, BITCH,” Sohee yelled, throwing the condoms onto the bed like a betrayed mother. “Turns out you didn’t even need me?! You just knew how to raw dog?!”

 

“I panicked!” Chanyoung whined. “Then it got hot and I—I forgot—”

 

“I’m so proud of you. But I’m also blocking you for a week.”

 

Sohee shut the door.

 

The room fell into silence again.

 

Wonbin started laughing so hard he wheezed.

 

Chanyoung flopped back into bed and buried his face in Wonbin’s neck.

 

“I love you,” Chanyoung mumbled without thinking.

 

Wonbin’s breath caught.

 

Then he smiled, leaned down, and whispered, “Took you long enough.”

 

 

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

Epilogue

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

Shotaro was humming gently to himself in the dorm kitchenette, slicing up bananas for his acai bowl, when Wonbin stormed in like a man possessed.

 

Hair damp.

Track hoodie too big for him zipped wrong.

Soul missing.

 

Shotaro glanced up. “You look like you got hit by a truck.”

 

“I DID,” Wonbin declared, wide-eyed, dropping into the nearest chair. “A very large, muscular truck with swimmer thighs and a weaponized dick.”

 

Shotaro blinked. “...Chanyoung?”

 

“CHANYOUNG.”

 

“Wait—you actually went to him?”

 

Wonbin stared at him like he was stupid. “You literally drafted the text for me!”

 

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d send it—”

 

“You said to read it!”

 

“I said read it, not fire it off like a horny missile!”

 

“You grabbed my phone! You typed, quote: ‘This is an SOS from a helpless virgin—’”

 

“—who doesn’t wanna be a virgin anymore to you, the most virile person I know, please teach me how all this works, 🙏’” Shotaro recited flatly. “Yeah. I remember.”

 

Wonbin slapped both hands on the table. “WELL HE TAUGHT ME.”

 

Shotaro flinched. “Oh my God.”

 

Wonbin leaned in, eyes huge. “HE WAS BIG.”

 

“I’m leaving.”

 

“Like—bigger than I thought physics allowed.”

 

“I’m putting the bananas back in the fridge.”

 

“Shotaro. I saw stars. I nearly passed out.”

 

“You’re ruining fruit bowls for me forever.”

 

“Three rounds. Three.” Wonbin said, holding up the fingers like it was a war injury. “He rearranged my guts. I cried.”

 

Shotaro groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Did you at least use protection—”

 

Wonbin hesitated.

 

Shotaro’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Don’t tell me.”

 

“It wasn’t planned—”

 

“Don’t tell me.”

 

“There was a condom but it popped, and then there was bubblegum-flavoured lube, but that’s not important—”

 

“BUBBLEGUM LUBE—?!”

 

“NOT IMPORTANT.” Wonbin wheezed, waving aggressively. “Point is—I saw God. And then I saw the inside of my own skull.”

 

Shotaro stared at him. Then, slowly, nodded.

 

“Well,” he said, spooning another scoop into his bowl. “I’m proud of you. Even though I never, ever, ever wanted to know this much about your asshole.”

 

Wonbin grinned. “Thanks, hyung.”

 

Shotaro side-eyed him. “Are you two like, boyfriends now?”

 

Wonbin looked down. Thought about Chanyoung’s voice, whispering I think I’m yours now.

He smiled.

 

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I think we are.”

 

Shotaro took a bite of acai puree and chewed slowly. “That’s gross.”

 

“Love is beautiful.”

 

“You literally have bruised handprints on your hips like you got claimed.”

 

“Art,” Wonbin said proudly, stealing a spoonful of acai mash from Shotaro like he wasn’t still sore.

 

Shotaro groaned. “I need bleach for my brain”. 

 

“And you accidentally sent that text anyway. Now get out of my kitchen,” he muttered.

 

Wonbin stood, beaming, stretching his sore limbs.

 

“I have a boyfriend,” he sing-songed on his way out.

 

“You have trauma, I hope your ass will still hurt while you train.”

 

Wonbin paused in the doorway. “...That’s too mean.”

 

 

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

 

 

 

Notes:

this is what happens when you send one (1) badly worded thirst text and the universe says, “Bet." 👉🏻👌🏻✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

thank you for waiting for this 💗 and i sincerely thank my oomfies who encouraged me to write this one ! 🫶🏻 woi Ash don't move on from Anton 😂

btw any suggestions for a part 2? 👀👉🏻👈🏻