#the8

Oh, to be Seventeen's little free use doll, whom they treat like their own sex doll and comfort plushie at the same time. Minding your own business, writing or scrolling or reading? Not anymore :333 you're always getting swept off your feet— literally— because there is someone's strong arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the floor to be carried off to cuddle and touch. You can count on one hand the number of times you've been left alone without someone's hands on your skin. They pass you around, not just to be fucked dumb, but because everyone wants their turn to squeeze and play with their little dorm doll.

Movie nights would always end up with you stretched over multiple member's laps like a cat. Gentle hands draw up your arms above your head, half pinned down, half entwined with theirs. Your head is on one lap, your torso stretched over the next, legs in another's. In the darkness only lit up by the glow of the TV, it's hard to make out whose hand is petting your tit, pressing thumbs into the arch of your foot, or stroking the flat of your tummy. It's also hard to make out who's sliding fingers down your throat to keep your little whines muffled. Can't have you distracting them from the movie, right?

Seungcheol would be forever breaking up petty little fights that started from bickering over whose turn it was to have you (looking straight at bss) and taking it as an excuse to neatly pluck you from their arms and set you on his lap and wrap his arms around you. No amount of struggling will get you out of his grip, even though he finds it sooo adorable that you have to try so hard against a fraction of his strength. The squirming inadvertently makes him hard, so he flips you over so you're sideways on his lap, held up by one arm banding around your ribs, while he strokes along the curve of your back and gropes the flesh of your ass. Cheol is content with the softness of you on him, more than any completion.

Jeonghan thinks it's cute to ambush you. A midday nap is often interrupted by Hannie flopping on top of you and pressing his face into your back, sliding the point of his nose up the divot of your spine. Any and all activity is interrupted by him sliding behind you, hands sneaking under your shirt (if you're wearing one in the first place), squeezing your waist. He firmly believes there's no better place for his hands than the dip of your waist. That's where they end up even at night, sliding behind you on whomever's bed you're sleeping on for the night, his cock pushing into your warm, still wet heat. Fucking into you while wondering how many of his brothers had used you before he did.

Joshua, our resident sweetheart. He scoops you up like a child, both of you giggling, and sets off on little "adventures", as he was so fond of calling them. He affectionately pulls pretty clothes over you, dressing you how he pleases, then takes you shopping for more. Each outfit you try on earns you a little kiss. Shua thinks you're adorable in soft sweaters cropped too high, swishy floofy skirts that barely cover anything, cute stockings that hugged your thighs. He parades you around svt, forcing you to show off your new clothes, ignoring the blush high on your cheeks. No, his focus was completely on his teammates, watching their eyes darken at the glimpses of skin where delicate fabric rode up, where the pudge of your thigh stuck out over the lacy edge of the stocking. Later, he sets you on his lap— in front of everyone's hungry gazes— and knocks your knees open over his legs. Warm fingers soon find their place on your clit, further down to your hole. It's utter filth, the way his large hand stretches the fabric of your panties. Vulgar, really, when it's so obvious it doesn't belong there, but nothing feels more right when you fall apart around two of his fingers, his brothers' hands aching along his with the ghost of your release.

Junhui treats you more like a house cat than a sex doll. Always picking you up at random times of the day and carrying you to the couch, petting your hair, rubbing your back. He pokes your ribs and sides, just to see you twist away and push his hand down. Once, inexplicably, he grabbed your entire face as you would a cat you wanted to bother. The resulting cat fight (hehe) led to you straddling his face, your hands pinning his wrists down above his head. It was all a show really; he could push you off, flip you over, pin you down and have his wicked way with his dear kitty, all in the span of a breath, and you both know that. Yet, he let it happen because he loved the weight of you on his face, your pretty, breathy sighs and whimpers, your mewling when he didn't, wouldn't stop licking at your cunt. Jun loved when you initiated anything, cupping your pussy and affectionately calling you his "little cat in heat", scratching behind the cat ears he bought for you. He loved putting you face down ass up on the living room rug, where anyone could walk in on Jun slamming into you, one hand between your shoulder blades, the other pinning your wrists behind your back. If anyone walks in? Well, it's so commonplace they barely take note of it anymore, but sometimes—after a long day, or a hard practice— they push your teary face between their legs, cooing at how you rub your cheek against the bulge in their pants. Nothing relieves their stress and frustration like pushing your head down, large hand between your cat ears, seeing drool and cum and tears mix on your pretty face, but you curling up on Jun’s lap like a content cat comes in as a strong second.

Hoshi . Is bitey. Half man, half tiger, half toddler is really the only way you could even somewhat adequately describe him. He's forever teething against the soft inside of your thigh, licking at you until you cry, fucking into you like a rabid animal, pinching your cheeks and cooing over you, before burying his face in your neck and mouthing at the skin there. The other members teased you about the marks he left, pressing gently down on bruises new and faded. There was no embarrassing Hoshi, not when he proudly showed them off when he could, yanking your head back by the hair, exposing the delicate arch of your throat. His tongue laved over the bites, tasting the salt of your skin, and he paid no heed to your incessant squirming. Your shoulders are always adorned with perfectly circular bitemarks, to the point where the others were concerned by them. What they didn't know, not until Hoshi walked out smug and shirtless after a shower, was how much you marked him up as well (to Mingyu's scandalized gasp). You were usually so pliant underneath them, your hands always pinned out of the way and held down, but Soonyoung adored when your small hands tried to grasp onto him, when your pretty, sharp nails clawed at his back and shoulders, struggling to withstand the onslaught of pleasure. The result? Long, fine scratches adorning his spine, shifting under the toned muscles of his back and biceps. He wears them proudly like his own tiger stripes.

Wonwoo is a cat maid enjoyer trustttt. He is also a little shit. Even without the frills of the costume, the cat ears and his hand are permanently on your head. Number 1 headpat giver. Reading? His hands are stroking your hair. Sleeping together? His thumb is brushing over the arch of your ear. You do something mildly cute (breathe)? Pat pat pat. Loves cuddling you like a plushie against his chest, both while lying down and sitting up. The cuteness aggression is unreal. At least, it is until the sadist in him takes over. He loves nothing more than locking a remote controlled vibe against you and making you do menial household chores like dusting and scrubbing in your pretty, too-short outfit that did nothing to hide whatever lacy thing you had on underneath. His favourite is when you are on your hands and knees, pretending to scrub the floor, the ridiculously frilly uniform soaked through with water, skin slippery with suds, smelling like soap and desperation, all because he turned the vibe up too high, too quickly. He makes you come like that, shaking and crying on the floor. Once. Twice. You were well on the way to the third when he gathers you up in his arms and sets you on his lap, uncaring of the water soaking through his clothes. He presses a firm hand over your pussy, forcing the toy against your clit, and lets you sob your way through your climax. Wonwoo is gentle when he cleans you up after, undoing the ties of your dress with nimble, long-fingered hands, lowering your spent body into a hot bath, cradling you until you fall fast asleep against his chest. Of course, not without innumerous headpats.

Woozi has 3 loves in his life: music, working out, and you. According to him, there was no reason not to combine any of the three, which found you in his studio, curled up on his lap. His hands absentmindedly kneaded at your flesh, sliding from your chest down to the curve of your waist, palming at your ass, then up and over your thigh, to the round of your calf. Even the delicate swell of your ankles and the arch of your foot was not untouched, pale, elegant fingers stroking the skin and squeezing the entirety of your foot. Between the quiet of the studio and his warm hands, you barely notice the haze of dreamland drawing its veil over your eyes, or soft cushions meeting your back. You wake up to the soft click-clack of the keyboard. stretching, you watch your lover work.

One moment, you had been lounging on the studio couch— the next, plucked from it by a Jihoon that seemed to stomp in from thin air. His face, bright like the full moon, hovered directly over you, eyes meeting yours, glinting with quiet mischief. You blinked, and then you were weightless, rising, and your usually reserved Jihoon? Doing barbell curls of all things, using you as an exceptionally surprised piece of gym equipment. Usually, gym equipment did not stare at him with wide eyes and a mildly confused expression. Usually, gym equipment did not fist his shirt and cling to him. Usually, gym equipment was not this fucking adorable. What was Woozi to do with you, other than to set you on his cock and show you his new hip thrust PR?

Dokyeom gave Seungcheol and Hoshi a run for their money when it came to sheer clinginess, what with how you're folded into his side all the damn time. He's forever squishing you into his broad chest, arms and legs thrown around you, head buried in the crook of your neck. Rarely would you get to cuddle him back, because he seemed to have made it his life mission to bring any straying limbs back to your body and make you as compact as possible. Slender, long fingers wrap around your delicate wrists and pin them down, with seemingly little effort, but you can't move an inch. Forget being a plushie— you act as his living, breathing body pillow, always warm to the touch. Your skin? Free real estate. His hands are always roaming, cupping the curve of your tit, pinching your nipples and tugging until you arch against him. Further down, squeezing the softness of your stomach and pinching the narrowest part of your waist. Further, and he's stroking your thighs almost reverently, higher and higher until his palm is flush against your cunt, and he pets that too. It seemed like sacrilege to call it dirty, sexual; the slow drag of his finger against your clit was worship, your whimpers hymnal, your pleasure his offering. The scrunch of your face when you come is enlightenment to him. When he flips you over and pins you underneath him, Dokyeom can't help but think you're his own miniature goddess stolen straight from the altar, come to life and flushed and demanding under his reverent hands. When he's through with you, after carefully shaping your body into his, pressing you down into the mattress, bouncing you on his hips, drinking and eating from you until he can finally call himself somewhat sated, he cleans you like a devotee, presses his forehead against your sweat-damp stomach, and breathes you in, more fragrant than any incense.

You are Seventeen's doll, and Mingyu is their housewife. That's why he's always setting you on the counter next to him while he cooks, lovingly feeding you the first bite by hand. You looked so fragile to him like this, his oversized shirt falling off your shoulder, riding up your thighs, exposing impossibly soft skin. While dinner cooks, he spreads you on the counter as his appetizer, licking at you until you're begging him to let up, to give you a break. He finds your thrashing impossibly cute, how your thighs can't close around his shoulders, your helpless crying because it's too much for your little body to handle. It's so easy to manhandle you into whatever position he wanted, to hold you up and against him while he fucks into you. Some days, when he has too much energy, when practice and working out and taking care of others weren't enough, he would lift you up into the air and take you like that, your feet dangling off the floor. Out of everyone, you were the most doll-like with him, limp in his muscled arms while he uses you to his heart's desire. It had taken you so long to take him fully, needing days of prep before the first time. Days of him holding you down while he fingers you open, the pads of his fingers flush and rubbing against the soft, sensitive spot in you that your fingers could never reach by themselves. Days of Seventeen surprising you in the middle of the day by pushing a toy into you and forcing you to warm it. Days of Mingyu easing in inch by inch, making you come with each one, until you could finally, finally take his cock, flushed with pleasure and fullness and the endless praise spilling from his lips.

Minghao loves aesthetics. He asks you sit with him during his tea ceremonies, noting your perfect posture and neatly folded legs with an approving gaze. Everyone else is always bending you in half, but Minghao appreciates the neatness of your movement, the straight, elegant lines of your body, even in the mundane everyday— writing at your desk, molding the shape of your figure against one of his brothers', the swish of your skirt around your legs when you walked. It was in the smallest details to him— the tendons shifting under your hand, the stretch of an affectionate arm, the gentle arc of hipbone, the arch of your back off the bed when you come undone underneath his lips, his fingers, his cock. As far as Hao was concerned, this beauty was all the more perfect bound in cherry red rope, crisscrossing the narrow of your wrists and waist, digging into the fat of your hips and thighs. He spends hours with you in his studio, entwined together under warm afternoon sunlight, testing different patterns across your torso while your head leans against his chest. Every day was something different— arms tied to your ankles one day, calves and thighs bound together, forcing you to kneel, once tied to him while straddling him on a chair. The boundaries between his own touch and the bite of rope blurs, until the pinch of rope and the nip of teeth are one and the same.

You often called Seungkwan your "adorable boo bear", complete with holding up strands of his hair into fluffy bear ears. And indeed, he looked like a cartoon baby bear with his big eyes and clingy, soft tendencies. Evenings with him were always spent with you straddling him on the couch, your face buried in the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around each other, breathing the other in. He cared for you in a way that was softer, warmer, care which seeped in through your pores until you glowed from the inside out. Beyond nagging you to eat and drink water 2982139 times a day, he fetched you meals himself, held bottles to your lips, and scolded your ear off. When you were on his lap, however, the praise was endless. He didn't fuck— he rolled his hips into yours slowly, hands grasping yours, pinning both of you down, kissing the planes of your face slack from pleasure. It wasn't a powerplay like with the others, either. His hands are exceedingly gentle on your skin, holding you close, and closer, trying to merge the two of you together. Your own hand stroked his round cheek, resting soft against your palm. You were his doll and he was your boo bear, and that's all that mattered sometimes.

Vernon is the most peaceful of them all, never given to throwing you around like the others (or gnawing at you like Hoshi). It's simply enough to share company, and occassionally, cat reels. He holds you as casually as he does his phone, manspreading on the couch and setting you on his lap, wide hand palming the fat of your ass. The unspoken order—grind—hangs in the air, and you obediently oblige, pushing your hips against the seam of his pants, head falling into the perfect curve of his neck. He captures your lips with his, a soft, slick meeting. Unhurried, calm, like everything else was with him. He wasn't particularly inclined to pin you down and fuck you senseless (not that it didn't happen), but enjoyed the pressure of you on him, the gentle press of your hands against his chest. Afterwards, the two of you fall asleep together, hand in hand, space between your bodies like open fields ready for sowing.

Chan thinks you're the cutest ever, especially when snuggled up on his chest. He also thinks you're the cutest ever when you're overwhelmed and half dazed, making adorable little faces of pleasure and unable to speak from overstimulation. He likes making you whine into his neck and chest when his wandering hands squeeze a little too hard at your waist, ass and tits. Chan was always using his strength to his advantage, knowing it drove you insane, grinning cheekily when it did. Your pleasure was his, and he carved that knowledge in your mind until you knew it better than you knew yourself. Eye contact is a must for him, to the point where he stops moving if your eyes fall shut from the pleasure. His favourite activity? Placing you on one strong thigh, supported only by your entwined hands, and forcing you to grind and look at him until you're sobbing into his shoulder from exhaustion and frustration. His pants are soaked through, but you still couldn't find completion, needing more from him. Chan loved the desperate tears tracking down your face. Once he takes over, you wish you did it yourself— he's relentless, bouncing you on his thick thigh until you're cross-eyed and stupid from how good it feels. He keeps going, long after you've turned completely limp, using your body to vent his energy out. Afterwards, he collapses next you, and spoons you until you both fall asleep and wake up again, though you are significantly worse for wear. It's hard to stay mad when he flashes that boyish smile at you, with sweet kisses and promises of food.

a/n pt 2: if you see me post more fics with the same themes no you don't

feel free to ask if you want to see more from this universe (ot13 or member specific) because I have MULTIPLE scenarios that I haven't included here. Both fluff and smut reqs are accepted!

🏁 Race: Overtake by @sailorsoons

🏎️ Driver: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: Seungcheol and your brother Joshua battle over everything - pole positions, championships, the title of Mercedes’ best driver. The one thing they were never supposed to fight over was you.

🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: all for one by @amourcheol

🏎️ Driver: Choi Seungcheol x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: three-time world champion choi seungcheol races for greatness—even if it sacrifices red bull's constructor trophy. you, principal strategy engineer, cannot allow favouring the self-centred driver over the entire team. when a new red bull rookie threatens his position and certain rivals begin to tempt you, seungcheol must consider winning you over—a feat more difficult than a fourth championship.

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: Off The Record by @soo0hee

🏎️ Driver: Yoon Jeonghan x reader

🛞 Race Stats: 3 seasons with sky sports. 3 seasons of navigating between drivers, the fia and stubborn team principals. 3 seasons and non had taken your breath the way 2025 had thus far. The reason? Yoon Jeonghan. Ferarris posterboy and the man haunting your gridwalks.

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🏁 Race: Revving for Love by @nerdycheol

🏎️ Driver: Yoon Jeonghan x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: You didn’t expect the guy you swiped left on at the airport to show up at your new job — let alone be one of Formula 1’s top drivers. As the team’s new physiotherapist, you’re here to keep things professional — no distractions, especially not Jeonghan. Charming, smug, and all too aware you once swiped left on him. What starts as cooldowns and awkward stretches quickly turns into something messier. Jeonghan is flirty, unpredictable, and far too in sync with you — and despite your best efforts, he’s getting under your skin. And without you even noticing… the lines start to blur.

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🏁 Race: Birdie by @aeristudios

🏎️ Driver: Joshua Hong x reader

🛞 Race Stats: It would be fate that you would be filming a documentary of the same F1 team as your former high school sweetheart: Joshua Hong, F1 golden boy. He still remembers you as Birdie— the one that flew away without saying goodbye. Now, years later, you have to look him in the eye as he recounts what his life has been like without you.

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: build this dream together by @joshujin

🏎️ Driver: Joshua Hong x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: As his race engineer, you’ve spent five amazing years guiding McLaren superstar, Joshua Hong, to victory after victory. But in that fifth year, you learn something horrifying about yourself: you’ve fallen in love with your driver. You’re not willing to let your heart get in the way of everything you’ve worked for, so you do the one thing you know is guaranteed to keep both of your careers safe: you leave. Two years later, Joshua inadvertently comes crashing back into your life with an announcement that rocks the F1 world. Before you know it, you’re on his doorstep with an offer you know he won’t be able to refuse, ready to guide him back to where he needs to be—one last time.

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: burn for the win by @mylovesstuffs

🏎️ Driver: Wen Junhui x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: being the engineer who knows too much and the sister who’s had enough means standing at the eye of the storm while two men she cares about tear each other apart. jun’s pride could still cost him everything, and yet he refuses to fight to fix what’s broken; neither will minghao. she’s tired of the fallout, but no one listens. a crash was only the beginning. now, can anything bring them back?

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: open channel by @sknyuz

🏎️ Driver: Wen Junhui x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: open channel follows you: a young radio engineer who joins the haas f1 team as the apprentice to laura müller, the first female engineer in the paddock, now the chief engineer who has you under her wing—and as the unexpected successor to your own father, the long-time race engineer of haas’s most elusive driver: wen junhui. junhui is cold to the media, clinical on the grid, and famously unreadable behind the visor. but when your voice cuts through the static, clear and steady, even he can’t help but lean in—though neither of you knows yet how deeply your pasts are tangled in the echoes of a long-ago memory on the track.

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🏁 Race: as seen on screen by @imnotshua

🏎️ Driver: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: Wonwoo doesn’t pay you any attention, not since you were both rookies - him on the track and you in the paddock. You’ve been at Ferrari for years, and now he’s joined the team you’re supposed to be working together, but it seems he still has that same stick up his ass whenever you have something to say.

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🏁 Race: behind the lens by @wheeboo

🏎️ Driver: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: Years ago, you and Jeon Wonwoo were inseparable. First loves, reckless hearts, and dreams too big to share—until it all fell apart. He chased after podiums; you stayed behind your lens. Five years later, you’re commissioned in the paddock as a global motorsport photographer for a behind-the-scenes shoot, and he’s back in the centre of your frame as F1’s quiet, unstoppable force. And for the first time in a long time, your photographs begin to feel real again. This time, will your frame capture an ending, or a second chance?

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🏁 Race: playing with fire by @starlightkyeom

🏎️ Driver: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: soonyoung doesn't do relationships. or strings. or repeats all that often, honestly. he's one of the best drivers on the circuit and he doesn't need to. the one exception? you, his biggest rival's on-and-off partner. he's always your first call when your relationship is splashed across the headlines again and he never seems to care.

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: heartbreak champion by @straylightdream

🏎️ Driver: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: After being together since you were fifteen, things hit a rough patch as your husband chases his goal of being world champion.

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: Under Investigation by @diamonddaze01

🏎️ Driver: Lee Jihoon x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: Lee Jihoon doesn’t break the rules. He bends them. Just enough to get away with it. Just enough to make your job harder, just enough to see if you’ll flinch. He’s testing the boundaries. And the worst part? You kind of want to see what happens if he crosses them.

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🏁 Race: heartbreaker by @sailorsoons

🏎️ Driver: Lee Jihoon x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: Jihoon is suffering through a heartbreaker of a season with Ferrari. The car won’t cooperate, his teammate keeps outpacing him, and nothing seems to go right. Worst of all is what’s happening off the track. It seems racing is slipping through his fingers - and so are you.

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: Burning Bridges by @bluehoodiewoozi

🏎️ Driver: Lee Seokmin x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: When your fiancé chooses his Formula 1 career over you and makes it everyone’s problem, his teammate Seokmin is not about to just sit back and watch.

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: red wine nights by @hannieoftheyear

🏎️ Driver: Lee Seokmin x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: what's the worst time to hook up with your best friend and change your relationship forever? probably the night before he gets on a plane and flies far away to become a world famous star.

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: Rumour by @gyuswhore

🏎️ Driver: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: It’s hard to dislike Mingyu, an acknowledgement he risks his modesty for. So when he approaches you with rose tinted glasses, clad in the team kit of his dreams, he’s ready to build a rapport of a lifetime with his brand new race engineer. Until, the brakes screech loud enough for the entire paddock to hear. It’s hard to dislike Mingyu, but you make it look easy.

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: perfect strangers by @studioeisa

🏎️ Driver: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: for the first time in seven years, kim mingyu thinks he might actually have a shot at standing on the podium. he has a decent car, a good teammate, and... a girlfriend? after f1 tv erroneously tags a complete stranger as his 'partner', mingyu now has to reckon with being one half of the newest couple on the grid.

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🏁 Race: one track mind by @haologram

🏎️ Driver: Xu Minghao x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: after years in the spotlight, you've learned one thing: how to get used to new environments, good and bad. despite the time and the friends you've made along the way, things never really change — and that includes the mentality that winning is the only option.

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: victory lap by @minisugakoobies

🏎️ Driver: Xu Minghao x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: minghao's just led his team to another championship - so why can't he enjoy it? he's jaded, having grown disillusioned with his life, and in desperate need of the familiar spark that’s driven him all these years. lucky for him, a chance encounter with the enemy of his rival will set his ignition ablaze with one wild ride.

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🏁 Race: bae-watching by @shinysobi

🏎️ Driver: Boo Seungkwan x reader

🛞 Race Stats: boo seungkwan is over it, really. he's been on the sports circuit for years, but covering any f1 championship gets harder every time. on top of that, he's supposed to get a "fresh angle" on a game that has none-until he's staring down the barrel of history, when she appears right beside the ferrari chief engineer. he's looking at you, but you have stopped looking at him a decade ago.

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🏁 Race: along the rubble or the dust by @heartepub

🏎️ Driver: Boo Seungkwan x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: in the high-octane world of formula one, boo seungkwan has clawed his way up with a mix of charm, grit, skill, and pure luck. he knows, more than anyone else, how coincidence can be a turning point. when, in an improbable series of events, his childhood friend starts lurking in the paddock as his new performance engineer, he gets the distinct feeling that this is about to be one of them. even if (or especially because) he’d rather trust you with his life than with his heart.

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🏁 Race: Podium Pleasers by @shadowkoo

🏎️ Driver: Chwe Hansol x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: F1 driver Vernon is no stranger to stunning women whispering wicked things in his ear during race season, but no voice has stopped his heart quite like yours. The ‘missing’ younger sister of one of his oldest friends. The girl who disappeared two years ago without a word. And now, you’re on his lap with your bare breasts pressed against his chest. He’s horrified to learn that you’re working at an exclusive strip club, tangled in a complicated contract where sex appeal is currency, personal relationships are forbidden, and your freedom is nothing but a twisted illusion. He wants you out, but walking away from a fantasy life built on status and money isn’t that simple. So, in a last-ditch effort, he offers you something else. Something real. A fresh start on the circuit as his assistant, where you can rebuild your future, possibly even a future by his side.

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pass

🏁 Race: slow and steady by @haoboutyou

🏎️ Driver: Chwe Hansol x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: Aston Martin— once a top class, championship winning team, has become riddled with bad press. What better way to cover it up than throwing your driver under the bus? In a not-so elaborate scheme, Vernon and rising star Y/n are entrapped in a dating scandal to cover up the company’s ass, subjecting them to the wrath of public scrutiny instead. Will the awkward dates and busy schedules make way for something more? Or will they let their relationship be dictated by greedy corporations?

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🏁 Race: This Town by @wqnwoos

🏎️ Driver: Lee Chan x reader

🛞 Race Stats: Ten years ago, Lee Chan left your hometown without ever looking back. Now, after a crash that loses him the championship, he’s back and asking for your forgiveness — but you’re not sure if you’re ready to risk your best friend leaving you again.

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🏁 Race: The Boundary Concept by @kkooongie

🏎️ Driver: Lee Chan x f!reader

🛞 Race Stats: Lee Chan didn't know which was worse: the fact that he still liked you since high school (despite shutting down completely whenever you were around) or the fact that you wanted to meet up with him... for a research paper. But hey, he was willing to take any crumbs as long as he got an opportunity to make you realise he was a super cool racer now. That is, assuming he didn't crash under the intense pressure. Or, in which, you never knew writing a paper on the boundary concept would make you question the boundaries between you and Chan.

Practice Session 🏁 Paddock Pas

Lately, the two of them have been conversing more as she seeks his expertise in the classes he took the year before. He finds that she’s been texting him constantly, asking for his opinions on a fabric she’s choosing for her latest projects. 

Minghao isn’t a moron and he’s certainly not blind. He knows Insong is into him, but since she hasn’t explicitly made any moves on him, he’s not doing anything about it. He keeps his answers short, refraining from answering her when he’s in bed right next to you.

His girlfriend of three years. 

There is no one on planet Earth whom Minghao loves more than you. You’re his shining star, and he’s merely a planet, orbiting around you. His perfect match, his missing piece. The day he met you, he knew you were the one. There was something about the way you held yourself, bold and beautiful, that he knew he needed to be with you. 

Turns out the universe agreed. You both had so much in common- your desire to experiment in fashion, adding chains, mixed metals, furs, diamonds to what was once a simple piece. Your confidence entranced him; how you walked to class in unique outfits, with different hair colors, styles, and cuts. 

It took just one date for you to feel the same way. 

Now he has endless access to you. Your lips, your body, your mind, but most importantly, your heart. 

Insong places a hand on his shoulder, shooting Minghao a dimpled smile. Eyes peering down at her, he notes the half-empty glass in her other hand. 

“Hao, I don’t know how to say this, so I figured I should just tell you. I’m,” she pauses to look into his eyes. “I’m interested in you. Like, interested interested. You’re so hard to read, but I can’t wait any longer. I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date?” She bats her eyelashes, moving closer so that their chests are an inch apart. One more step and they’d be chest to chest. 

Minghao places his hand on top of Insong’s and softly lifts it away. “Insong, I’m very flattered. But, I’m not single.”

Insong’s eyes are as wide as saucers as she opens and closes her mouth, clearly in shock.

“Oh, oh my gosh. Oh, I’m so sorry, Minghao. I just- I thought you were single. I, I just assumed you were single because you never show any girlfriend on Instagram. I should’ve never assumed, I should’ve asked the others,” Insong is blabbering now, and Minghao interrupts her with a soft hand on her shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s fine. Don’t worry about this. I promise this won’t change anything about our friendship,” he softly smiles, looking directly into her eyes. 

Insong flushes, still clearly embarrassed about her incorrect assumption. “Really?” she asks meekly. “Yeah, you’re fine. Here I’ll grab you another drink.” Minghao reaches behind him to hand her a cold can of beer. 

Insong meekly runs away after thanking him for the drink, not without throwing out a few more apologies.

Now alone, Minghao frowns. Did he really never post you on his Instagram? Minghao wasn’t one to share so much of his personal life on there, but if he could share selfies or mirror pics of himself, surely he had to have shared a pic of you. Right? 

His Instagram profile boasts one photo, a picture of himself at an art museum in graffiti-covered jeans that you gave him on his 24th birthday. He goes through the archive of his stories and finds it full of pictures of himself that you took, or pictures of his friends, or concerts, or parties. Not one clear, direct photo of you. His heart is pounding in his chest. There is no proof you exist in his life. The three years of love you’ve given him aren’t displayed on the platform that represents who he is to the people from all around his life. 

Desperate, Minghao approaches Joshua. “You know I have a girlfriend, right?” Confusion flashes across Joshua’s face. 

“What? No, you don’t.” Minghao’s face must be full of horror because Joshua pauses to think back to Minghao’s romantic history. 

“Oh, wait. Are you still with Y/N? I never knew if you guys were actually together?”

“We’ve been together for three years now,” Minghao says flatly. Joshua’s eyes widen. He drags Mingyu into the conversation. All Minghao hears is white noise as Mingyu also confesses he had no idea Minghao had been with you all this time. 

He’s spiraling. 

There was the time you went to one of these stupid parties with him, yet you spent the whole night apart with different friend groups. He never kisses you in public, always hating public displays of affection. He prefers to show you just how much he loves you in private, sensually pressing his lips against yours, making love to you over and over. 

There is no doubt that he shows you just how much he loves you. But he doesn’t show the world. 

Setting his drink down on the closest table, Minghao quickly waves his friends off, itching to get back home to be with you.

“You’re back early,” you say with a big stretch, clearly surprised that your boyfriend is back from a party before midnight. 

“Hey,” he greets you softly, immediately making a beeline towards your curled-up figure on the couch. You’re in a tiny black tank top, making it easier for him to touch every surface of your warm skin. After three years together, there is nothing your boyfriend can hide from you.

“What’s wrong, babe?” you ask, playing with the two silver hoops on his left ear.

“You remember Insong?”

“Yeah, the new grad student, right?”

“Well, she asked me out, but I told her I wasn’t single. And she said she didn’t know because I’ve never posted you on my Instagram,” he says, finally looking into your eyes to gauge your thoughts. 

“So you think I’m upset that you don’t post me on your Instagram?” Minghao nods, tightening his hold on your arms.

You break into a beautiful smile.

“My love, I don’t care about that. I love you, and you love me. Who cares?”

“But I do!” Minghao suddenly exclaims. “I care that no one knows I’ve been with you for three years, and there’s no proof. We go on so many dates and we take so many pictures, yet I never post any of them. I don’t share how much I love you. It feels like I’m hiding you or embarrassed by you, which I’m not. I feel like I’ve fucked up,” he says slumping back into the couch. 

Minghao grabs your arm and pulls you into his chest. 

“I love you, infinitely. I’m sorry I don’t say it louder,” he whispers in your ear. To seal the deal, he holds your chin between his thumb and index finger, staring deep into your eyes, lips ghosting yours. “I love you,” he says, sinking his tongue into your mouth. “I’m sorry.” Lips brush against your jaw, a big, strong hand wraps around the base of your throat. 

Arms encircle your waist, a cheek is pressed against your shoulder, a face buried in your neck. 

“You’re it for me,” he says softly, voice muffled.

You run your fingers through his long hair. Minghao loves experimenting with different hair colors. You’ve been with him when his hair was bleached blond in the fall, silver in the winter, caramel brown in the spring, red in the summer. Five more hair colors since then, and it’s now in its natural state. You’ve loved Minghao throughout all his hair phases, but you’ll always remember the Minghao you fell in love with three winters ago, when it was pitch black, just like how it is now.

“Babe, you’re it for me too,” you reply back with a big, beautiful smile. 

Minghao is looking at you with lidded eyes, and when he shrugs your tank top sleeve down your shoulder, he’s determined to show you just how much he loves you.

*xuminghao_o just posted a story

Eyebrow raised, you click on the story. 

It’s the mirror picture you took earlier today. Minghao’s chest was pressed against your back with his arms wrapped around your stomach. A kiss pressed to your cheek and a huge smile on your face. Much like the smile you were sporting right now. 

You’ve never been one to care what your boyfriend does or doesn’t post on his Instagram. But this picture on his story is evidence of your relationship. Evidence that he loves you enough to share you with everyone who follows him.