#except for emperor that guy is the shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

setsugekka · 2 years

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❥project d (m)

↳ With a nice enough guy who’s just a little too rough around the edges for your parents liking, and a best friend who put you up to him (albeit a tad unknowingly), surely things can’t possibly get more complicated for the local illegal street racing squad.

Except, between racing for pink slips and bragging rights, there’s Emperors leader, Jeong Yunho.

kim hongjoong x fem!reader / jeong yunho x fem!reader — Initial D/street racing!au, unresolved romantic tension, exes to lovers, infidelity, angst, explicit sexual content [20.5k wc] cws: themes of smoking, drinking, & cheating throughout. the person getting cheated on is a scumbag!! mild physicality from a man to reader and more than mild physicality between two men ❱ light dom/sub dynamics in the beginning, penetrative sex (no barrier method), creampie, light choking, themes of possessiveness throughout, dirty talk, risky sex, public sex, oral sex (m).

“Ignore it.”

A simple enough request to oblige as Hongjoong's hand stretches out and over your body towards the side of you where your phone resides, only conveniently tossed there out of haste upon things between the two of you getting the better of you.

History getting the better of you.

Two, three more vibrations of the call alert cycle before it finally quiets, the man next to you hums with his face pressed into the pillow just before turning to face you with a devilish grin — as if a man having just won a prize, of sorts.

Perhaps he had done just that, at least, in this moment in time.

“I can't ignore him forever,” you sigh, back against the mattress and staring up towards the dingy, unpainted ceiling of this particular hotel that you and Hongjoong had become all too accustomed to.

The scent of far-from-fresh linens and a mixture of cigarette and other such smoke cascading through the small room — far from allowed but in a place like this, and for the rate that it goes for, it's what you'd expect. Housekeeping will do what they can, but there's only so much.

It's clean enough, but more than that, it's private. Part of you wishes coming here with him made you hate yourself as much as you think it's supposed to, because maybe then you'd stop.

“He's my boyfriend, after all.”

“He's a fucking tool,” he groans, finally sitting up beneath a single layer of white sheet and reaching to his left off of the side of the bed for his pants — long since discarded and not long after the two of you had arrived, at that. You can only presume the man to be reaching for his cigarettes, and unsurprised when it's precisely what comes into your line of vision as he sits back with his back against the headboard to light it — you watch him, every movement he makes no matter how small or unimportant it may seem. Taking in the details of him: short, platinum bleached hair with his fingernails painted black — two or three chipped, from what you can tell — and most likely from working on his car at some point over the week. “Who cares what he thinks? When are you going to leave him, anyways?”

“It's not that simple,” you answer, under your breath and slightly dejected at the turn the conversation has taken.

Because you know that you should feel bad, and yet you don't, but the fact that you don't sort of does do the trick. You wonder how terrible one has to be to falter morally to such a degree.

“I care about him.”

“The fuck you do,” Hongjoong bites back with a snort through his nose, smoke pushing out and towards the sheet that remains pooled around his waist. “If you did, you sure as shit wouldn't be here right now.”

Rolling your eyes and turning from him finally, it's likely that he's right. Somewhere, somehow, surely that is the only logical explanation.

But as complicated as things may be with your boyfriend, they're just as, if not more so, with the man next to you.

Goodbye's are hard, it's half of the reason people do everything in their power to avoid them.

Even to their own detriment.

“Don't be mad at me,” he adds, noticing the way you pull your eyes from him. “You wouldn't be fucking your ex still if things we're all sunshine and roses back at home. That's just the facts.”

“Do you have to do this tonight?” you say with a groan, turning back and onto your side to face away from him. It's then that you feel Hongjoong stir from behind, putting his cigarette out into a beer bottle on the nightstand and settling back down lengthwise along the bed, with the flesh of his chest pressed against your bare back. With one hand of his trailing down the exposed flesh and settling at the small of your back as fingers curl up and around the dip of your hip, you sigh into the feeling of his touch, once again starkly aware of how undressed you are once again, and how this will likely result in him fucking you for the second time tonight.

“I miss you,” he whispers after a while, lips ghosting gently across your exposed shoulder as he plants kisses there between words. “Leave him.”

“And do what? get back together with you?” you answer suddenly, with a tad bit more snip than you had really intended, but feeling the way his fingernails begin to curl into the skin of your waist, you need not worry about the reception of the response.

Chances are, he probably likes it.

The words come out so quietly that you can barely even hear them over the sound of the long since ignored television, only really used to help drown out the pathetic sounds of you succumbing to this man once again. “Do whatever you want, just not him.”

It's a weird sense of foreplay, the way that the two of you engage in conversations about the man in question — your partner — always seeming to get Hongjoong riled up sexually in some sort of sick, twisted way that you can't quite fathom — possibly the possession, possibly some sense of having won something over the man every time you agree to meet him like this — two competitors who have long since been rivals for far too long, with too much bad blood and no end in sight, either.

So when you left Hongjoong, and shortly after started dating Yunho, it was a punch to the gut and the ego — seemingly only quelled by the joy of having you cum around his dick a couple of times a week unbeknownst to the other party.

Shifting slightly, as if wanting to maintain some air of innocence and coincidence to it all — pressing your behind back and against him only to find that what greets you is a familiar hardness — Hongjoong's kisses into your shoulder intensify, nips and suction against the flesh where he had previously been ever so innocuously been touching.

Giving into him never was difficult, you wonder if you'll ever have control over yourself with him.

Hand slipping down to position himself better against you, the whimper that leaves your lips as he presses back inside of you for the second time that night is pitiful — grin forming across his mouth as he hears the utterance of you once again allowing yourself full compliance for him — his hand comes back up to snake along your side as he gently rocks into you, first settling for a moment atop your breast to thumb over the nub before continuing the journey up and around your throat to hold there tightly as he picks up his pace with a grunt into your ear from behind.

“You're mine, right?” Words echoing from his mouth and into your ear from just next to it, your body involuntarily clenching down around him giving you away more than anything you could say ever could — Hongjoong squeezing tighter around your throat at the feeling of you submitting to him in all of the same ways that he's always liked, that you've always liked — a game the two of you would often play deep within the throes of your romantic relationship. “You always came the hardest when I acted like I owned you.”

“Joong—“ another pitiful whimper at the sound and feeling of him encompassing you, especially given that he's right in his assessment of you.

Hand leaving your throat and continuing up again, two fingers prying between your lips to press into your mouth and lie flat against your tongue, Hongjoong's pace into hastens, fucking you harder than even the time earlier in the night — obviously with something to prove, now — some sort of motivation behind his actions; jealousy, angry, hatred.

The animalistic desire to have and own and need, perhaps.

“He fuck you like I do?” he finally asks in spite of already knowing the answer. There's a reason you keep coming back. “Know everything you like the way I do? Make you cum as hard as I do?”

And with fingers shoved deep into your mouth you can only groan at the words as your body threatens to release you from the contempt of a building orgasm — Hongjoong surely feels it with the way he slows and stills deep inside of you with a whine from you.

“Didn't say you could cum yet, did I?”

It's all you can do to beg for it, grinding back and against him for any sense of friction that will hopefully tip you over the edge that he's not allowing for you. Hot breath scented like cheap beer and cigarettes pressed into the shell of your ear as he holds your body flush tight against his as if to now even allow you the ability to escape his grasp — not that you'd want to, or have any intention to — but rather for what it represents to him.

That yes, this is a game that the two of you engage in consensually, but perhaps deep down for him, a confession of sorts, as well.

Hongjoong pulls his hand from your lips to quickly wrap it against your throat again, ever so slowly withdrawing his cock from you and almost completely before delivering you back an even more tortuously slow drive back inside — so slow that you feel as though you can feel every dip and curve and bulge of his shaft against your walls — the two of you don't play like this so much anymore since the dissolving of your relationship, and Hongjoong's willingness to reintroduce it now feels pointed and a bit like a man rushing to grasp a hold of something that he feels as though he's losing completely.

The break up wasn't on bad terms, and certainly appeared far from devastating to Hongjoong from what you could tell. He did start drinking more, though, and racked up a hefty DUI about a week after.

“You wanna cum, baby?”

You nod quicker than you think the words finish leaving his mouth, much to his amusement. Hongjoong repeats yet another frustratingly slow drive into you as he sets the condition for your orgasm.

“Tell me whose it is,” he groans, the warm hug of your pussy pulling on him equally as much but far more able to maintain his cool. “Who owns it, who does it belong to, baby?”

a sharp inhale, breathing still constricted by his hand keeping you firmly in place and against him, and with a heavy exhale you say the words he's been looking for since the conversation started.

“You, it's yours, I'm yours— fuck, Joong, please—“

You can't see it, but you can feel the curl of his lips against your ear as he grins at the breathy admission, kissing you delicately against your temple twice before whispering how well you've done and how good you are as he picks his pace back up. A handful of hard, pointed thrusts back into you and you come undone around him all over again — the tight squeeze of you subsequently bringing him to his orgasmic demise just after as he buries cock as deeply as he can to cum inside of you.

And one of your favorite things about the man — your too-wild-to-ever-meet-the-parents ex-boyfriend who drives the custom paint maroon RX-7 — is how no matter how insane he is, he's always kind and loving to you. so, as Hongjoong gently pulls himself from you, raining kisses on every inch of exposed flesh he can manage to get his mouth on, the only words spilling from his mouth being those of praise; how good you are, how beautiful you are, how amazing you are — some times, you think he might slip and tell you he loves you in such raw, intimate times.

And sometimes, you wonder why it is the two of you ever did break up.

Phone vibrating again, the screen illuminating to show once again for your boyfriend to be attempting to get a hold of you, you feel Hongjoong still from behind you as he catches notice before rolling back and away from you and most likely, in search of another cigarette.

Picking the device up, with a tone small and shy but with an attempt at playfulness, you dare make the attempt at a joke on the matter. “Can I answer it now?”

But with silence following shortly after as the vibration cycle carries on, you're met with the sound of a lighter flickering once, twice, three times — before an exhale, then a voice laden with smoke and maybe even a hint of disappointment, if you look hard enough.

“Do whatever you want.”

Getting into the illegal street racing thing wasn't exactly something you had in mind, and truthfully, sometimes you had a difficult time tracing back just when it had started with the way things took off in a bit of a whirlwind.

It's particularly due to the fact that you're not a racer yourself, that sometimes has you standing roadside at meets, contemplating the how's and why's of your whereabouts. With no interest in purchasing a project of your own, it started as a sort of hobby interest of yours and Chaerin's — your best friend of six years with a bit of a penchant for trouble as the years progressed. Never anything substantial or too risky — no drugs beyond the extremely rare instance, no theft — and sure, the illegal street racing thing in and of itself being of legal dubiety, it's not the worst thing a girl in her early twenties could find herself wrapped up in, that's for sure.

Besides, Chaerin had a bit of a respectable eye for partners. Boyfriends leaning far into the realm of honest and endearing, even upon dating within the circle of cars, the sort of 'bad boy' reputation for them that one would likely assume upon hearing of teams of men engaging in such activities in the dead of night — while occasionally true, after two or three tag along’s of yourself with your friend, you'd quickly come to realize that the majority of them were simply guys. Nothing special or out of the ordinary, most working through college and probably a bit more than they have to in order to fund their rather expensive hobby, some rich, trust fund kids with no issues affording whatever it was that they wanted to soup up their cars with — and when the dust had eventually settled, it was of little shock to yourself that you ended up somewhere in between.

You remember the night as if it was yesterday, only a year or so back at most anyways, Chaerin explicitly informing you that he was to be played with, and not locked down.

It seemed easy enough when you met Kim Hongjoong, at least.

A little rough around the edges being an understatement: handsome and from a rich family now a couple of years estranged but still not entirely cut off from the family wallet, sometimes you could swear that you could still make out the ways in which his sheltered, prissy upbringing that he had long since attempted to bolt down under lock and key would come through — a heavy smoker, a lighter drinker, and now stuck living in a ratty apartment just a ways out of town with his teammate, Seonghwa.

So, you had agreed, because most certainly this wouldn't be the kind of man you'd fall for, anyways. A girl has needs, however, and you quickly found Hongjoong to be more than willing to go above and beyond for them in more ways than one would likely consider to be present in a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. His willingness to do any and everything you desired sexually, evolving into exploration of sorts, you found that it happened almost naturally in the way he would begin staying over some nights instead of running home, bringing you dinner before playtime turning into going out together for dinner, and when Chaerin began noticing you showing up to car meets from the passenger side of Hongjoong's RX-7, albeit not entirely pleased with the development, she wasn't necessarily against it, either.

Your parents on the other hand, were an entirely different story.

If Hongjoong came off as rough around the edges to yourself, you could only imagine how he came off to your parents, and after one dinner with all of you together, the imagining was no longer necessary — spending the better part of an hour tearing into you about your choice in men; how Hongjoong was going nowhere in life, a deadbeat with no aspirations, a smoker, a drinker, and despite having not disclosed it, father dearest pulling no punches in just what it was that he thought about the whole illegal street racing thing.

A point of contention in what had naturally and easily transformed into a relationship with the man, more than quick hook ups and take out dinners — but there was romance and genuine caring — something special about the way that Hongjoong looked at you that you knew to be sincere.

And perhaps you were too weak-willed to manage it, the constant barrage of opinions and negativity from your family about the man you had chosen, and perhaps the relationship all too young to really weather the storm as it was, so when you told Hongjoong that the two of you should just remain friends, the disappointment was evident, but it wasn't the end of the world.

It was a little bit the end of the world, though, when Yunho came into the picture.

Moving into town a month before yours and Hongjoong's relationship ending, you had already found yourself rather well acquainted with the man in all of the worst ways: every terrible, off-putting version of Hongjoong that you figured to be buried deep down within him in hopes of never resurfacing, seemingly being all of the defining features of Jeong Yunho; mouthy, loud, and far too into himself for anyones good, really, you had only met him a handful of times at races before calling it quits with your then boyfriend, but Yunho had already long made a case for himself in squirming his way into your bedroom as Hongjoong vented about teammates losing races — and even worse, their cars — to the man in the black EVO and his team, Emperors.

How you ended up here, exactly, on a quiet Thursday night during a meet with Yunho to your right as he talks to one of his friends about a new backseat modification he's been considering for weight to his car, suppose that's where it gets a little murky.

Oh, and also the fact that you were just with Hongjoong the night before, too.

As the thoughts finally fall out of your mind, it's the feeling of a large hand on your bottom that jolts you out from them in totality, first looking down then just as quickly back up to your boyfriend.

A habit of getting handsy in public, like some bizarre expression of property owned and wishing for the entire world to see it, it had been a conversation more than three times by this point, so much so that you figure it best to simply give up on it.

“Come on, I told you I don't like that,” you whisper, it is not lost on you how willing you are to bend yourself as to not embarrass him all the while he cares little about granting you the same luxury.

With a slightly crooked smile, Yunho grins down at you before leaning forward and kissing you on the forehead. “It's just Mingi babe, he doesn't care.”

“I care.”

Yunho rolling his eyes at the snide response, pulling his hand from you entirely as if to withhold affection for your poor behavior, your eyes can't help but find Hongjoong well across the parking lot as he engages with his friends among his own team, Spiral.

Meeting your eyes, the interaction is brief, and guilt ridden all of the same.

In fact, Yunho's disinterest in your boundaries had already resulted in a verbal altercation between the two more than once, and that's not even including everything related to on the road.

Of course, Yunho had charms, otherwise leaving would be easy to do. Earlier on, especially — perhaps you a little too fresh off of your break up and more willing to be swept up and away by the tall, handsome, guy with dark red hair that your ex kind of hated but 'maybe he isn't so bad,' you remember thinking to yourself the first time he catches you out and about one random day — asking you to dinner later that night, paying, and giving you the best dick, perhaps, of your life.

You'd find that it doesn't take much time for the layers to peel themselves back, as people with much to hide typically find it difficult to keep up the ruse for all too long, but perhaps losing Hongjoong in your life — and especially for the reasons as such — a larger hole was left than you had initially imagined, now being filled by the rich guy who lets you pay for everything despite having money, doesn't respect your boundaries, and is often found to be in questionable locations more times than you'd like to really acknowledge.

One of the reasons you sort of don't feel bad when Hongjoong texts you late in the afternoon and asks if you want to meet at the usual spot.

But for whatever reason it is, you find it hard to let Yunho go — that even still, there are times late at night when your hand fits impossible perfectly into his as the both of you lie out on the lawn just outside of town and gaze up at the stars together — him telling stories about where he used to live and what he did before he got into street racing and him actually taking an interest in you and your life beyond just showing you off as the pretty little thing he gets to put his dick into — as it often feels in relation to him.

That makes it difficult, as affairs of the heart tend to be. It's never really so cut and dry.

As the end of the night rolls around, Chaerin comes to greet you with her boyfriend, Yeonjun on her arm — and her belongings diligently being held by him as well — both with smiles on their faces as head lights begin to pop on and engines start revving around them. Yunho plopping into the drivers side of his car, Chaerin leans over the open car door with her arm across to cushion her chin, and much to Yunho's visible disapproval.

“Long time, how've things been?”

A long time because Chaerin hates him and refuses to go to mutual gatherings that you invite him along to.

Yunho's eyes first darting to you before settling back to the blonde girl hanging from his car door window, the man leans forward to grip it and shake it free from her annoying grasp before shutting it and opening the window to continue on the conversation. “Fine. You guys going out tonight or something?”

Much to your surprise, you arrived with Yunho with every intention of leaving with him, so the fact that you now are not comes as news to you, and the shock across your features is not wasted on your best friend and her boyfriend.

“You brought her, you're not going to take her home?” She asks, attitude laden in her tone and no effort to conceal it whatsoever.

Yunho snorts, nodding his head towards you as he answers. “Tell your friend not to act like such a bitch in front of my friends, maybe i'll be more inclined to be nicer to her.”

“What are you even talking—“

“I'll take her home.”

A familiar, pitchy, voice, to you especially, piping up from behind the group of you and the twist in Yunho's features making it all the more evident as Hongjoong steps up between you and Chaerin — black and white leather jacket lazily zipped halfway up across his chest and incredibly fitted, lightly destroyed black jeans hugging his thighs. Brushing a hand through silver hair, he nods to you as if it's no big deal.

And as if he didn't have his face between your legs just last night. “What's up?”

“Nothing,” you answer just as carelessly. “Need a ride home, apparently.”

“Awww, little Joongie is so sweet,” Chaerin pipes up, slinging an arm up and around Hongjoong's shoulders in such an aggressively animated way that it nearly brings the man toppling down on top of her, but Yunho only rolls his eyes at the friendly display while huffing out a “whatever,” as he turns the car engine on with a rumbling vibration.

“We'll talk about this tomorrow,” he adds, flipping the car into reverse and rolling up his window before driving off to who knows where, and leaving you to pick up the pieces of how so many interactions between the two of you end up this way.

You sigh, less of anger or sadness, but rather the exhaustion of having become so used to this treatment — it not being the first time your boyfriend has done such a thing, after all.

Letting go of Hongjoong, Chaerin judges him in the arm with her elbow. “I could have taken her, you know.”

Sometimes you wonder if she knows, if she's caught onto the games the two of you play together when you think no one is looking, or none the wiser.

A relationship ended by word of mouth only, but really, nothing having really changed.

You and Hongjoong picked back up sleeping together only a week after breaking up, and never really stopped since. You can't help but wonder if she can tell in the way the two of you interact, how comfortable it is, how unchanged it is from back then.

“It's fine, she's on the way anyways.”

You're not, and everyone knows it.

“Alright well,” your friend begins, tying long, blonde hair into a tight ponytail and slinging an arm over her lovely partner to pull him along. “Be safe you guys, have a good night. Try to get her to break up with her shitty boyfriend, would you, Joong?”

A sly grin as a parting gift and she's off before you really have a chance to say anything to the comment. Hongjoong opting for silence on the topic himself as the rest of the cars clear and the two of you find yourselves the last ones on the cement — the scent of burned rubber and exhaust still lingering heavily in the air, the man next to you shrugs, looking almost sympathetic of you and your situation — a situation that you could just as easily find yourself out of, but sympathetic nonetheless.

Walking over to Hongjoong's car, he steps around to open the passenger side door for you first before circling back and allowing himself to fall into the drivers side of his own.

“Really wish you'd leave that dickhead,” he starts, ignition growling to a start and the inside panel of the car illuminating a bright blue — all custom work, exactly to his personal liking. “Only reason I still have a passenger seat is for when I have to pick up his slack.”

It feels a little bad when he says it like that, as if he feels the need to stick around, by your side, to play boyfriend #2 because #1 does such a dog shit job of it himself, and rather than abandon you to play with the hand that you've been dealt, Hongjoong stands by to try to make each sting at the hand of Jeong Yunho just a little bit easier to deal with — until you manage the strength to do what you know you need to and leave him once and for all.

“I know, sorry,” you mutter under your breath, feeling it necessary to offer the apology. Hongjoong pulling onto the road and driving off and into the night, one hand on the steering wheel, he glances over at you twice before grinning just slightly. “It's fine, you don't have to apologize.”

Turning to look out of the window, eyes still as glued to you as driving safely might allow, he replacing his right hand on the steering wheel with his left, allowing his right to settle onto your clothed thigh with no intent beyond comfort. “Hungry? Wanna grab something?”

“It's two in the morning,” you chuckle, the lightness of the sound bringing a much brighter smile to the mans lips even in spite of your accuracy regarding the situation. “Okay yeah, we can go back to my place? Seonghwa is there but it's fine.”

“It's late, I should probably just go home.”

You don't mean for it to sound so dejected as the sounds leave your lips, a culmination of so many things stirring around in your head all at once in regards to Hongjoong and Yunho both — you think of all of the ways that Hongjoong has always been so kind and good to you, even in the midst of a purely sexual relationship with him, where Yunho finds himself seemingly unwilling to meet you even halfway on simple things or gestures anymore — a man who won his prize and no longer finds it necessary to carry on. His dues paid, and once again, Hongjoong picking up the slack.

And as if some major cosmic joke, it's not lost on you how much your parents adore Yunho.

Never having learned of the street racing thing, on top of being much more cleaned up and presentable in appearance than the alternative — it's easy for Yunho to pull off the guy next door look, and for all intents and purposes, it is him, but in all of the worst ways, and the worst possible version of it. Arrogant and egotistical and unforgiving. Unloving. Manipulative, and in so many ways, cruel.

Like two personalities swapped from the bodies you would expect to find them — Hongjoong with a mouth on him for sure and probably incapable of uttering a sentence without an expletive in it, still kinder and more loving to you than perhaps Yunho has ever been.

And worse than that, you suspect for more than one reason that Yunho is meeting with an unidentified woman this evening. The unmentionable fact that everyone seems to know about but no one talks about, and no one tells you.

But suppose that may be fair and square, after all.

As Hongjoong's car rolls to a gentle stop in front of your parents home, you know what it will result in in the morning — them chewing you out for once again being out with the man that they loathe so much, but unbeknownst to them, the one willing to get their daughter home safe and sound — you let out a heavy exhale as he turns the ignition off and the both of you open car doors to exit from his and greet the chilly, spring air awaiting you.

Watching as the man settles himself against the dark red vehicle full of labor, love and more than all, money, you can't help how natural it feels to bring your arms up and around his neck — and happy to greet you, his own falling downwards and wrapping lightly around your waist to pull you tighter against his torso as foreheads close the space between them.

“Getting daring,” Hongjoong sighs just centimeters from your mouth, referencing the rather public display of affection despite it being the absolute dead of night and not a soul to be seen within eye shot.

“Thanks for taking me home,” you ignore his words in favor of your own and with a sly tone to them at that, as if hoping that the man may have the audacity to make a move on you like this.

But you know Hongjoong well, and what he's into, and enticing him into this takes little to no effort at all.

Shifting to press the top of your thigh against his crotch, feeling the already blooming hardness beneath his pants, you're able to watch in real time as his expression turns slightly lust-fueled as he pulls the door open to the drivers side once again and seats himself on the side of the chair with his legs hanging out. pulling you along with and down towards his face, it's then that he finally kisses you — as if making enough of an effort to do the best he can to conceal these sorts of rendezvous between you — it's hard and needy, all teeth and little tongue as he devours you while you settle on your knees between his own and his hands turn downward to fumble with the belt and button of his jeans.

“You and your risky sex,” you tease, waiting for him to expose his dick for you, but Hongjoong huffs out a laugh in his haste, as if well aware of it himself.

“I'll fuck you against the car if you want.”

“What if my parents saw?” you answer with a quirked eyebrow as he finally frees his length from the confines of his jeans, hand quickly wrapping around him and delicately stroking him.

“Hope they tell Yunho.”

“You're so annoying,” and with a roll of your eyes, you press yourself forward to wrap warm, wet lips around the girth of his cock. Fingers immediately reaching up and tangling into your hair with the first dip of your head along him, you know that in scenarios like this — Hongjoong's favorite thing being having you in places and situations he has no business taking you — he'll get handsy, and he'll cum quick, and for this, both are ideal.

“God, fuck, you feel so good,” Hongjoong chimes with a groan, fingers tightening in your strands just a bit more along with the noticeable raise of his hips up and into your mouth as you bob along his cock in timed, rhythmic strokes — you think it can't be longer than a minute or two before he's whimpering expletives and praise from between his lips as you take him deep into your mouth to swallow his load down as he comes. Pulling back off of him and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, the man leans down and kisses you on the mouth — an open mouth kiss, not at all chaste or unwilling to taste himself or what you've just done on you.

“I want to see you Saturday after the race.”

You hate to ruin the mood with the information, but suppose honesty is the best policy even in scenarios where you're watching the man you're cheating on your boyfriend with tuck his softening dick back into his pants.

“Think...I have plans with Yunho that night.”

It's meek, partly because you hate saying the words to your ex, and also partly because with the way that Yunho is, who knows if that will even happen.

But Hongjoong takes it in stride as you pull away from him, standing to clear yourself out of the way so that he can pull his legs back into the car and get ready to see you off for the night.

“Well, think about it,” he begins the thought casually, and you think he may actually end it off that well if not for the sharp inhale that follows afterwards. “I'm sure you could think of an excuse, something like 'oh, I want to get fucked by my ex-boyfriend who has a sexier car and is also way better at driving than you are, you fucking loser.' would do the trick?”

Leaning down once again, you kiss Hongjoong on the mouth — quick, but bringing your hand up and to the side of his head as you do so, the touch lingers long after the kiss ends, the man leaning into it as if offering a newly unlocked form of adoration and intimacy not previously felt tonight.

“Get some sleep,” you mutter, finally pulling from him.

Hand through short blonde hair, he smiles back at you with a nod. “Anything for you, darling.”

And watching him drive off into the foggy night, all you can think is how could your parents be so wrong.

“Hey sweetness—“

Barely jarring you from your sleep, the words comfort your ears in some strange way, like warmth itself uttered despite not even being sure that you're actually awake, actually hearing them — the dipping on the other side of the bed, however, doing a much better job of making you aware of the fact that this is, in fact, real life and not a dream. Groggy and attempting to bring yourself to cohesion, you roll onto your other side beneath warm blankets — the light from the morning, or early afternoon, which ever it is you can't be too sure just yet, shining through barely pulled apart, black out blinds.

The first thing you notice being how unfamiliar the man smells to you.

Hair damp and gently sticking to his forehead — evidence of a shower taken prior to visiting you, it's something that you've sort of made peace with, gotten used to.

But you've been to Yunho's enough to know that this isn't what his shampoo smells like.

Of course it's not fair for your chest to twist the way it does at the realization, Yunho's hand coming up to delicately press strands of your hair away from your face with a smile before leaning towards you and planting a kiss to your exposed forehead.

“I brought breakfast.”

Your lips curling upwards, a reaction that you can't help in relation to the kindness that your boyfriend extends to you, you're reminded of all of the ways and reasons that you feel for him, and even now, stay with him.

You figure no one's perfect, after all. We all have our faults.

And some of them, you share.

“Mom let you in?” you whisper, voice laden with sleep heaviness as you stretch arms out above you. you already know the answer, because your mother adores him and is ecstatic every time the man makes the effort to show his face around.

“Of course,” he chimes with another toothy smile, proud of himself for the accomplishment in having won over your parents. “Brought them something, too.”

Sitting up in bed slowly, nothing but a loose tank top and panties clinging to your body, you finally glance out and towards your computer — screensaver touting a comforting time of the day for you to see; 9:22, and you're happy that you haven't overslept despite still being tired from being out so late the night before.

Line of thought serving as a reminder of the activities also having taken place.

“We don't have to rush down,” Yunho adds as his hand begins it's slow journey between the sheets and beyond that, between your legs. Long, thin fingers dipping underneath your panties and wasting no time finding their mark between your folds — you sigh into the touch, and you'd be lying if you had attempted to tell yourself you weren't craving some release after the activities of only a handful of hours prior.

Perhaps fucked up on a number of levels, willing to give Yunho the pleasure of getting you off as a result of Hongjoong's hard work earlier.

But that also kind of does it for you, as well.

It flashes across your mind briefly, knowing but not knowing Yunho's whereabouts while you were out and about with Hongjoong, so maybe it was what you deserved — someone's sloppy seconds — melting into the touch your boyfriend offers as he shifts over and between your legs, pulling the sheets from you and beginning the hasty work of his pants button. You reach up, hands gripping at his black t-shirt to pull him down and against you as he barely catches himself with a palm against the mattress before crushing you — both of you laughing against each other lips at the clumsiness of just wanting to feel the other in a rush with little time at your disposal — Yunho kisses you like there's no time at all before dipping down towards your neck and sucking into the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“Lemmie fuck you with your panties on,” he whispers, finally freeing his cock from his pants just enough to grant him the ability to take you.

“Please,” you whine, his fingers already pulling at the sides to give himself access before your answer even rings out from between your lips — the scent of where ever it was that he had been now overwhelming your senses, it feels so bizarre how your body physically reacts to it — the knowledge of him being in places or arms where he shouldn't dare be and now coming back to you — tip of his length already pushing into you with a heavy exhale from both and bottoming out fast despite his length and your lack of prep, it's something that you've never quite gotten used to even after all of these times together, and especially in the circumstances of a quickie.

But god did you want it bad right now.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” another admission from him straight against your ear — breaths hot and humid on your skin, your eyes clamp shut at the feeling of being so filled by him just as he makes his first withdraw and push back inside of you — a hard, rough, snap of his hips that has you reeling and moaning out for him already.

This was typically how you and Yunho worked out your problems.

A few minutes down, your hands wrapped into your boyfriends hair, you whimper against his neck to fuck you harder, and feeling the nearly sinister curl of his lips you know he's happy to oblige the request — two, three harsher fucks into you, Yunho quickly slips the hand not supporting his weight over you down and between your legs to rub into your clit harshly to get you to cum around him.

“Yeah baby, cum for me,” he whispers into your ear, words cut up and jerked out from the own movement of his body. “Cum with me baby, I'm close.”

“Fuck, Yunho—“

Whining out for him as your muscles clench around him, orgasm taking you with the help of his handy work and his words (and perhaps a bit of the memory of Hongjoong cumming down your throat a few hours prior), you cum hard — hands coming down to grip into his shoulders, Yunho pulls up to fuck you harder and faster as he chases his own just behind you — the evidence of your nails digging into his clothed skin evident across his features as a splash of pain flashes across — but it's only seconds later that he groans, burying himself almost painfully deep inside of your cunt as he paints your walls with his release — then two more lazy, shallow thrusts into you before gently lying himself atop your torso with a heavy, contented, sigh.

For whatever reason, it's times like this especially that you want to ask him where he was.

Why he has to go elsewhere — if it's you, him, or a culmination of the two that causes him to do the things he does.

When you hear your phone vibrate on your nightstand just as Yunho slips out of you and pushes himself back inside of his pants, you know it's Hongjoong.

“When are you going to break up with that guy, anyways?”

Not the ideal first thing to hear upon meeting up with your best friend, but not surprising, either, after the events of the night before.

Setting your bag down on an empty chair at the table, Chaerin watches you intently with her arms crossed in front of her chest, one eyebrow perked up as if somewhat judging even though you know she doesn't, not really.

Both of you in lazy t-shirts and jeans, a far cry from the bit of dress up each of you tend to play when it comes to car related events, you realize it's become rare that the two of you meet this casually — with how busy both of you are with your respective lives.

“Nice to see you, too,” you chime back sarcastically as you sit yourself down at the table. grabbing towards a menu, Chaerin pops her hand out to stop you from taking it.

“I already ordered, don't change the subject!”

“I hardly think ordering food at a restaurant is changing the subject...”

“You know he's cheating on you.”

Hearing the words sting, but not as much as they would if you weren't doing the exact same thing, you guess.

Clearing your throat uncomfortably and looking around in an attempt to find any prying eyes or ears that may be listening in on your conversation, you lean across the table towards your friend with a sigh. “I don't know that, Chaerin.”

Sitting back in her chair with a huff, the blonde rolls her eyes. “Give me a break, you're smarter than that, you know. You're fine with it?”

“I mean, I don't know.”

“Beyond that, he treats you like shit anyways, what the fuck was all of that last night? Just abandoning you at the meet?”

“I knew plenty of people there who could take me home,” you quietly offer as argument, much to Chaerin's dismay.

“Gotta be honest with you,” she starts, eyes pulling away from you momentarily as if unsure of the right way to go about the rest of the conversation. “I don't think he really cared all that much about whether you did or not. Let your ex take you home so he could go fuck some other—“

“Chaerin—“

“I'm just saying.”

Silence befalling the table just as wait staff arrive with the previously ordered food, you exhale heavily at the sight of everything sprawled out in front of you, and the suffocating knowledge of everything just discussed.

Hardly much for making an appetite.

“I need to tell you something,” you pipe up suddenly, and much to your friends surprise. you watch as her eyes slowly pull towards your own, waiting for the bomb you have to drop, and boy, is it a doozy, too.

“I've...I've actually been—“

“Oh, what the fuck, hey.”

Once again, piped up out of no where, and you're sort of beginning to curse living in such a small city where so few restaurants reign as the supreme places to go — you already know who awaits your eyesight before ever turning towards him, but it's the sight of him dressed in his Spiral gear that is what takes you by surprise more than anything.

That, and the fact that you were just about to tell Chaerin about your ongoing involvement.

“Now, why are you everywhere?” Chaerin greets with a smile before playfully nodding in your direction. “You stalking your ex?”

“She's got enough problems without the whole crazy ex-boyfriend thing, i'll spare her the trouble,” Hongjoong snorts just before sitting himself into another empty chair at your table.

It's awkward — because you feel as though everyone knows a secret but it can't be spoken. Perhaps that is the case, after all. Too many secrets.

“She was just about to tell me something and now you came and ruined it, thanks a lot,” your friend jokes just before scooping a fork full of meat into her mouth. Hongjoong turns to glance at you — as if knowing fully well what it was that you were about to disclose to the woman — and with a devilish grin and an elbow on the table to cradle his chin: “Oh really? Do tell.”

He definitely knows.

“It's...nothing. Girl talk.”

You make the decision to bring your hands into your lap, for fear of them visibly shaking should you bring them up to eye sight.

“I'm sure it is,” he replies with a tone that you can only describe as knowing. “Anyways, just picking up food for the guys down at the shop — Seonghwa's been working nonstop on the car for tomorrow so he can be ready to beat your shitty little boyfriend.”

Chaerin laughs, a woman with no particular horse in the race aside from hating that man, and with Hongjoong standing back up, you send him off with a hello for Seonghwa in particular.

A race planned for over a month now, and not one that you've been looking forward to, either. Yunho doing what he does — challenging drivers from opposing teams to races for their pink slips, and it's unsurprising that anyone from Spirals would ever turn down the opposition — if you get challenged by Emperors, you have to accept.

Not accepting is as good as losing, anyways.

You wonder why it is that neither Yunho nor Hongjoong have ever challenged one another — bringing it up one evening over a couple of beers with your partner, and Yunho's only answer being that he doesn't even want Hongjoong's 'shitty RX-7.'

The irony being, of course, that Hongjoong and Seonghwa drive the same make.

Phone vibrating from your pocket shortly after Hongjoong leaves, you pull it from your jeans to illuminate the screen and view the notification gracing the lockscreen.

>Aunty H: gonna tell your bestie you're still getting dick on the side? she'd probably be thrilled lmao

Looking up towards your friend across the table for a split second before unlocking your phone to reply — as if she somehow has the ability to know what it is that the man said to you from the back of your device, you feel as though every eye in the entire world rests on you in this moment. Perhaps not the best time for this conversation, after all.

>You: I don't like keeping the secret from her, idk. she hates Yunho for it when i'm doing the same thing.

Hongjoong begins typing back so quickly you believe him to simply be sitting in his car in the parking lot just outside to have this conversation in the moment.

>Aunty H: she hates Yunho because he's a piece of shit and on top of that he can't keep it in his pants either. not the same. speaking of, I want to see you tomorrow night after the race

>You: I told you I have plans with Yunho

>Aunty H: you fuck him since last night?

Rolling your eyes, you pause for a moment to think over your response. It's really none of his business, but given the circumstances — suppose everyone's sexual whereabouts be everyone else's business.

>You: don't do that

>Aunty H: i'll see you saturday

It doesn't feel good, the circumstances you've allowed yourself to fall into, but at the same time — the promise of what Saturday night may hold — after the sounds of tires screeching and adrenaline pumping through every vein subsides, what either man may have in store for you, depending on how the evening turns out.

And perhaps, it's time to get it the fuck together and make an actual decision, too.

More than anything, it's the familiar scent of exhaust, fuel, and burnt rubber that you've come to find comforting, a sense of home in the strangest sense.

Dozens of cars lined up on the outside of the road — a long, winding trail of only two lanes, one each way — that is tonight’s destination. a sheen of wetness on the ground from rain much earlier on in the evening, not ideal driving circumstances for most, but for the more experienced drivers — the ones that experience an even higher thrill from the danger, the unexpectedness of it — it's ideal. Hongjoong specifically, touted as a master of the pin hair corner drift, and especially out of Spirals, you know it to be precisely the sort of weather that he wishes to be racing in.

But tonight isn't his night, it's his best friend, Seonghwa's.

A tall, beautiful man with long, black hair and often clad in all black leather, black jeans, and his hair tied up into a half ponytail — he's far from the kind of person most would expect to find at a place like this — currently bent in half and over the engine of his matte black RX-7 making the finishing preparations for his race against your main squeeze.

With the leader of the crew standing just beside him, of which you are well acquainted.

And on nights like this, you belong to Emperors.

Race nights turn into strictly 'friendship aside' events, at least, once Yunho and Emperors started coming around. A group of street racers all intermingling and enjoying one another's company once before, now heavily segregated and pushed apart — the need to choose sides becoming apparent once Emperors began racing people for their cars, and subsequently, Spirals member and long time friend of Hongjoong's, Jongho, losing his to Mingi.

So now, as you with Yunho to your side pass by Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and the rest of Spirals with your own little band of Emperors tagging just behind, a few glances are all that are exchanged between the lot of you, with eyes between you and your ex lingering just a bit longer than some may even notice at a glance.

Yunho's hand slipping down from around your shoulders to your waist only to linger there for a moment before trailing down and to your ass — right in Hongjoong's line of vision, you snap your head up and towards your boyfriend to tell him off for far from the first time for such a grievance—

Only to find his attention far from you, and rather, on that of the man who only a few months prior called you his own, himself.

Following the tall man to his vehicle and settling yourself against the side of it as he settles himself inside of the drivers seat, you spare yourself the bother of looking him in the eye to reprimand him for the behavior, simply looking out and towards the scene before you of people laughing, enjoying themselves — people with nothing to lose tonight, only here to enjoy a show, and hopefully, everyone making it out in one piece.

“How many times do I have to tell you—“

“Yeah yeah, I know, why's it such a big deal to you? a lot of women would like having me show them off, ya know.”

“Yeah? a lot of women?” you say with a snide bite to your tone, finally turning to face him. “Guess you'd know, wouldn't you?”

Raising his eyebrows in surprise at the retort, Yunho pauses before curling his lips into a smirk. “Anything else, princess? I've got shit to do tonight, like take your little pals' friends' car.”

“Why do you have to be like that with him? With them?”

As much of a surprise as it is to Yunho — the sudden aggressiveness to you that you never having displayed towards him before for all of his transgressions — it's just as much a surprise to yourself. Knowing fully well that the outcome of enough of this could easily result in the dissolution of your relationship with the man.

And you wonder, if that's a price you're willing to pay. You also wonder, if this is effectively you slamming your hand down on the self-destruct button.

“I'm not being like anything,” he snaps back, ignition of his car roaring on and gently pushing you out of the way so that he can shut his car door. “Back where I'm from, anywhere where people actually race, people drive for pink slips all of the time. Those are the stakes. It's not my fucking problem that everyone here wants to play carebears and rainbows and no one actually wants to drive.”

“You're such an asshole, you know that? Why can't you just fit in? Assimilate? Why does everything have to be about your fucking ego all of the time?”

“Well babe,” he sighs, pressing his car into drive and effectively communicating to you that the conversation is over — something that you're well aware of already with calls for the drivers to come to the front lines. “You wanted to be with me, and you still are, so what does that say about you?”

Silence takes you, chewing on the inside of your lip — you do wonder.

“Get your attitude in check by the time the race is over,” he adds just before rolling off. “I have a much better use for your mouth in mind than all of this bullshit.”

With that, your boyfriend slowly rolls off and towards the starting line, glancing over and across the cement, you watch as Hongjoong pulls up from Seonghwa's drivers side window for his friend to carry on doing the same, and as if feeling your gaze upon him, turns to meet eyes with your own.

It's ill-advised to be seen mingling in a place like this, during a night like this, so instead, you're barred to stolen glances through midnight fog and cigarette smoke.

Stepping up with your jacket clutched inwards towards your chest, you stand alongside another Emperors driver, Yeosang — a shorter guy with a wicked birthmark adorning his face — as Seonghwa and Yunho meet up at the starting line in the dead of night, awaiting the referees announcements to begin preparation. First, it's a rundown of the rules for the race; very little of them, given that it is illegal street racing, but effectively boiling down to 'don't intentionally do things that put you or others at higher risk of injury or death,' then it's how the countdown to start will begin shortly. You meet eyes with Yunho — the car closest to you — a stare cold and disinterested and lacking any emotional care for you at all, so when he pulls his eyes away and back towards the wet road ahead of him, your eyes wander further out and towards Seonghwa, who also greets you.

A silent nod that the two of you share, as if agreeing on a preferable outcome for the evening.

The truth is that Jeong Yunho's reputation certainly be fitting of him: a good driver, skilled, and with a fast car, at that.

Seonghwa was good, great, even — but technically outmatched — and part of the evil that shrouded Emperors reputation, as well. A sort of 'pick on someone your own size' mentality certainly lost on them.

Yunho had never challenged Hongjoong, and for that, many thought there to be a reason.

With the buzzer sounding for the impending countdown, your hands gripping the steel of the barrier erected between the viewers and the street in front, you inhale sharply the scent of the dewy night sky, and all in all, can only hope for each of them to make it out in one piece.

Then, the familiar scent of a certain cigarette evading your senses.

Three, two, one, go.

Tires screeching, the two pull off lightning quick, and you're disappointed in the fact that from where you stand, you'll see very little of it until the end — people already beginning to move towards the finishing line to have the perfect view of the outcome, you feel the familiar presence of not one, but two people coming up on either side of you: Chaerin, and Hongjoong, naturally.

“You're late,” you nod to your friend, her nodding in response.

“Purposefully, I don't need to watch Emperors all circle jerk each other off pre-race, seen it enough times as it is.”

Hongjoong snorts at the comment from the other side of you before taking a drag of his already lit cigarette as it sits between freshly painted fingers.

“What do you think?” you ask him, tone lower and less playful than the one you had just had with Chaerin a moment ago. The man hums, looking up and into the night sky before stepping back again with intent to head towards the finish line as well.

“Yunho will probably win,” he states, matter of a fact. “But it's fine, we have cars. Paint job on his was expensive though so that'll probably hurt.”

“He has a lot of money in that car,” you sigh disappointingly, and Hongjoong nods. “Yeah, he does.”

“We should go,” Chaerin chimes with a nudge into your arm.

The thought of Yunho taking, and taking from the people and places that mean so much to you without giving much of anything back weighing heavier and heavier on your heart and soul with each passing day, you find.

Seonghwa figures that for a race like this, the fact that it's an uphill track works out in his favor — with the roads wet and gravity defying, top speeds peak relatively low, which means that despite Yunho having far more time and money into his car, what it will really come down to is skill, and knowledge — two things that the man with the ponytail feels he has leaps and bounds of over his opponent. a course he's done countless times, and Yunho, only a handful since moving here, it lends itself to being the course that people test, especially when it comes to the hairpin drift.

It's Hongjoong's favorite, too.

Hitting the shift and snapping his car forward with Yunho just behind, the two take the first turn — not an especially difficult one, but Seonghwa notices that already he feels the road give way a bit beneath his vehicle at the speed in which he's driving as he momentarily loses the back end of the car — it's not a loss, nothing that his opponent can gain on having immediately straightened out for a bit just past it — but Seonghwa takes note of the fact regardless, being well aware of the kinds of twists and turns that await them just a bit further up the road.

For Yunho, however, the turn is of little concern to him, happily trailing behind his opponent for the time being as he grins at the sight of the much lesser experienced driver just ahead of him lose it in the tail end of the corner. 'A good sign,' he thinks to himself, not that he was worried to begin with — considering this to be just another easy win for his team to collect under their belts.

The next corner proves to be much tighter, and much more difficult to navigate — for Seonghwa, at least. Slamming his shift to hit the drift at just the precise moment, heart leaping into his chest as he steals a second to stare back into his rear view mirror to check on how Yunho is handling it, it gives him little comfort watching the way that Yunho navigates the track with his vehicle, and with a lump in his throat, slams his shift once again for the next oncoming turn — a hard right following the previous hard left — and with it being a relatively short track with no long straightaways after the last hairpin corner for Yunho to gain on him with an objectively faster and more powerful car, if he can manage to avoid allowing his opponent the space to overtake in one of the turns, or worse, lose control of his car and give Yunho the race for free — that it should be an easy win for the man on Team Spirals.

Shifting gear, Seonghwa slams on the break just enough to hit his drift just right, this time not losing the back end at all — a comforting sign, glancing back at the EVO behind him and still trailing — a short straight drive before the last sharp left, and subsequently the end of the race — this being the make or break of the entire competition.

Shifting again to hit his drift — tires screeching and the smell of burning rubber carrying so heavy in the air that surely everyone waiting at the top of the mountain can feel the heaviness of the impending end, Seonghwa glances back again to look towards the tall man with the dark, red hair in his rearview mirror—

But this time, he finds no one there looking back at him.

Panic settling hard and fast into his chest, the man looks over to his side, Yunho now having crept up just next to him on the same drift — unaware of how it is that he's able to gain on a hairpin turn such as this one but without the ability to think much of it now — and sure, through numerous races between he and Hongjoong on this very same track, it's not unheard of, and has happened before.

But tonight, of all nights.

Yunho looking over at the panicking driver with a cool and collected demeanor as he slams his shift to carry a straighter drive just a second faster than Seonghwa — the man can't help but let out an exasperated 'fuck!' to no one as he follows suit but all too late in the grand scheme of things — seconds of drive feeling like a collection of years in the moment and the outcomes resulting the same, all it takes it one second — and in situations such as this one, it's the Emperors leader Jeong Yunho who effortlessly shows his skill, precision, and experience. all within one seconds time.

Coming out of the turn, the lights from the awaiting crowd in full view as Yunho rips forward and ahead of Seonghwa who only straightens out his own vehicle just after — and in less than ten seconds, the race is over as the both of them cross the finish line.

Trying to temper your frown at the result, and pulling away from Hongjoong before Yunho can catch you in his eyesight of being with the man, you notice the way he chews on the inside of his cheek contemplatively — disappointed, but not surprised.

As you make your way through the crowd and towards your boyfriend — stepping tall and proud from his vehicle with a smug grin on his face as if the entire world rest in his palm, it's a bubbling feeling of disgust, and maybe even resentment that starts to churn within you at the sight of him.

The cheers from other Emperors members and fans alike ringing through your ears, too loud, too obnoxious to stand listening to for too long, Yunho catches sight of you before you have a chance to duck out of the group of people, stepping forward and taking you by the hand to pull you towards him and into a kiss for the people to see.

When he finally releases you, you catch eyes with Hongjoong in the back of the standing people — cigarette dangling between pretty lips and eyes rolling as he turns back to console the loser of the race.

“Problem, Chief.”

The words come from Mingi — driver, racer, mechanic and closest friend of Yunho's, so you know it's not good when the both of you quickly turn your attention to the man with his attention hard pressed into the windshield of your boyfriends car.

“Man, come on, what now!” Yunho whines as he steps around and next to his friend to view whatever it is that is the issue.

Pointing a finger towards a large crack in the glass — spanning from the bottom right corner all of the way up to nearly the center, Mingi doesn't even really have to say it before the red head starts groaning with his head tossed back. “Give me a fuckin' break.”

“You didn't notice?” Mingi asks with a bit of a chuckle, as if completely unsure how that could be, but Yunho shrugs. “I heard something hit it but I just thought it was a small rock, I didn't think it would be all of this.”

“You can't drive it like this, we'll have to bring it back to the shop tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I know,” your boyfriend groans again, the largest inconvenience in the world now being presented just before him. “Good thing I just gained a new car, I guess.”

It sends chills down your spine, only now being reminded of exactly what it was that was on the line for this race.

With a sinister tone and a single corner of his mouth upturning, Mingi chuckles. “Better go collect, then.”

Slinging an arm up and around your shoulders a bit more roughly than you would have liked, Yunho leans down just a bit to plant a kiss on the top of your head as he pulls you forward and towards the group of Spirals only a few feet away.

“Just another pretty little thing I get to take from these bums.”

The words twisting your stomach into knots all over again, there had always been a sneaking suspicion deep within your soul that somewhere in there, at the end of the day, there was no respect for you, no love for you, nothing genuine at all.

Just another possession that Yunho wished to acquire, as he had been his entire time there.

Shouting out and towards the grouping of guys, Seonghwa leaning with his back against his car and quite evidently to you trying to play his loss cool — you've known him long enough to know how much he loves that car, and how badly it stings for him to lose it.

You hate to see it, and more than that, you hate to see it be lost to Emperors.

“You cracked my windshield, fuckboy,” Yunho shouts — the tone is playful, but it's more fuel to the fire you can tell from the way Hongjoong's jaw tightens as he clenches it in an attempt to be a good sport about the whole ordeal. “Time to pay up, I need to get me and the girl home, after all.”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa sighs, turning to lean into his car and popping the dashboard compartment to retrieve the title, it's then that the sound of Hongjoong stepping up from the side can be heard.

“What can I do to keep Seonghwa's car?”

At first a sweeping moment of silence, before a crashing sound and what you can only imagine to be Seonghwa slamming his head against his dash in shock at the proclamation by his friend as the man hisses and is found to be rubbing the back of it upon pulling himself out of the side of the vehicle — but with short silver hair and similarly short in stature — especially compared to your boyfriend, Hongjoong stands firm in front of the man, arms crossed in front of his chest as he awaits a response.

Yunho looking at him with one quirked eyebrow before glancing down towards you with a lopsided grin, he looks back up at Hongjoong through eyelashes before delivering his short-thought response.

“Kind of bad form to beg me not to take my spoils, don't you think?” he asks smugly. “Kind of pathetic, ya know?”

“You don't need it, you guys only drive EVO's anyways, who cares.”

“Hardly the point,” he says, matching Hongjoong's stance as he pulls from you and crosses his arms to stand straight — and even taller — in front of your ex. “We had an agreement, and I won fair and square, the car is mine.”

“What, so you can rip it for parts?” Hongjoong asks.

“No, so I can trash it where it belongs.”

Snorting at the pissy response, the shorter of the two glances away for a second, chewing on the inside of his cheek again before turning back to carry on the conversation, but it's Seonghwa who interjects before he's able to.

“Hongjoong, it's fine, he won.”

“Actually, it's not,” he says, this time more pointed than his previous tone. “I don't think it is fine, actually, so what can I do to keep my mans car?”

Watching the three go back and forth causing anxiety to bubble up in your gut, unsure of the lengths in which any of the men are willing to go to in order to get their points across, you give it some thought yourself — if there's anything that you can do to settle this situation between all of them yourself. the person with the most dealings with all parties involved, now standing by on the sidelines as the two teams attempt to hash it out — and not well, at that, your mind races in an attempt to come to an answer, but before you're able, you feel the discomforting gaze of your partner raining down on you from just above, all before any words even leave his mouth.

“Well babe, what do you think? Should we let the poor guy keep his ratty ol' car?”

You know a set up when you see it — or in this case, when you hear it.

Glancing towards Hongjoong, his eyes pull away almost immediately, you figure as to not attempt to pressure you into making a decision one way or another — and not knowing how much weight your decision holds, that earlier anxiety continues creeping up through your chest, and into your throat.

You know that one thing is for sure: doing the right thing most certainly will come with consequences.

“Well?”

Inhaling slowly, deeply, you make your decision.

“Let Seonghwa keep the car.”

You try not to engage in eye contact with your boyfriend, knowing full well that his gaze remain laser focused on you especially now, but the curiosity getting the best of you as you glance upwards to meet angry, disappointed eyes — the strangest result of an expression of compassion awaiting you — Yunho hums just barely audibly before forcing a grin and looking back up and towards the Spirals members.

“Lady says fuckboy keeps his car, so fuckboy keeps his car.”

One part relieved at the outcome, one part surprised by your word carrying any weight with the man, and the last concerned about the result of this in regards to your relationship with Yunho, slinging an arm up and around your shoulder again, he hurries you off and away from the men.

But regardless of what happens now, you know that you've done the right thing — and maybe for once you'll be able to sleep well tonight.

“We're gonna go to the bar, wanna come?”

Yeosang's voice ringing out as the two of you step forward, Yunho abruptly pulls his arm from you as he carries forward and towards the friends glossy white EVO — and waving a hand up in the air, he bids you farewell in a turn of events that you find not all that surprising anymore.

“Get a ride home with your pals,” he rings out, tone venomous and contemptuous. “In the ratty old RX-7, all used up and past its prime—“ he scoffs as he opens the passenger side door.

“—Kinda reminds me of someone else I know.” He says, finishing the thought before sliding inside of the car and slamming the door shut.

The words don't hurt — not from him. It's an anticipated outcome from a calculated risk that you decided to take.

But they show the mans true colors all the same.

As you watch your boyfriend and his friends drive off to enjoy the rest of their victory evening without you — shooting you knowing glances all the while — you contemplate sending the text message then and there, the one ending your relationship with him once and for all. A break up via text, perhaps precisely what he deserves for his thoughtlessness towards you, anyways, but still extending yourself much further for him than perhaps the man would ever do for you.

Save it for another day, and try to enjoy the rest of your evening.

Sauntering back over towards Spirals, Chaerin now joining the fray, she looks up at you from beneath Seonghwa's popped hood — having been checking out his engine as you dealt with the disaster on the other side of the asphalt.

But as she flashes you with a wide smile, it's all the more indication that what you had done was right.

“You're in big trouble, aren't you?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

Sighing, you shrug. “Looks like I need another ride home tonight.”

Hongjoong popping up from the drivers side of Seonghwa's car, where the tallest man is sat and about ready to head off for the night and overhearing the conversation, he sends you a knowing look from across matte black paint that may now still remain in the company of his teammate, and all thanks to you.

With Chaerin and Seonghwa being the last two to drive off, and leaving only you and your ex-boyfriend at the top of the hill, you place your bag into the passenger side seat of Hongjoong's car before shutting the door and leaning against it with your chest — arms crossed along the top as you wait for the man on the other side to finish doing the same and come up to meet your eyes.

“Surprised you did it,” he says as he does, pulling at the collar of his leather jacket to loosen it just a bit. “Guess I don't have to ask if he's pissed since you're here.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, long since accepting of the outcome of the situation and having made peace with it. “He'll get over it.”

“Why's his car still here, anyway?”

“Crack in the windshield,” you reply with a shrug. “Karma, maybe.”

“Oh, definitely,” he chimes back with a snort. “Lemmie see this thing.”

The two of you walking back over towards Yunho's car, long since abandoned and awaiting it's rescue in the early morning hours (or not so early, depending on how the night out goes), you recall this being the exact spot where you and Hongjoong shared your first kiss — first romantic kiss — past the veil of a friends with benefits arrangement, more raw and exposed and knowing between you both; a much chillier night than this and much windier when he finally pulled you in for it with no other intentions beyond it, and the words that you had secretly been wanting to hear for weeks before then.

'I think we should just see each other, only, what do you think?'

“Oh man, that's a fuckin' doozy!”

High pitched laughter ringing through the night air and straight through the memory, effectively bringing you back to the present, your attention pulls back to Hongjoong, leaned over the side hood of Yunho's EVO to laugh at your boyfriends misfortune. “No wonder he was so hard up for Seonghwa's car, fuckin' scumbag.”

Meeting him at his side to take a look at the damage again, you smile at Hongjoong's joy in it, knowing it's well deserved, and most earned.

“Looks like I got you to myself tonight, after all.”

It's sort of a sudden change, the way his body shifts to pull away from the vehicle only enough to plant you further against it, and underneath him — arms on either side of you, caging you in with little option for escape from the man.

Not that you really wanted to, anyway.

Hongjoong leans in towards your face, lips grazing the skin of your cheek on their way towards your ear — the contact sending a shiver down your spine — some bizarre taboo of being held like this by him against such a prized possession of your boyfriends — but suppose that makes two of them, now well within Hongjoong's grasp currently.

“Have the keys?”

For a second you wonder what he's referring to, before it dawns on you that he's referring to the car, and with a shake of your head to protest. “No, only Mingi has another set.”

“Damn,” he whispers against the shell of your ear as a hand dips down and makes its way between your legs to palm at you. “That's okay, we can make due.”

Devilish in tone, you melt into the touch as he begins pulling at the buttoning of your jeans, face turning upwards and pulling your mouth into his — his tongue tasting of cigarette and coffee in anticipation of a long night ahead, you happily lean into it as your arms sling up and around his neck to pull him harder against you.

Shimmying your pants down your legs, he pulls away from your mouth only long enough to slink down to free one of your feet from the restrictive clothing, hiking your leg up and around his hip as he comes back up to meet your mouth for the second round of devouring you — cool metal greeting your behind as he presses you harder against the vehicle, you moan into his mouth as a finger presses into you slowly, one hand from around his neck falling back and against the car to steady yourself better for what it is that's soon to take place.

A second finger in, slowly prying you open for his cock, Hongjoong's mouth pulls away to trail down your neck, latching onto the skin just below your chin to suck a mark into it.

Just another doing of his that you'll have to cover up, like all of the ones before it. Perhaps if you were smarter, you'd tell him to avoid doing such things.

But frankly, that's not something you want, either.

“Wanna fuck you,” he groans into your skin, a whimper escaping you in response to the admission. Fingers pulling from you to work into his own jeans, you allow your head to fall back to take in the moment — the beautiful night sky, the light breeze, and the lingering scents of the nights earlier goings on. only a few seconds granted to you before you feel the familiar prodding of the tip of him pushing inside of you through the sound of his belt buckle jingling through the air.

“Kiss me,” you whisper out, Hongjoong wasting no time obliging the request as he brings his mouth up from your neck and to your lips, one hand gripping tightly into your thigh to keep it hoisted up his hip as he fucks you against the vehicle.

The angle certainly doing you favors, presenting the perfect ability for Hongjoong's cock to graze the perfect spot with every drive into you, free hand not used to keep yourself somewhat upright now buried into short, blonde hair — the man fucks you hard, but not particularly fast, every thrust seemingly deliberate in his desire to bring you to orgasm as quickly as possible.

Legs quaking around him as you cry out his name, clenching down around him as he fucks you through your orgasm, Hongjoong pauses kissing you long enough to pull from your lips enough to watch you intently as you cum around his dick — forehead pressed to your own as you moan and whimper through your release.

“Fuck me from behind.”

The demand spilling from your lips before you have a chance to think much of it, still reeling from your orgasm, no time lost in taking heed of it — pulling himself from you and turning you around to bend you over the cold metal of your boyfriends car before burying his cock inside of you again and settling into a much harder, quicker pace than before.

You feel him reach down for something briefly, without much thought to it, until you hear the sound of a lighter flickering, and the scent of freshly lit cigarette from behind you.

It's a little charming, in a hilariously degenerate way, you think.

“Rubbed off on you a little bit, huh?” he huffs out between thrusts, one hand settled on the small of your back while the other wraps around the dip in your waist. “Now who likes getting fucked in places they have no business getting fucked in?”

“Joong— feel so good, fuck—“ and it's hardly a response to the questions, although it sort of is with how exquisite the drag of his cock feels against your walls.

“Yeah, baby? Want me to make you cum again? Like me fucking you on your mans car?”

“Yes,” you manage to huff out, the air nearly fucked out of you with every hard push of himself against you.

Feeling the brief loss of one of his hands — presumably to finish off his cigarette and toss it to the side — he brings it back to gently snake up the length of your back, settling at the back of your neck and gripping fingers into the sides to continue his rhythm.

“Rub yourself for me,” Hongjoong whispers, voice faltering every so slightly at the creeping promise of his own release, and you waste no time bringing your dominant hand down and between your legs — first feeling for the way his cock stretches your pussy open with every push inside of you, enough in and of itself to get you that much closer to where you want to get to before circling fingers against your clit to bring yourself over the edge around him — groaning immediately at the feeling of you tightening around him with the additional stimulation, he fucks you that much harder.

Biting hard into your lip in an attempt to stifle your cries, Hongjoong notices, and much to his disapproval.

“No one can hear you, you can scream for me,” he groans, clearly and quickly reaching his own orgasmic inevitability. “Lemmie hear you, tell me how good it feels.”

The instruction does enough of the work, his desire to hear you cry out for him and how good he makes you feel as you cum hard — at the same time, Hongjoong's hips stuttering with a breathy moan of your name as he shoves his cock as deep into you as he can to cum — the throb of his release prolonging your own as you sound nearly pained by the feeling of a long, drawn out, second orgasm of the night.

An airy 'fuck' dropping from him as he attempts to steady himself, catch his breath after his release, Hongjoong only bends forward to lean himself against your back — gentle kisses peppered across your shoulder and back before he settles the side of his head down against you for a moment of reprieve.

As a gust of fresh, night air flushes by and across hot skin, when the words ring out through bitten, red, lips, you think for a split second that you're not sure which one of you they truly come from — long since having been hanging in the forefront of your mind, as it was.

'I miss you. Us.'

Over the next following weeks, you can't help but notice the acute way in which messages back from Hongjoong dissipate. You figure, at least to some degree, that the relationship between Spirals and Emperors having reached such a boiling point after the last race, that perhaps it's expected — that even in spite of your good deed in martyring yourself for Seonghwa's car, the fact that it ever even reached that point be reason enough to want to distance himself from you.

That's what you tell yourself, at least, ignoring the elephant in the room.

And as the days pass, you find your relationship with Yunho having also deteriorated in such a way that maybe you hadn't anticipated. Yes, you expected him to be mad about the dealing with Seonghwa, and yes, that had been something that you had factored in prior to making the decision — in thinking that with a few days to cool off, things might just go back to normal.

Not that normal was ever even that great, either.

So two weeks later, on a rainy Thursday night just two hours before the scheduled meet up — no races and no thrills given the weather — when Yunho texts you that he's coming over to talk, you're unsure of what to expect. Perhaps the dissolution of your relationship, the thought causing an expected twisting to the contents of your stomach.

Why, you're not sure. Would breaking up even really be that bad?

But suppose the ending of a relationship where there once had been love will always be hard.

Watching Yunho drag himself through the doorway of your bedroom, jacket almost certainly left at the front door of your home and bag slumping down to the floor with a thud, you watch as he avoids eye contact with you for the first few seconds of his arrival — fingers pushing through damp, rained upon hair to remove what's stuck to the skin of his forehead, he sighs heavily as he finally makes eye contact with you — but doesn't press himself further inside of the bedroom, either.

Awkwardness so tangible, it's the first time that you think you've ever seen him in such a bizarre state — not so astoundingly full of ego and grandeur but rather, somewhat impish as a result of whatever it is that he came here tonight to say.

“We should talk.”

Voice deep but almost cracking through the abruptness of the words, it takes you quite a bit back as once again his eyes dart from you — knots tightening in your abdomen at the sight of your boyfriend just before you.

You can't find it in you to respond to him, waiting for the pin to drop, instead.

“You can't spend time with Spirals anymore.”

Wait, what?

You don't say it, not verbally at least, and you suppose you twist of your features in near disgust says everything that it needs to as Yunho rolls his eyes at the quiet display of you before him.

“Don't really want you hanging out with that bitch Chaerin, either, but i'm willing to compromise.”

“'Willing'?” you mirror back, shock laden in your tone. “You're telling me who I can and can't hang out with, now? I've known them all way longer than i've known you.”

“Yeah and I don't think that's doing you any favors,” he bites back, finally stepping towards you in a much stronger stride than the way he had entered. “The thing with Seonghwa was humiliating, you're my girlfriend, why the fuck are you going to bat for him? He lost.”

Scoffing, you reel at the fact that the argument is taking place at all with how asinine it is to you.

“This is stupid, you can't tell me who I can spend time with.”

“I can and I will.”

Standing up from the edge of your bed and pushing past him, you swiftly grab your phone and keys from your nightstand on the way out before turning back to him for the final blow.

You pause, having to think twice before delivering it.

“You feel big, Yunho?” You start, contempt heavy in your voice towards him with eyes equally narrow and cutting. “You feel brave only racing people who aren't on your level? Is that why—“

Pausing again, you watch the mans eyes widen at the beginning of the implication, stepping towards you again. “Say it! Say what you were going to say!”

“—that why you never challenged Hongjoong?”

You turn again to leave, but not before long fingers wrap around your arm to stop you. Not especially aggressive or violent but enough to have your heart beating through your chest at the implications — a man putting his hands on you during a heated argument — You still anyways, just in case.

You don't think Yunho would hit you, but frankly, you're not entirely sure, either.

The two of you locking eyes, rage and disdain painting each one of your faces as you stare each other down, Yunho lets go of you almost just as quickly as he had grasped a hold.

And probably regretting it just as much, too.

“See yourself out,” you say just before turning to leave again, and when Yunho asks you where you're going, the only details you grace him with are “out.”

“He put his fucking hands on you?”

The voice rings out from Chaerin — shrill and shrieky through the echoing walls of the mechanic shop, previously rolled up beneath her forest green RX-8 — but quickly wheeling herself out from under it at the sound of the words leaving your mouth.

Hongjoong only a few more feet away; leaned back in a tattered rolling chair that's certainly seen better days and boots kicked up onto a desk that's now used for very little besides holding water bottles and the occasional wrench — as he attempts to dig out oil from underneath a fingernail with a switchblade he adds commentary of his own. “The guy's a piece of shit, got half a mind to slash his fucking tires right in front of his face tonight.”

“Don't bother,” you sigh. “He didn't hurt me, he wasn't violent, but yeah—“

“A man putting his hands on you in any way during an argument is violent,” Chaerin states clearly as she walks towards you to pull you into a hug. “I'm sorry, my love.”

“I'm okay, seriously.”

“You've got to leave him,” the blonde woman adds after your affirmation of being alright with the circumstances. “I mean, this can't keep going on. It was already bad but things are just getting worse, and worse at this point. The cheating, the controlling behavior, now getting physical with you...”

You can't help but glance to your far right towards Hongjoong in an attempt to assess the way that he's intaking the information, but the man appears to be outwardly unbothered — still picking apart the underside of his fingernail with little more to say on the situation.

“We can find you a nice guy,” your best friend says with a smile and a certain cheekiness to her.

“Like Hongjoong.”

First it's a crashing sound, followed by a pointed 'fuck' and turning to follow where the sounds had come from, the sight before you being your ex planted back to the floor, wheels of his chair having given out from beneath him — and a nasty gash in the tip of his finger from the knife once toyed with.

“Are you okay?” you ask, relatively unbothered by the sight before you as Chaerin jogs off to retrieve the first aid kid.

“What's wrong with your friend?”

“How much time do you have?” you chuckle, implication of 'a lot' heavy in the answer. A playful huff from the man following as the blonde woman arrives back with a large enough bandage for the wound and something to disinfect it.

“Someone's jittery.” She says with a knowing grin, which Hongjoong pointedly avoids looking at.

“I drink a lot of coffee.”

“Why did you guys break up, anyway?”

As silence befalls the mechanic shop, you slowly glance towards the woman next to you, flashing a look that says a thousand words in and of itself, but most importantly being: what are you doing right now?

Chaerin mouths “what?” back to you, as if Hongjoong isn't lying just in front of the both of you and fully capable of seeing the display before him, he finally rolls his eyes with a huff — more than exhausted of the situation already.

“Her parents hated me, okay?” he begins, wincing as the tight bandage wraps around his open wound. “Guess I look a little too much like a guy who does illegal street racing for fun and has a DUI.”

Silence again, and you think for a moment that perhaps Hongjoong's admission a bit too raw and unfiltered for what Chaerin had anticipated — a teasing that had begun rather lighthearted, now seemingly serving as a tool for the mans emotional release. It's not much, but for someone who doesn't talk about his feelings all that much, you know how much it really is, and from the way the words sound on the edge of broken by the end of the sentence, most definitely coming from a place of genuine hurt.

“Well,” she begins, and you figure that she's doing it out of a feeling of obligation — the need to respond to something so open and honest, to not leave him hanging. “Parents can be wrong—“

Her eyes now switching to flash to you as she says it.

“—but anyways, it's a good thing there's no races tonight because that's probably gonna hurt like a bitch for a couple of days. I'd recommend staying off of it and not—“

“We never stopped sleeping together.”

It's Hongjoong that you look at first — the man sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth and eyes widening at the words as he slowly turns to look at you with a face that asks 'right, what's all this, then?' and after, it's Chaerin that you glance towards — hers not all that different from Hongjoong's, although you think that if you look hard enough, you can see a sense of having already suspected as much through her features.

If she had thought as much, she keeps it to herself, opting instead to clear her throat and yank Hongjoong back up to his feet with her as the three of you stand up from the concrete floor.

“Never stopped as in...?” She inquires, curious of the exact timeline in relation to Yunho.

“Think we stopped seeing each other for like—“ you pause to think as you glance towards your ex next to you, still relatively shell-shocked by the whole ordeal. You shrug and sigh simultaneously. “A week, after we broke up?”

“So, you've always...since Yunho...”

Lips pulled into a thin line as you're forced to admit such, you nod gently — far from proud of your misdoings, but acknowledging them all the same.

“Wow,” your friend chimes out, eyes wide still with the gathering of new information. Hands pressed to her hips as another layer of quiet wafts over the three of you — Hongjoong not dare speaking out of turn in events such as this — neither of you have to, not with Chaerin around.

“Thank god! It's what he fucking deserves. Fuck that guy.”

Laughing nervously, you understand where she's coming from, of course: as your best friend, and a friend of Hongjoong's much more so now than earlier, to know that Yunho has been repeatedly done wrong in such a way feels a bit like a breath of fresh air — an understanding that through everything that he's put everyone else through, there is still some semblance of justice — somewhere, somehow.

You don't necessarily agree with the feeling, guilt and disgusting swirling around deep in your chest every time you're forced to acknowledge the fact, but perhaps it's admitting to it out loud that will give you the strength to do something with it.

And everything else aside, you've wondered how much of Hongjoong's truth laid bare for you that night on top of the mountain with his confession to you.

The least that you can ask of Yunho — and everyone else involved, for that matter, is for one night where nothing goes wrong.

You're thankful that even in never verbally requesting of it, it seems as though the stars aligned themselves all the same — everyone on their best behavior, and a casual car meet night starting and ending without an argument, or otherwise nasty words exchanged.

The looks are unavoidable — Spirals, Chaerin and the like in Yunho's direction — something he most definitely picks up on yet chooses not to comment. Surprising, for him. A man that always has something to say, including and almost especially in circumstances where it's him that's in the wrong.

But tonight? Nothing.

You heed your boyfriends request: not really with intention of actually doing so, that is, allowing him to control who it is that you can and cannot have contact with, but rather to keep the evening smooth and mellow.

It was a conversation that would see reopening.

“Hey,” you whisper, hand reaching over the center console of his vehicle to wrap delicate fingers around his forearm. “We should talk.”

Putting the car into drive and waving off his friends just before pulling off, you study his face as he remains silent from just next to you — jaw tight and lips pressed thin as he stares ahead — it's as if he's driving, sitting entirely still in the emptying parking garage used as tonight’s meeting place.

Sighing, Yunho closes his eyes for a moment as if to collect himself. You brace for impact.

“I'm sorry.”

And you figure that surprising would be an understatement, eyebrows pushing together as you take in the words just as they left his mouth. Foot pressing to the pedal now as the car slowly drives the both of you off, the man sighs again. “I shouldn't put my hands on you. Not ever. I'm sorry.”

You sort of knew that it was well beyond the scope of what even he finds to be acceptable-assholery, not that it excuses the behavior, but an apology for the goings on feels the least surprising of all of the other potential things the man could have been issuing it for.

Controlling behavior is okay, but he draws the line at getting physical. Guess it's something.

Not enough, though.

“Yeah,” you quietly reply back, not wanting to absolve him of it, nor do you really wish to accept his apology for it. Forgiveness for some things feeling well beyond your scope — suppose it would file under unforgivable. Something that Yunho would have to make peace with on his own time.

“That why you were on your best behavior tonight?” You ask, tone playful but sort of meaning it, also.

Your boyfriend chuckles at the words as the car slows to a halt for a red light just ahead.

“Yeah, kind of,” he says quickly, not needing time to mull it over at all. “I feel bad, it's fucked up—“

Pausing, Yunho leans forward to look out and through his windshield towards something a bit up ahead before sitting back again and glancing to his side at you. “—Mind if I kidnap you for a bit?” he asks with a gentle smile.

Suppose Jeong Yunho serves as your own blind spot.

Car parked in a nearby, open, parking lot — only a handful of street lights illuminating the area, but enough so that it doesn't feel secluded — the man next to you sits back against his custom seat more comfortably, head resting back as well just before turning to face you and stretching his arm out now against the center of the vehicle towards you in and effort to request for your hand in his.

You oblige.

Inhaling heavily — you await the words that seem to linger just on his tongue, the vision of a man still thinking through every thought before allowing them to exit through his mouth — you wonder, if perhaps it's the first time of him having done so. Yunho, so quick with words and thoughtless actions and selfishness, now contemplating everything in a whole new way, a way that you think, perhaps, you've never seen from him before.

“You know I just want what's best for you, right?”

Yuck.

Words carrying into your ears and twisting deep inside your stomach as if doused with poison themselves, it's not at all what you had been hoping to hear: it's an explanation for him being the way he is — it's an implication that you should need him to help you make decisions, to act right, to be good for him, because certainly you're incapable of doing it yourself.

For whatever reason, the memories of when the two of you first started dating come flooding back to you. Holding hands while shopping and movie nights late at your place with your parents home (previously uncharted waters, but your mother liked him so much she allowed it for him), a hand on your thigh when he took you out for a ride in his car, but nothing too dangerous — the assumption that he wouldn't be able to live with himself should anything happen to you while with him.

When perhaps he was the danger itself all along.

But it makes it hard nonetheless. It's never easy when there is love there, memories there — a history. You cared for Yunho, in all of the ways that a girlfriend does, no matter how wronged or slighted or for how long — it's difficult sometimes, to do what's best for oneself when knowing it to be the severance of so many others.

“We should break up.”

But you have to, anyways. Above all else.

You choose to stare forward out of the windshield in front of you — a vivid recollection of the way Hongjoong had you not so long ago just there springing up and into the forefront of your mind as if some cruel reminder that you not be the saint you wish to paint yourself as — that you're not a victim in all of this, not completely.

With dark red hair in your peripheral vision, you see the man dip his head down.

Then delicately pull his hand from your own.

But Yunho opts out of a verbal response, instead using his newly freed hand to start the ignition of his car once again and toss it into reverse. Panic sets in, although, you're not entirely sure why.

“Yunho—“

“I heard you.”

A response curt and lacking any emotion beyond anger, you find it in yourself to finally look towards him fully — jaw clenched hard as you're so used to seeing on him, and eyes narrow with indignation.

Stilling the car again and jamming the shift into drive much rougher than he had been before, he begins pulling off and back onto the road — it's towards your home, that much you are thankful — but you don't imagine the ride there will remain this quiet, either.

“Why?” he asks suddenly, now driving a tad bit faster than before. It's nothing especially dangerous, but you note it all the same. Yunho doesn't give you time to answer, though, before adding onto the inquiry with another thought of his own. “Because I grabbed your arm?”

He sounds stressed, voice pitchier than usual given his typically smoother, deep tone — perhaps panicked at being faced with the dissolution of the relationship.

And just as you're about to answer him, he continues on again.

“Because of him?”

You know who he means without the dropping of the name.

“You can't tell me who I can and can't hang out with, Yunho—“

“You're choosing him over me? Over us? You already broke up with that fucking loser once, how many times do you have to do it before it sticks?”

“It's not about Hongjoong.”

Sort of a lie.

“Then it shouldn't matter that I don't want you hanging out with your stupid ass ex. You miss a guy with a fuckin' DUI? Are you stupid?”

Yunho's tone raising louder and louder, anger bubbling quickly in the confined space of the vehicle, you want nothing more than to be free from the clutches of being there with him.

Sure, you had anticipated the break up to not go over well, but perhaps it was heading into territory you weren't quite ready for.

It's then that the fuel light pops on on Yunho's dashboard — slamming his palm against the steering wheel in frustration at all of these circumstances culminating annoyingly at once, he cusses to himself under his breath before looking just up ahead and on the right for a gas station open.

But what really causes your heart to do a nose dive into your stomach, is the visual of Hongjoong's car pulled up to gas pump three.

“Well, would you look at that,” Yunho sing-songs sarcastically as he pulls in, a man with silver hair just exiting the shop with a bottle of water and keys in hand before briefly looking up just enough to notice the scene before him. “Perfect timing.”

And now you know that tonight is going to be a problem.

Pulling up to gas pump two, Hongjoong slows just to the side of his car before hopping into the drivers seat — as if having some sort of sixth sense of there being a problem — carefully eyeing the EVO as it stills to a halt on the other side of the median separating you.

When Yunho slams the shift into park, the only word exiting his mouth is “out.”

For once, you're thrilled to be taking his direction.

Hopping out of the car with quickness, you shoot Hongjoong a look that says 'there's a problem' that you know has him watching the situation even more intently as he eyes the taller of the two getting out of his vehicle. A loud slamming of his car door — much louder and rougher than he would ever handle his car under normal circumstances — you watch as your ex grits his teeth as Yunho steps towards the two of you and meets Hongjoong face to face with a grin.

Nodding his head towards you, Yunho speaks first. “Ya know this one just broke up with me.”

Hongjoong snorts through his nose at the words, never faltering in his eye contact with the man in front of him. “'Bout time.”

Brave, you think. If Yunho put hands on you then you know he's not above putting Hongjoong on his ass, either.

A slow blink concealing the roll of his eyes as he nods at the words, Yunho keeps his crooked grin plastered across his face. “Big talk for a guy going nowhere, with nothing — you think you're big 'cause you got the girl? Over my dead body.”

You don't know entirely what he means by that. Intention to pursue you in spite of it all? An unwillingness to let the relationship go? A cold chill firing through your blood at the implications of what it means, you warm slightly at the sound of the silver haired man just next to you laughing at the words as he digs into his pockets for his pack of cigarettes — unable to light it due to their current whereabouts.

Hongjoong's eyebrow quirking up at the words as he takes them in — it's a look that almost explicitly explains all of the ways in which he does not take the tallest of the two seriously, in any way. You find it almost comforting, that perhaps he knows something you don't, and thus, you have little to worry about — but with a man known for acting on impulse and making rather poor decisions, who can really tell.

“What're you gonna do?” he questions, cigarette lazily dangling between his lips. “Make her be in a relationship with you, stupid?”

Jaw tense, Yunho steps towards Hongjoong slowly — the movement spiking your anxiety, but cool as a cucumber, the man remains in place with his behind gently pressed against his car and arms folded across his chest.

“If I want something, then it's mine,” he whispers — tone oozing of smugness and superiority.

For the first time ever, you think that Yunho is letting the charade go in full — no more plausible deniability about him being ultimately good or right underneath it all. The real him. This is who he is.

Waving his hand in the warm, late night air, as if evidencing their surroundings to prove his point despite no one else being around. “Maybe you've noticed, with my little collection of your friends' useless tin cans.”

Knowing Spirals and Yunho's propensity to take from them, you know it's a sore spot for Hongjoong, so watching the way in which the leader only drops his chin down to his chest with a grin before cocking his head to the side and glancing back up at the tallest of the three of you — you're unsure of what to expect.

But Hongjoong being so cool about it is probably a bad sign, based on what you know.

“Funny,” he says finally, inhaling sharply before pulling his arms apart again to rifle through his keys for the one leading to his car.

“'Cause if that were true I wouldn't have been laying into her the whole time y'all were together.”

The result comes on quicker than you expect — a fast and strong right hook to Hongjoong's jaw sending him almost barreling across the side of his own vehicle at the contact — Yunho breathing heavily as he rubs at his sore and potentially broken set of knuckles. the man glancing at you and for a second, you worry if you may also meet the same consequence as your mouthy ex, but without a word, and red hair swaying in the wind, Yunho only turns to head back towards his car.

No longer in his sights, you rush over to Hongjoong, delicately touching the place of impact and checking for mobility as he opens and closes his mouth with a wince. “God, he hits like a pussy, too. Unbelievable.”

“Hongjoong.” You whine, because god forbid the man delivering the assault overhear the comment.

“Hey!” Hongjoong shouts, and if you had known him to wish to say more, you'd have done everything in your power to stop him, but with the words already out there, your eyes widen at him, a nonverbal plead to shut the fuck up.

“Race me next Saturday,” he yells, still awkward with his damaged jaw but confident and pointed all of the same. “Not someone in my crew, me. If I win, you leave her the fuck alone and you leave town. That's it.”

You can't see the man, only the sound of him having opened the car door to go off of in relation to his whereabouts, but you hear nothing from behind you for what feels like eons. Then...

“And if I win?”

Pausing to spit out blood and hopefully not a tooth accompanying it to the ground just between his black boots, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the words come out far too confidently than you'd like them to, especially because you know him to have every intention of keeping his word.

“Then I leave. You get the car, the girl, the team, everything.”

A heavy gust of wind barreling through as silence overtakes the situation, silently pleading with Hongjoong through looks to not agree to this, to not go through with it — looks that you know the man to be purposefully avoiding in his reluctance to make eye contact with you as he asserts the deal — you don't feel any better knowing that the man is willing to put everyone on the line for you, or for whatever this is.

It's reckless, and it's dangerous, and there's got to be another way.

“See you next Saturday.” Yunho says with a tone so matter of a fact, before thrusting himself into his car and taking off just as fast.

When Saturday rolls around, it leaves you wondering where the time went between then and now.

Riding passenger side in Hongjoong's RX-7, you mull over the the happenings of the week leading up to now: countless hours leading into days spent at the mechanics shop with him, Chaerin and the rest of the Spirals team — testing and preparing his car for the impending race with everything and then some riding on it, the anticipation bubbles in your gut in a way that you're unfamiliar with — a race with far too much behind it, more than necessary, and it leaves you wondering why it is that the man driving next to you is willing to give everything up for what effectively boils down to one thing: you.

But with almost no down time between the declaration and the race — Hongjoong spending many nights at the shop, curled up asleep on the cold, beat up, leather couch inside instead of opting to bother with the travel time home when he knows he'll only end up back there early in the morning anyways — it leaves no time for the conversation.

A silent acknowledgment between you, him, and everyone else on your side of the equation.

Trailing behind Chaerin's RX-8 and pulling into the all too familiar roadside lot of the uphill racing track that serves to be Hongjoong's favorite, you figure that the two of them must have hashed it out unbeknownst to you — or it was some sort of understanding between racers for this to be the place that it would happen. The track. Not the most difficult, nor the one offering top speeds (and for that, it could be raced downhill, anyways), but rather the one feeling just right for the sort of situation.

Yunho too proud to decline the invitation to beat Hongjoong on his home terf, his favorite track, the one known to be his best — and Hongjoong all too confident to feel that he could ever be beaten on it.

Setting the car into park, you dare not speak as Hongjoong takes in a deep breath through the silence — a rowdy crowd of racers and onlookers alike heard easily from all around you outside of the car — it feels almost claustrophobic, suffocating in some way, being surrounded by people and the impending happenings of the evening.

Hongjoong looks calm and collected, however.

One hand loosening from the steering wheel to card through short, silver hair before unceremoniously plopping it onto his thigh with a flat palm, he lies his head back against the rest of his seat, turning to look at you finally with a shockingly soft expression.

“Should probably have a talk, huh?”

You can't help the way the corners of your lips curl upwards at the implications of the words. Delicate and caring. You nod.

“You're really just gonna move if you lose a race?” You ask, tone pointed with resistance in the thought of it, but the man next of you pulls his eyes away, head turning back to look out and in front of him at the passersby.

“To be honest,” he starts, thinking through the words a bit more before carrying on. “If guys like that are going to set up shop around here then maybe my time here has run out anyways, maybe it's time to move on.”

“You sound far more willing than I ever expected. You love this town.”

Hearing the exhale through his nose as if amused by the prospect of it, Hongjoong reaches forward and across you into his dashboard, rifling through papers and an empty water bottle in search of something, finally pulling an envelope with no wording sprawled across it — only an emblem.

Placing it on your lap, he nods for you to open it, but not before point out and into the crowd.

“See that guy over there with the hat? Red jacket.”

Squinting, you attempt to follow his finger with your eyes, gazing out and through the crowding of people for whoever it is that the man next to you is wishing for you to locate, all the while digging out whatever it is from this envelope that you're meant to see.

Hongjoong carries on with the thought before you do. “Those red jackets are special, custom order jackets. No one has those. You can't get them.”

“Okay...” you hesitantly acknowledge, finally landing on the man in question. Arms crossed and seemingly alone, he's looking onward — at the track, at the surroundings, and finally, over to the both of you. Nodding in your direction, Hongjoong nods back at him.

“Ever heard of Project D?” He asks.

“Uh, rings a bell. Think I've heard Yunho or Chaerin talk about it, why?”

Hongjoong snorts at the drop of names before speaking again, as if unsurprised by the ones mentioned as having any sort of interest. “Read the letter.”

A questioning look splashing across your features, you do as advised, pulling from his attention and down towards the piece of paper in your hands. It takes you some time to go through it, and then, another moment from reading it over again — because you're quite sure that you must have read something wrong, must have gone through this with a bit of wishful thinking and a simple wanting so badly of things to go good, and right.

But with the second read through and confidence in your reading comprehension, your attention snaps back up and towards Hongjoong — a wide grin sported on his face.

“This...this is—“ you manage to stutter out, heart threatening to beat through your chest entirely as he turns to meet your eyes again.

“Indeed. Turns out someone thinks this guy can drive a car,” he sighs with a sort of nonchalance that has you so taken aback you aren't even sure what to say or think.

Project D. The upper echelon of street racing. Entirely closed off, and run on a strict 'don't call us, we'll call you' type of basis. It's professional, and the dream for just about anyone involved in the sport. a one way ticket out of here, that much is for certain.

So unfamiliar to the common driver that no one here even recognizes the shining red jacket only adorned by drivers on the team.

“His name is Takahashi Ryosuke,” Hongjoong begins again, lazily having a hand out towards the man referenced only a moment ago. “He's the leader of Project D, he came to see me drive. I'm already in, but it's sort of a formality, plus, he's gotta give me my jacket.”

You pause, thinking it through in your mind again and trying to take it all in.

“In front of Yunho?”

Hongjoong laughs, a full laugh at the question. “In front of Yunho.”

Head lying back once again on the headrest of his seat and rolling gently to grant him vision of you — you watch the way his eyes fan over your features, as if taking all of them in for the first time all over again — as if it were to be the first or last time that he would ever see them, and with the calling to action of the racers needing to line up, it pulls your attention up and away with the abruptness of it, but not his — still watching you intently as if trying to read every thought floating through your mind in that very moment.

You figure it's no surprise that you ended up here, with him, like this tonight — all of his plans, everything he does perfectly in line with something that he has in mind — some sort of grand scheme of sorts, and you can't help but wonder for how long it's revolved around you.

'Racers line up, 5 until green!'

Turning back to look at Hongjoong, small hand with painted black fingernails reaching out and towards your own, he grips tightly atop one of them and squeezes lightly just before pulling it from you and shifting his car into drive again.

“So,” he starts, waving towards Ryosuke again before carefully maneuvering his vehicle towards the starting line of the track for a race that means nothing and everything to the both of you simultaneously.

“Want to take a ride with me?”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ hope you enjoyed! please check out my navigation for more (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

#hongjoong smut #yunho smut #ateez smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n

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