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starsstuddedsky · 3 days

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Blonde Phase

Renjun x gn reader

summary: spontaneous hair decisions always end in regret. that's what you expect to hear when you tell renjun you're bleaching your hair, but instead you find support, and even his help. you should appreciate his wholehearted support but instead it has you wondering: why doesn't he care?

genre: fluff, minimal angst, technically they're in grad school but that's not particularly relevant, non idol au,

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, spontaneous hair decisions (i do not endorse), lmk if I missed any

wc: 4.4k

a/n: in the immortal words of charles boyle, the most intimate thing you can do with a lover is wash their hair. yknow i made fun of him for that until i wrote this. i see it. also its been so long since ive finishing anything, pls forgive me if this is bad. renjun i love u. as always I'd love to hear what you think <3

“I’m bleaching my hair.” If you say it fast enough, Renjun won’t be able to talk you out of it. The plastic bag swings around your wrist as you walk across the parking lot. “I’ve already bought the bleach and gloves and stuff, and I’m going to do it, today.”

He’s quiet for so long you check to make sure the call hasn’t dropped. “Okay.”

You almost drop your phone. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, drawing the word out. “Was I supposed to say something else?”

“Um, yeah?” You say. “You have opinions about literally everything. You talked me out of buying those pants two days ago.” You finally get to your car, tossing the bag onto the passenger seat and half-falling behind the wheel.

“That’s because they were made of polyester, and the thrift store was still charging $15,” he says immediately. “That was a scam.”

“Money is temporary, drip is forever.”

“Those pants would have lasted a year max, before they fell apart, and you still haven’t learned how to sew so you wouldn’t even be able to mend them or upcycle them.”

“You know what, I didn’t buy the pants, so this fight is moot,” you say. You set the phone on speaker, turning the engine on to blast the AC.

“Well, not moot. Technically I won,” Renjun says.

“I’d respect you more if you weren’t insufferable.”

“Here I was thinking you appreciated my insight,” he says. “You even asked for it.”

“I did not!”

“You literally asked about bleaching your hair.”

“I said I was surprised you didn’t have an opinion, not that I wanted to hear it,” you say.

“Semantics,” Renjun says. “So what time do you want to come over?”

You frown. “Tonight?”

“The roommates are out of town for the whole weekend, and I have way better ventilation,” he says. “I’d much rather bleach it without passing out.” He pauses. “You do want help, right?”

“Honestly, I was not expecting support. I was fully ready to fight you on this,” you say.

He snorts. “Come over whenever, I'm not doing anything today.”

“See you in twenty minutes.” You hang up, feeling a strange ball of tension roll around in your gut. That was… too easy? Renjun always has something to say about your admittedly impulsive tendencies. But if he’s going to help you’re not going to reject it—knowing Renjun he’s probably already watching Youtube videos and learning more than you will ever know about bleaching hair.

And it’s Renjun. When have you done anything without his help?

Renjun opens the door wearing a wearied expression. He doesn’t bother to greet you or even smile, just unlocks the door and steps to the side.

“Hi to you, too,” you say, trading your shoes for the spare slippers resting by the doormat. You follow Renjun into the space that serves as kitchen, dining room, living room, and Jaemin’s miniature gym, with weights and mats stacked next to the television.

“Who the hell clogs a toilet and then leaves for the weekend,” Renjun says.

You set down your plastic bag full of hair products and frown. “That’s disgusting.”

Renjun leans against the counter. “And you didn’t have to spend the last forty minutes trying to unclog it.”

“So which of the guys are you going to murder?” You try to guess, running through his roommates: you find it hard to believe Jaemin would do such a thing. Jeno maybe, and Donghyuck would certainly think it’s funny. But, in all honesty, it could have been any of them.

“Don’t know,” Renjun says, “but knowing them, they’ll make a pact to protect each other.”

“Seriously?”

Renjun pauses, gaze sheepish. “It’s what I did when I accidentally killed Jaemin’s little succulent that survived his college dorm.”

You fake a gasp, placing a hand over your chest. “Every day I learn something new about you. That’s devious.”

“I was drunk!” Renjun says, holding up a finger. “And Jeno and Donghyuck pushed me into it, so it was equally their fault.”

“If you say so.” You glance around the apartment. “Where are they all?”

“Jaemin’s visiting family, Jeno has a soccer tournament, and Donghyuck said he’s going camping with Yangyang.” Renjun says, counting off with his fingers.

“Donghyuck and Yangyang are friends?”

“Yeah, according to them they bonded over dealing with me.”

“Those were their exact words?”

“Dealing with my ‘stupid ass,’” Renjun says.

“That’s more on brand.”

Renjun nods.

You think about Yangyang, Renjun’s friend from when he was a kid. You’ve met him a few times now, especially since he’s moved half an hour away from Renjun. He’s fun, always bringing out a chaotic side of Renjun whether it’s dancing on a bar or bringing out angry-Renjun. But Yangyang and Donghyuck?

“That’s a terrible friendship. They’re going to ruin you.”

Renjun nods again, but you see the smile hiding in his eyes. He can rant all he wants, you know he’s excited his friends are getting closer with each other.

You point at the bag. “So where are we doing this?”

You half expect him to lecture you about rash hair decisions but he just gestures to the kitchen. “I figure right here should be fine. The tiles should be pretty easy to clean and probably could use some bleach anyway.”

He drags the chair with a rickety leg from the dining table. You dig through the bag and set everything on the counter. While Renjun cracks a window open, you begin to mix the developer and the bleach, curling your lip at the sharp scent. Renjun joins you, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“Wow that’s strong,” he says, wincing.

“Yeah,” you say. “Definitely a good idea to do it here.”

When the powder is finally combined, you sit on the chair, Renjun following behind you. You section off your hair together, then he grabs the bowl and the brush.

He holds the thick paintbrush brush up against your hair, glancing at you, giving you one last chance to back down. You give him the nod of approval and he shifts back to focusing on your hair, brushing the bleach into it as carefully as he spreads paint on a canvas. He works section by section, carefully drenching your hair with the creamy solution.

“So, are you going to tell me why you decided to do this?”

You can’t resist turning and glancing at him. “I thought you approved.”

“I didn’t try to talk you out of it,” he says, “that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about how you came to this decision.”

You nod until Renjun uses his gloved hand to hold your head straight. “I suppose that’s fair.”

You pause, trying to find the right words. But you find yourself drifting back to Renjun. Why didn’t he ask this before the bleach was in your hair? It’s not like him to keep his opinions to himself. When you first met him, he was yelling at Donghyuck for going to a philosophy seminar just to fight with the notorious bigot of a professor (which Donghyuck did and then got kicked out, and proceeded to get the professor suspended). You only knew Mark back then, a friend from another class who invited you to meet some of his other friends in the dining hall. When Renjun turned to ask what you thought, you said Donghyuck should do what he thinks is right. Renjun didn’t hesitate to call you an idiot then. So why isn’t he calling you an idiot now?

To his credit Renjun doesn’t rush you. He continues to paint the bleach into your hair, content to wait for you to figure out an answer. Except you’re thinking about all the wrong questions. Like, seriously, why do you want him to call you an idiot?

“I want a change,” you finally say. “I’m stuck in a degree that will make me absolutely no money when I graduate, I can’t afford to break my lease, and don’t have any major relationships that need upheaving, so, hair.”

“‘A change?’” Renjun repeats. “Like, you woke up this morning and thought, today I’m going blonde?”

“Like, I have this feeling in my chest, this aching feeling that there’s something I need to do, someone I’m supposed to be, something more than the person I see in the mirror but I’ve made my decisions and I’m happy with my decisions and I genuinely like who I am. So, hair.”

You see Renjun’s hand falter out of the corner of your eye, halfway between the bleach mixture and your hair. He freezes for a heartbeat then continues to move, lifting some hair off your ear, careful not to brush the bleach onto your skin.

“‘So, hair,’” he says.

“Are you really going to repeat everything I say?”

This gets a short laugh from him. “I think the fumes are getting to me already.” He pauses, setting down the brush and stepping in front of you. “For what it’s worth, I like who you are, too. I’m really glad we’re friends.”

You smile at him. “Me too,” you say. “I definitely would have fucked up trying to bleach this on my own.”

“There’s still some bleach left,” Renjun says after he finishes with your roots. “You’re sure you don’t want your eyebrows to match?”

“Why don’t we do your eyebrows,” you say. “Better yet, why don’t we shave them off?”

Renjun sets down the brush. “Okay, no eyebrows.”

You grin at him. “That’s what I thought.”

He helps you get a plastic bag wrapped securely over your head, then sets the timer.

“What do you want to do for the next half hour?” You ask. “Preferably something that requires little to no movement.” You gesture to your head. “We’re not winning any frisbee tournaments tonight.”

“It was one time,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head and stepping around you plop down onto the couch. “We can watch something.”

You follow him, sitting on the other side, a cushion between you. The space feels strangely empty. Though you’ve spent plenty of time alone with Renjun, even alone with him at his apartment, the silence is usually interrupted by one of the guys getting bored of playing League, or coming back because they can’t go out to a bar without someone forgetting their ID, or in desperate need of Renjun’s expert advice (read: Jeno never remembers to ask Renjun to look over his submissions until 12 minutes before they’re due). The cushion between you never stays empty for long but the moments stretch on, only making the distance feel greater.

You wonder, not for the first time, how long it’s been since you’ve thought of Renjun as just a friend. If he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much about what he thinks. And if he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much that he suddenly doesn’t think.

You sneak a glance at him, fiddling with the remote for a couple seconds before realizing he grabbed the wrong one. He’s certainly always been handsome—that was undeniable from the moment you met him. But more than just being good looking, it’s Renjun himself. Not just those dark eyes, but the way they burn with passion (even when he’s arguing about the proper number of appetizers to order). It’s his perfectly shaped lips, the way they betray how he feels with a slight curve up or down—and his smile. Always, always his smile, beautiful and breathtaking even though you’ve seen it a thousand times.

He turns, a little furrow in his brow. “What?”

“Hm?”

“You’re looking at me funny,” he says. “Did I get bleach in my hair or something?”

You turn to face the TV, trying to pay attention to the show Renjun chose. “I wasn’t looking at you funny,” you say. “I wasn’t even looking at you.”

“If you say so,” Renjun says, “but if there’s a blonde spot anywhere in my hair, I’m so making you pay for it.”

You shake your head. Where the hell did those thoughts come from? Renjun, more than a friend? Sure, you’re close with him and sure, he’s objectively attractive, but you’ve never had those thoughts before. Well, at least not sober.

“Um, why are we watching Singles Inferno?”

“Because I asked and you were too busy not staring at me to answer, so I put it on,” Renjun says. “And don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t like it. I saw you rant on your Instagram story the other day.”

“Okay, but you don’t get it,” you say. “This bitch really has the audacity to to—”

“I saw your post,” Renjun says. “Believe me, I get it.”

“If you didn’t want to hear about it you should not have turned it on, because now I can’t stop,” you say. Renjun rolls his eyes but even as you delve into a full on essay about the horrible men particularly common in dating shows, you see the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile.

The timer goes off halfway through an episode.

“Saved by the buzzer,” Renjun says. “I’m putting a ban on anything reality TV related for the next three hours.”

“You’re the one that brought it up,” you mutter without any real annoyance. Despite his banter, Renjun dutifully listened to your rants, and even got mad along with you.

You drag a chair to the sink while Renjun drapes a towel over your shoulders. He puts on gloves and unwraps the bag, letting your hair fall into the empty sink.

“Close your eyes,” Renjun says gently. He tilts your head back, cupping the back of your head for a moment before pulling the head of the sink faucet out. He runs the water, long enough for you to peek your eyes open.

You’ve gotten used to seeing Renjun focused. He gets a little furrow in his brow, always glaring at his work. Before you were friends, you used to think he was actually angry, that his frowns and short tone were real. You’ve learned since then, it’s not his emotions, it’s his passion. The frown only comes out when he’s focused, trying to be perfect. When he cares.

“Unless you want bleach in them, close your eyes,” Renjun mutters, with absolutely no malice behind the words. His eyes shift to meet yours and that’s how you know you’re right. He can glare and bluster all he wants, he can’t hide his eyes, warm and shining. Like when he’s looking at his art, his gaze is a combination of soft and intense, creating something stronger than affection. Except he’s not looking at his art, he’s looking at you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your heartbeat pick up. Despite every attempt to shut down the thoughts, they race through your head, a stampede grown out of control. Renjun, who you’ve only known a year and a half but who has become one of your closest friends. Renjun, who never fails to share the only opinion you really care about. Renjun, who you can’t imagine life without. Renjun, who you’ve never dared to imagine life with.

He places a hand on your forehead, bringing the faucet closer to rinse your roots while keeping the water from pouring onto your face. You prepare for a cold shock but the water that soaks into your hair is the perfect temperature—not scalding hot, not freezing cold. Some water sprays over his hand, falling onto your eyelids and cheeks.

“Sorry,” Renjun murmurs. He holds the head farther away, running his fingers gently through the roots of your hair. He’s so close you can feel his breath, warm against your temple. You can feel his body, hovering over yours, and maybe it’s just your imagination, but warmth seems to emanate from it.

His friends would laugh at you if you described Renjun as soft to their face, but it’s the only adjective that captures the way he works the water through your hair. Soft and gentle and careful and nothing like the Renjun that has to corral everyone into his car at 3 in the morning. And yet this Renjun doesn’t feel like a stranger to you.

Washing your hair takes a lifetime, but as soon as he steps away and turns off the water, you miss it. You miss him, even though he’s only a couple feet away.

“You can open your eyes now,” he says. As soon as you do, he tosses a towel at you. It hits you in the face before you can get your hands up.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” Renjun says, not sounding sorry at all. He manages to hold back the laugh but still grins at you, unashamed. He steps forward and pats your face dry, with the same gentleness as before, though there’s still a mischievous glint in his eyes. You yank the towel away before he gets any ideas, drying off your face on your down and wrapping it around your hair. You wring it out a couple times before letting go, doing your best to get it to fall evenly around your head.

You raise your eyebrows at Renjun. “Okay, how bad is it?”

“Okay, first of all, I’m insulted that you think there’s any way I’d fuck up you hair,” Renjun says. “And it looks really good. Blonde suits you.”

You take a deep breath and pull out your phone, studying yourself in the mirror and… he’s right. The color is even, somewhere between blonde and orange that is unavoidable when using bleach. Radical hair changes generally end in tears but looking at yourself in the mirror, you don’t feel the usual dissonance. The hair is different but somehow more familiar than the “normal” you that doesn’t feel right anymore.

“I’m right,” Renjun says.

You smile. “Yeah, you are.” You put down your phone, meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Renjun.”

“For what?”

“Doing all of this for me,” you say.

“It’s the least I could do,” he mumbles. “You’re my friend.”

You shake your head. “Thank you anyways.”

Renjun just shrugs and grabs the bowl, rinsing out the bleach in the sink. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s avoiding your eyes.

You do your best to clean up the bleach from the floor, busying yourself until Renjun finishes. You wonder if you’re imagining the tiles getting a little bit whiter. Finally, he turns off the water and glances at you.

“You’re really happy with it?” He asks, sounding more like he doubts you rather than changing his opinion.

“Yeah,” you say, standing up. “I think it’s the ‘me’ of right now, you know?”

“Not really.”

“Like, I feel disjointed, and blonde hair is definitely not me, but it's the me that feels kind of all over the place, so even though it doesn’t look like me, it looks like me.” You wring your hands together, fingers tinged red.

“That makes no sense,” Renjun says, “but I think I get what you mean.” He smiles. “And I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to have any regrets.”

So he did think this was a potential mistake? Why didn’t he say anything?

Renjun turns back to the sink, but before he can turn the water on, your voice calls his name. “Renjun?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t turn around.

“Why didn’t you fight me on this?”

He doesn’t move for a long moment. You wish you could see his face. “I have been told by certain people,” he begins, which is code for Donghyuck and Yangyang certified their position as Renjun’s worst nightmare. He turns to face you, wiping his hands on a towel.

“That I have a tendency to be overly opinionated in a generally negative direction. And I thought about it, and I realized I'm never really fully supportive, whether it’s a big decision, or, like, coffee, and I’ve always been this way, but, apparently, it’s especially… apparent with you.” He frowns. “This is all coming out wrong. I’m trying to say that it’s different when I’m around you. I’m different.”

Your eyes jump between his, trying to decipher what he’s saying. “Different?”

“I care a lot about you,” Renjun says, “more than anyone, actually.”

“Oh.” You blink once, twice. “Wait, you like me?”

Renjun’s eyes shift to the floor. “Yeah.”

You can’t help but let out a short laugh, reeling at the absurdity of it all. Renjun likes you? But he’s Renjun. Even though he’s the most common main character in your daydreams, you never once realistically thought he might be fantasizing about you too. But he likes you.

“I really didn’t want to say anything, I mean, before anything else you’re my friend, and I don’t want to ruin that,” Renjun says rapidly. “We’re good friends, and I really didn’t want to be the guy that pretends to be your friend but just wants to date you the whole time, that’s really not what I was trying to do, it’s just—”

“Renjun.” You put a hand on his shoulder and he freezes mid sentence, mouth still hanging open a little. Before he can move, you lean closer, the type of line you’d only dare to cross in your dreams.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you say softly. He blinks, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

“I’d like that,” he finally breathes. So you kiss him.

It starts light, his lips exactly as you imagined—soft and warm. His arm works its way around your waist, pulling you closer. The other works its way into your hair, still wet and sticking to your head. Renjun kisses like he’s been planning this for a long time, and maybe he has. Every movement is slow and careful, until he’s stolen all your air and even then you don’t want to pull away.

Your bravery fades the minute you meet his eyes. You bury your face into his chest, your cheek resting against your own hand. Renjun wraps both of his arms around you, holding you snugly in place.

“I like you, too,” you say into his chest. It’s the cowards route but if you look him in the eyes the words will never come out. “If it wasn’t obvious.”

“It wasn’t actually,” he says softly. “I think I drove all of my friends insane trying to figure out whether I should confess or not.”

“They all know?” You groan. “We’re never going to hear the end of this.”

“Yeah.” When Renjun laughs, it shakes your whole body. You can feel the rumbling, overtaking his heartbeat. “It’s okay though. It’s worth it.”

You turn your head, emerging from the sanctuary of his chest and tucking your head so that you can see his face. He smiles at you with the familiar warmth you’ve come to expect.

“Yeah,” you say, “it really is.”

Renjun grins.

“Your hair on the other hand…” He says.

“I thought you liked it!”

“I like it,” Renjun says, “but when has Donghyuck ever liked a single change to anyone’s hair?”

“Since when do you care what Donghyuck thinks?”

“I’m just saying now that we’re officially dating, my friends are going to be extra annoying,” Renjun says.

“Extra annoying? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Don’t underestimate them.”

You groan, pressing your face back into his chest. “It’s not too late to get some hair dye.”

“You are not changing your hair because of my dumbass friends,” Renjun says.

“You like it?”

“You like it,” he says. “That’s the only opinion that really matters.” He pauses then adds, “But yeah. I like it.”

You grin, lifting your head to kiss his cheek. “Maybe we should dye your hair too.”

Renjun snorts. “Oh yeah?”

“We could have matching couples hair.”

He laughs out loud this time. “Maybe we should just get some shirts.”

“Three minutes of dating and you already want matching shirts? Huang Renjun, be honest.” You push off of him until you can place your hands on his shoulders and look him in the eyes. “Are you obsessed with me?”

“Yes,” he says, layering his voice in sarcasm that still isn’t enough to hide the truth of the admission. “All day every day, all I think about is you.”

“Well, see, that can’t be true because if you were that obsessed and I’m this close, you would already be kissing me because—” You forget whatever you were going to say, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when Renjun is kissing you like this. Your hands at his shoulders slink around his neck, while his wrap around your waist, leaning so close to you, you feel your back begin to dip.

Huang Renjun is poison, the kind that turns into a heart-shaped puff of pink when the bottle is opened. You melt into his kiss and it’s still not enough. You could die, right this instant, and you don’t think you’d notice. Death itself wouldn’t be able to tear you away from this moment.

“Renjun!” Donghyuck’s voice thunders through the kitchen. “How dare you? You bastard, you’re cheating?”

You jump apart, turning to see him looming in the doorway. His glare settles on you, and you see the exact moment he realizes he recognizes you.

“Jesus Christ, you could have knocked or something,” Renjun says.

“I live here too,” Donghyuck says automatically. He squints, then looks at Renjun, then back at you. “YN? Your hair is blonde.”

For some reason, you raise your hand and wave at him. “Hey!”

“Oh my god!” Donghyuck cries. “Yangyang owes me thirty dollars!” He races back out the door, screaming something that’s lost as the door swings shut.

You glance at Renjun. “Cheating?”

He frowns at the door, still a crack open. “Did he… seriously think you were someone else? That I was cheating on my unrequited crush?”

His eyes shift to yours. A heartbeat passes and you burst into laughter. His friends might be annoying, but they’re still endearing. You press a messy, smile-infested kiss to his lips and wonder if you’ll ever get used to the giddy feeling.

There’s plenty messy in your life, plenty to doubt. But watching Yangyang and Donghyuck drag their backpacks in (apparently Donghyuck forgot his power bank and they decided to give up on camping) as they attempt to interrogate Renjun on every detail, you can’t help but feel like it doesn’t really matter. You don’t doubt Renjun. You don’t doubt blonde suits you. And you don’t doubt the power of a last minute hair decision, not anymore.

thank you for reading!! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

#🌟 stars galaxy #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #renjun #renjun fluff #huang renjun #nct renjun

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svnnw · 5 hours

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AT MIDNIGHT — chapter 27

27) guilt tripping

masterlist – previous – next – playlist

a/n – the trip is over 😣

TAGLIST — open @replayenthusiast @soobiary @sunflowerbebe07 @simpforarmihn @artstaeh @marvelahsobx @clean-soap @haezyhyuck @lostinneocity @starwonb1n @minkyuncutie @gukuwii @foxy-kitsune @cyber-innie @hyuoonp @snflwrhaerecs4u @hyuckluvr-com @defzcl @n0hyuck @beomgyusonlywife @wooluvsworld @keilovr @taeeflwrr @bunnyjaycheoluwu @rllymark

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catboyieejeno · 8 months

Text

nct dream reaction ˚୨୧⋆˚

sleepy sex with the dreamies

cw: no pronouns mentioned but reader has female anatomy, mature, explicit smut, although not explicitly stated—any somnophilia is strictly consensual, established relationship in all of these, little to no plot, oral sex, unprotected sex (this is fiction. pls protect urself), overstimulation, pet names, cum play/cum eating, spit, crying, just pure filth fr... all are pretty long... i got too into it...

masterlist

18+ minors do not interact !

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mark

it doesn't happen often, but on nights where mark wakes up at an ungodly hour, squirming and coated with a layer of sweat, his first instinct is to look over in search of you. his cock is throbbing, painfully hard in his shorts. he had just had the most obscene dream about you, and now his tip was so sensitive that even the fabric brushing against it made him hiss and shudder.

instinctively, his eyes open and he blinks away any sleep that remains, knowing he can't rest under these conditions. he turns and lets his gaze land on your figure that lays beside him. even in the darkness, he can make out your form, shirt lifting to sit at the small of your waist. hesitantly, mark lifts the covers to reveal your bottom half, and he has to bite down on his lip to keep from gasping out at the view of your ass cheeks peeking out from underneath your shorts.

there’s a sense of shame that awakens within him when he circles an arm around you and presses his front into your thigh with a low groan. mark's hips have a mind of their own, wiggling incessantly until his breathing has grown erratic against your side.

"...mark?" you shift around a little, turning to face him.

"hey, baby," he mumbles. he leans to hover an inch or two above you, dipping down to let his lips press into your cheek. lazily, he drags them over the corner of your lips and your jaw, leaving a wet trail along your skin.

his hums are low, and not for one second has he stopped rubbing himself against your side. in a matter of seconds, the pre cum that leaks from his head has dribbled onto his gray joggers, and a soft sigh leaves his mouth. your brows dip until you blink in realization and look down, mouth parting.

"mark,"

"i need you so bad," he explains.

immediately, your thighs rub together and your mind fogs as his eyes stare into yours, low with sleep and dark with want. you can just make out his delicate features, soft and flushed as he blinks at you tiredly. his bottom lip is wet with spit or maybe drool, and you lean in to kiss it.

"please, i need you, too," you whimper, and he squeezes your waist tighter in response, pulling you closer until the two of you are chest to chest and your boobs are pressed flat against him.

he wastes no time pressing his mouth to yours and letting his tongue push past your lips, feeding you a lewd groan when your leg hikes up around his waist. your clothed cunt is now rubbing directly up against him, clenching around nothing.

"tell me what you want," his words are whispered against your lips, and he slides his hand over your ass, fingers brushing your shorts aside to slide between your folds and collect your slick, "woah, baby. you're so wet already,"

"can't help it," you mutter weakly, grinding down into his digits.

"you like my fingers? wanna ride them, baby?" he teases your entrance, but you shake your head, too distracted by the outline of his entire length pressed against your pelvis.

"no.."

you clutch as his shirt to pull him closer and he lets out a breathy laugh.

"use your words, babe," the sigh that leaves your lips when he flattens his fingers against your pussy makes his jaw go slack, eyes narrowing on your face. his dick twitches at the way your pupils are blown out and unfocused, your wetness squelching on his palm whenever he rubs you.

"please," you whimper, "i just want you inside of me, want you making me feel good.."

"since you asked so nicely," he's pulled down his boxers in seconds, hand pumping himself a few times before he rubs himself between your lips so he can use your arousal to slip in smoothly.

his tip, however, barely pushes into you before he's forced to bury his face in your neck, whining out, "baby, you're too tight, it'll hurt for you,"

"no, it's fine," you blurt, reaching for his hips, "please,"

you clench around him and he grunts, "let me stretch you out on my fingers firs-"

"please, please, please..."

he takes one more experimental thrust, teeth nibbling on your ear lobe, "you sure? i don't wanna hurt you,"

you nod quickly, slurred praises tumbling from your lips, "'feels so good, baby.."

"okay, okay," his hips push past any resistance and he squeezes his eyes shut as he bottoms out. the fluttering of your walls has him seeing stars, and he's desperately trying not to bust already.

when you beg him for more, he lifts his head from the crook of your neck and obliges, letting his pace speed up gradually although he's still careful to watch for any signs of your discomfort. he fails to find any, only your usual soft features molded into pleasure, giving away how you're barely holding it together.

your brow is pinched, eyes glossed over, pants and moans falling from your lips.

"you like that?"

a chant of yeses are whimpered against his cheek, which you lean in to kiss as the pressure in your stomach snaps and your orgasm washes over you.

"damn, baby, you're coming already?" he tries to tease you but he eats his words instantly, a dragged out moan rumbling from his chest at the feeling of your walls pulsing and contracting.

"baby, ease up—you're gonna, oh, fuck," he slows down, "you're gonna make me come if you keep squeezing me like that,"

"i can't, i can't control it.. keep going, please,"

he can't deny you, despite knowing he can't hold on any longer. his hips snap into yours and you cry out, coming a second time and in turn, pushing mark right over the edge.

he empties himself into you as your thighs start trembling, cum shooting from him and filling you up.

by the time he comes down, his tip is so sensitive that he can't even try to muffle the noises that are coming out of him. he's shamelessly whining out, gaze focusing only on your pretty flustered face. he's intent on keeping his movements from stuttering, so that you can savor every last bit of your orgasm, and he only slows down once your breathing fully calms.

both of you have worked up a sweat, foreheads pressed against each other and breaths mixed.

"that was..."

"i know."

"we should wash up," he suggests weakly, though his lids are already falling closed. you shake your head in protest.

"too tired, baby.. in the morning,"

mark is too exhausted to argue, too comfortable in your embrace to get up. his dick is still buried deep within your warm walls. he settles for staying still, wrapping his arms around you so he can hold you as close as possible, humming while you drift to sleep.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ renjun

renjun's wake up call this morning is unlike any other. his eyes open in slivers to guard himself from the harsh light that seeps in through the blinds. only for a moment does he think about going back to sleep but his idea fades as he realizes there's a weight pushing down on his lap, a blurry silhouette hovering over him.

"renjun? sorry for waking you..." you mumble, except you don't sound sorry at all.

your boyfriend lets out a dragged out, confused sound beneath you and you giggle, rolling your hips forward again to grind yourself along his length. there's a bit of drool gathered at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes are still swollen and puffy from sleep, but he's grown fully aware of your ruse by now.

he looks down at the spot where your bodies meet, watching through his slightly blurred vision the way your pussy lips part when his wet head pokes out. his dick is hard, pressed flat against his stomach.

"what's got you so needy this early in the morning?" he says quietly, bringing his hands up to grip your waist and thighs.

meanwhile, your hand slips between your legs to rub at your folds, "had a dream about you," your own moan interrupts you, "then, i looked over and noticed the tent in your shorts... i couldn't help myself,"

"i'm glad you didn't," he mutters. he rubs his eyes quickly and looks over to you again, letting his thumb roll over your nipple, "you look so pretty in the mornings,"

you blush at his compliment, "so do you," and lift your hips in order to guide him toward your entrance. with your lip between your teeth, you slide down him slowly. both of you breathe out in relief at the same time, and your lips pout slightly at the pleasure shooting through your core.

"nng-aah, w-wait." his hands fly to still you and you tense up.

"what's wrong-"

"nothing, i just-" renjun's eyes roll back slightly, "don't wanna come too quickly."

you smirk, "oh?" and lift yourself up again before sitting back down. instantly, your boyfriend brings his palm to his mouth, sinking his teeth down as the blood rushes to his cheeks and tip.

"i need you, jun. i can't wait any longer," you tease, and your pace picks up a bit. renjun tries to warn you again, but his words are slurred, unintelligible behind the hand that clasps over his lips.

his pretty eyes are hazy, and he's watching helplessly as you start bouncing above him. your moans and whines are driving him wild, and the way your walls constrict around him has his thighs trembling against the quietly squeaking mattress.

"i'm not gonna last," he breathes out, and you shake your head.

both of your hands come up to his chest for support and you lean down to kiss his cheek, "it's okay, you can come,"

and he does, before the last syllable even falls from your lips. he's practically whimpering as his dick twitches incessantly. the feeling is overwhelming, mind-blowing, and he decides that perhaps, he's coming so hard because he's barely awake. part of him hopes he's dreaming, only because it means he'd be able to do this all over again.

alas, he is awake, and when he opens his eyes again after his orgasm, you're lifting your leg to climb off of him.

"let's shower, yeah?"

"where are you going? get back here," he sits up, your wrist clasped in his hand, "lay down."

he guides you to lay where he did a moment ago, scooting down to place his face right between your legs. renjun doesn't even wait for you to get comfortable before his mouth is on your pussy, lapping up the mix of his come and your arousal from your pulsing hole.

your core throbs against his mouth and you squeak out at the lewd sounds of sputtering, grabbing at one of his hands to tether yourself. his other hand cups your breast, elbows keeping your thighs parted for him.

renjun's eyes flutter closed as he savors you, relentlessly working you until you cry out his name. drops of your release drip down his chin and onto the sheets and you writhe under his hold.

"yes, yes!" your pleas prompt him to shake his head and you gasp out, fingers pressing into his arms to push him off. he doesn't budge, though, too obsessed with your taste and the prospect of overstimulating you. the longer his tongue fucks you, the longer you come, until finally, he comes up for air.

your chest rises and falls in rugged pants, and he only smirks at your state.

"i'll start running that shower for us. how does that sound?"

"sounds good," you nod weakly, and he squeezes your hand.

"it's a shame," he sighs, and you raise your brow at him. he sighs again, "i ate all my cum out of you. i guess i'll just have to fill you up again,"

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jeno

there's a strange and warm wetness between your legs, most notable when you shift around in your state of limited awareness and feel your thighs gliding seamlessly against one another.

your eyes peek open tiredly, blinking to adjust to the darkness around you. there's a bit of commotion behind you, familiar low grunts that seethe through tightened teeth. jeno lays behind you, body parallel to match your curved form. he was still at schedules when you had fallen asleep, and it seems you didn't hear him come in.

you continue to look around, quickly finding the reason for the slippery situation between your legs. when you glance down, you catch the sight of his angry tip, rhythmically poking out from between your thighs.

normally, jeno prefers engaging in sexual acts when you're awake. he likes watching you fall apart because of him, it gets him off that much faster. tonight, however, he couldn't help himself. when he got home and noticed you had fallen asleep on top of the covers in only a tank top and panties, his already semi-hard dick practically doubled in size.

he had managed to be silent; until now, that is.

"fuck, yes," his voice is strained, no louder than a whisper.

"j-jeno?"

immediately, your boyfriend sucks in a breath and stops his movements. he's quiet for a moment, but when you stir again, he realizes he didn't imagine your soft voice calling for him. he sighs out.

"did i– shit, baby. did i... wake you?" you'd bet anything that his black orbs are blown wide, cheeks red in shame from being caught.

the corner of your lip lifts and you instinctively reach between your legs, wrapping your fingers around his head and pumping a few times.

"s'okay," you mutter sleepily, letting your eyes close again.

he chokes out a needy mewl, "god, i need you so bad, i need to fuck you. please,"

"m'too tired, jen-"

"you don't have to do any of the work, pretty. just lay back, i'll take care of it," his words are cooed, muffled into your back where he rests his forehead for a brief minute. when you nod and whisper out a few soft pleas, he gives your waist a squeeze.

jeno shifts away just enough for his hands to tug at your waist, rolling you onto your back. he doesn't spare a moment, immediately settling between you and spreading your legs apart to see the mess he made.

the bit of light that bleeds into your room from the streetlamp outside bounces off your soaked thighs, coated in a mix of pre-cum and spit. your boyfriend breathes out shakily, bringing his tongue to your skin to lap up some of the wetness.

the pudge of your thighs feels warm in his hands, flesh rolling against his palm as he massages it.

"i love using you...so pretty, all mine," his index finger hooks around the fabric of your panties, shifting it aside to reveal your cunt. with a pleased hum, he licks up the bit of your arousal that drips down your ass, before laying his tongue flat against you. the muscle works you for a moment, slurping and licking until your arousal and his saliva are coating your entrance.

he nuzzles his face deeper still, nose bumping you deliciously and rubbing into your clit when you grind against him. your quiet squeaks are cut off when jeno pulls back, jaw tightening as he spits on you. he dives back in to kiss your pussy then leans back once more, observing his work momentarily until he decides he's satisfied.

hurriedly, he scoots up onto his knees, slapping his dick on your clit a few times, "i'm gonna fuck you now, yeah?"

you eagerly nod, breathing out shakily as he pushes your legs up and to your chest, literally folding you in half. his left hand is large enough to hold the back of your knees and keep your legs in place, while his right hand guides his tip to push into you.

"mmm baby, 'love how you fill m'up," he understands what you mean even though your words are slurred, and he hisses in response, snapping his hips into yours a little harder. your nails dig into his arm as you whimper, impossibly tight from not being previously stretched out. the burn is delectable, though—a plain reminder of how big he is and how no one else can stuff you quite the same.

the position he has you in allows his tip to nudge your cervix with every thrust until you're squelching around him, sobbing and coming so hard that your vision has turned white. your hand flies to your mouth, eyes squeezing out hot tears that wet your cheeks.

he tries to muster a smug laugh but his jaw goes slack as realizes he's much closer than he thought. some of your juices gush when he pulls out, using his hand to milk himself until he busts all over the backs of your thighs and pussy with a shudder, making his second mess of the night.

his groans are loud and throaty, drawn out until the last of his seed has dripped out of his slit.

"feel free to wake me up like that whenever," you laugh airily. jeno's eyes narrow into cute half moons as he mirrors your smile, chest heaving and glistening. he pushes his hair back, then swipes his palm down his abdomen to wipe away the droplets of sweat that had gathered on his pale skin.

"stay here, let me clean you up."

"it's okay, i can-"

"nuh-uh. i promised i'd do all the work," he bends down to kiss your forehead, "now, let me baby you."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ donghyuck

"stay still,"

"sorry. just trying to get comfortable."

he hums drowsily, nuzzling his head between your head and shoulder, cheek squished against yours.

"hyuck.."

he shushes you sharply, turning his face to press a sleepy, wet kiss to your cheek. the arms that snake around your waist pull you in closer until your backside is pressing completely to his front.

there's no perceivable space between the two of you, which you would not have minded any other day. today, however, your boyfriend had spent the majority of his morning playing video games. by the time you woke up, he'd already been smashing his keyboard and yelling into his mic in the next room over for at least three hours.

meanwhile, you woke up alone in your bed, panties wet and stuck to your folds, fantasizing about having hyuck fill you up to start your day. his absence meant you were left to tend to yourself, but your fingers were nowhere near as nice as his and your orgasm was weak and underwhelming. as you waited for him to be done, you showered and had breakfast to make time pass quicker, but he still wasn't done. that was an hour ago.

hyuck had returned a mere 15 minutes ago, annoyed by his performance in the game and claiming he was "in desperate need of a power nap." he curled up to your back and closed his eyes with a satisfied sigh, entirely oblivious to your neediness. until now, anyway.

"stop wiggling around! i can't sleep," his speech is slurred and mumbled, and it's obvious he has begun to drift off.

you don't answer or slow your actions, though; instead, you let your lids flutter closed to pretend to match his sleepiness, and roll your ass back into him again. hyuck leans up on his arm to look at you with puffy lips and a raised brow. when you peek open an eye and grind back a little more blatantly, hyuck gasps and grips your hips.

"don't start something you can't finish, baby,"

"i've needed you all day, hyuck! you were off gaming... i had to take care of myself," you whisper-shout, despite there being nobody else in the room. hyuck's mouth parts, brow creasing as lust washes over his tired eyes.

"yeah? i was ignoring you all day, huh?" he leans down to lick the shell of your ear, breathing his next words into it, "let me make it up to you.. let me help my needy baby,"

your cheeks glow pink and you fidget a bit as he squeezes your ass, playing with the flesh in his hands. it doesn't take long before he's shimmying your bottoms down to expose you fully. there's a bit of struggle when the covers get in the way, but he's quick to lift them up. as soon as the material of your clothes and panties is just past your knees, he presses himself against you, grunting as his dick swells within his basketball shorts.

you, beyond worked up, reach back for his hand, dragging it over your waist and between your legs. as soon as he feels you, he laughs.

"hmm, what are we gonna do about that, now?" you don't even answer, letting your actions speak for you. you take your lip between your teeth, maneuvering his fingers to rub circles onto your needy clit.

"that feel good?" when you don't reply again, hyuck slaps your folds gently as a kind of warning, making you clench around absolutely nothing, "use your words," he insists.

"yes," you pant, "feels so good, b-but i need more,"

a sort of content sound rumbles from his chest before he takes his hand back. you almost whine out and complain, but as soon as he slides his shorts down and plunges himself into your wet walls, your whine becomes a gasp.

hyuck, perhaps from being tired still, starts thrusting into you at an excruciatingly slow pace—one you may have the patience to ride out another day. today, however, your cunt is throbbing and begging for a worthwhile release.

your movements start as sloppy squirms, the walls of your entrance swirling around the head of his dick. he looks down to watch the way his length disappears in you, but his eyes roll back when you find your steady and quick rhythm. his hand flies up to hold your boob and his teeth graze your neck.

normally, hyuck is quite vocal, but the moment your ass cheeks start audibly slapping his thighs, pussy taking him insanely well, the moans and praises begin fall from his lips with zero restraint.

at one point, he's even louder than you.

"push that ass back into me baby, fuck."

"hyuck, i'm-" but you don't get to finish that thought, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as you come around him with a yelp.

he holds your hands tight against your chest as you come, whispering sweet nothings into your skin. when he's sure you've milked your release by the way your desperate grinding slows to a stop, he returns to his lazy pace, fucking into you deeply and tenderly.

"so good," he purrs, eyes fluttering closed.

"come for me," you mumble tiredly, and hyuck weakly laughs, digging his nose into your hair. his eyes squeeze shut and you hear the whine that gets caught in his throat when he obliges, stilling and releasing his warm load into your walls.

for a second, you think he might stay there and drift off, but he pulls out and moves to quickly tug your panties up before his cum can spill out of you. he pats your pussy over the soaked through cotton then snakes his arm around you, letting his eyes fall closed.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jaemin

you will never fail to be impressed by your boyfriend's ability to sleep through seemingly anything.

in fact, despite how long you've dated, there's still no way for you to rationalize this special skill of his; it's practically a talent, and its infuriatingly frustrating. you don't care to admit it out loud, but you are, and always have been, beyond envious.

on days where jaemin goes to bed after you've drifted off, you're always stirred awake by the way the mattress dips to accommodate his tired body. regardless of how gentle he is, how quietly he pads over, lifts the covers, and slips into his side of the bed, he will always wake you up.

it's not like it bothers you! it's something neither of you can help, and you remind him of that every time he holds you close and mumbles that he's sorry for disturbing your rest.

but somehow, here you lie between his legs, hot tongue swirling around his swollen head and licking his slit, and your boyfriend lies completely still, chest rising and falling evenly. he's oblivious to your devious ministrations, even when you start taking him fully into your mouth, moaning and stroking him with your fisted hand in an effort to wake him up so that he can fuck your brains out.

it isn't until you've started trailing kisses along his thighs that he flinches slightly, his muscle twitching under your lips as if whatever you were doing tickled.

"jaemin, please..."

he hums, but he doesn't seem to be fully conscious yet.

"jaemin," you whine. nothing.

alright, fuck it. without thinking it over twice, you bare your teeth and sink them down less than gently on his thigh.

"ah, shi-" jaemin hisses and sits up a bit, leaning back on his elbows. when his hand lifts up the cover and he sees you, he sighs out.

his tone is teasing, the pitch of his voice deeper than usual from sleep, "tsk, tsk... you're so bad,"

"sorry," you giggle, "i've been trying to wake you up for a few minutes now."

"is that right?" he flips the covers away and brings a hand to your chin, his other arm going behind his head, "show me what you were doing, then?"

you hum and bring him to your lips, poking your tongue out to swipe along his shaft.

"fuck, that feels-" he pauses and gulps, "i'm so sensitive,"

"i know," you spit on his tip and pump him a few times, watching how his tired eyelids flutter closed, "like i said, i've been at this for a bit."

"mhm, don't stop. feels good,"

"yeah?"

he nods, gripping your hair to push you down. when he hits the back of your throat, he flexes his thighs, falling back onto the mattress. his free hand is on his stomach, stroking up and down his abdomen that tightens whenever you hollow your cheeks.

"so good to me, baby doll,"

you hum and he echoes you, and you can tell from the way he twitches in your mouth that he's getting close. just as you start bobbing up and down, he pulls you off, replacing his dick with his thumb that pushes down on your tongue.

"what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn't make my baby come after she sucked me off so well? come sit on my dick, baby."

your pussy clenches and you moan around his digit, nerves buzzing with excitement. when he retracts his thumb, a string of saliva stays behind and he brings his spit covered finger to play with his slit.

he watches as you kneel, knees digging into the mattress as you peel off each item of clothing hurriedly. when you spin around to face his feet and straddle him, jaemin's laughs. his hands come down to slap your ass, keeping each cheek in his grip to guide you down his cock.

"i love this view," he comments, landing one more slap and soaking in the way your skin ripples from the impact. you lean forward to grab his knees, whining out when he thrusts up a few times.

every time his hips meet the bed again, his shaft glistens in your juices, and it only drives him to rut into you faster, to fuck your warm, gummy walls even harder.

so, he does, and he doesn't stop until his balls are slapping up at your clit and you're babbling out a string of praises.

"fuck, fuck. oh, i'm gonna-" jaemin's words get caught in his throat as he comes inside of you, triggering your orgasm. when you squeeze him, he huffs out, blinking away the sweat in his eyes so he can watch the way your head rolls back and your mouth parts in awe.

"that's right, baby," he reaches of your wrists, pulling your arms to rest on his chest so that your back is arched.

"jaemin, you're s'deep," the new angle is delicious, and he doesn't stop until your fluttering walls are so sensitive that the tears have been drawn from your eyes.

exhausted, you fall to lay beside him. his arms pull you close to his chest and he leans up to press a kiss to your lips.

"well, that was quite the way to start our day, huh?"

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ chenle

"poke me again, chenle, and i swear to god-"

"what? what are you gonna do?"

you don't answer, simply settling for turning your back to him and tucking the covers under your chin.

"hey," his finger prods at your hip for the umpteenth time, "i asked you a question,"

"chenle, i'm trying to sleep."

"you don't even work tomorrow," he grumbles, scooting closer. you don't know, but the hand that isn't being used to poke you is tucked deep into his boxers, cupping his dick and balls and occasionally massaging them.

once again, you don't reply.

"babe," he snaps. maybe if you ignore him long enough... "babe! babe, babe, babe, baby, babe, ba-"

at once, you flip around, wrapping your fingers around his throat, your other hand slapping over his mouth.

"chenle, i'm actually going to fucking end you," your hair fans around his face and he gulps under your palm.

"not gonna lie," he squeaks, "this is kinda turning me on," you scoff, eyes trailing down his arm to find it tucked away into his groin.

"perv," you flip back around with a huff, but this time, what pokes you isn't his finger.

his member, which he pulls out through the crotch hole, probes your bare ass cheek a few times, smearing his pearly pre-cum all over your skin. he tucks his face into your shoulder, kissing the skin on your neck.

"come on," he whines a bit, "didn't you like choking me?"

"chenle..." your tone is feigning annoyance, but your thighs are starting to press tighter together. tentatively, chenle slides closer, wary of your short fuse. he's careful to not push your limits, trailing his lips along your skin softly.

you hum out quietly, almost reluctant to give in, and he snickers.

"don't hold back. i want you just as bad." when you crane your head towards him, he kisses your lips, maneuvering your panties to the side in a smooth gesture, "this okay?"

"yes. please, chenle," you breathe into his mouth when he pushes into you, sliding into your warmth. his fingers tap your thigh so that you can hike your leg up. as soon as he has better access, his thrusts grow a little more eager, and as you grow wetter, the sound of him fucking you echoes around the room.

the sheets tangle between your fingers when he pushes all the way into you. he stops like this and you yelp out, completely stuffed, his balls pressed against your needy bud.

a strangled sound comes from chenle's throat from the way your walls are involuntarily fluttering, milking and massaging his length in random bursts. when it becomes a bit too much to sit through, he starts his pace again.

the pressure starts building in your abdomen in no time, but it doesn't last long; before you can fully relish in the feeling of your creeping orgasm, chenle's dick is out of you.

"fuck this," before you can say anything, his hands are turning you around to face him, pulling your leg up and around his waist, "wanna see you," he's explains quickly, then he's back inside of you with a wet squelch, gripping your hip hard enough to leave a bruise. at the way his eyes dig into yours, your jaw goes slack.

"a little more," you purr, and he snaps his cock into you harder, only realizing you've started to come because your voice has cut out and you've stopped breathing for a second, vision blurry from the wave of pleasure. the grip your hands have on his shoulders is deliciously tight, and you try tugging him closer.

chenle grunts, "where do you want it?"

"i-"

"baby, i'm gonna come," he chokes out, "where do you want it?"

"can't make a m-mess," you sigh out, "jus' changed the sheets,"

"baby," he urges and you nod, unintentionally squeezing his dick even tighter.

"inside! inside, please!"

his thrusts falter as he releases, painting your insides with streams of his seed. his smugness doesn't waver. he comes inside of you until he's pumped you full of every last drop, just as you had asked, and then instantly scoffs, laughing at your fucked out face.

"and here you were talking so much shit,"

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jisung

whatever prompted you to drift into your state of unconsciousness with your legs spread open, jisung doesn't know. what he does know, is that his long and slender fingers are now buried in your cunt, coated in your arousal, and pumping in and out of you slowly.

he hasn't yet decided if he wants to wake you with his actions because part of him wonders if he could make you come in your sleep. so far, with the reactions your body has given him, he thinks he might just be able to.

upon first finding you like this when he woke up from his nap, jisung's dick swelled up in his boxers, tip leaking precum and jolting eagerly in need.

he remembers you mentioning that you wanted to be touched in your sleep, but your boyfriend had never before found an opportunity so perfect to fulfill your fantasy.

he wanted to, but every time he intended to wake you up to his tongue, or his fingers, or even his cock, you had fallen asleep with your legs were pressed together. he knew you might wake up if he repositioned you at all, and he was a bit embarrassed to get caught before he’d even gotten started. today was unlike any of those days, though.

today, your thighs were perfectly sprawled apart, showcasing your pretty folds that barely hid under your shorts. unable to keep himself from such a convenience, jisung brought his index finger to toy with your clit a little, just out of curiosity. in seconds, he noticed the shiny wetness that gathered at your entrance. when he slid his index finger in you and found no resistance, he let out a shaky breath, and that's how he found himself where he is now.

his index and middle finger are stuffed knuckle deep in you, free hand groping his own cock. he's been keeping track of each miniscule change in your body language and currently, his jaw hangs open at the way that even in sleep, your tight pussy is gripping his fingers like a vice, fluttering when he dares to curl his digits and rub your sweet spot.

your lips, which were previously pressed together, are now parted, and your eyebrows are pinched down at the center, almost in confusion. your breathing is faster, too, and he's moments away from ditching his plan to make you come like this.

he's itching to fuck your cunt fast with his fingers, to wake you up and make you come hard until you've soaked his forearm, but then, he hears you mumble something, and he decides to pick up his pace only a subtle amount.

"mmm, ji," you wiggle a bit, "feels good,"

"does it, baby?" he whispers, but you can't answer. you're not awake yet.

he adds his ring finger and your mewls grow desperate, your hands reaching across the bed for anything to grab. jisung knows you well enough to know you're close. he's made you come countless times before, and this wriggling is precisely what you do before you come undone.

ever so carefully, he brings his mouth down to connect to your clit, and as soon as he does, you gasp, eyes blinking open as you finally realize what's happening.

"holy shit, i'm coming," you moan out. your hands disappear into his hair, finally having something to hold and tug on as your back arches and your toes curl. when his teeth graze your bundle of nerves, presumably from the accomplished smile on his face, your leg makes its way over his shoulder to pull him closer, and the two of you hum in unison.

jisung is shamelessly fucking the mattress now, stalling himself so that you can ride out your high on his face and digits. he loves pleasing you just as much as he loves getting off, and the look that you give him when you finally come down has him reeling. his balls are fucking full, and he's so close that he thinks he could come right then and there.

you're shaking with overstimulation, face slightly puffy from sleep. your cheeks are bright red, your pupils are dilated, and the cutest little tired smile is playing on your lips. when you tug his hair gently, he understands it as you pulling him to you.

obediently, he withdraws his fingers and wipes away your wetness from his chin, attaching his mouth to yours to kiss you deeply and desperately.

"was that good?" he mumbles against your lips. you giggle and he does the same, pulling away to look you in the eyes.

"that was fucking great," you kiss him again, "but i wanna make you feel good, too."

"i'm close, but i just wanted to wait until i was inside you,"

with a soft grin, your hands tug his hips closer and jisung kneels with your thighs resting over his own, perfectly aligned with your sopping wet folds.

"fill me up, ji. such a good boy," he groans, both turned on and embarrassed at the same time from the nickname. he knows you're sensitive, so he slips in slowly, and that's all it takes for him to release his thick white cum into you. his head falls into the crook of your shoulder, and you rub his back as he thrusts shallowly, savoring his climax.

⋆ ★

4K notes · View notes

nctsworld · 8 months

Text

fever pitch

✩‌ mark x reader | pro baseball player!mark | fluff | smut | 8.4k

SUMMARY | your world is shaken up (literally) when you meet the handsome man guilty of the accidental baseball smack to your head. after a comforting meet-cute and realization that he’s the city’s ace pitcher, you two go on a date. and by the end of the night, mark thinks he’s falling for you faster than any pitch he’s thrown before.

WARNINGS | sexual content (near the end), arm riding (iykyk), breast/nipple play, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, piv sex, some drinking // this is 80% fluff-20% smut (with lots of corny writing); there's actually not too much baseball mentioned, but i did a little research on it; however, inaccuracies may be inevitable!

RATING | mature

AUTHOR'S NOTE | i am sorry this is so late </3 i hope y'all enjoy! please also check out (and maybe send in some prompts to) @nctpromptmeme!

TAGLIST | @curieouscapt @dearlyminhyung @infnteen

Under the warm, summer sun, you beam as you walk towards your close friend, Chenle, and his dog, Daegal.

Shining back, he nods in hello to you with sunglasses pressed against his face. The teacup Bichon by his side wags its tail and pants happily at the sight of you, but is easily distracted the next second due to the park’s stimulating surroundings.

Dogs running amok, families having picnics, kids chasing each other in circles, friends playing baseball—

Specifically, a group of absolutely stunning men playing, as if a model catalogue exploded onto the field across from you.

But one in particular catches your eye.

Kind eyes shine behind wire-framed glasses, paired with a wide smile. His soft hair bounces with his light jog across the area.

In his fitted white tee, he ends up in one spot and continuously throws the ball into his mitt. The game seems to be on hold as he speaks to a teammate. Absentmindedly, he rolls his arm sleeves up, revealing lean, yet defined muscles.

You silently gasp, struck by the beautiful sight, then gulp at the flexing of his biceps when he continues tossing the ball. His teammate must’ve told him a joke since the attractive figure throws his head back in joy.

And this is the exact moment you go into cardiac arrest because his laugh is the last straw of what you can handle from this man.

Suddenly, the sound of your name shakes you out of your daze and reminds you to breathe.

“Okay, which one of these guys is the one who made you do a full stop in the middle of the grass?” Chenle asks, coming up beside you.

Daegal welcomes you with loving rubs against your leg. You squat to pet her, but your eyes are still honed in on the handsome stranger. The teams seems to be switching now when someone hands the bespectacled man a bat.

Your friend tracks your line of sight and nods, impressed. “Okay, he’s cute. Your distractedness will be excused this time.”

Scoffing, you shove his leg lightly and he giggles in return. After a few more moments of gawking, Chenle wonders, “Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?”

Standing up, you reply, “Probably comes here often with his friends when you walk Daegal?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I know him from somewhere else...”

Deciding you should probably drag your attention away and not be a blatant creep, you begin to walk away backwards, heading towards the ice cream cart before the line-up becomes as long as the field.

“Want your usual?”

“Yes, please!”

However, Chenle’s brightness fades instantly, jaw falling and eyes widening. You’re about to turn around to see what caused his change of expression when you hear a piercing—

“WATCH OUT!”

With a throbbing in your head, you wake up, squinting at the blinding rays. Coming into view, the cute guy from before replaces the sun’s spot, staring down at you with concern written all over his face.

“Oh, my God,” he pants. His hands shake in front of him. “I am so, so, so, so sorry.”

You roll your eyes a bit, trying to center your vision. Groaning, you ask, “What happened?”

“I, uh...” The individual’s mouth, slightly open with gritted teeth, pulls to one side as he runs a hand through his hair, “may have batted the ball and it coincidentally went straight for your head.”

Carefully, he helps lift your upper body off the ground. He asks if you’re okay, and you nod. But a grimace comes after, causing the stranger’s frown to deepen.

“Maybe we should get you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”

All of a sudden, he inches closer and gingerly runs his thumb over the source of the throbbing. It’s likely all in your mind, but you swear the pain lessens from his touch. You tilt your head further, angling into his palm and embracing the comforting gesture.

“I’ll obviously cover all the bills—”

You cut him off with a slow lift of your hand. “No. I’m okay, I’m okay.”

You know you’ll definitely be more than okay if you can steal some more time with his magical touch.

Continuing, you say, “And that’s too much. If anything, you can buy some ice cream for me and my friend.”

Glancing around for Chenle, you find him, crouching like the stranger, but a few feet away. With a raised corner of his mouth, you deduce he’s deliberately giving space for you to interact with Mr. Handsome Baseball Hitter.

Said handsome baseball hitter chuckles. Hearing it tugs at your chest, even harder now that you can experience it up close.

“I’ll buy you a thousand ice creams to make it up to you.” He retreats his hand and you don't hold back pouting from the fleeting contact you already miss. “But seriously, if there’s any long-term side effects, please reach out to me and I’ll pay for any expenses that come your way.”

“How would I know how to reach out to you?”

He rambles the following matter-of-factly, “Well, you can find my manager’s information online, there’s the team’s Twitter account”—he looks up cutely in thought—“and I guess I’ve been kinda active on Instagram—”

You tilt your head in confusion. What is this guy going on about?

“Okay,” you interrupt, “but who are you?”

His face flips through a few emotions in the span of seconds, but they’re unreadable. Finally landing on a grin, he says, “I think what’s more important is: do you know who you are?”

“Yeah, I’m—” And you properly introduce yourself.

“Good,” he says, “so we’re not dealing with amnesia.”

Your cheeks rise at his humour. Saying your name warmly, he adds, “Nice to meet you, I’m Mark.”

He lends out a hand for you to shake and you do so. With help from his knees, he rises upward, aiding you to stand on your feet in the process.

“Mark,” you repeat his name aloud, locking eyes with him, “the baseball batter with the strength of a thousand suns.”

At the odd line, you catch yourself, thinking how the injury must’ve loosened your filter. He laughs at the lengthy label. “You should see me pitch.”

You shake your head. “Nu-uh, nope,” you playfully say. “I’m going to be safe and stay far, far away from that sexy arm.”

Both you and Mark’s eyebrows rise at the remark.

Yep, definitely a loose filter. Maybe you really do have a concussion.

While Mark breaks out into a pleased smile, you snap your eyes shut, wanting to run away. Or disappear, if at all possible. “Strong, strong. I meant strong...”

Avoiding eye contact, you hurry and make way to a now standing Chenle. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind, you grumble, “Chenle, let’s get going.”

Your friend smirks and whispers by your side, “You sure you don’t want to dig your grave even further?” You attempt to elbow him, but he’s too quick and avoids it.

“It was nice meeting you, Mark,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk away. “Thanks for looking out for... my head?”

Cringe falls over, making you pick up your pace. Time to officially stop talking.

Chenle turns away, his body shaking as he releases a snicker into his fist.

“Again, I’m really, really sorry!” Mark apologizes in a shout. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and also recognize his voice as the one who warned you to watch out before the incident occurred. “If you need to find me, I’ll be here over the next couple of weekends!”

When you’re far away enough from the scene of the crime, you smack Chenle in the arm. In response, Daegal chirps a bark at you. “You just had to watch me make a complete fool out of myself back there.”

He lovingly places an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “I mean, Daegal’s great and all, but if anyone has any entertainment value out of the three of us here, it’s going to be you.”

You groan at his harsh, yet true, words.

“Your head good though?”

You note how the throbbing is barely there anymore. Touching the spot, you wince. At most, there’s likely just a bruise. “Yeah, it’s good.”

In a hopeful tone, Chenle sing-songs, “Think you wanna come to the park again with me next weekend?”

Reflecting on what Mark said, you ponder if he really meant it about coming to find him if anything was wrong. Even though everything would likely be fine, you’d love to see him again.

But how could you face him after the disaster of your mouth running free? You shake your head in defeat.

On Monday night, the next evening, your phone goes off right as you enter your apartment building. You drag your phone out, eyebrows furrowing at the notification that Chenle’s calling you. When was the last time he’s called you?

Actually, you’re fairly sure he’s never called you. Ever. You pick it up without hesitation.

“Hey, everything okay?”

“Find a TV playing the baseball game,” Chenle pants. “Right now.”

Out of all the things he could call you for, this is what he’s asking you to do? He’s not even into baseball; basketball is the sport he adores to death. “What?”

“Do it,” he orders. “Now!”

“Okay, okay.”

Thankful you haven’t gone up to your apartment yet, you stride over to the little in-house gym in your building near the front entrance. You haven’t used it much since you moved in, but you recall that the TVs usually play either sports or news.

And you remember right, except at the moment, the baseball game is the only event plastered on the screens. Most people in the room are fixated on the game while they’re doing their set or on their respective cardio machine.

“Okay...” you trail in uncertainty. A pitcher from your city’s team throws the ball and the batter misses. The camera cuts to the batter from the opposing team, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why must I need to watch the baseball game so ba—”

The camera’s now on Mark’s face.

The same Mark from the neighbourhood park yesterday, sans the glasses, and in proper baseball gear.

He’s on live, national television, playing baseball in front of the crowd of tens of thousands of people.

From a side angle, all eyes are on him as he tips his cap forward. His eyes mold into slits of concentration, his sharp jaw tightening after a lick of his lips. Sure, he’s different from yesterday’s care-free self, but you’d be lying if you said this serious side of him didn’t turn you on either.

Again, the camera cuts away, to the wide shot from behind him. Besides his great body (especially his gorgeous backside in those snug pants), you revel in the back of his white and dark green trimmed jersey, indicating his last name and his assigned number: Lee. 02.

He winds up for the pitch, raising his leg, and the ball is gone within a blink of an eye, landing directly into the catcher’s glove. The number 98 comes up near a rectangle on-screen, signifying the speed of his throw.

Mark wasn’t lying about his skills; he’s the pitcher with the strength of a thousand suns.

All the screens are filled with Player #02’s glimmer of a smirk, before he quickly stashes it away behind his cap. The camera lingers on him while the commentators in the background talk.

“A great put-out pitch for Lee,” one says. “His fastballs this season have been absolutely remarkable. Another great one from him.”

Cameras switch to another shot of Mark catching the ball, resetting once more for the next batter.

Another commentator supplements, “Aside from the slight hiccup earlier this season, he’s definitely on-track in making his mark on his debut in the league. A rookie ace indeed. It’s no wonder they’ve been calling him ‘The Tiger!’”

Understanding dawns upon you as to why he stated how easy it would be to contact him (and to be able to pay for any potential hospital bills). The city’s new star pitcher—how could you not know him?

“I knew he looked familiar!” Chenle pipes up from the other end, just as Mark’s nice figure takes up the screen once more. Awe and shock consume your voice, and you’re unable to create a coherent reply.

But you don’t need to, not when you have Chenle to talk your ear off about the game, but mostly Mark, for the rest of the night.

The week passes by, with you casually going through Mark’s Instagram (which, as he mentioned, he only occasionally posts on) and watching a few more of Mark’s games with Chenle in tow.

You fawn together over his plays (and his ass) and, despite not knowing much about the game, he must be having a great week from the commentators’ constant praises and the team’s overall wins.

Once Sunday finally arrives though, a wave of nervous anticipation rolls over you.

Because for you, it’s game time.

Sure, you may not have initially wanted to, but now that you know who Mark is, what is there to lose if you step up to the plate and see him again?

The scene of the park is quite similar to last week’s, except for the large presence of people staring at the men, many you recognize from the city’s team from all the games you’ve watched this week, playing baseball on the field. You wonder if you were too caught up with Mark last week because you didn’t notice how everyone else was this enraptured too.

As you stroll closer to the grassy area with Chenle and Daegal hovering behind, the players coincidentally take a breather. Some parents quickly take advantage of the break to bring their children up to receive autographs.

This is perfect timing for you too.

However, you stop in place, debating if this was a good idea to return. You’re surely going to make a fool out of yourself again (this time with no injury to blame) and Chenle, despite his promise of not interfering, will totally budge in and—

And it’s too late to backpedal, because Mark, although distracted by the little cluster of people surrounding him, lifts his head momentarily and his gaze lands directly on you.

Air seizes in your lungs when he flashes you a grin that could compete with the sun. He gives a small nod and wave. Like a star struck fangirl, you glance around to ensure he’s not gifting that nod and wave to anyone else.

But no, you’re not mistaken—his eyes are only on you.

Saying his thanks to his assumed fans, he jogs his way over to you, attired today in a fitted grey-mixed tee, ripped denim jeans, and thicker framed glasses compared to last time.

“Hey,” Mark says, still grinning beautifully. “How’s your head feeling?”

His smile is incredibly infectious. It’s a challenge not to do the same when you’re in the presence of this man. “Better. Had some bruising, but it’s all gone now.”

He nods in response, mumbling a “Good, good” under his breath. With his face turned away, he swipes some hair behind his ear and seems to be preparing himself to say something. But, you will yourself to address the elephant in the room first.

“So, why didn’t you tell me that you were in the major leagues?”

At the unexpected question, Mark darts his head up and draws it back in surprise, his lips pouting adorably. Your heart bursts.

Contrasting his cuteness, you notice the hint of stubble around his mouth. First the pout, now this. You’re captivated by it more than you should be.

He chuckles and lifts a shoulder. “Well, you didn’t ask.”

“I did,” you laugh. “I asked who you were!”

After looking up in thought for a moment, he concedes. “Okay, maybe you did.”

You two laugh in unison, and even when the moment is over, both of you stare into each other's eyes. Time’s filled with comfortable silence and equally comfortable smiles.

Mark breaks the silence, asking, “Are you still wanting to stay safe and far away from my sexy arm?”

“Oh, my God...” you groan, hating to hear the same words that left your mouth from last week.

“No,” he says through another burst of laughter, “it’s a genuine question.”

“I meant to say strong!” you argue petulantly. “I was just a little out of it from the hit, no thanks to you.”

“I know, I know,” he giggles. “I’m genuinely wondering though, cause...” Mark pauses and begins to fidget, this time rubbing the nape of his neck.

You tilt your head, intrigued. “Cause what?”

“Cause, I was, uh, wondering,” he says, eyes averting yours. “Since I owe you for your head injury—”

“You don’t owe me anything—”

“And I know it’s a long shot cause you’re absolutely gorgeous and you’re probably taken—”

This time, you draw your head back in surprise over the compliment and the grand assumption that you’re off the market.

“—but did you wanna go out with me sometime?” His hand moves through his hair before he shyly looks at you again. “Maybe?”

Before you can even process what's happening you hear a "Yes!" behind you, causing you to jolt upright. “Yes, she will absolutely go on a date with you!”

“Chenle!” you gasp, appalled but not surprised, in the direction of your close friend as he nears your side. You face Mark again and gesture in the direction of the incoming intruder. “Don’t mind him.”

As per his charming self, your friend holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Chenle. Your newest number one fan. Great plays this week, by the way.”

“Mark.” He takes the hand to shake, giving him a small smile. “And thanks.”

Mark’s eyes wander down and notices the dog wagging its tail excitedly. His face lights up. “Aw, who’s this cute little guy?”

“Daegal,” Chenle answers. “She’s my little handful, besides this one.” he says, jerking his head in your direction. Mark's too focused on Daegal to see you slapping her owner in the arm.

Squatting down, he pets the lively dog. You follow suit and crouch down too, watching Daegal gift Mark tons of licks and enthusiastically rubs herself against his hands and arms. She’s never this delighted with strangers usually.

“What do you think, Daegal?” Mark asks, holding eye contact with her as if she could reply, then he glances over at you. “Do you think your friend should go out with me?”

Immediately, she barks happily, causing all three of you to laugh.

“Good girl,” Chenle whispers from above.

Although you pucker your lips playfully at Daegal’s betrayal, you reach out to pet her fondly along with Mark.

“But how will you guarantee my safety from your strong arm?” Your stare lingers on them. Not that he has to know, but you had to make a conscious effort to not say sexy once more.

“I promise I won’t be tossing any more of my balls in your direction,” Mark casually says.

After a pause, your eyebrows raise and his eyes widen.

“Wait, I mean—shit...” he hisses, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Your lips twitch, suppressing a laugh and finding him adorable.

“I know what you mean,” you quickly say, relieving him of his embarrassment.

He shyly glances up at you and you share a comforting look. Suddenly, someone from the field hollers his name. With a small frown, he begins to walk in reverse away from you.

“I probably should get back, but now that you know how to get in touch, message me on Instagram and we can figure out a time that works for our date?”

“Yes, definitely!”

Incredulously, you look up at Chenle for answering on your behalf.

“For sure, Mark,” you say. “Have a great game.” With the way he plays, you know he will.

Chenle and you wave your good-byes to him and watch him retreat to his friends.

“You do know that I'm the one he asked out, right?” you ask as the three of you begin to walk towards to the park's popular ice cream cart, except you're more vigilant this time.

Your friend grabs out cash, ready to pay for your order. Or at least you hope so, for all the trouble he caused.

“Yes, and that's why I will live vicariously through you!”

After messaging him over the last week (with Chenle hovering over your shoulder and backseat driving many of the messages), Thursday really couldn't come fast enough for your date with Mark.

As you step out of your apartment complex, your jaw drops and an impressed smile fills your face.

In a green bomber, black tee, and skinny jeans, Mark coolly pulls up on a red Ducati motorbike. You recall seeing a post or two on his Instagram with it, but it takes you by surprise to see it in-person.

He takes off his helmet and runs fingers through his hair, attempting to ruffle out the messiness. You're a little envious of how good he looks, even with messy hair.

Your date takes in your outfit—an off-the-shoulder floral dress that teeters the lines of being cute and sexy simultaneously—and beams.

“Wow,” he says, mouth agape. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you say, then make an over-the-top attempt to check him out. “You don't look so bad yourself.”

After a moment of shared smiles, he tilts his head towards his mode of transportation. “Hope this isn't too daunting.”

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

As Mark helps you with your helmet, now that you're up-close, you notice he's clean-shaven, unlike the other times you've seen him, and you presume he opted for contacts for tonight.

You also can't help but relish in the proximity of his hands near your face, flashing previously to the first time you met only a couple of weeks ago.

Once he's done, you ready yourself for the ride by wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, holding onto him snugly.

He twists around with his visor open.

“Ready?”

You respond with a squeeze around his waist and a nod, so he closes his visor and you're off through the nightscape of the city.

Everything passes by in a blur, but when there are the occasional moments when he slows down or stops at the red lights, you drink in how beautiful your city is.

On the other hand, you're dying to know what Mark planned for tonight. He gave you a vague idea—dinner, a small post-dinner activity (no balls involved, Mark promised), and dessert—but that's all.

In a nicer part of the city, he stops and parks in front of a bumbling Italian restaurant.

Once inside, Mark gives his name to the greeter, stating how he has a reservation, and a sweet host immediately leads you to your table. As you walk through the restaurant, you admire its warm atmosphere with dim lights and candles spread everywhere, along with the many other couples eating their dinner.

The host stops in front of a secluded semi-circular plush booth. You shimmy in, and Mark follows. Both of you sit comfortably close near the middle of the booth.

Despite how much you have been talking through DMs over the last week, as first dates often go, conversation is awkward at first.

However, as dinner progresses and the extravagant wine (Mark insisted, “Only the best for my date, please.”) makes its way through your systems, it gets easier.

You learn more about his family, his team, and his love for reading. For him, he learns about your friends, your job vs. dreams constant conflict, and your love for music.

The easiness also goes beyond words. Underneath the table, your legs brush up against one another's. You throw your head back in laughter, and you bravely touch his forearm in response. Mark even leans in close to your body, sometimes the edge of your shoulders gently pressing into the other.

By the end of dinner, being the gentleman he is, Mark doesn't even let you glance at the check and pays it all without hesitation. Then, you're outside and on his motorbike again, off to the mysterious post-dinner activity.

When he reaches a particular end of town where there isn't much around except one place, you have an inkling where you're about to go.

Once you're there and parked, your hunch is answered correctly, but you realize something.

“Isn't the aquarium closed at this hour?”

He shrugs nonchalantly and begins to usher you forward with a hand lingering at your lower back. Whispering into your ear, he says, “I may have booked it privately for tonight.”

As you walk through, Mark and you stick to each other's side, shoulder to shoulder, and switch between revealing more about yourselves while reading and conversing about the informational signs on the aquatic creatures.

Both of you stop in front of the main showcase of the aquarium: the large tank that houses two beluga whales.

Mark leans in a bit closer to the tank, catches sight of one of them in a corner, and points it out to you. As he straightens, you feel the back of your hand brush up against his.

“You’re quite the romantic,” you state while glancing at the tank, almost as low as a whisper. Even with nobody around, there's something so serene about the aquarium that makes you want to be respectfully quiet. "Does everyone get this first-date, first-class experience from you?”

“Only the girls who get hit on the head by me,” he teases in a whisper, making you softly chuckle.

After a moment passes as you watch the tank, hoping and waiting for the beluga whales to move to where you're standing, Mark asks, “Would it be surprising to say I don’t go on dates as often as you think?”

Your eyes dart toward him, but you quickly keep your gaze fixated back on the tank. You nod. “A little.”

He hums, followed by a lengthy sigh. You can sense a shift in him. You hear how it's laced with sadness, maybe even a little regret.

“I’ve been working so hard to get to this point and of course being drafted’s been so worth it, but it also meant that I had to sacrifice some things along the way. But now that I’m finally here”—you feel his gaze now directed on you—“I definitely can rearrange my time for other things.”

Your breathing slows as you turn to face him.

Courageously, Mark intertwines his hand with yours and his free one raises, caressing the bare skin of your upper arm. The contact makes you gasp and hold your breath.

He drags himself forward, as do you, and his hand is about to cup your face...

Until the two belugas are now your front-row audience, glancing at you as if they were smiling.

You both chuckle softly and give them a wave, not wanting to lose this rare chance of seeing them this close.

And although the special moment has passed, you two finish off the marine life tour with your hand in his.

Once outside, Mark leads you somewhere nearby. After about ten minutes of walking, you're standing on a large cliff with a scenic view of the city. You've never seen the city from this height before, and all its twinkling lights and the starry sky beckon you.

An ice cream truck is also coincidentally there, and you assume Mark booked it for your date tonight.

You two grab your waffle cone orders and sit down on a wooden bench that overlooks the view.

“So,” you say, licking the cone on its side to avoid the ice cream from dripping down your hand, “does this go towards the debt of you hitting my head?”

“Of course,” he nods with his signature smile, doing the same as you and trying to avoid his sweet treat from melting. “It'll be one ice cream out of the many future thousands.”

The implication that there’ll be more than just this date hangs in the night air, almost as if it's a promise, and you really hope it'll be true.

At the very least, it feels true as you peer over your city, leaning your head onto Mark's shoulder while he casually drapes an arm around you.

Getting off the motorcycle, Mark walks you to the front door of your place and you don't even think twice about asking if he wants to come in. He says yes a little too enthusiastically, making you giggle, but it confirms that neither of you want the night to come to an end just yet.

Mark hangs his jacket as you grab beers from the fridge. Both of you make talk for some time on your couch, but the energy in the room is buzzing, especially since the almost-kiss.

The second you gravitate towards Mark, he rushes to wrap an arm around your waist and his free hand cups your face, dragging you in for the first kiss that's been itching to happen.

His lips are dangerously soft, addictive really. You swear he tastes like cherry (could be from the food earlier or maybe a lip balm flavour, you wonder).

It's a slow, yet deep, start. In the beginning, the kissing is with intent, wanting to know what each other tastes like. Naturally, the curiosity evolves into exploration, with Mark cautiously dipping his tongue into your mouth. You react with zeal, swiping your tongue against his and even experiment sucking on it. He shudders at the sensation.

Mark holds you close throughout, but your bodies move into a new position, letting you sink comfortably into your couch beneath him.

Here, passion rises. He grips your waist, whilst his body presses into yours, and he begins to trail down your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Although it's already off your shoulders, he drags a sleeve of your dress further down, hungry to kiss as much of your bare skin as he possibly can.

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you arch into him, embracing his clear desire against you. You're falling and falling and falling, becoming more drunk with every touch and kiss from Mark. Ever since the first day you met, you couldn't help but yearn for his touch. Now, having a taste of him like this, you're desperate to experience more.

Although you're underneath him, you decide to take hold of the kissing. When he takes a breather for an instant, you steal the chance and fervently kiss along his jaw and rugged neck. Mark moans, gripping your waist harder, and grinds into you, his hardness dying to be free.

Shockingly, he suddenly tears away, sitting up and panting. Confused, you mirror him.

“Should we stop?” he asks. “Like, I know I might be being presumptuous, but I don’t wanna ruin our potential next date if we rush too soon?”

It melts your heart that he retracted because he's concerned over your potential future. You delicately rearrange some of his loose hair stuck to his forehead. “If you want to stop, we can.”

He pouts, reminding you of him previously at the park, followed by a cute whimper.

“But I don’t want to stop...” he laugh-smiles, leaning into you, about to drive his mouth into yours again.

“Neither do I.”

And with that, Mark makes the split-second decision to continue this good thing and not look back. Once again, he's leaving love upon your shoulders, at a measured pace currently, and he carefully lowers your dress. Drooping off your shoulders, you let it drop and bunch around your stomach.

Surprise is written on his face, as you didn't wear a bra underneath your dress, but the surprise quickly dissipates into enthrallment over the beautiful sight.

He lowers himself, mouth traversing across your chest while his free hand gently massages one of your breasts. You succumb to the rising pleasure, curving into him again.

When he arrives at one tip of yours, he looks up and asks, his voice low and gravelly, “Can I...?”

You whimper-nod, already on the verge of begging him to take the next step.

It kills you that he teases first, merely pecking the surrounding area and your tip; his mouth leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your patience grows thin.

“Mark, please, just—”

Air is depleted as his tongue swipes against your nipple in a broad stroke. He then wraps his mouth around it, sucking firmly. The other hand that was kneading your other breast turns to focus on your nipple, pinching it between his index finger and thumb.

The more he sucks, the more you hear the wet puckering of his lips, the more it makes you clench tighter. Bliss begins to boil in your abdomen when he flicks his tongue and mimics the same on your other tit with the pad of his thumb.

Your breathing grows heavier, and you sense you're close, but Mark abruptly stops. You're about to speak up, believing he'd be the type to finish you off if you ask, until you realize he's kneeling on the floor in front of you and stripping off his t-shirt.

With your help, Mark eases your dress to the floor and places it safely on the coffee table. Focusing on you, his gaze is dripping of lust—so carnal, so different than his regular self.

As Mark advances to your heat, your palms graze over his defined shoulders and back. He parts your legs further with his hands wrapped around your inner thigh.

“Wearing panties?” he inquires, his finger pulling the fabric a bit to the side.

“Huh?”

“No bra, but panties?” he smirks, making you realize the joke.

You roll your eyes and relax momentarily, leaning your head back. “Are you into that? No panties underneath?”

“Could be hot,” he shrugs, tugging your underwear to your calves and tossing them off to the side.

“Maybe one date I can do th-ah—”

Without warning, he dives in, one his hands now grasping you by your lower back, and you lurch forward to get a good view of his head between your legs. You've got a grip on his shoulder, the other tugging at his hair.

His tongue laps at your folds with agility, figures out what you like or don't like. There isn't much you don't like, Mark deduces. Languid licks. Penetrating patterns. Fast flicks.

You respond eagerly to them all with harsh tugs to his hair, notably when he spreads your folds to devour you entirely. The hair pulling hurts a bit, but he doesn't mention anything; he likes it a little rough.

Despite the positive reactions, he can tell you've been at a simmer with his moves, not quite reaching close to a high. He withdraws his mouth, and, through your hazy vision, you catch sight of his honeyed lips.

But your eyes blow wide open and an acute moan dispels as your lover of the night fills you with his fingers, alongside his licking of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

Following a few more minutes of scissoring and a few sucks to your bundle of nerves, he asks, breathing into your inner thigh, “Does this feel good, gorgeous?”

Your lip is drawn between your teeth, digging so hard from the pleasure you wonder if it'll bleed soon. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good,” he says, kissing your thigh tenderly, “'cause I'm gonna need you to remember how good tonight is so you'll keep coming back for more.”

Not gonna be a problem, you think, but all you could muster is senseless panting.

“You close?”

You can barely release a whimper out to respond, and Mark orders you to tell him when you're near.

It doesn't take long to get there. The warmth in your abdomen encapsulates your body and your hips rut upward frantically, desiring your climax to take authority.

“Mark, Mark, Mark. Fuck, I'm close, I'm—”

Immediately, he stands up, fingers still inside you and somehow impaling you further and faster while his thumb lazily strokes at your clit when possible, and his ardent kiss is the needed catalyst to take you over the brink. Simultaneously, the kiss swallows your bountiful whines.

When you finally come down from your high, you kiss him deeply and feel him through his jeans against you.

“Let's take this to the bedroom, I need to grab—”

“Should I run to the pharmacy to—?”

In tandem, you chuckle over how in sync you are, and tip your perspired foreheads against the other.

Holding his hand, you lead him to your bedroom. You turn on your bedside lamp and gesture to the tissues, so he can clean his hands. You then bound to your bedroom bathroom and fumble around to find your condom packs somewhere in a drawer.

Upon your return, you're graced with the sight of Mark sitting naked on the edge of your bed, stroking himself. You almost salivate.

God, he's bigger than you expected, and that's only one part of his magnificent body. You didn't have the opportunity before to admire his muscular abs, but you take every chance to do so now. The way his arm flexes with each stroke. And those thighs...

“Sorry,” he murmurs and shyly shrinks a bit, in contrast to his lewd action, “hope it's okay that I took my pants off already.”

He really is quite endearing. Maybe even a little perfect.

“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for, Mark.”

You place the condoms onto your bedside table, but are so absorbed with Mark's cock and existence. Entranced, it's your turn to drop to your knees.

Fingers wrap around his cock, and Mark's groans rise. You delve in your enthrallment for a bit, squeezing and stroking to your heart's content until you finally decide to ease him into your mouth.

Your tongue works wonders, tasting the underside of his length with every bob of your head. Meanwhile, his hands lazily thread through your hair and he watches attentively.

More saliva develops and drips, especially when you relax your mouth to let him hit the back of your throat. Obscene slurps accompany his delicate moans, both of which permeate the room in melodious unity.

As his threading develops into tight pulls of your hair, you detract yourself to avoid the night ending right then and there.

Since he's still sitting on the side of the bed, you sit onto his lap with a plan to abate and elongate the tension. You're back to kissing him, allowing both parties' hands to roam each other.

“I love your arms,” you mumble into his mouth as you reach for them.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I know you love my sexy arms.” You punch him teasingly.

But an idea flickers in your head. You halt your actions.

“This might be weird to ask, but could I...” you trail off, picking at your hands, realizing maybe you shouldn't finish your question.

“Hey,” he whispers, holding your chin in his hand. “You can ask me anything, beautiful.”

You hesitate with closed eyes.

“Could I... ride your arm?”

Peeking a nervous eye open, an evidently puzzled Mark stares back at you.

“I—What? Sure?” His voice raises in octaves.

Embarrassed, you try to wave it off. “Never mind that I asked.”

“No, hey,” he says, his palm caressing the side of your face and angling it towards him. “I'm flattered and obviously, nobody has ever asked to ride my arm before. But if you want to give it a go, by all means, I'm open to it.”

“Yeah?”

Mark gives you the sweetest smile and a reassuring nod. “Yeah.”

Since you suggested it, you lead him to lay on the bed, more in the centre so there'd be enough room for you to sit. He watches you gingerly lift his hand near head-level, as if he's almost flexing to show-off or about to lay his head on his palm.

Carefully, you sit onto his left arm, facing the direction of his body. At the contact, you shudder. “Is this okay?”

He agrees, enticed by your ass near his face and the general exquisiteness of your being. “You can put more weight on it, it's okay.”

You comply, relishing in the pressure of his arm against you. After becoming more comfortable and placing most of your weight to an arm on the bed, you slowly rub yourself upon his arm.

Mark's fascinated by this foreign act, eyes watching your every move. With his free hand, he touches himself.

His favourite part about you riding his arm? The look on your face—fluttering eyes paired with your lip biting—and the fact that you find him this attractive, that using him this way can simply get you off.

“This okay still?” you breathe.

“Fuck yeah.” He squeezes himself harder. He knows the answer to the next question, but he wants to hear it from you directly. “Does it feel good for you?”

You assent with a sharp moan. Without notice, you lick your palm with the intent of reaching over to grab his cock. At first, he's confused when he notices your hand, but he happily lets you handle him.

“Oh, God,” Mark pants.

You fasten your pace on his arm, grinding greedily against him. As you do so, your arm attempts to match the pace for his desire.

“Fuck,” Mark twists his head to look at your hips, tries to focus on how wet you are amidst his own pleasure, “you really do love my arms...”

It's a sweet dream for you—no, sweeter than any dream or fantasy could ever be. This is real, this spectacular sensation spreading all over and it's all thanks to his arm. Your body winds up, tighter and tighter, and you eventually break, chasing your second orgasm of the night.

Cleaning your mess up, you wipe his arm fast, keen on what's about to happen next. You then draw him into your mouth a bit to get him up again before rolling the condom onto him.

Once the rubber is on, you tease him from above, sliding the tip of his cock against your pulsing centre.

Mark may be a gentleman, but a gentleman can only be patient for so long. He seizes his possession and you gasp as he holds you by your hip, forcing you to sit down onto him.

The feeling is heavenly, stretching you sweetly. You bounce on his cock, and the sounds from you two are louder than from before. There's a small voice inside your head, worried about a noise complaint from your neighbours, but future you could deal with that.

Right now, it's all about Mark. He plays with your breasts with every move you make, while you fondle his abs and arms. Both of you try your best to look at one another through the pleasure, but it's difficult when you're floating higher and higher.

He then clasps your lower back and skillfully rises upward with the help of his strong abs. This position provides an angle for him to do all the work to thrust into you, as well as continuing to rub your breasts and even suck on them again.

At this point, you're in absolute state of frenzy, drowning in all the stimulation. Mark's underwater, right there with you too.

He pulls away in the midst of licking your nipple, his eyes going round. Nevertheless, you lean into him, your breasts pressed into his face and your mouth hangs.

Together, you cry each other's names and swear in endless spirals and the bliss finally reaches its peak for the evening.

As Mark lays next to you in your bed, observing your peaceful sleeping state, he's obviously amazed by tonight's events, but he’s also unsure what’s in-store for either of you.

There are so many factors at play with his career, you're both essentially still strangers, the future is unknown...

And yet, despite these worries, the feeling blooming in his chest is more than a blossoming liking. It’s akin to the moment he steps up to plate, either ready to bat or pitch. Nervousness, determination, and...

It’s too early to call it, but when he’s around you, he swears it feels a lot like his love for the game.

He shakes his head, not wanting to jump into the deep end this fast. He doesn't want to ruin this good thing prematurely.

Nevertheless, he places one last kiss atop your forehead before he sleeps, praying you'll be a new constant in his life, at least in the near future.

EPILOGUE — FOUR MONTHS LATER

Today is game four of the World Series and your city has won the previous three. If they continue their streak, tonight will be the night where Mark and his teammates take home the championship.

Hours prior to the big game, the teams are having batting practice beforehand to warm-up.

With your chin perched in your palm, you watch Mark closely—of course, safely from a distance and from behind him—and nod with every ball he hits well at the mound. You're seated in the lower area of the stadium among many of the other team members' families and friends, including a gleeful Chenle.

“Stop checking out your boyfriend's ass,” he orders, nudging you with his shoulder as he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth.

“You stop checking out my boyfriend's ass,” you retort, nudging him back.

The two of you continue your little nudging contest until he says, “So when you guys get married—”

“Oh, my God, Chenle...”

“I'm just saying, we all know you two are going to have beautiful little baseball player babies! Anyway, as I was saying, when you guys get married, can Daegal be the ringbearer somehow? She's pretty much the reason why you guys got together in the first place.”

You shake your head, eyes still on your love. “Chenle, we'll have that conversation when and if we get there.”

“When we'll get there,” he states confidently, and you laugh, dismissing him.

Sure, it may have been a fresh relationship only four months in, but you couldn't deny that maybe the idea of marriage wiggled its way through your mind here and there. Despite your thoughts, it wasn't at the forefront; you were happy in love with Mark now, here in the present.

Player #02 hands his bat over to another player and jogs towards you. It makes you wonder why he hasn't done an advertisement with slo-mo running and wind blowing through his hair yet.

“How’d I do?” Mark asks, leaning onto the railing next to you. Chenle gives him two thumbs up with a large grin.

“Awesome," you agree. "Did you think about hitting my head with each ball?”

Mark chuckles and juts his tongue to a side of his mouth. “You’re never going to let me live that down, huh?”

“Never,” you quip, scrunching your nose. You reach out for him and hold the tips of his fingers in yours. “You nervous?”

“Yeah,” he exhales, closing his eyes. “More than usual.”

Your fingers progress forward and your thumbs rub the back of his hands lovingly. “You’ll do amazing, like always.”

“You’re too sweet, babe. But this might be the game and I might—”

You cut him off by cupping his cheek in your palms.

“And you are the Mark ‘The Tiger’ Lee”—you tenderly swipe some of his hair away from his face—“top contender for both the Rookie of the Year and CY Young Award. So no matter what happens, you will come out on top.”

In awe and in a little disbelief with how well-put that was, he stares at you with starry, doe-like eyes. He's so grateful to have met you, to have someone so supportive of him in his life.

After a few moments, he concedes. “I had a pretty great run this season, haven’t I?”

You admire how humble your boyfriend always is. It's one of his greatest traits.

“And you have me,” you add jokingly.

He tilts his head side to side. “I guess there’s that too...”

The two of you share a kiss, innocent at first, until he deepens it and you wrap your arms around his neck, which generates some of his teammates to holler and whistle. Likewise, you hear Chenle screech, "Save it for after the win!" and you swear you feel some popcorn being thrown at your back.

Finally, until you're content, you peel away and press your forehead against his.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whisper.

Mark nods, a little more confident than before. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“So much,” he punctuates it with a loving squeeze to your shoulder.

You don't think you'll see him before the game starts, so you grant him one last good luck kiss.

You wouldn't know it that night, but by the end of the season, Mark would indeed take home the Rookie of the Year and the CY Young Award, being the youngest recipient of both awards.

That evening though, your city's team works in unbelievable harmony (or maybe the opposing team is having its worst day) because the game is a perfect one. Mark shuts out the other team, not allowing them to have any runs whatsoever...

Thus, sealing his first title of being a World Series champion.

But certainly not without his beloved running out into the field to give him a congratulatory hug and kiss among the sea of people.

And at the end of that night in the confines of your bedroom (after earth-shattering celebratory sex), you would find out that Chenle was right (and later, that he was in on it) when Mark, merely in his boxers, gets on one knee with a little opened box in front of you.

He's visibly shaking, and not because he's half-naked. You've never seen him so unnerved. Your love spills the following in almost one breath:

“I know we just started dating, and we can be engaged for, like, ten years or whatever. I just know that, deep down, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I may have felt this way since our first date. I really, really, really hope you feel the same, even if just a little bit."

Mark takes a deep breath, trying to regain composure for the important question he exhales.

Tears rise in your eyes as an ocean of feelings hit you, but within that ocean, no doubts rise to the surface whatsoever.

All you think about is how you will be forever grateful for the baseball that hit your head on that life-changing day.

You immediately say yes.

#mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee fluff #mark lee scenarios #mark lee imagines #mark lee fanfic #nct smut #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream smut #yn brainrot

4K notes · View notes

writemekpop · 1 month

Text

All Night Long | Lee Jeno

Summary: You’re pregnant, and the baby’s kicking makes it impossible to sleep. Luckily, Jeno knows just how to take care of you.

Genre: Fluff, established relationship AU, Babydaddy!Jeno

Word count: <1k

KICK. KICK. KICK.

You stroked your baby bump.

“Let me sleep,” you whispered. But it was no use. Your baby was beating you up from the inside.

You looked over at your husband, Jeno, who was fast asleep. His cheek was squished into the pillow, and his soft brown hair stuck up in all directions. Even like this, he was beautiful. You watched his bare, muscled chest rise and fall in time with his soft breaths.

You burned with jealousy at how soundly he slept, while you had been tossing and turning for hours.

You cleared your throat way too loudly.

Jeno jolted awake.

He sat bolt upright, eyes still puffy.

“Is everything okay? Is it the baby?” Jeno asked, voice rough.

His hands found your bump instinctively, and he started tracing circles on your skin. Ever since he found out you were pregnant, Jeno hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you.

“Can’t sleep,” you pouted. “It’s the baby. He keeps kicking me in the ribs.”

You’d taken to wearing Jeno’s shirts in bed – they were the only thing that fit. His hand slipped under the white cotton, stroking your bare skin.

He gasped softly when he felt a sharp kick.

“It’s been like this all night.”

Jeno shuffled so that he was lying in between your legs. He lifted your shirt, exposing your entire tummy.

“Let me talk to him,” Jeno said. “Man to man.”

You giggled when Jeno pressed his lips to your tummy and started to whisper.

Soon, it was becoming too ticklish to bear. Jeno held you in place, his large hands on your hips. He was holding you firmly but gently, just like always.

“Time to sleep, little one. Now, I know your mama is hot shit, but you’ve got to let her rest too, okay?” Jeno whispered into your bump.

“Hey!” you whispered. “You can’t say… the s-word in front of him.”

Jeno chuckled. “Sorry buddy. We’re don’t want you to end up a potty mouth like your mother.”

You whacked a pillow on Jeno’s head, which only made his smile grow.

His calming voice seemed to be doing the trick, as the kicking subsided. Your eyelids started to feel heavy, the weight of the day finally catching up with you.

Jeno shuffled up the bed till he was lying beside you. He pulled the duvet over you both and nuzzled his head into your neck.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him smirk.

“I’m the only one that gets to keep mama up all night.”

—

MASTERLIST

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choerrypuffs · 8 months

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what the puck!

pairing: hockey player!donghyuck x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, a crackfic turned way too serious lmao

word count: 11.6k

synopsis: you hit the university’s star hockey player with your car. shenanigans (and maybe even a little romance) ensue.

author’s note: sorry i came back after almost an entire year and dropped this instead of anything people actually asked for teehee 😋 also i know nothing about hockey so none of the sports stuff makes sense pls kindly ignore <3 big shoutout to miss cat and moon for coming up with the only good parts of this fic

warning(s): brief descriptions of injuries

playlist: and july (feat. dean and dj friz) by heize ― mixtape 2003 by the academic ― chit chat by beach weather ― 1983 by neon trees ― fearless by taylor swift

part i. lee taemin once said his ideal meet-cute is a girl running him over with her car <3

First off, to set the record straight—

You are not a bad driver.

There just so happened to be a bad thunderstorm, and your windshield wipers happened to malfunction, and you happened to lightly tap someone with the front of your beat-up Toyota Prius. Honestly, the person probably did more damage to your car that’s one airbag deployment away from spontaneous combustion than the car could ever do to him.

However, for some reason, the blurry figure that you can barely make out through the onslaught of rainfall doesn’t seem to be getting up off the ground.

Hurriedly putting your car in park, you clamber out in a panic as water pelts you in the face like one of those super strong hoses set on sprinkler mode. Without even asking if the person is okay, you lift him up by the shoulders and shake him violently.

“Oh my God, please don’t die! I literally can’t afford to pay for someone’s funeral right now,” you wail.

You’re met with a pained chuckle, and a hoarse voice replies, “I’m not dead, but thanks for the concern.”

His words cut through your blubbering like the sun peeking through the dark rain clouds, and the violent storm that nearly killed him five minutes ago suddenly subsides into a pleasant drizzle. Now that you can open your eyes without getting waterboarded, you blearily blink at him, finally able to get a good look at your victim.

Even though he’s soaked to the bone with rain, the guy in front of you takes your breath away. He has angled features but big, round doe-eyes and heart-shaped lips that brings a softness to his face. His dark hair, presumably having been styled before this whole fiasco, is flat against forehead and falls into his eyes, brushing against his eyelashes. If you hadn’t just almost committed vehicular manslaughter against him, he’d definitely be someone that you would make eye contact with by chance and have delusional fantasies of living in domesticity with him before looking down at your feet and making a beeline in the opposite direction.

His expression is a bit dazed, a half-smile tugging at his lips, as he makes eye contact with you―almost like he isn’t aware that he’s smiling. You grow a bit concerned, wondering if he’s fallen into a stupor because of the adrenaline.

However, there’s another thing that’s been bothering you more.

And it’s the fact that he looks so familiar―

Then, it suddenly hits you (no pun intended).

You know exactly who this guy is because you pass by a banner with his face on it twice a week on your way to your statistics class.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, “you’re Lee Donghyuck.”

A star hockey player whose talent hasn’t been seen in generations, the guy that is single handedly carrying the university’s legacy on his back, a permanent fixture in recent sports news cycles, the shoo-in for the upcoming NHL draft, and someone who definitely cannot afford to be injured just as he’s reaching the peak of his career―that Lee Donghyuck.

“Yep, that’s me,” he replies with a fairly cheerful demeanor for someone who was just hit by a car. “And you are?”

You just stare at him for a beat before you realize that he’s actually talking to you. “Oh, I’m Y/N.”

Donghyuck goes to say something but stops, clenching his jaw. He reaches down and grasps his right leg, face twisted in pain. Dread sinks into you with the pressure of a dozen semi-trucks.

Before you can bring yourself to look at how bad the damage is, you pray to every god that you can think of that it’s just a teensy-weensy little scrape and Donghyuck has a low pain tolerance. After all, you may not be particularly religious, but you consider yourself a pretty decent person that hasn’t committed a sin grave enough to incur this kind of punishment.

Unfortunately, the gods don’t seem to agree because when you look down, Lee Donghyuck’s calf is bent at an angle that no human’s calf should ever be bent at, his leg resembling an extremely grotesque and mangled L-shape.

You may not have to pay for Donghyuck’s funeral, but you might be holding one of your own.

“Yeah, it’s broken,” the ER doctor says matter-of-factly.

You put your head in your hands, feeling the urge to curl up in a hole and die as if it were your career on the line.

“You’ll be out for six to eight weeks. But on the bright side, it was a pretty clean break, so you shouldn’t have any trouble getting back on the ice once you’re healed,” the doctor continues, thumbing through the X-rays on his clipboard. “You were hit in a very methodical way.”

Whipping your head back up and nearly snapping your neck, you gawk at the doctor. “Why are you saying it like I did it on purpose?”

“Hm,” is the only response you get before he turns back to Donghyuck, patting the latter on the shoulder. “Anyways, just know that the whole staff here are huge fans of you, and we’re all rooting for ya. Get well soon, and make us proud.”

Donghyuck just gives him a strained smile, stiffly trying to sit up on the bed without jostling his leg that’s been propped up in a heavy, thick cast. The doctor fanboys a little more before finally leaving, drawing the privacy curtain closed behind him.

An extremely awkward silence hangs in the air between the two of you. You wait for him to start crying or screaming or have some sort of emotional outburst. However, he doesn’t react at all, just quietly sitting and fiddling with the heart rate monitor clipped on his finger.

“So, um, are you…are you okay?” you ask quietly.

Donghyuck laughs. “I think that’s the first time you’ve asked about my wellbeing since we got here.”

That’s the second time he’s smiled in front of you. You don’t understand why he hasn’t reached over the railing of the bed and throttled you yet. You can’t even imagine how frustrated and disappointed he must be right now. While the doctor did say he’ll be fine once he’s healed, it’ll take at least a month for him to fully recover. That means he’ll be missing at least 7 or 8 games―games that will undoubtedly have important scouts present.

Hell, Donghyuck even had to pay the ER bill too (luckily, his insurance covered the majority of it).

“I’m really sorry,” you sigh, finally giving him a well overdue apology. “I wasn’t thinking straight back then. When I panic, my head goes empty, and I just blurt out stupid shit all the time. I know saying sorry isn’t nearly enough, but if there’s anything I can do for you, I will do my best to make it happen.”

You watch him pause to think. “You know…there actually is.”

You lean forward eagerly, nodding for him to continue. You’re expecting something labor-intensive or gross, like cleaning his house or doing the hockey team’s laundry.

“Could you drive me to and from my classes and practice?” he simply asks. “My parents live out of state, and my teammates’ schedules are always packed, so I kind of need someone to help me.”

You blink at him.

He blinks back.

“You want me to drive you around?” you ask slowly. “In the same car I hit you with?”

“Well,” he shrugs, “I’ll be in it this time, not in front of it.”

You’re not sure if you should be impressed or concerned by his faith in your driving ability.

“If you’re too busy then―”

“No, no! I can,” you quickly interject, “As long as you’re okay with it.”

You still find it surreal how calm he is about everything.

Donghyuck beams. “Perfect. Because I have practice in twenty minutes.”

“Wait, you want to go to practice now? But shouldn’t you go home and rest?”

“Eh, I’ll be fine. Even if I can’t play, I want to show up for moral support,” he replies nonchalantly. “Plus, I still haven’t told them that my leg is broken.”

You make a mental note to casually slip out of the room when that conversation takes place.

“Um, okay then,” you start hesitantly, “once you’re discharged, I’ll drive you there.”

He gives you another grin, and it suddenly hits you that you’ve just committed a whole month of your life to chauffeuring the pride and joy of the hockey world.

Then again, you’ve already hit him with your car, so surely nothing worse could happen.

Right?

When Donghyuck is finally discharged from the ER, you help him hobble along to your car with his crutches and carefully into the passenger seat. You had already haphazardly swept all the empty water bottles, crumpled receipts, and miscellaneous trash under the backseat, so luckily, he doesn’t notice the absolute abysmal state of your vehicle.

You play some music once you hit the road, and he hums along, tapping his uncasted foot to the beat. You, on the other hand, can barely hear the song. You keep your back ramrod straight and grip on the steering wheel so tight that your knuckles turn white, driving with the focus of a Secret Service agent escorting the President.

“So, what’s your major?” Donghyuck asks jovially.

“What?” you jolt. “Oh, um, communications.”

“Oh cool,” he says, sounding genuinely interested. “What do you want to do when you graduate?”

“Uh, just a typical 9-5 office job, I guess,” you answer half-heartedly.

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you hurriedly continue, “I’m not a very ambitious person, as you can see. It probably sounds so mundane to a hotshot like you.”

“You think I’m a hotshot?” He waggles his eyebrows.

You give him a confused look. “Your face is literally plastered all over our school.”

He shrugs like you have a point.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with mundane,” he continues reassuringly, “Besides, I doubt a communications degree would entail a super flashy job or anything.”

You shift in your seat, now feeling strangely defensive over a degree that you care nothing about. “Well, I could be, like, a PR manager for a celebrity or something.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you really want to clean up the messes of a bunch of entitled millionaires that would probably treat the gum stuck to their shoe better than you?”

You rack your brain for a clever retort and eventually give up when your silence drags on much too long for a quip, no matter how smart, to have any merit anymore.

“No,” you finally admit, shaking your head like a toddler who just got caught doing something bad.

“Aw, don’t look so down,” Donghyuck says, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. “Don’t worry. If I become a professional hockey player, I’ll hire you.”

Now it’s your turn to raise an eyebrow. “So when you become an entitled millionaire, you want me to clean up your messes while you treat the gum stuck to your shoe better than me?”

“Ah, but you see,” he trails off dramatically, “the twist is that I’m going to remain my angelic self as always and then you won’t have any messes to clean up. You’ll basically just be paid for sitting around and doing nothing. It’ll be a nice, easy, cushy job. Perfect for someone with no ambition.”

You laugh, leaning back in your seat. “How generous of you to offer a job to someone who almost killed you a couple of hours ago.”

“Bygones,” he says breezily. “What do you think? I promise I’ll treat you well.”

Donghyuck puts his elbows on your center console and props up his face in his hands, batting his eyelashes at you.

“I think the doctor might have given you too much morphine,” you reply, rolling your eyes.

“Is that why I’m seeing so many shapes and colors?”

You whip your head towards him in concern.

“Just kidding.” He winks.

“Not funny,” you grumble.

“I think I heard your neck crack.”

“Shut up.”

“Do you know what tech neck is?”

“Are you always this annoying towards strangers?” you demand.

“Oh come on, we’re not strangers anymore,” he insists. “We’ve become trauma bonded.”

You actually can’t dispute that.

“And are you always this chipper after sustaining a severe injury that inhibits your burgeoning career?”

“Only when I have good company,” he replies smoothly.

While your eyes are focused on the road, you can still see him through your peripheral vision. You know he’s looking at you, feeling his gaze like a beam of sunlight shining directly on your face (also probably why it feels so warm). He has one arm on the center console, covering his mouth with his palm, but you can tell he’s smiling by the way his animation-like eyes crinkle in the corners and how his cheeks are puffed up.

You’re not sure how to respond to a joke like that; rather, you’re not really sure how to respond to Lee Donghyuck at all.

“Oh, we’re here!” you announce, sounding a little too relieved when you see the skating rink right up ahead.

Much to your surprise, you do an amazing job at parking, carefully easing into the lines with a doctor’s precision. Performance anxiety really does make a person thrive.

You quickly get out and grab the crutches from the backseat before going over to the passenger side door, where Donghyuck is balancing on one foot as he tries to exit the car on his own.

“Be careful,” you scold, immediately grabbing his arm and looping it around your shoulder. “Wait for me to come get you. I’m supposed to be helping you.”

“But I want to look cool in front of you,” he replies sheepishly. “Want you to see my swagger when I walk.”

Rolling your eyes, you hand him his crutches and hold him steady until he’s able to stand on his own. Even though he insists that he’s fine now, your arms still hover by his side, ready to catch him at any moment if he slips.

Just as the two of you are about to reach the entrance of the rink, you see another guy walking towards it as well. He’s carrying a hockey stick covered in tape and a giant duffel bag that isn’t zipped fully, overstuffed with what you can only presume to be hockey gear. His red and blue jersey has the number 2 and the name ‘LEE’ printed on the back of it.

Hearing your shuffling footsteps, he glances over and catches Donghyuck’s eye before doing a double take when he realizes that the latter is in a cast.

“Dude, what the hell?” he gawks, marching right over to Donghyuck. “What happened to your leg?”

“Mark, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Mark,” Donghyuck quickly introduces the two of you, ignoring Mark’s question completely. Mark gives you a confused wave before turning back to Donghyuck and raising his eyebrow.

“Anyways, Y/N hit me with her car,” Donghyuck explains casually.

You gasp, nearly punching him in the arm but holding back just in time because a) he’s already injured and b) he’s right. You just wish he didn’t say it like that.

Mark’s expression grows more bewildered when he looks at you. “Why? I mean, I know he’s annoying and a bit of an eyesore, but he’s still a pretty good guy…”

“Accidentally,” you clarify through grit teeth. “It was an accident.”

“Oh okay,” Mark nods as if everything suddenly makes sense now. “You know Coach is gonna lose his shit, right? We have a month before playoffs.”

You let out a small squeak of fear even though Mark isn’t talking to you anymore.

Donghyuck certainly never mentioned that. Your guilt only grows tenfold; of course, you couldn’t just hit this prodigy player on any random Tuesday. You had to hit him right before the playoff games that determine the championship.

“Yeah, well,” Donghyuck mumbles, shrugging. “At least you boys will be treated to a nice show.”

Mark snorts before grabbing the handle to the door and holding it open for the two of you, gesturing for you to walk in first. You feel both of their expectant gazes on you, waiting for you to move, but your feet feel like they’ve been bolted in place.

“What’s wrong?” Donghyuck asks, shifting all his weight onto one crutch so he can lean forward and look at your face. “Are you feeling sick?”

“You could say that,” you mutter, “I suppose the crippling fear of being skinned alive by your coach might be the reason why I’m so nauseous and sweaty.”

“Don’t be afraid,” he reassures you, puffing up his chest. “I’ll protect you!”

“How are you going to protect me?” you demand. “You’d last three seconds against him with that leg and then we’d both just die.”

“You could use him as a human shield,” Mark suggests. “Just throw him at the Coach as a distraction and then run away.”

“No,” you sigh. “He’s too heavy with that cast. I can’t lift him.”

“Ack,” Donghyuck gargles dramatically, “Did you hear that? That was the sound of a knife entering my back. Et te, Brute?”

“It’s Et tu, genius,” you correct, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah, dumbass. Didn’t you read Julius Caesar in high school?” Mark sneers.

“Sorry that I was cool in high school, ” Donghyuck retorts, “Get out of my way, nerds.”

You chuckle as he hobbles past you and shoves Mark on the way, heading into the rink at a snail’s pace. After lightly bullying Donghyuck, you feel much more relaxed than before. Even though you’re still terrified of the reactions you’ll be met with later, you decide to finally gird your loins and step foot into this godforsaken place.

Donghyuck and Mark kindly give you an informal tour as you make your way down to the skating rink, pointing out the locker rooms and where the student section is in the seats. It astounds you that you’re only a couple quarters away from graduating and yet you’ve never been here before. You have some friends who are fans or just show up to ogle hot players, and they’ve invited you to games, but you’ve just never really cared about the sport in general.

How ironic, you think to yourself and stifling a slightly hysterical giggle.

The rest of the team are doing warm-up exercises on the ice, and you notice the burly-looking coach watching over them with a hawk eye and a whistle in his mouth, arms crossed. His face is turned downwards in an extremely scary scowl.

Your palms start to grow sweaty and your footsteps become heavier again, and Donghyuck seems to notice instantly, turning around and giving you a wink.

“I got this,” he says coolly.

You watch Donghyuck confidently swagger (as best as he can) towards the coach, who looks at him like he just saw a ghost, all the blood draining from his face. The coach’s mouth hangs wide open, the whistle slipping out of his mouth and hitting his chest.

The sounds of the blades of the skates skidding across the ice come to a sudden halt as everyone in the room stares at the cast on Donghyuck’s leg and slowly starts to register what that means.

“Heeey, Coach!” Donghyuck walks up to him and does jazz hands like an idiot. “What’s kickin’? Haha, not me!”

And you realize that Donghyuck does not, in fact, got this.

You might as well just grab a shovel and start digging your own grave.

“Lee Donghyuck, stop dicking around and get your ass on that ice now. I don’t have time to deal with another one of your pranks. Not when playoffs—”

Donghyuck, the little arsonist who likes to dump fuel on the fire he is, takes out the X-rays of his broken bone from his pocket and proudly presents it to the coach.

“What the hell did you do?” The coach asks after staring at the X-rays like they had complex quantum physics equations written on them.

“I got hit by a car?” Donghyuck answers sheepishly, holding his arms out as if he were announcing something grand.

You watch as the gears start falling into place in the coach’s head.The blood that had drained from his face earlier suddenly comes rushing back, and you’re surprised steam doesn’t come out of his ears.

“Did I or did I not tell you to not act like a little shit before playoffs? I asked you to behave for just once in your life and then you go and get yourself hit by a car!” The coach hollers, fuming. “What, did you finally piss someone off enough? Who hit you? I want to meet them and ask why they didn’t just kill you right off the bat. You’re of better use to me dead because then at least I would be sad for you. What the hell am I supposed to do with you now? Limping around like a three-legged dog.”

“Aw, Coach, you’d be sad if I died?” Donghyuck sniffles. Judging by his reaction, you can tell this isn’t the first time he’s been chewed out by the coach before. Despite the coach's harsh words and tone, it’s clear that he has a strong familial bond to his players.

“Get out.”

“I get that you’re mad, but it’s kind of rude to compare my gait to a three-legged dog’s, as adorable as they may be. Admittedly, my swagger is kind of off, but I’d prefer you call it something with a little more pizazz. Like ‘fracture swagger’ or—”

“Get out!” The coach hurls his whistle at Donghyuck’s head.

Even with his injury, his athlete instincts kick in and he dodges it with ease.

On the other hand, you—who had sneakily slipped behind Donghyuck without him noticing in an attempt to hide yourself—not so much.

Luckily, the metal whistle doesn’t hit your face, but the lanyard it’s attached to slaps you across your cheek like a whip. You let out a yelp, but it’s not really out of pain. It’s more out of surprise and terror of being on the receiving end of the coach’s wrath.

“Are you okay?” Donghyuck asks immediately, looking way more concerned than he should be. “Did it hit you in the eye?”

“Nope. I’m totally good,” you answer a little too quickly, nodding like a bobblehead.

He hesitantly reaches over but drops his hand right as his fingers brush your jaw. Turning away stiffly, his concerned expression quickly morphs into a glower.

“Coach,” he says, all humor draining from his tone. “Apologize.”

Donghyuck lowers his voice, but the weight of his words loom in the air like a rumbling storm cloud—the ones you see on weather satellites that eventually amasses into a hurricane.

“I’m…sorry,” the coach stammers, clearly taken aback.

You feel like all of the air is being sucked out of the room, so you just give him an awkward thumbs-up.

Another beat of silence passes by before the coach snaps out of his surprise and yanks Donghyuck by the ear. “You have a lot of nerve talking to me with that attitude, little brat. Especially after the stunt you pulled today. Who the hell is she anyways?”

“Owie,” Donghyuck whines, pawing at the coach’s wrist before finally being released. “Oh, that’s Y/N.”

As if it were just a blip in time, that unimaginable pressure dissipates in an instant. He goes back to his mischievous self so smoothly that you wonder if you had just imagined everything before.

“Hello,” you greet, trying your best to smile naturally even though it probably looks like you’re just opening your mouth and showing your teeth.

“She’s the one who hit me with her car—”

In that moment, the gods suddenly decided to grant you the same athlete instincts that Donghyuck is graced with because you lunge forward in a blur, slapping a hand over his mouth. The clap reverberates throughout the whole rink, but you just smile sweetly.

“Accidentally. It was an accident. I’ll be driving him around until his leg heals.”

It takes another second for the coach to register what you mean, and you brace for the worst, expecting another object to go hurtling towards you—this time with intent.

Instead, the coach glances at Donghyuck before looking back at you, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Welcome to the team, I guess.”

Despite your initial qualms, you adjust to your new norm pretty quickly.

In fact, it’s kind of surreal how suddenly you were thrust into Donghyuck’s world and how perfectly the pieces of your life and his mesh.

He’s a morning person, so he’s always ready and lively when you pick him up at 7AM, even if you’re running late. But no matter how late you are, the two of you always get coffee first. It’s become a routine that actually makes you look forward to waking up at the ass crack of dawn.

Your classes also end an hour earlier than his, so you have time to grab food for the two of you before screaming Taylor Swift song lyrics together at the top of your lungs in your car on your drive to practice. You watch all of the practice and official games with him, and he tries his best to explain what’s happening, though the terminology mostly flies over your head. You’re on first-name basis with all of his teammates and even managed to ingratiate yourself with the coach by offering to help him fill up water bottles. Everyone treats you as if you were part of the team; though they were already a completed puzzle, they softened their edges to make room for your mismatched piece.

It’s unnerving how attached you grow to them—to Donghyuck—since it will all go away in a month. You feel like you’re a part of something here; Donghyuck makes you feel special, as if he’s made a place just for you in his life.

You suppose time truly flies when you’re having fun because, before you know it, three weeks have already passed by.

The team’s last official game before playoffs is finally here.

When you pick Donghyuck up to take him to the game, you can tell he’s a bit off today. He still puts on a brave face and tries to goof off like he normally does, but you know he’s nervous by the way he’s nervously tapping his uncasted foot to the music. In fact, you’ve been sensing his growing anxiety at the past games for a while now. The team has been holding their own relatively well without him, but their momentum has definitely started to slow as they get closer to playoffs.

You can’t really blame him for getting antsy; he may have been eerily calm and in good humor when he first got injured, but you’ve realized that his playful nature is often used to deflect from his actual feelings. You used to think he did it to push other people away, but it’s really so he doesn’t crumble under the weight of the immense pressure he puts on himself.

You won’t mention it, of course, since you’re probably not supposed to know that.

Instead, you turn the music up as loud as it’ll go and grab his hand, yelling at the top of your lungs, “You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless!”

Donghyuck tries to sing with you, but his voice catches in his throat and cracks.

Oh, that’s another thing about him—he can dish it but he can’t take it. He’ll flirt with you like there’s no tomorrow, as if he were a corny protagonist from a dollar store romance novel, but the moment you get too close to him or brush his arm as you walk past him, he suddenly becomes petrified like he looked into Medusa’s eyes. He reacts like he couldn’t even fathom you reciprocating his flirting, and you’re not sure if it’s because he thinks you’re that much of a loser. Either way, it also makes you flustered in turn when he acts like that, so the two of you just end up awkwardly standing there like two embarrassed fools.

But this is different. This isn’t just simple flirting; this is…something else.

So you squeeze his hand tightly and sing even louder, hoping it’s enough to drown out his worries even if for a little bit.

There’s only a minute left in the third period of the game, and the score is tied 3–3, but you can’t even focus on the game.

You’ve never seen this kind of expression on Donghyuck’s face before.

Despite the fact that he’s sitting right next to you, you can tell by the glisten in his eyes that he’s feeling all of the emotions that his teammates on the ice are. Hockey usually brings out a boyish energy in him, as if he were a child full of wonder. Yet here, he looks down at the rink with a wistfulness, a sense of longing. A homesickness.

So when the opposing team scores a last-minute goal, followed by the blaring buzzer that signals the game is over, you know that Donghyuck is blaming himself for the end of his team’s winning streak—when he should be blaming you for hitting him with your goddamn car.

He was born to be on the ice, to be a champion. He doesn’t belong here in the stands, to be a spectator on the sidelines.

That role has always been meant for you.

You don’t realize you’re crying out of frustration until the tears hit the back of your hand, the warmth a stark contrast to the chilly temperature of the rink. Donghyuck turns to you to say something and jolts in alarm when he sees your state.

“Wha…What’s wrong?” He leans in closer when you try to turn away, grasping your forearm gently. “Are you not feeling well? Do you feel sick? Is it too cold? Do you want my jacket?”

You shake your head, trying to choke down the ugly sob in your chest.

“Is it because we lost?” He asks hesitantly. “Don’t cry, Y/N. I’m gonna recover in a jiffy, and we’ll breeze through the playoffs—”

You shove him weakly before the wail you’ve been holding back rips through your throat like projectile vomit. Fat tears fall freely from your cheeks, and you’re pretty sure snot is dripping from your nose. “You’re an idiot!”

Donghyuck stares at you in bewilderment before slowly saying, “Well, I can’t really dispute that, but may I ask why?”

“Stop being nice,” you blubber, “Just get upset because I know you are. It’s my fault that everyone lost. You should just cuss me out or something. Or punch me in the nose. How about you hit me with your car to make things even, huh?”

You’re far too gone to know what you’re saying anymore, just blurting out your stream of consciousness.

“You want me to hit you with my car because we lost one game?” Donghyuck laughs. He gazes at you with a mix of disbelief and awe—the same way he looked at you when you first met him. You wonder if his eyes warmed with adoration like this the first time too.

“—and you’re supposed to be the protagonist while I’m just a side character. Me hitting you with my car derailed the canon event of your undefeated season. I ruined your life—”

“Okay, okay,” he finally interrupts your nonsensical rambling, brushing the tears from your face with his thumbs before dabbing away the snot from your nose with the sleeve of his jacket. “I don’t understand a word you’re saying, so no more of that.”

But you’re inconsolable, holding your head in your hands. “It’s all my fault. I’m the reason you lost. The team lost because you weren’t there.”

“You know, going by that logic, that means you’re also the reason why they won the last couple of games without me,” he points out. “So, I guess that means I should also cry and thank you.”

“What? That makes no sense—”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Donghyuck says softly, his thumb lingering on your cheekbone, running along it with a feather touch. “For crying for me. For comforting me.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you sniffle, swatting his hand away in annoyance. “You’re the one comforting me right now. I haven’t done anything to comfort you. ”

“You’d be surprised,” he whispers underneath his breath, but his words are lost among the bustle of the packed rink.

Not that you would’ve heard him anyways.

Now that you think about it, there really hasn’t been a single thing you’ve done for him other than driving him around, but that doesn’t count. You want to do something for him—something that would make him look the way he does when he’s excitedly telling you about a good hockey play that you didn’t understand but nod along anyways to.

And you have just the idea.

part ii. hey girl are you the american healthcare system? because i’ll be indebted to you for the rest of my life <3

You drum your fingers in against your steering wheel in anticipation as you wait for Donghyuck’s last class of the day to end. When you see him walking out of the building and to your car, you try to act cool, but it’s hard when you’re literally bouncing in your seat.

Naturally, Donghyuck notices.

“You’re in a good mood today,” he teases as he buckles himself in. “Did you do well on that statistics quiz from last week or something?”

You’re surprised he even remembers that; you had only mentioned it in passing.

“No way. I definitely failed that,” you dismiss, waving your hand to shoo off the negative energy if that cursed quiz. “I have a gift for you.”

“For lil’ ol’ me?” He gasps loudly, covering his mouth and fanning his face.

Ignoring his theatrics, you whip out your phone from your back pocket and present it to him proudly. “Ta-da!”

“Wow,” he claps politely. “You finally got your screen replaced. I was worried you would slice your thumb with how cracked—”

“Shut up,” you cut him off, “You just ruined my dramatic reveal.”

Unlocking your phone, you go to your photo album and show him the video you took a couple days ago. “Look! I asked your coach which team you guys would be up against first in the playoffs and did some old-fashioned espionage by sneaking into one of their games and filming everything. Your leg is healing pretty fast, so I figured you’d want to study their playstyles before you got back on the ice.”

Much to your satisfaction, Donghyuck seems genuinely surprised. He gingerly takes the phone from your hand and presses play on the video, and you see that spark in his eyes that you so desperately missed.

Eagerly leaning on the center console, you point out of the players and say, “You see Number 30? I’m pretty sure that guy is the you of his team. He scored three goals in one game—oh wait, you told me that’s called a ‘hat trick.’ Anyways, he did a hat trick, and the last goal actually won them the game. So we have to make sure to tell the team to watch out for that guy. Oh my God, and halfway through the game, Number 21 and Number 4 started fighting! Dropped their gloves on the ice and started punching each other while the referees just watched. I know you said fighting is allowed in hockey, but it was still wild to see in 4K like that. Hold on, let me fast forward to show you—”

When you glance over at him, Donghyuck’s face is about four inches away from yours, and he isn’t paying attention to the video at all. You’ve never seen this kind of expression on Donghyuck’s face before. If hockey brings out a boyish joy in him, then you wonder what this is.

He gazes at you with a mellow softness, as if you were a moment of peace from the glaring stage lights, screaming crowds, and thunderous applause. Like you were a cloud of warmth enveloping him after braving through the unforgiving cold of the ice. He looks at you with a sense of longing—but it’s different from the way he looked at the game. That was wistfulness, a homesickness. A responsibility that he bears.

This is reverie, a daydream. A moment of escape.

Suddenly, your arms, which had been holding most of your weight on the console, give out. Your shoulder smacks into his, jostling the two of you out of whatever trance you had been under. Recoiling at supersonic speed, your face burns as your sputter, “J-Jesus, you scared me! Why aren’t you watching the video and just staring at me like the blue-eyed Miley Cyrus meme?”

Donghyuck drags a hand down his face, and you see his ears turn a bright red. “S-Sorry. I didn’t even notice I was doing it—Hey! That’s rude. I’ll have you know that I’m often told that I have innocent Bambi doe-eyes.”

You know he’s trying to give you an out by cracking a joke, and you’re grateful. Any more of that and your heart would’ve jumped out of your mouth.

“Whatever. Just watch the video. I worked really hard to get it, you know. I even wore one of those oversized hoodies and giant sunglasses with a scarf to hide my face so I couldn’t be incriminated.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You wore sunglasses inside? What are you, a Republican?”

“Do you want the video or not?” you snap.

“Hey, you can’t give me a gift and then threaten to take it back,” he retorts before quietly continuing, “Thank you, Y/N.”

You try to ignore the way your heart swells at his sincerity.

“You’re welcome,” you mumble.

On the drive to the skating rink, neither of you notice that there isn’t any music playing—too distracted by the butterflies in your stomachs.

When you pull into the parking lot, you spot Mark getting out of his car. Desperate to escape this suffocating enclosed space with Donghyuck, you nearly tumble out of the door after him.

“Oh, look, there’s Mark,” you say hurriedly, “I’ll show him the video too.”

“Wait, Y/N—” Donghyuck calls, trying his best to hobble after you.

Mark spots you in his peripheral and stops, waiting for the two of you to catch up.

“Why are you running?” Mark asks when you jog up to him. “If you’re trying to get away from Donghyuck, all you need to do is power walk. Or you could hit him with a car again and break this other leg.”

“Very funny, dickwad,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes. “And to think I did you a favor.”

“You did?” He looks confused, but you’ve realized that he always perpetually looks confused.

You go to show him your phone, but Donghyuck finally catches up and squeezes in between the two of you. “Wait, I need to talk to Mark—”

“Hold on a sec, dude. Let me see this first. I’m curious now,” Mark huffs.

“I asked Coach which team you guys would be up against first in the playoffs and snuck into their game to film it, so you could watch it and learn their tricks,” you announce proudly.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Mark replies breezily, “We already have recordings of a bunch of their games.”

You slowly lower your phone, nearly letting it slip out of your hand.

“What?”

“Donghyuck didn’t tell you? We always review our opponents’ games before playoffs,” Mark explains, glancing between you and Donghyuck and realizing a beat too late that he said something he wasn’t supposed to. “Oh, I guess he didn’t, huh…”

“You have literal shit for brains, Mark Lee,” Donghyuck says through grit teeth. “How many years have we played together and you still can’t take a hint?”

“Sorry! I thought Y/N knew—”

“Just go,” Donghyuck sighs, shaking his head.

Mark runs away so fast that he almost leaves a puff of smoke in his wake like a Looney Tunes cartoon. Once he’s gone, Donghyuck cards a hand through his hair and turns to you with an apologetic look on his face.

“Y/N—”

“You could’ve told me,” you say quietly. “Instead of making me look like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he responds almost immediately. “You just looked so happy, and it made me happier, so I kept quiet. Besides, the video does help.”

You laugh bitterly. “In what way? Was it funny watching me get all excited like a fool, thinking I had actually done something for you?”

“Why are you being so harsh on yourself?” Donghyuck asks, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I mean it. The video really does help.”

“I’m not being harsh on myself. I’m telling the truth. All I’ve done is just screw up your life, and when I try to help even a little bit, it just hinders you more,” you say in frustration.

You’re not sure how the atmosphere grew so somber, but you suppose that's the energy you’ve always brought to him. You’re just a dark rain cloud to his sunny skies.

“Come on,” Donghyuck says, grabbing your hand and tugging you towards your car. “Let’s go to the mall.”

“What? Why? What about practice?” you ask, completely caught off-guard by his seemingly out-of-nowhere suggestion.

“Coach won’t even notice that we’re not there, and if he does, he’ll get over it,” Donghyuck replies. “Now come on.”

“But I don’t want to go to the mall,” you say petulantly, pouting like a child and wanting to wallow in your own misery.

“We’re going.”

“You know you can’t go anywhere without me driving you, right?”

“Then you better hurry up and get in your car unless you want to unleash this traffic hazard onto the streets,” Donghyuck says, pointing to his leg.

The two of you have a staredown before you finally relent, begrudgingly getting into the driver’s seat and slamming the door. He beams at your silent agreement to go, and you’re suddenly not as upset as you were earlier, though you still maintain a pissy expression because you’re dramatic.

Luckily, the mall is about a fifteen minute drive from the university, so you get there rather quickly. You wait for Donghyuck to explain why he randomly insisted on this impromptu trip, but he keeps mum about it, simply leading you to the lowest floor of the mall—where the skating rink is. Other than the handful of staff who are all either on their phones or hiding in the break room, the two of you are the only ones here since it’s the afternoon during a weekday.

“So we left that skating rink to go to another skating rink?” you ask wryly.

“Yup. Wait here,” Donghyuck says, leaving you in the changing area while he goes to the front desk. You awkwardly sit at a bench and twiddle your thumbs until he comes back with a pair of skates in hand.

“What are you doing? I know the doctor said you can walk on your leg now, but he definitely did not say you could skate,” you scold.

“Good thing I won’t be skating,” he answers nonchalantly, handing you the pair of skates. “I didn’t know your exact shoe size, but these should fit.”

“No way,” you shake your head. “Nuh-uh. I haven’t skated since I was, like, seven.”

“Well, you’re about to receive a lesson from a damn good teacher,” he says, nudging your foot. “Hurry up and put them on.”

“How are you going to teach me with that giant walking boot? Are you just going to get on the ice without any skates?” you demand.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” he counters, “It’s not like the staff are going to call me out.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” you sigh. Nevertheless, you slip your shoes off and put the skates on. “And I still don’t think you should be on a slippery surface even if you’re not skating.”

“And I don’t understand why you’re getting a communications degree with you when you have a PhD in nagging,” Donghyuck teases.

“You’re a douche,” you say, giving the laces on your skates one final tug before standing to your feet, albeit wobbly as you try to remember how to keep your balance on the blades. “Let’s get this over with.”

Donghyuck offers to hold your hand as you make your way to the entrance of the rink, but you quickly swat him away in fear of dragging him down with you if you fall and injuring him further.

Your legs tremble like a newborn fawn when you finally step foot onto the ice, clinging onto the side railing with a vice grip. Donghyuck, despite his five-pound walking boot, comfortably walks onto the ice and maneuvers around as if he were uninjured.

“Is this some sort of sick humiliation ritual? Is this how you’re going to get your revenge on me, by having me bust my ass on this ice?” you ask, voice wavering like just the rest of your body.

“And you say I’m a drama queen,” he mutters. “Why do you always think of such dark scenarios? You were like this when we first met too. You just assumed I was dead first before asking if I was okay.”

“I like to assume the worst,” you reply matter-of-factly, “Lowers my expectations. Makes my life a lot easier.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it does,” he says sarcastically before gently grasping your wrists and carefully dragging you away from the railing. “Now stop hiding in the corner like a small injured animal. There’s only room for one injured animal, and that’s me.”

“No, no, no. I’m going to fall,” your voice slowly escalates into shriek as your nails dig into his forearms. The ice is too slippery, too slick, and you feel your knees start to buckle as you lose your balance.

But you don’t fall. Instead, Donghyuck wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him, keeping you upright even with your jelly legs. You feel the taut cord of muscle in his arm flex as he holds you, and he sucks in a sharp breath when your chest presses to his. Your breath comes out in labored white puffs from the temperature, and you curl your fists into his shirt, clinging onto him for dear life because you know you’ll crumple to the ground if he loosens his grip even a little bit.

Even though your mind is whirring with a million thoughts and you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack, your body reacts naturally to him, curving to fit with his just right. The warmth of his calloused fingers splayed across the small of your back anchors you, and you feel so secure in his arms; he cradles you against him as if you were made of glass.

“I got you,” he reassures you, his breath rustling your baby hairs. “Okay?”

You give a small nod, and he takes a small step back. And another. And another.

Slowly but surely, he manages to pull you to the center of the ice, where the logo of the mall is printed.

“Do you remember what position I play, Y/N?” Donghyuck asks, leaning back so that he can look at your face.

Now that you’ve regained some strength in your legs and have grown a bit more comfortable on the ice, you start to relax your grip on his poor shirt. You even manage to tear your eyes away from your feet to meet his gaze.

“Center,” you answer. A fitting title, indeed.

“So you’re not just a black hole of hockey information, after all,” he sniffs. “I’m so proud.”

“Get to your point quickly,” you warn.

“So impatient,” he tuts before breaking out into a smug beam, “You’re standing right where I usually am at games.”

“You dragged me all the way out here to flex?” you gawk in disbelief.

“Of course not!” He raises an eyebrow.. “But are you impressed?”

“Take me back, you ass.”

“Kidding,” he quickly says, stifling a laugh, but you still feel it rumble in his chest.

“Why are we here, Donghyuck?” you ask again, exhausted.

He pauses, and everything goes perfectly still.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve stood here in a month,” he muses, almost unaware that he’s speaking aloud. “This is the first time I’ve been on ice in a month.”

“Well, you were injured—”

He shakes his head. “Hockey players play with worse injuries than this constantly. If I had really wanted to get back on the ice, I would’ve done it.”

You don’t say anything.

Donghyuck looks around the empty skating rink. “It’s big, isn’t it?”

You follow his line of sight and scan the vast expanse of the ice. From a distance, it doesn’t seem so big, but the ice feels like it stretches on for miles when you’re standing in the middle.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I thought so for a while too. Trying to get to the goal felt like climbing Mount Everest. I loved that feeling of the cold air freezing my lungs, the air getting thinner as I got closer,” he describes before trailing off. “But one day, the rink felt like it was shrinking, closing in on me. I was being chased instead of the other way around. Centers cover more ice surface than any other player, but I was being held down. Anywhere I skated wasn’t far enough. But that didn’t matter. I had a championship to win. A team that I couldn’t let down. Scouts that I had to impress. A talent that I worked my entire life for. A career that people would kill for. It didn’t matter that I felt like I was suffocating every time I put on my uniform.”

Your first reaction is to say something, anything to comfort him, but his expression tells you that the best thing you can do right now is hold your tongue and just listen.

“And as comical as it sounds, being hit by your car couldn’t have come at a better time for me. For the first time in my life, I was relieved that I didn’t have to play. Even though my career could’ve been over, I didn’t feel a thing. I just wanted to quit everything, but the thought of throwing my whole life away terrified me too. I thought maybe if I attended the practices and the games that it would make me want to get back on the ice, but it didn’t. It wasn’t the game that made me want to play again. When you cried for me after we lost—”

Donghyuck draws in a shaky breath.

“I had forgotten what it felt like—to have someone cry so wholeheartedly for you. To be yelled at for pretending to be okay. To be seen. Being with you has made me realize that maybe my world isn’t so small after all—that it isn't collapsing in on itself like I thought. You make me feel free again.”

He lifts his hand and brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. You watch as his eyes drag across your features, going from your eyelashes to the slope of your nose before lingering on your lips.

“I wasn’t lying when I said your video helped,” he reiterates, “When you showed me your phone with that spark in your eye, it made me want to play hockey again. I want to see it the way you do. I want you to see me.”

Your breath hitches in your throat when he leans in, resting his forehead against yours. The hand on your back brings you closer while his other hand reaches down and grabs your own.

“I’m really glad you hit me with your car, Y/N,” he whispers, a bright laugh escaping his lips.

That sentence cuts through war raging in your head, and you let out an involuntary snort, giving him a half-hearted shove. “Stop making it seem like I did it on purpose.”

“That’s all you have to say after I just poured my heart out to you?” he asks, raising his eyebrow in amusement.

“No! I just…I’m thinking,” you mumble, head swimming with the scent of his fabric softener. The way he talked about you, the way he’s looking at you—doesn’t that mean he likes you? But that makes no sense. The two of you are…well, you’re not sure what you are.

“About?” he hums, lacing his fingers through yours and playing with your hand.

“I—I don’t know. You’re being very distracting,” you sputter. Has he always this suave? You distinctly remember how he would turn bright red whenever your hand would just accidentally brush against his, and now he’s grown so emboldened seemingly overnight.

“I am?” He blinks innocently.

And you know you’ve got it bad when you even find that somewhat adorable.

“Okay, back up, buster,” you order, pushing yourself off him. “I need five feet between us, so I can properly think.”

“Wait, Y/N—”

In your frazzled state, you forget that you’re wearing ice skates that you are very much incapable of standing upright in without Donghyuck’s help. You feel yourself beginning to tip backwards and shoot your arms out behind you to break your fall.

Crack.

“Yeah, it’s broken,” the same ER doctor from your last visit announces, flipping through yet another set of X-rays. “Not as clean of a break this time. Probably going to take at least twelve weeks to heal.”

If you could put your head in your hands, you would, but your right arm is currently in a thick cast and hanging from a sling. Not to mention it hurts like a bitch.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Donghyuck winces, “It’s my fault. I should’ve caught you.”

“No, it’s fine. This is divine retribution, I’m sure,” you sigh.

“If I may ask, what exactly do you two get up to in your spare time?” The ER doctor looks from Donghyuck to you and then back to Donghyuck.

“I actually decided to pivot to a career in amateur wrestling, and Y/N agreed to be my practice partner, and sometimes we get…experimental,” Donghyuck responds without blinking an eye.

“No,” you snap.

The ER doctor gives the two of you one last side eye before leaving, drawing the privacy curtain behind him.

“Why do you always insist on embarrassing me in public?” you ask, shaking your head.

“I simply have a natural calling for it. Like Michaelangelo and sculpting,” he insists.

“I hate you.”

“Well, that’s a shame because I really, really like you,” he smiles.

And you think he really, really means it too.

You look away, still unsure of how to answer him. You know it doesn’t go unnoticed by Donghyuck, but he changes the subject anyways.

“I guess it’s my turn to drive you around now,” he says in a sing-song voice.

“How the hell are you going to do that with the boot?” you ask, giving him a dubious look.

“I’m getting it off in two weeks,” he points out.

“So you want me to miss two weeks of school?”

“No,” he sniffs, “I’ll get Mark to drive us.”

“Mark’s car is filthy!”

“Are you really one to talk?”

You shut your mouth after that.

The two weeks whizz by, and Donghyuck finally gets his walking boot removed in exchange for a much more discreet brace. The doctor even gave him the OK to play but only for short increments at a time and no more than ten minutes.

With Donghyuck so focused on his recovery in addition to the fact that the two of you have been carpooling with Mark, you and Donghyuck haven’t really had a chance to properly talk alone since the mall—not to mention the fact that you’ve been avoiding him like crazy. It’s also pretty hard to think about anything else other than how much your arm hurts and how sweaty your cast gets.

However, despite everything, you still show up to watch Donghyuck practice for his first playoff game. He texted you that he could pick you up in the morning, but the thought of being alone with him after all this time made you feel way too jittery, especially since you were still trying to sort your feelings out. In the end, you lied and said your arm hurt too much, skipped your classes, and told him a friend would drop you off in time for practice (you just called an Uber). Since you leave your house a bit late, practice has already started.

You see Donghyuck doing laps around the rink, warming up. This is the first time you’ve seen him in his uniform in person, and you realize that this is how a hockey uniform is supposed to be worn. You’ve always thought that hockey players always looked a bit like the Michelin Man with how bulky their gear is, but Donghyuck looks like he belongs in a modeling catalog.

This is so pathetic. He gives you a little bit of attention and now you’re fawning over him like you’re sixteen again.

But it’s hard not to fawn when he looks so natural on the ice. Even though he’s not at his prime, the way he glides so smoothly across the rink and how he dribbles the puck with his stick all feel like second nature for him. Every move he makes seems purposeful, graceful.

You make Donghyuck want to play hockey again? Impossible.

Not when he belongs on the ice.

But why does he hold you in such high regard? Why does he make you feel so special? He makes you feel like you belong with him. The spot beside him is not a place someone like you could ever dream of taking, yet he makes you want to. He makes you want to be selfish, to expect something.

Even if he does like you, he can’t possibly like you more than you like him. He may have been reliant on you this past month, but you’re going to need him more than he would ever need you.

The more you watch him on the ice, the more you feel like you’re looking at the banner of him on your way to statistics. He’s not really a person that you know anymore but a pillar. A pillar of everything that is out of reach to you. You’ve gotten to see a different side of him for a short period of time, but you’ll be nothing but a blot of the past once he’s fully recovered. He’s going to graduate college and become a professional player in the NHL. He’s going to make a name for himself. You’re just going to be in a cubicle for the rest of your life.

The two of you make no sense.

It’s easy to not want something that you’ve never had, but it’s so much harder to let go when you’ve been given a taste.

It’s a sobering feeling—reality.

“Y/N?”

You startle, turning to see Mark.

“Hi, Mark,” you say, voice wavering between octaves.

“You’re here to see Donghyuck, right?”

“No, I—”

“Donghyuck!” Mark calls out loudly, cupping the sides of his mouth with his hands. “Y/N’s here!”

You wince at the echo of his voice, but Donghyuck’s head shoots up when he hears your name. A huge grin breaks across his face, and he gestures for you to wait while he starts to skate off the ice, ripping off the bulkier padding of his uniform and taking off his helmet as he goes.

“Hey,” Donghyuck says, making his way up to you. “You didn’t have to come if you weren’t feeling well. How’s your arm?”

“Fine,” you squeak out a bit too fast.

“You don’t sound fine,” he points out, completely unconvinced.

You curse yourself for being such a shitty liar, avoiding his gaze like a criminal being interrogated. You absolutely do not need him to psychoanalyze you when you’re in such a vulnerable state.

You can feel Donghyuck’s knowing gaze sweep across your features. “This isn’t about your arm, is it? Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Your silence is confirmation enough for him. “Y/N, I just wanted to tell you how I feel. You’re under no obligation to like me back. If you want me to pretend like it never happened, I will, but please don’t—”

You really don’t want to have this conversation here or ever, but you suppose you can’t exactly ignore it any longer.

“I do like you back,” you say gingerly. “Much more than you know. Much more than you like me.”

He goes to protest, but you cover his mouth. You want to say it all at once because you know he’ll change your mind if you let him talk.

“I’m not an ambitious person, Donghyuck,” you whisper. “I know when I don’t belong. There’s no place for me here. We only have a little bit before graduation, and then we’ll probably never see each other again.”

His expression wrenches. He looks like he’s in more excruciating pain now than he did when he broke his leg.

“I know you say I always think of the darkest scenario, so I’ll try my best to be optimistic this time,” you continue. “Once you become a famous hockey player, treat me to a meal or something if you remember me. Or we could have a listening party when Taylor’s new album comes out if you still like her music by then. But I don’t think we’ll be any more than that. We can’t.”

“Why?” he asks harshly, grasping your wrist and removing your hand from his mouth. “Why are you deciding that before anything has even happened?”

“I’m trying to make your life easier, Donghyuck,” you say, exasperated. “So you won’t have any baggage when you leave here. You’ll forget about me in no time.”

“You are so mean,” his voice cracks on the final word, “I wish you just told me you hated me.”

“I’m so—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts coldly, and you’ve never heard him speak like this to you before. “Don’t apologize. Just—please just leave.”

You know he’s crying by the way his shoulders shake when he turns away from you. He doesn’t return to the ice, instead opting to head back to the locker rooms. Every step he takes grows more and more sluggish, and you’re worried that his leg is giving him trouble. You watch his figure disappear behind the double doors and stand there silently, listening to the sound of a whistle cueing drills followed by the ice skate blades skidding across the ice. They’re noises that you’ve heard thousands of times over the course of the month, but you think you’re going to miss them a lot.

You’re going to miss him.

This is for the better, you keep telling yourself.

Eventually, the words don’t even make sense anymore.

Against your better judgment, you decide to attend the first playoff game.

You haven’t spoken to Donghyuck since you rejected him—is it really a rejection if there was nothing to reject in the first place?—but it doesn’t change the fact that you care about him more than anyone. You want him to succeed. You want to support him, even if that support is unwanted.

You tell yourself that you’re going to be selfish one last time and then you’ll let him go.

As to not be a distraction to him in case he somehow spotted you, you decide to wear the same attire you wore when you snuck into the opposing team’s game, sunglasses and all. Luckily, by the time you arrive, the rink is already packed to the brim since it’s Donghyuck’s comeback game.

You find an area in the back to stand, lowering the brim of your hat to avoid any unwanted camera shots on the big screen. Shortly afterwards, loud music starts to blare from the speakers and you spot the team skating out on the rink. Donghyuck leads the line to wild applause from the crowd, and you clap along as well, but your stomach turns at how exhausted he looks. He smiles and waves for the cameras, but his face is pallor and there are deep bags underneath his eyes.

This isn’t what you wanted.

You wanted him to thrive, much more than he would’ve without you. You wanted him to forget about you and focus on his career. You wanted him to be okay.

So why do you keep hurting him?

You dig your nails into your palms as you watch him skate to the center and take his position. There’s a momentary hush that falls over the crowd as the referee holds the puck above him and the other center’s head before dropping it between them, and the game is off to the races.

Donghyuck ends up playing for way longer than ten minutes, throwing all caution to the wind, but he moves like a lightning streak across the ice—scoring a hat trick before the first period is over. His momentum carries onto the last two periods as well as he absolutely demolishes the opposing team. He is especially persistent in hounding Number 30, the player you warned him about. You almost feel bad for Number 30 since he is most definitely on the receiving end of Donghyuck’s poor mood.

With only ten seconds left in the third period, Donghyuck scores a buzzer beater and the winning goal of the night. The crowd is on their feet, clapping their hands and stomping their feet so strongly that the whole stadium shakes.

You feel like crying again as you watch Donghyuck’s teammates descend on him in happiness.

They don’t understand.

He’s playing like he did before—like he’s being chased. Like he’s being slowly crushed between walls of the stadium. It’s a lifeless victory, and it’s your fault.

You were wrong.

He’s not okay. You hurt him more than any physical injury ever could.

You should’ve just thrown yourself into his arms, your fears of being hurt be damned. You should’ve believed in him, believed in his feelings. You should’ve at least given him a chance to prove you wrong. You should’ve just allowed yourself to like him first and foremost.

When you look back at the rink, you see a reporter making her way onto the ice with a camera crew. Donghyuck’s face is suddenly on every screen in the skating rink.

“So how does it feel to score so big after being away for more than a month?” she asks, handing him the mic.

Donghyuck looks up—past the reporter, past the cameras, past the audience, past the lights.

He sees you.

Even with your sunglasses on, you feel how piercing his stare is. The mist that had clouded his gaze the whole game dissipates almost instantly. His eyes shine clearly, and you see that spark that you thought you had single handedly stomped out.

“Hey,” he breathes out, clutching the mic so tightly that his knuckles are white. “Hey, girl wearing the sunglasses inside like a Republican.”

You freeze as the crowd starts to mutter to each other, confused as to what he means.

“You lied to me. You said I would forget about you, but I see you even in my dreams. And now you’re here too. Why are you tormenting me?” he demands.

You hurriedly start to make your way down the stairs and to the entrance of the rink, not wanting him to say something he would regret in front of a live audience. When he sees you coming down, he skates over to meet you.

“You were wrong,” he continues. “I like you way more than you like me.”

“Donghyuck, I—”

“I’m an ambitious person,” he states. “I can be in love and be a professional hockey player. I know I can. I’ll have enough ambition for the both of us, so please be with me. You belong right here with me, Y/N.”

You finally make it down to where he is, trying to catch your breath as he watches you, looking at you as if you were just a figment of his imagination.

“I promise I’ll treat you well,” Donghyuck says softly, lowering the mic. You realize that he’s echoing the words he said to you the way you met him, and you wonder if you’ve been in love with him since then.

There are so many things you want to say to him, an apology especially, but you decide to save those words for when the two of you are alone.

Instead, you march right up to him, loop your sling over his neck so that your cast can rest comfortably on his shoulders before cupping his cheek and pressing your lips against his.

It only takes him half a second to kiss you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off your feet. You can feel the tension physically leaving his body, as if he finally released a breath he had been holding for a long time.

When you pull apart, you ignore the loud whooping and hollering of the crowd, leaning in just close enough so that only the two of you can hear what you’re about to say. Your lips brush against his again when you say:

“I’m really glad I hit you with my car, Lee Donghyuck.”

“Wow, I must say, that was like a scene straight out of a romance movie!” The reporter gushes excitedly. “So how did you two meet?”

You and Donghyuck exchange glances.

“Well…”

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #haechan fluff #haechan angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream imagines #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct 127 imagines #haechan #nct #choerrypuffs

3K notes · View notes

lavandiors · 2 months

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( 📁 making you feel comfortable. by na jaemin ＿ ⭐ O1O1 )

where jaemin shows you that he can eat you differently, changing your opinion about orals.

𓍯 . ݁ ✦ ݁ . ─── pairing. na jaemin x fem!reader. genre. smut (+18, minors dni), fluff, established relationship. warnings. soft sex, oral (f. receiving), clit play, use of nicknames (princess, angel, etc.), handholding in sex, many kisses.

lily notes. well, i'm really not very good at smut and i write this from my imagination, so, i'm sorry if it's not much or it's very soft (?) but i'm doing it from my comfort zone!

it wasn't the first time you felt Jaemin flex, your head lying on his firm chest allowing you to hear his heart. his heartbeat racing and his body seeking comfort.

his arms fluttering around you every time he moves. you thought he was uncomfortable, so you stood up, abandoning your place on his chest and looked at him.

"are you uncomfortable, jaem?" you asked him, showing your dimples. jaemin frowned in confusion, but shook his head. it wasn't you who kept him in that state.

well, yes.

but it was about something else.

you brought your warm hands to his and took them. you smiled, just like jaemin. your smile was mercy for him.

your eyes dug into his soul "so what's bothering you?" one of your hands let go of his, leaving a bit of hair behind his ear. he felt nervousness permeate his body, but you. god, you, you made him feel so comfortable, he couldn't resist.

his cheek twitched against your hand, moving his head to kiss you, he sighed, allowing you to feel what was circulating through his lungs between your palm.

“it’s just” he began, staring into your eyes for trust. and found her "why did you never let me eat you out?" he asked slowly.

the question didn't faze you. you and jaemin were open to each other's tastes, and his warm smile was always the one given when you talked about sex. after this, it was one of his many romantic connections.

your worry subsided slightly and jaemin could tell “ah, yes” you said, moving closer to jaemin so you could rest your head on his chest again. his strong arms wrapped his body around your head, kissing your head.

“i’m not a big fan of oral” you replied “i haven’t had good experiences, that’s just it” you tried to dispel any insecurity jaemin might have had.

you weren't afraid of orals, you weren't afraid of jaemin and you wanted to let him know that all he made you feel was a swarm of butterflies with the slightest sigh in your ear.

jaemin lowered his head and turned yours away, searching your eyes fiercely “can you tell me about your experiences, angel?” his warm smile and his lips against every muscle of your face let you know you were safe with him.

you closed your eyes when he kissed your eyelids. "it was very rough, very forward, it wasn't what i expected. you know i like it when it's slower," you whispered to him.

his lips landed on yours, his forehead against yours. “then let me show you that i can do it better. that i can do it the way you like it.” his voice, comforting, soft, slow. he didn't want to pressure you.

you completely trusted jaemin, your experiences with him were unique, they were what you were looking for. he gave you what you wanted, the way you wanted.

you looked him in the eyes again, wanting to convey to him that his request was not uncomfortable, that it was something you wanted. you nodded.

jaemin smiled, kissing your nose and forehead. “just let me do all the work, doll” he whispered in your ear as he picked you up in his arms to place you on his lap.

his soft kisses found a space between your neck and jaw, making a slow, wet path as he laid you flat on your back on the couch, your legs spread out to his side and him in the middle.

his hands found space between your back and hips, sliding gently, up and down you without abandoning his kisses on your neck. his path advanced, your lips being his destination.

you sighed when his warm hands found your sleeping pants, nodding when you felt him stop for permission. with one hand, he lift your hips, sliding your pants and panties out of the way.

his hands squeezed your bare hips, you felt him stretch his legs and slowly descend, leaving one last kiss on your lips.

"don't worry, princess, you're always safe with me." it was true, you knew it.

when he was level with your bare stomach, his lips slid untouched to your hips, where he nibbled and kissed one, while massaging the other, he repeated this many times until he made you sigh from the mess in your stomach.

your clit slowly rubbed against the fabric of his clothing every time he moved, making you uneasy. his lips reached below your navel, continuing with the kisses and bites. his hands did sweet dances on your hips between squeezes and massages.

“here we go, love” he murmured against your stomach, tracing a path with his tongue until his face was between your legs.

his sudden warm breath hit your cunt, making you shudder. his lips stopped between your inner thighs, kissing every part of them.

jaemin had been waiting for this moment for so long, but he had never tried it for fear of intimidating you. and now, that he had your glistening cunt in front of him and your perfect figure in rapture, he knew he would do it more often.

you felt the cold on your hip when his hand left that space and looked for your hand, giving you comfort. when he found it, he made sure to intertwine their fingers and caress your knuckles with his thumb.

and his lips pressed against your superiors, sending an electric shock from your stomach, down your back, to your ears.

“jaem..” you sighed, squeezing his hand lightly. you were liking it as much as he was, and even though you had him shooting his hips against the couch, your scent felt like the best in the world.

a sweet, vain one entered through his nose when he couldn't let go of his need and pressed his nose against your cunt, making circles on your inner lips.

you moaned shamelessly. his soft, sliding tongue near your center hit every ecstasy of his body, the hot air coming out of his nose hitting your clit hard, desperate to give you more.

it wasn't the same as the bad experiences you had. jaemin always made you feel like you were in heaven, like your body was worshiped by believers to a goddess. you were his goddess, his temple, his belief. you were delicate for him, soft and untouchable.

it didn't take long for his tongue to find your center, plunging it into an exhaustive excavation from top to bottom, side to side. his nose was now causing circles on your clit, finding your pleasure.

your moans became frequent, causing jaemin to grind his hips further and further into the couch. he was crazy. his tongue had increased the pace when you squeezed his hand.

you were looking for more, and he gave it to you.

his face was now buried in your cunt, it was ecstatic. your soft walls accommodated his tongue as he massaged. he dug it out, but before you could complain, he shot from the bottom up, nibbling lightly on your upper lips.

you were a mess of soft moans, his tongue making big and small circles on your clit, preparing you. your legs were already shaking around his head, his nose was buried in your juices, but he still couldn't stop.

you squeezed his hand tightly and moaned when he, as if it were an apple, lingered on your cunt and licked your clitoris like ice cream, burying his face again in his paradise.

your hips moved seeking his tongue, desperate for more. his mouth surrounded your clit, licking and sucking.

“my beautiful, beautiful girl,” he whispered, running his trembling thumb over your hand. he send waves of pleasure, a friction of his vocal cords and his teeth.

you couldn't contain those butterflies any longer, and you let them out on his face when he buried his tongue again at your entrance.

jaemin enjoyed it. every second of your orgasm on his face. he had your taste on his tongue, after loving him so much, giving you what you were looking for, teaching you that no one, ever, would make you feel like him.

he delayed everything you gave him, leaving one last kiss on your cunt and making his way down your stomach again, he pressed his lips against yours, letting you taste your taste.

his agitated and ecstatic breathing hit your face "i will never hesitate to give you a good experience, baby" his wet lips murmured on yours.

and with his kisses and caresses, he seals his sincere pact, that he will never leave or allow you not to enjoy. because he will take care of you and as long as he lives, he will give you what you need until you are satisfied.

because you were his angel. and what his heart needed most was to love you.

1K notes · View notes

ghostofhyuck · 2 months

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NCT Dream and the things that make them go insane (18+)

cw: suggestive, mentions of sex.

AN: Did I took inspiration from Xiaodery's 'Don't go insane' challenge? yes I did. Lol don't take this too seriously. Also minors dni!!!

Mark Lee ; random moans

Yes Mark, you're not the only one who makes random moan noises. You know that type of noises you make whenever you stretch your body? or when you're eating a delicious food? You're very vocal when it comes to making those kind of noises and sometimes it just caught Mark off-guard. It's not intentional but it reminds him of the sounds you make whenever you two have sex. Sometimes he tells you to not do it, and you'll innocently ask him why. He might not resist of taking you there, that's why.

Huang Renjun ; revealing clothes

LISTEN Renjun doesn't care what you wear. He's not very protective when it comes to your outfits since it's your body after all. BUT when you're practically naked around your apartment, he'll start praying for his life. You tend to be comfortable wearing just an oversized shirt and panties or maybe a tank top and cycling that shapes your body perfectly. But it'll have Renjun fighting his inner demons. (he loses it.)

Lee Jeno ; tight-fit clothes

Now this one is different. Jeno just couldn't resist it when you're wearing clothes that's tight-fit enough that it curves out your body, especially your boobs and ass. He'll stare at it the whole day and he'll be embarrassed when he catches himself looking at it. But there are moments where his hands will trail over your body when you're wearing those kind of clothes. Oh and he loves ripping it for some reason ??? especially your leggings, he'll just buy you more he convinces.

Lee Donghyuck ; random touches

Donghyuck will start questioning you whenever you touch him randomly. It'll be just innocent touches like his cheeks or squeezing his arms, but when you have your hands in his thighs, Donghyuck will just stare at you, "???" or when you unconsciously touched his abs trailing it up and down, his mind will go blank and start to think that you wanted something. It'll give him mixed signals and he'll end up horny though.

Na Jaemin ; wearing his clothes

At first he adores it, whenever you steal his hoodie and wear it. It's very wholesome and you look small in his clothes. But when you're just wearing his top over your panties, he just couldn't resist it. Jaemin thinks that you look hot in his clothes especially after a round of sex, he'll be fighting the urge to take it off from you and just fuck you again.

Zhong Chenle ; makeup

Chenle would probably love the idea of messing your makeup. He loves your red lipstick and thinks you're seductive whenever you apply lipstick and ends it with a pout, he would probably kiss you afterwards, the messy, aggressive type where your lipstick smudges all over you and him. Chenle probably indulged at the thought of how you put so much effort on your makeup and thought of ways of ruining it by making you writhe under his touch and cry because of the pleasure.

Park Jisung ; seductive dances

Oh Jisung will be astonished at the way you moved. Especially when you two are dancing inside a club, you'll be swaying your hips left and right, feeling the music and rhythm, Jisung would be hype by it but he'll go crazy as he watch you dance sexily in public. He'll be the type who'll hold you close to him as you grind against him and perhaps even make-out a little bit on the dance floor.

#nct #nct dream #nct fic #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct dream reactions #nct dream imagines #nct mark #nct renjun #nct jeno #nct haechan #nct jaemin #nct chenle #nct jisung

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lqfiles · 2 days

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PAY THE PRICE — profiles (2)

3 optimists and that 1 negative friend

never in a million years did y/n expect to actually get evicted out of her old apartment, but here she is. luckily for her, her friend seems to have found an alternative place for her. a place that comes with an obnoxious neighbour who is unfortunately hot. despite that, she wouldn’t hesitate twice to break his guitar if given the chance.

jaemin is the friend in question. a happy cat dad who dreams of becoming a famous content creator who is quite creative in almost all aspects. likes to try plenty of different lifestyles, whether it be becoming a fitness trainer, being a chef for a day or suddenly becoming a professional boxer, he’s doing it all. despite his silly antics, he does care about those around him.

being the opposite of y/n in terms of personality, rei and her have managed to somehow become really close friends over the years. it didn’t take much, a quick compliment on her bag and rei had declared her as her best friend right then and there. the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet really.

people sometimes question why karina would surround herself with friends like the other three. the answer is simple, she is loyal to y/n. the two have been great friends for years and y/n can gladly say she was her first fan before karina gained a following and modelling deals. stunning in every aspect, and definitely hard to reach if you’re not already part of the people she knows.

profiles 2 — master list — next

notes ; will be posting the intro tomorrow (hopefully..)

TAGLIST ; @90s-belladonna @pnkified @2jisungs @swee7dream @sinisxtea @en-dream @h-aecat @lostinneocity @sunflowerbebe07 @pookime @aerivrs @alethea-moon @yeritos @prettyrenjunn @manooffline @bath1lda @hyejooistic @emvrd @jaehyunastico @odxrilove @hyuckluvr-com @jaeims @ihyucksol @tddyhyck @dalsosapple @https-yeonjun @luvlyrenwoo @yoursyuno @lilacsxjoon @heymsperfectlyfine @mystverse @ne0c0r3 @casperbutnot-theghost @hyuckies18 @w3bqrl @ckline35 @nosungluv @luvvsnae @chcnlcs @cryingforgyu @thatgirlkay

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hwaflms · 16 days

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round & round! ★ [ l.dh ]

{💭} hyuck : i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you, but now everyone’s kissing you except me :/

[☆] pairing. haechan x reader, slight jaemin x reader ft. 00’ line, chaewon of lesserafim and sieun of stayc

[☆] genre. smut + fluff | stoner!nct, pwp bc it’s me

[☆] wc. 6.1k

[☆] warnings. explicit content (mdni), weed/marijuana use, lots of making out, slight choking, dirty talk, fingering, sexual stuff in a semi-public place, use of the word ‘slut’, very slight degradation, not very proofread, pretty tame tbh

[☆] notes. my first time writing again in like??? two years???? istg i didn’t mean to abandon this acc 😞 pls be nice i haven’t written in a while and this is not my most favourite work but i’m warming up for more stuff in da future i just wanted to post a lil self-indulgent smth abt hyuck bc bf☝️ idk how active i’ll be because of uni and other things but i missed u guys!!! any feedback is appreciated enjoy :p

even through the clouds of smoke engulfing the little living room of jeno and jaemin’s shared flat, your hooded eyes still met.

today was an important day amongst your friend group; it was chaewon’s first time smoking up with everyone. your friends weren’t really the type to pressure anyone into doing anything they weren’t sure about, but considering the astounding majority who enjoyed smoking some variation of weed, group sessions were a frequent occurrence. you either joined in or didn’t, chaewon being the latter until she decided of her own accord that she was going to try it with the people she trusted.

you sesh with jeno most often, seeing as he was the one who introduced you to weed and taught you everything you know about it. after weeks of listening to you complain about sleepless nights, jeno suggested you try smoking a joint before you go to bed, especially since it was starting to affect your attendance. (“i can’t keep attending these zoology classes without you, y/n. every time something stupid happens, i laugh and make a joke out loud because i forget you aren’t there, and now i’m pretty sure people think i’m either insane or just really fucking lonely”.)

now, smoking up has been a pretty regular occurrence, especially since jeno introduced you to a bunch of his friends and vice versa, all of you making up one big, happy group of stoners. chaewon and sieun were your friends who got along with everyone else just fine, and though they didn’t hang out with the others as much as you did, they were still welcome whenever.

presently, you are leaning back against the couch, all the way on the end, because jaemin is sprawled out alongside you, opting to rest his legs on your lap. haechan makes a joke that you don’t understand, but you laugh anyway along with everyone else, except renjun who covers up his laugh with cough.

“you can never let me have it, huh?”, hyuck scoffs, narrowing his eyes at renjun who’s mouth forms a thin line. “i know for a fact you find me funny.”

you hear that he makes a remark back at haechan but what he says doesn’t register in your head, everything sounding far away. remembering the special occasion, you turn to face chaewon and sieun, who are giggling away on the floor about something between the two of them. you don’t know what they said but you smile anyway. she clearly seemed like she was having a good trip, and so was everyone else.

swallowing nothing, you realise how dry your throat feels, and with that realisation came this undeniable desire for some form of liquid. “jen,”, you tilt your head back and call out to the boy who was already rolling another joint on the table behind you. “did you end up buying more coke?”

“check the fridge”, he mumbles without looking at you, tongue poking his cheek out of concentration as he focuses on what he was doing. with a groan, you heave jaemin’s legs off your lap, muttering a couple ‘sorry’s when he starts to complain about the change in position.

you all but float to the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and spotting the fresh cans of coke placed neatly in the overcrowded appliance. the first gulp feels like heaven against your parched throat, taking a few more while standing there.

“you gonna share or no?”, a voice startles you, turning to find haechan’s figure looming right behind you with a dopey smile on his face.

“god, we need to get you a bell or something. i never hear you coming”, you roll your eyes before grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. you’re disappointed to see that there was no ice in their freezer, but you pour the drink into the glass anyway.

“why are you pouring it into a glass?”, haechan furrows his eyebrows, looking pointedly between the glass and the literal can in your hand. “now we have to wash two glasses when we could’ve just drank it from the can.”

he’s right, of course, but you’re not gonna tell him that. instead, you pretend that you were planning on adding some lemon juice to the drink because you saw it on instagram. while you figure he doesn’t believe you, he humours you anyway and tries your little concoction, which ends up being pretty damn good.

out of all of jeno’s friends, haechan definitely stood out to you. you didn’t really understand why, you were just drawn to him, even way back before you met him, when jeno used to tell you about his friends. “loud and annoying” were the words he used to describe him, but the smile that appeared on his face anyway let you know that he was someone special to jeno. this was not to say his other friends weren’t special, you got along incredibly well with all of them, meshing right in with their group.

as of right on cue, jaemin’s voice loudly sounds out from the living room, “are you guys fucking in there or what?”.

sighing, you pick up your glass and begin to walk out of the kitchen, but not before purposely knocking haechan’s shoulder when you walk past him, hearing him snort before following you out as you exit the room. perhaps if you had lingered in the kitchen for a couple seconds longer, you would’ve heard haechan muttering something along the lines of “i wish” under his breath.

“jeez, took you long enough, can i have some of that?”, renjun drawls, lifting himself off the armchair with a smile, to which you roll your eyes but pass him your glass anyway. you sit down on the floor opposite the couch and he looks as if he is about to compliment your drink-making skills before haechan cuts him off.

“dude, chaewon and sieun look like they’re about to fall asleep, let’s do something”, he half yawns out, opting to stroll over to your spot on the floor and sinking down next to you.

“not…sleepy…”, chaewon murmurs, but her voice is muffled because her cheek is pressed against sieun’s shoulder, both of them sprawled out on the floor like it was a comfortable bed.

“sure you aren’t…”, jeno chides with a smile, getting up from the table to walk over to where all of you were situated. he twirls his newly rolled joint between his fingers, finally holding it out in his palm as if it were some magical gadget, and if you were being fully honest, you were sold. “round 2? or 3, I can’t really remember…”

some words of agreement were muttered across the room, chaewon and sieun even groggily getting up from what looked like a very comfortable napping spot. another rotation began, and you made sure to blow out your smoke directly into an unsuspecting haechan’s face when it was your turn.

“let’s play a game or something”, jaemin suggests, taking a long puff and passing it to jeno who sat beside him, and soon the room was hazy once again, the smell of weed infiltrating your nostrils.

“like what?”, chaewon coughs weakly in between her hit and renjun pats her back before he hands her your coke that you hadn’t received back after you gave it to him. so long for that.

“monopoly?”, jeno offers with a shrug and haechan lets out an obnoxious snore as a reply, making you laugh but you cover it up with a cough when you meet jeno’s playfully narrowed eyes. “okay then, big guy, what’s your incredible idea?”

haechan appears to actually think about it for a moment, looking around the room for some sort of inspiration maybe, until his eyes land on you.

“okay jaemin, get that empty wine bottle from last week, we’re playing spin the bottle”, he is grinning from ear to ear, wiggling his eyebrows even though all his suggestion receives is a bunch of groans and sighs.

your eyebrows are raised however, and you try not to let your reaction show too much on your face. spin the bottle? you hadn’t played that since you were maybe fourteen, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. haechan wanted to play spin the bottle? who was he hoping to kiss? or was it just a whimsical little suggestion that was more of a joke?

it didn’t fully seem like he meant it as a joke, judging by his expression as he awaited some actual responses from the group. “what are we, fourteen?”, renjun might as well have read your mind, but he soon joins you and haechan on the floor, the others following suit. jaemin presents the empty bottle and places it in the middle of the little circle you have formed, everyone seeming slightly more keen as the joint runs out.

maybe it was the thc talking, but it didn’t really seem like a bad idea to you anymore. you were all single, attractive and close enough that it wouldn’t make things weird, and most importantly, you wouldn’t mind getting more familiar with haechan’s lips.

you shocked your own self with the sudden lewd thoughts in your head about the male sitting next to you, squirming in your position slightly. he turns his head towards you like he could hear your thoughts (“shut up, y/n, he can’t hear your thoughts…right?”) and you swear his eyes soften a bit. “are you sure you wanna play?”, he asks softly, mistaking your tenseness for discomfort, but you shake your head a little too quickly for your liking.

“no, no, let’s play, it’s not like we have anything better to do, right?”, you feign indifference and after everyone else agrees, the bottle is spun for the first time by haechan.

much to renjun’s dismay, it lands on him, and it’s almost comical the way he looks at the bottle pointing at him before slowly looking up at haechan. “renjunnie, let me kiss you”, haechan whines in a high pitched tone while drawing out the “you”, puckering his lips expectantly. the next three minutes consist of renjun listing every single person he would rather kiss than haechan, and you’d have half the mind to volunteer yourself if you weren’t clutching at your sides laughing at the whole exchange, slapping at both jeno and sieun who tried and failed to dodge your waving hands.

renjun finally relents when chaewon suggests he lets him kiss his cheek instead, but haechan is no quitter so he makes sure that he plants the loudest, most wet kiss on his face before sighing in victory when he sits back down. renjun is not the most happy with this, and he tells jaemin to take his turn instead while he rushes off to the bathroom to wash his face. hyuck looks indignant, calling out behind renjun, asking if he wants another one.

taking the turn instead of renjun, jaemin spins the bottle harshly, and it spins and spins and spins for what seemed like an eternity. your eyes are so focused on the way the bottle looks as it spins that you don’t even notice that it has stopped, until jeno nudges you with his shoulder. it’s neck is pointed directly at you, and you finally look up from your trance at jaemin, who wears an undeniable smirk on his face.

while you didn’t exactly see him that way, there was absolutely no denying that jaemin was a very attractive man, and he was no different presently, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up as he propped himself up with his arms, looking at you expectantly.

you don’t want to look at haechan right now, because you can see out of the corner of your eye that his face is looking straight forward, not at you or jaemin, just forward. you wonder what is going through his head, but your thoughts are cut short when jaemin scoots closer to you in the circle.

“are you okay with this?”

and when you think about, you are. “yeah, i mean it’s just a game”, you reply, not wanting to ruin the fun or raise any suspicions, to which jaemin agrees and inclines his head towards you.

he kisses you, more fully than you were expecting, but you had no complaints really as you kissed him back, titling your head in the opposite direction to slip your lips over his. you wonder if your lips were as dry as they felt, and in the back of your mind it registers that your friends are watching you kiss your other friend because they hoot and giggle, but you can’t really bring yourself to care.

jaemin’s lips taste sweet and he smells sweet, his touch soft as he brings a hand up to your cheek, gently holding it while he continues kissing you. it probably wasn’t as long as it felt, but jaemin finally pulls away, the remnants of his sweet chapstick lingering on your lips. you are aware of how hot your face feels when you pull away and return to your spot, tucking your hair behind your ears.

“dude, what chapstick do you use?”, you ask after clearing your throat, and jaemin rummages in his pant pocket for a moment before whipping out a cute pink tube, holding it out in front of him. “strawberry dream, baby”, he winks, reapplying it on his lips. “never go anywhere without it.”

renjun returns after god knows how long, stating that he had to re-do his skin care routine because haechan had completely thrown off his skin’s ph balance, and is saddened to hear that he missed witnessing you and jaemin.

the game continues in a steadfast manner for the next couple of rounds thanks to haechan insisting we play one more round, though it doesn’t exactly go in the manner you were hoping for. the group is practically in tears after watching jeno and jaemin share an awkward kiss, chaewon arguing that they can’t claim “no homo” because it was the most homo thing she’d seen in a while, and that was saying a lot because she was, in fact, gay.

you have now kissed sieun, jaemin once again and an especially endearing renjun, who’s cheeks and tips of his ears are painted a bright red after you plant a full peck on his waiting lips. haechan grumbles something about renjun not having kissed anyone besides his mom to explain his reaction, but jeno is quick to cut renjun off before another argument ensues.

“i don’t know about you guys, but i think that’s enough exchanging of saliva for one day”, he all but sighs, lying down on the floor dramatically. while you do agree, you’re disheartened, because not once has the bottle landed on you when spun by haechan, or the other way around. it feels like the universe is fucking with you, because really how many times can you spin a bottle between a group of seven people and not have it land on the one person you want to kiss even once.

haechan looks like he wants to say something, but appears to decide against it in the end, stretching and standing up. it is then mutually agreed by everyone that it was time to watch a movie.

“super bad?”, jaemin proposes, and even though most people had already watched the movie, no one argues against it and jeno starts setting up the movie on their big screen tv.

settling into the couch, you glance over at haechan and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling a tad bit disappointed. this whole spin the bottle thing makes you wonder about all the other times where you could have had an opportunity to make a move on the brown-haired boy.

you’d gone on long drives together, gone partying, even drank with just each other a couple of times. the closest the two of you had ever come to crossing that line was while you where dancing at a party and his arms were looped around your waist from behind, slowly swaying to the beat. you’d danced with him tons of times before that but you recall thinking the air was a little different than normal, more heated, but you also recall mistaking renjun for your professor, so you didn’t trust yourself. the moment came and went, and neither of you ever had the balls to address it, and now it had been way too long since to bring it up.

“this seat taken?”, haechan snaps you out of your bitter thoughts, jerking his head towards the spot on the couch next to you. you clear your throat and shake your head, scooting over slightly so he could sink down next to you. “what’s up, y/n, you look a little…not present. you still high?”

it’s funny because your mind certainly wasn’t present, it was in the gutter, but you choose to blame the weed. “yeah, i’m still high”, you answered truthfully, and so was he, his red, hooded eyes a dead giveaway.

“okay, perfect, i wanted to show you this stupid tiktok i saw”, he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket and leaning closer to you to show you some video of a cat, or maybe a dog, you weren’t paying attention. he laughs at whatever the animal did, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he does so, and you observe him instead of watching. when he doesn’t hear you laugh, he peeks over at you but you’re quick to turn your head back to his phone, letting out a very late giggle at the video.

if he did catch you, he doesn’t mention it, continuing to scroll and show you more videos. jeno finally gets the movie set up and turns off the lights, taking up the final seat left on the couch. the movie begins, and everyone falls into a comfortable silence bar hyuck, who makes the occasional comment that earns him a snort from you each time.

at some point during the movie, haechan stretches his arms out behind him, placing his arm on the head of the couch directly behind you. glancing at him quickly, you can’t tell whether the action was purposeful or not, because if it was, he was doing a very good job of looking nonchalant. you try your best to ignore it, but his hand is resting directly above your shoulder, inches away from touching you- but it never does.

you had never noticed what nice hands haechan had before. long and slender, nails clipped short and clean, his middle, ring and index finger adorned with various silver rings. you note that he wears three rings on his left hand, but none on his right. his right hand sits on top of one of his thighs, two of his fingers drumming against it following some rhythm going on in his head. his fingers are long, and the only thing you can think about is just how nice they would feel inside–

no, no, no, stop it, since when are you this horny?

you realise stressing out about how horny you are all of a sudden is just going to lead to a bad trip and you don’t want that, and you want to clear your head. even though you’re feeling a different kind of thirsty, you figure a distraction for a couple minutes would be helpful, so you excuse yourself to go get some water, jumping up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. unbeknownst to you, haechan’s watchful eyes follow your figure as you exit the room.

finally away and in the kitchen, you fill up a glass and lean over the sink, closing your eyes to collect yourself. you can finish the movie without driving yourself crazy over haechan, right? tonight is no different than any other hangout and you don’t want to weird haechan out with your unnecessary staring and poorly concealed thirsting. you just need to stop thinking about his stupid hands, his stupid thighs, his stupid hair and his stupid kissable lips. “kissable? lock in, y/n, lock in…”

“who are you talking to?”

you wince but don’t turn around, eyes screwed shut tightly. you’ve been gone for a couple minutes and you don’t know when he left the room, but you put down the glass and turn to face him.

“what’s got you so jumpy?”, he questions, leaning against the counter. his arms are folded and his gaze is piercing, face tilted slightly to the left as he observes you. this is the second time he’s startled you in the kitchen today and also happens to be the very reason you’ve been so jumpy.

“nothing, i just…god, you need to starting announcing your entry into a room, dude…”

he furrows his eyebrows but lets out a chuckle anyway, slowly sauntering over to where you stood. eyes never leaving yours, he now stands directly in front of you, caging you in between the sink and his body. the closer proximity and dim lighting isn’t helping your case in the slightest, feeling all hot and bothered as if there was a sudden change in temperature. “what’s happening? you’re usually never like this, we’ve smoked up together so many times. are you having a bad trip?”

you understand why he might think that, what with your jerky movements, dazed staring and just overall disconnected demeanour. while you were wound up a little tighter than usual, you weren’t having a bad trip, your mind was just very slightly preoccupied. “no, hyuck, i’m fine, i just…needed some water”, it’s a half-lie you tell, choosing to not tell him the full truth for the sake of your own pride.

“you just seem…off”, he seems to pick his words carefully, eyes roaming over the expanse of your face. “no, i just…”, you trail off to try and find the words to explain this situation away, but he’s just looking at you so intensely. it’s so silent in the room and the air feels all too still, and you swear you’re trying to speak coherently but haechan switches his weight to his other leg, wetting his lips with his tongue while he awaits an answer and you just freeze. “i…”

“‘i’ what? see? you’re doing it again”, he starts, running a hand through his hair, and the muted light that leaks in through the window illuminates only one half of his face, but you can see him so clearly that even the way his pretty eyelashes brush against his cheek when he blinks doesn’t go unnoticed by you. you’re subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. “you have this look in your eye. like you wanna…”

“…what?”

everything is still and unmoving, until your eyes zero in on haechan’s hand as he raises it, slowly bringing it to graze his fingers over your cheek. his touch leaves a burning hot trail on your skin and using his thumb, he releases your bottom lip from under your teeth, hand lingering cautiously for a fleeting moment before he drops it.

“like what, haechan?”, you repeat yourself, urging him to just say whatever it is he has to say, getting tired of this back and forth. you could sell a kidney just to see what was going on in his mind right now, because he looks torn between speaking his mind and just staying silent.

“like you want to kiss me.”

a few beats of complete and utter silence pass, not even hearing the dull sound of the television in the living room anymore over the thudding of your heart in your ears. haechan takes a small and tentative step towards your frozen figure, gripping the counter you’re using to lean against with his right hand, effectively trapping you in your place. now you really are a deer caught in headlights, because he’s spoken what you’ve been thinking about for the past couple hours into existence and he is absolutely correct.

“am i wrong, pretty?”

judging by your sharp intake of breath and open-mouthed expression, you’d have to be a fool to think otherwise. he looks as if he’s waiting for you to answer him regardless, giving you a chance to get out of this, but your voice is no longer functioning, and it takes all the strength in your body to shake your head ‘no’.

his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, tongue peeking out to lick his lips again. “i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you”, his voice is strained as he admits this, quiet and careful like he’s holding back while his eyes are trained on yours like he’s daring you to break eye contact. you don’t. “but then everyone else was kissing you but me.”

normally you would giggle at his little frown, but all you can muster up is a whisper of his name, finally breaking his all-consuming eye contact in favour of looking at his lips again. you don’t know who moves first, but the next thing you know is your lips are pressed together in a fierce kiss, your hands tangled in his soft, brown locks while he grip your waist and pull you into him.

he kisses you like a man starved and you do the same with equal fervour, not even being able to process that your little daydream is coming true. his hand comes up to caress your cheek, soon moving down your neck after stroking your face softly, using it to tilt your head for you. the position of his hand is very purposeful because his thumb presses into your throat ever so slightly, but his grip is still tight enough that you couldn’t break the kiss (not that you wanted to, anyway). the other hand snakes around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, pressing his hips into yours.

you’re positively drunk off the feeling of haechan’s lips molding over yours and you think you might just ascend when he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. body on fire, you mewl against his lips, swirling your own tongue around his while he slowly but surely bucks his hips into yours.

no wards are spoken while your hands thread through his hair, pulling on it and letting out a sound of surprise into his mouth when his hand trails down to your ass and grips it harshly. he finally releases you from the searing kiss, but he doesn’t let you catch your breath, instead spinning you around in his hold so that his front presses tightly into your back, hands slipping around your waist from behind. this feels like a déjà vu kind of moment because you are reminded of the time when you both were dancing in this exact position, except this time you were getting exactly what you wanted.

“you know how bad i wanted this?”, his voice echoes your thoughts and breaks the silence, hands running up and down your front in a teasing manner. lifting your shirt up slightly, he trails his fingers over the exposed skin of your torso and the action makes you squirm in his hold a little, and much to your surprise, he groans lewdly against your ear. “fuck, i’ve been thinking of this for so long. kissing you, having my hands all over you…”

you get the sense he’s talking more to himself than you, but you revel in it nonetheless. his hand grips your jaw and squishes your cheeks together so your lips form a pout, forcing it to the side where he plants one, two, three kisses to your puckered mouth. his other hand slips further up your shirt where he brazenly cups your boob through your bra, fondling one of them while his tongue peeks out to flick at your bottom lip.

you’re putty in his arms, all gasps and squirms and whispered ‘haechan’s. “what, baby?”, he mumbles into your cheek, the hand gripping your jaw letting go in order to slink down to your hip where it lingers for a moment. “what do you want?”

your lack of answer doesn’t bode well with him, earning you a tight squeeze to your hip as a kind of warning. “need you to touch me”, you whisper out defeatedly, and you feel haechan laugh mockingly against your face.

“yeah? need me to touch you?”, he mimics your voice while tutting, letting his hand slip further down to where you needed him the most, but not letting you have it just yet. “think you can be a good girl and keep quiet for me? we don’t need everyone outside hearing what a little slut you’re being in here.”

everyone outside. the fact that you were just a room away from all your friends who were sat watching a fun little movie together had completely slipped your mind, but if you were being honest, you couldn’t find it in you to give a shit. everything about your current disposition was so dirty. one hand under your shirt, the other about two seconds away from fingering you right in the middle of your friends’ kitchen, while said friends were sat outside, unaware of the goings-on under their own roof.

though you didn’t think actually getting caught in this position would be the most pleasant experience, the idea of it dampened your panties and caused you to whine out loud, tilting your head back against haechan’s shoulder. you receive an immediate hand clamped over your mouth in return, haechan tutting in your ear condescendingly. “looks like the little slut can’t follow a simple request.”

even though he reprimands you, his hands begin fumbling with the button of your jeans anyway, undoing it and pulling the zipper down. one hand comes up to wrap around your front and rests on your shoulder, holding you in place, and the other he sticks down your pants and cups your heat but makes no effort to move, chuckling when you try to move yourself against it. his crotch ruts against the swell of your ass and for you, any friction is better than no friction at the moment. with one hand gipping the arm around your shoulder, you slip the other behind you to palm at his hard cock over his pants, making him let out a sound of approval.

“please, hyuck”, you shake your face free of his hand and turn to look him in the eye, and he grips your throat and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

he seems to accept your plea, finally moving his hand against you and you breathe a sigh of relief, lost in the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit over your wet underwear. he’s quick to slip his hand inside your panties, cold fingers pressed directly on to your bare pussy, spreading your wetness all over you. when he ultimately slips a finger into your tight, waiting core, you moan but it’s cut short when he slaps his hand over your mouth again. “keep. quiet.”

if someone were to walk in, the two of you would be a sight to see. you writhing in his tight hold while his hand is stuffed in your pants, two fingers pistoning in and out of you at a fast pace as his forehead is pressed against the side of your face, releasing short breaths. you look positively fucked out, and you’re both in a state of complete bliss as you grind against each other in a timely rhythm.

“my pretty girl. if i had known you wanted this too, i would’ve just grabbed you and kissed you like i wanted, in front of everyone.”

his voice is honey-like and sultry, and his fingers are nothing short of heavenly. they pump in and out of you, and he still manages to use his thumb to toy with your clit in this position, leaving you breathless and on the edge. “can’t believe jaemin and renjun got to kiss you before me.”

you’re so wet that your cunt makes downright sinful noises as he fingers you and you’re hoping that it isn’t really as loud as it seems. “you’re so wet, angel. so this is what had you all jumpy today”, he laughs like he’s stating the obvious, and you’d have half the mind to feel shy if his ministrations didn’t feel so fucking good right now.

you’re aware that you’re close and so is he because you’re clenching around his fingers, so he quickens his pace both inside you and against your clit. “you gonna cum for me, baby? right here, in the middle of kitchen, while everyone’s outside?”, he purrs against your face and you grip the part of his arm that isn’t shoved in your pants, digging your nails into his skin in a way that’s sure to leave a mark. his words make you feel dirty in the best way, not even knowing you could feel this turned on.

he peppers kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking here and there, and through the pale moonlight bleeding into the room from the window, the red blemishes that begin to bloom on your skin are visible to hyuck, and he seems pleased with his artwork. “that’s it, sweetheart, let go for me.”

your moans are muffled against his palm when you finally come, the orgasm ripping through you so strongly that you go limp in his hands, legs almost buckling at the sensation. with the added boost of the weed you smoked earlier, your orgasm is immense, feeling it pulse through your body until it’s too much, whining and wriggling in haechan’s firm hold. he holds you still and helps you ride out your high, whispering utterances of “that’s right, baby” and “my good girl” into your ear while you throw your head back and try to regulate your breathing.

in a moment, his hand slips out of your pants, turning you back around so you’re now facing him, grinning down at you from ear to ear as if you both hadn’t just defiled jaemin and jeno’s kitchen. “you feeling okay?”, he mumbles, tucking your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t soaked, pressing a number of kisses all over your face as you nod and giggled, trying to evade his attack. he lets you go just to wash his hands, and it’s when he dries his wet hands on the material of his pants that you notice his raging boner, immediately feeling bad.

“wait hyuck, let me–“

as if he’s reading your mind once again, he shakes his head and takes both of your hands into his, wrapping them around his own waist while pulling you into him. “we can save that for another time, pretty”, he insists, his expression turning shy when he realises the implications behind his words. “that is, i-if you want another time, of course–“

it’s your turn to cut him off this time, but you do so by leaning up and connecting your lips again, bring a hand up to stroke his cheek. “of course i want another time, hyuck. i want this. i want you.”

your assurances do good to bring a smile to his pretty face, taking ahold of the hand on his cheek and pressing his lips to your skin gently, lovingly. “so, so, perfect.”

taking note of the prolonged amount of time the two of you had been gone, you skulk back into the living, but this time, hand in hand.

the scene you’re greeted with is a surprising one, because you find every single one of your friends to be sound asleep, much to your amusement and hyuck’s dismay. “so you’re telling me i could’ve been hearing you moan the whole time and none of these idiots would have even known?”, he is appalled, a hand coming up to rub at his face out of frustration. “i did all that for nothing?”

“i wouldn’t say for nothing”, you reveal, biting your lip and smiling up at the boy shyly. “i might have woken them up.”

“oh yeah, well now you’re going to”, and with that, he’s dragging you back to the kitchen while you giggle, nearly tripping over your own feet before he all but scoops you up in his arms, muttering to himself about having left something in the kitchen that needed urgent fetching.

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hoshieeyewrinkles · 3 months

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• Nct dream as bad boys falling in love with you. •

♡ Notes. Alt. When you are the good girl who fell in love with them.

♡ Cheesy as hell.

♡ stereotypical bad boy and good girl.

♡ Fluff. Fluff. Fluff.

♡ Reader is innocent and sometimes a dumbass

♡ Not requested [ requests are open tho. Pls go through my pinned post before requesting]

Mark

~ randomass bad boy

~ spots you during recess in the hallways.

~ could not stop thinking about you after that, your cute keychain hanging off your bag, the little giggles you let out with your looser friends as he calls them. All had him going crazy

~ waits in the same hallway everyday even though he doesn't have any classes there, only to glance at you.

~ grins like an idiot after you shyly smiled at him once.

~ "you are such a creep, mark." "shut up haechan"

~ he finally asked you out one day after some great encouragement from his friends ( haechan threatening him to ask you out or else he will) . Was nervous that you might get scared because of his eyebrow piercings and bad reputation.

~ was surprised that you accepted, looking at him with doe eyes and a cute grin. He fell harder before he could even process your reply.

~ his life improves because of you. Your pouts and little scoldings you give him for not wearing a helmet or coming late. It all made him change as he avoided everything bad to make you happy.

~ "I'm sorry angel, I didn't mean to come late. Don't be mad please" Screaming.

Renjun

~ certified tsundere

~ found you so annoying at first. Why did you have to finish all the work at time and be such a good girl?

~ and why the fuck did you have you have to walk around with your gaze down? Can't you look forward for fuck's sake?

~ everything you did kinda annoyed him at first and yet he couldn't understand why he made sure no one bullied you or laughed at you.

~ glares at anyone who looks at you for long time.

~ "she is so fucking annoying, walking around cutely with that stupid banana milk like tf" "renjun you are in love with her"

~ realises he has a crush on you. Panics. Gets more annoyed.

~ walks you home one day making you confused. Carries your books. Sits beside you in every class you guys share. Lends you his leather jacket when you are cold. Brings you banana milk everyday.

~ you're confused but you can't help but feel all giddy in your stomach when he acts like that. You give him a cupcake one day.

~ he stared at it the entire class. He is not gonna eat it. He'll preserve it forever.

~ you pecked his cheek one day to calm him down as he ruthlessly punched a boy after he made fun of you

~ pulls you into a kiss in front of everyone.

~ chuckles so sweetly when you blush. You take his bruised hands in yours worriedly all while he stares at you as if you are his entire world. (Which you are)

~ "No one's ever gonna hurt you, princess. I love you so fucking much."

Jeno

~ Bad boy next door

~ you are his neighbour. All he does is blast loud music with his friends creating ruckus in his backyard. His parents are always out of town.

~ you are the new girl who moved next door with your strict parents.

~ he watches you watering your plants everyday. Notices the little glances you threw at his way and how you stammer to reply when he waves hi at you with a lazy smirk on his face. "Whatcha looking at sweetheart?"

~ he finds so you so fucking adorable.

~ throws away his cigarettes whenever you catch him smoking, you don't mind but he doesn't want to scare you. So he tries to change his appearance, hides his tattoos and piercings.

~ frankly, he doesn't understand why tf he cares so much about what you think but he can't stop thinking about you. Especially after you gazed at him with the softest eyes when he came home bruised. Asking him to come inside your home so you can bandage him.

~ he knew you had very present and strict parents (something which he can't relate to) yet you still took the risk to call him in.

~ he straight up confesses to you one fine day when you were aiding his bruises (a little routine between you guys when your parents aren't home)

~ he climbs through your bedroom window even if your parents are present. He doesn't give two fucks. All he wants to do is see his angel. "I haven't seen you since yesterday princess, let me have a look please"

~ you accept his confession without hesitance and reassures him that you don't care about his appearance and he doesn't need to change himself.

~ he falls in love with you harder than ever, god forbid if jeno even sees a scratch on you. You're his little treasure, his everything. He will fight against the world for you, will jump in the fire for you.

~ "come on baby, don't scold your nono pls" a true Samoyed.

Haechan

~ resident's bad boy.

~ has the most gaze ever, looks like he is the scariest person alive but is actually a little tease.

~ don't think he doesn't throw punches tho, beats the shit out of people just for leaning on his bike.

~ spots you in the midnight carrying a tub of ice cream in your hand, walking out of the supermarket. Yeah he thought you were a dumbass to walk alone at midnight.

~ tries to ignore you but fails when he spots creepy looking guys following you. They start to corner you and haechan sighs before stepping in.

~ takes out his pocket knife and the guys starts sprinting away. Haechan turns back expecting you to look at him with fear but was surprised to find you staring at him with jaw open and flushed cheeks. "what the fuck are you? A damsel in distress?"

~ he kinda roasted you but you didn't care, shyly thanking him. He scoffs before asking you to hop on his motorcycle.

~ drops you home and asks your name. He chants your name in his mind after that.

~ you were pleasantly surprised to find him near the same supermarket the next day, turns out he has his little garage there. "What's up princess? wanted to see me again, yeah?"

~ after that he looks forward to your little meet ups. He lifts you up and puts you on his motorcycle seat while he fixes the engine. Mentally gushing at how cute you look with your little brain trying to understand what he is doing. "Yes this definitely looks like a donut princess"

~ lets you ramble about the books you read and even tries reading them so he can talk about more stuff with you.

~ confesses to you on a random thursday under scorching heat near his garage. Kisses you so passionately when you smile at him, not needing to hear any other words.

~ "Princess, you got some grease on your nose." Literally will do anything for you.

Jaemin

~ weirdass bad boy

~ sells weed and anyone can tell that he is a high mf all the time.

~ you were dared by your friends to buy weed. (They tricked you to buy it for them)

~ you nervously went near Jaemin who sells weed in the basement of some sus building.

~ he looked so scary at first glance but gave you the sweetest smile once he looked at you.

~ he knew you were too innocent and nice to buy this shit so he tried to talk you out. Finds you so adorable as you stammer to reply. Eventually you didn't buy because he convinced you. "Good girls don't do such things, sweetheart."

~ Jaemin later wondered why he didn't let you buy it when he could have gotten some good cash but something inside him just melted when he saw your big orbs.

~ after a few days you were pressurized again by your fakeass friends to go inside his basement while they waited outside. Jaemin was surprised to see you again but the disappointment on his face was real when you asked him for weed again.

~ he goes out of the basement and gives the deadliest glare at your friends who then proceeds to run away.

~ "what did I tell you last time princess?"

~ you became friends with him after that and he protects you all the time. Picks you up and drops you home. Makes sure no mf comes near you.

~ eventually he stopped doing all the shady shit, though he didn't change his shady appearance because duh he is a bad boy. He did it all for you cause you deserve a good person and even though he is not one, he will try his best to be one for you.

~ takes you to ice cream dates every weekend and one day you confess to him. He went quiet for a few moments before looking at you deep in the eyes and gave you the same sweet smile again.

~ is the most clingy and softest boyfriend ever. So protective and treats you as if you were made of glass.

~ "No doll, don't lift such heavy things. You will get hurt, go sit there and let me do it."

Chenle

~ didn't even know people considered him bad news. He thought everyone loved him.

~ he is a brat, does what he wants and gets what he wants. Frankly just enjoying his life in the most rebellious way as possible.

~ he does illegal car races and that's how he finds you there among all the rich brats, though you weren't one. You were just here to accompany your friends.

~ realises he never saw you here before. Comes over and tries to flirt with you but was surprised to see you acting all shy and nervous.

~ knows you weren't meant to be here "You shouldn't be here in places like this unless your family is influential enough. Let me drop you home cutie"

~ drops you home in his sports car and asks for your number.

~ at first he just wanted to flirt around with you but days went by and he couldn't stop thinking about your little nerd talks.

~ you were such a breath of fresh air in his life. He didn't even want to take you to his car races because it's full of shady people and you are his sweet angel who shouldn't be in the eyes of such people.

~ but after you gave him your puppy eyes, he just couldn't refuse "Alright princess, don't talk to anyone and just stay here with jisung."

~ comes to you after every race he wins and you confess to him.

~ "what do you mean? I thought you were already mine?" Asksksk he genuinely thought you guys were

~ kisses you passionately after every race he wins.

~ he never thought he would want to settle down in life but he can't stop thinking about you as his bride, you are his future and his final dream.

~ "Do you even realise how precious you are to me?"

Jisung

~ the most quietest and minds his own business type of guy.

~ you were the one who developed a crush on him first after seeing him in the hallways with his leather jacket on and a small smirk on his face while talking to his friends.

~ all he does is hang out with his little friend group and beats people who annoy him. he was very mysterious tho.

~ you pass by the same hallway everyday to see him. You were sure he didn't even know you existed but you were so wrong.

~ he noticed your shy glances and cute nature everyday. He just ignores you because he feels he is bad news for you.

~ yet he feels himself smiling at random times thinking about your pretty smile. "Fuck she is so cute"

~ realises he should stop and one day gives you the iciest glare making you think he finds you annoying.

~ so you stop passing by the same hallway and don't look at him anymore.

~ he feels shit because he didn't mean to scare you. Asks for advice from his hyungs. They hollered and cheered because he finally developed a crush on someone. "Our jisung finally grew up awwww" "hyung please shut the fuck up"

~ he doesn't have a crush tho. He is straightass in love with you.

~ one day comes to you with a bouquet of roses and confesses in the most nervous tone ever.

~ your both faces were in the same colour as the roses. So cute omg

~ after that day you were known to be jisung's girl and everyone knew better than to mess with you.

~ you guys are the most cheesy and disgustingly cute couple. Often the target of his hyungs teasings. "I love you angel." "I could have lived my entire life without hearing those nicknames." "Haechan hyung please."

~ you tutor him sitting on his lap everyday while he nuzzles his face in your neck. "Stop kissing me ji"

~ "I'm sorry love, you are just so fucking adorable"

[That's it I have fed your guys delusions enough for today]

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karinasbaby · 8 months

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℘ 𝟑𝟒+𝟑𝟓 - 𝐍𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍 나재민

❝ 𝘾𝘼𝙉 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙔 𝙐𝙋 𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏? 𝙁𝙐𝘾𝙆 𝙈𝙀 𝙏𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘿𝘼𝙔𝙇𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏? ❞

PAIRING: na jaemin x fem!reader

GENRE: smut - oneshot (mdni) (17+)

WC: 2.9k

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, degradation/praising kink? belly bulge, pet names (angel/baby/sweetheart/pretty girl) also reader gets called slut so, jaemin has a daddy kink,making out, hickeys, marking kink, jaemin has a big dick, cervix fucking, choking, oral (f & m), multiple orgasms (and rounds for multiple hours), creampie and 69 ofc just pure filth really.

SYNOPSIS: in which jaemin decides to finally return back home after spending an entire day at practice (with a surprise).

𝟏𝟎:𝟎𝟎 𝐩𝐦.

jaemin finally decided that it was officially time for him to go back home, to his favorite place, to his lover’s arms.

unlocking the door of your shared house he stepped inside, exhaustion radiating off his body as he lazily walked towards your bedroom, knowing that you would be there waiting for him.

𝟏𝟎:𝟒𝟓 𝐩𝐦.

your soft groans made his heart flutter as jaemin finally was able to penetrate your mouth with his tongue after multiple feeble attempts that ended with him pinching your waist till you finally gave him permission.

you could feel warmth pooling in between your thighs, you without doubt missed him and your body for sure did as well. your back arched into his touch when you felt his cold fingers trail low, past your underwear till it landed between your dripping folds

“missed me that much, sweetheart?” jaemin whispered to your lips before chuckling.

𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟎 𝐩𝐦.

the sounds of skin slapping accompanied by the wet squelching sounds your cunt made was enough to push you over the edge as your body trembled beneath his hold for the second time that night.

you moaned into his neck as he held your legs apart, allowing him to reach deeper and deeper till his tip was pressing against your cervix before allowing himself to spill all his seed inside of your warm welcoming walls,

𝟏𝟏:𝟑𝟎 𝐩𝐦.

you relished in his soft moans, whimpering against his length when his hands trailed behind your head to grip on your hair, pulling you closer to his hips.

jaemin loved seeing you in this state, on the floor next to his legs and your knees were bruised from scraping the floor for too long, your hot warm body coated in sweat at the heat of the room and because of just how needy you were. he loved seeing you breathless as you tried taking his enormous length inside of your tight little throat.

the tears that were twinkling along your waterline were released to trail down your cheeks allowing your face to glow even more after you felt his tip pressing against the back of your throat, you pulled away slightly once you felt an uncomfortable amount of pressure pressing against your throat, quickly distracting him by pressing your hot tongue against his base going upwards till you began circling his raging tip around your tongue,

“you’re so good to me angel.” jaemin moaned out, throwing his head back when you began taking his length back inside of your mouth, sinking down till your nose was touching his pelvis, gagging slightly when jaemin began moving your head up and down his length, thrusting his hips forward facefucking you.

he groaned breathlessly at the feeling of a mixture of saliva and pre-cum coating his abdomen, he could feel his release building up in his body, how the coil in his lower stomach was only tightening, begging for release, just begging to fill your pretty little mouth up.

you could feel how your warmth by now was sticking against your inner thighs, you could feel how you were close to your climax with no attention to your pussy at all, the sight of jaemin with his head thrown back while sweat beads were rolling down his neck, jaw-slacked as whimpers and moans left his throat were enough to help you reach your release.

tilting your head downwards, you quickly began suckling on one of his balls, your hand giving attention to the other one while you kept rubbing down his length, with your wrists aching you trailed upwards to stroke his length and the change in movements resulted in jaemin’s body trembling beneath your touch before he couldn’t hold himself back and release in your hands and land white ropes all over your face and chest.

𝟏𝟐:𝟏𝟓 𝐚𝐦.

jaemin’s hands gripped your waist tightly, caressing the skin lovingly every now and then as he guided your hips downwards allowing you to sink completely in his length, it was usually rare for him to allow you to ride him, not because he didn’t like it, he actually loved it but he was so used to taking control in bed that he never really got the chance to experience you taking control.

so who was he to decline such an incredible offer when you asked him if you could ride him till sunrise with your beautiful eyes gazing at him lovingly?

“you’re doing so well for me, pretty girl.” jaemin praised softly, his hand trailing upwards to tuck your hair behind your ear before caressing your cheek, his thumb trailed downwards slowly brushing against your lower lip while he looked at you with the same look in your eyes, filled with utter adoration and love.

one thing that jaemin for sure loved about you riding him was how he was able to admire your facial expressions, your facial expression when you sank down slowly on his length stopping midway as tears welled in your eyes unsure of how to fit his entire length in, your facial expression when you finally were able to roll your hips in a way that made his length brush against your sweet spot perfectly and your facial expression when he grips your hips before thrusting his own upwards

“taking daddy’s cock so well, you love it don't you angel?” jaemin continued whispering, slowly matching your rhythm with bringing his hips upwards to meet your own, he leaned down to your neck while his hands went upwards to softly massage your breasts leaving mewls of his name escape your mouth, your back arching against him pushing your chest towards him even more, his kisses trailed down till it finally reached one of your breasts.

still softly thrusting his hips upwards, his warm mouth wrapped around your nipple slowly, rolling and biting the hardened nub before letting go and continuing to tease your chest till he could see soft red marks littered around your breasts, and the sight of jaemin so focused on marking your chest was enough to make you spill on his length for the nth time that night.

𝟏:𝟎𝟓 𝐚𝐦.

jaemin was softly nibbling at your lower lip, drowning in all the moans that left your mouth as he focused on making his fingers reach deeper inside of your plush, warm walls.

your body was hugging his own very tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck tightening every now and then as you felt your release approaching closer, your lips by now completely swollen and cherry red from the amount of times that you connected your mouths to distract you from the unbearable pleasure washing over your body from in between your legs.

you were whimpering his name against his mouth when he positioned his thumb over your clit, rubbing slow circles around the bud in a teasing manner but he was sure that if he changed the pace you would undoubtedly reach your orgasm way before he was planning, so he distracted you by leaving love bites all over your neck, softly biting your ear, licking up your jawline and sometimes down towards your collarbone so he could delay your orgasm but god was he so wrong when you were about to orgasm for the fourth time since he sank his fingers deep into you.

𝟏:𝟑𝟎 𝐚𝐦.

the vibrations that your mouth sent down his length that were caused by his tongue sinking deep inside of your hole made jaemin moan loudly against your soaked cunt, his hips bucked upwards inside of your mouth, hitting the back of your throat almost making you reach your limit as he paid attention to how his fingers were disappearing inside of your hole while his mouth was sucking on your clit.

jaemin loved the way your thighs were trembling against his head, the way you tried to pull away from his grip when he began overstimulating you only to no avail as his arms wrapped tightly around your waist not allowing you to move an inch, you were busy with paying attention to how your hands were massaging his balls softly at the same time your wet mouth was wrapped around his rock hard length which still surprised you as to how he still wasn’t tired.

you moaned with his cock stuffed deep inside of your mouth when you realised that jaemin was teasing you by tilting his head to the side to bite your inner thighs while his fingers were still sinking deeper inside of you, quickly lifting your head upwards you began circling his raging hot tip with your tongue, running your tongue along his slit before pressing down on it harshly making his body jerk beneath you, “oh fuck- baby oh my gosh-“ jaemin moaned loudly as you kept this routine of deep throating his length till your nose reached the base before sliding upwards and teasing his slit with your tongue, sometimes being generous enough to kiss the tip lightly making his thighs shake.

jaemin quickly regained his senses after the electrifying sensations travelled up his spine, quickly suckling on your clit while he inserted three fingers deep inside of you, reaching the spot that had your legs shake completely.

𝟐:𝟏𝟎 𝐚𝐦.

jaemin’s palm landed harshly against the soft flesh of your ass making you bury your head deeper in the pillow, attempting your hardest to silence your moans while his tip kept abusing the opening to your cervix, with your face buried in the pillow and your ass lifted up in the air, pressing your ass against his hips harshly, skin slapping sounds resonated through the room, his hand that was distracted with leaving his hand prints on your ass was by now massaging the red skin softly, satisfied with the mark that he left while his other was pressing against your lower back, arching you even deeper.

jaemin kept up with his rapid pace, only making the slapping sounds louder with each thrust, the headboard hitting the wall loudly, but that was none of your concern as jaemin was reaching balls deep inside of you.

his head was thrown back while his hair was messily disheveled, baby hairs sticking against his sweaty forehead as he only focused on the way his length was completely disappearing inside of your squelching opening, the way multiple hand prints were visible on your flesh that jiggled with every harsh thrust of his

“you like that don’t you, my little slut? having daddy’s cock stuffed so deep inside of you, hm?” he asked while laughing, he leaned forward before gripping your hair, pulling your body towards his, his chest coming in contact with your arched back,

“horny sluts like you deserved to be fucked so hard till the only name they can remember is their daddy’s, am i right baby?” he whispered in your ear as his arm wrapped around your neck, only pulling you closer to him while his other hand began teasing your nipple, twisting and pulling till tears were spilling down your eyes while you were whimpering that satisfied him.

“look at you angel, so fucked out from having my cock buried so deep inside of you, such a good slut for me” he spoke to you, his hand that was teasing your breast trailing down till it pressed against your lower stomach making a choked moan escape you, “you feel that angel? you feel the way my cock’s so deep inside of you?” he said as his hand was trailing around the evident bulge in your lower stomach, the feeling of his fingers applying pressure on it made your eyes roll back while you were nodding wordlessly at the way he was speaking to you.

“has anyone fucked you like i have angel?” jaemin questioned, already knowing that he wasn’t about to get an answer since you weren’t really in the state of forming coherent sentences, pushing your body down against the pillow, jaemin’s hand sneaked down your waist before his fingers found your clit and began rubbing rapid circles around the aching bud.

you cried out at your body’s over-sensitivity, your legs trembling as your orgasm washed over your body completely only leaving you a whimpering mess while jaemin never faltered his thrusts.

𝟐:𝟓𝟎 𝐚𝐦.

jaemin hugged you tightly against his chest, while you tried collecting your breath from the aggressive sex marathon you both just had, jaemin’s fingers were trailing up and down your spine as your head rested against his chest, the soft sounds of his heartbeat almost lulling you to sleep before jaemin decided to softly tap against your cheek,

“didn’t think that i was done with you now did you angel?” he whispered quietly, his lips leaving a trail of kisses from your temples till your neck, you whined at the feeling of him moving again, you were already exhausted, you just wanted to fall asleep in your lover’s arms yet he still had no intentions of sleeping.

“we have a long day ahead of us sweetheart” he said.

𝟑:𝟏𝟓 𝐚𝐦

and jaemin truly does stay true to his words because currently he was buried balls deep inside of you while you both laid on your sides facing each other, your face was buried in his neck, leaving soft kisses around his neck, along his collarbone while he slowly pushed his cock in every now and then, it was half cockwarming half lazy fucking but as long as you were in each other’s embraces then nothing mattered to you anymore.

jaemin was cradling you in his arms, drawing imaginary shapes all over you hips, your waist and even your back only pushing you into a more relaxed state, how was he expecting you to stay awake when he also put you in a state like this?

“min i feel sleepy, can we please sleep?” you asked softly, your eyes closed as you felt like you were a blink away from completely surrendering to a very anticipated and welcomed slumber, “feeling sleepy huh? how about i wake you up?“ jaemin said stopping all of his movements of rolling his hips slowly in and out and you already knew that you fucked up.

𝟒:𝟐𝟎 𝐚𝐦.

your chest was pressed against the wall as you moaned shamelessly while jaemin pounded into you from the back, the warm water showering down both of your aching bodies only excited you even more to reach your climaxes, jaemin’s hand snakes up towards your neck, gripping it tightly knowing that you love the feeling of his big hands being wrapped around you while his tip was kissing your cervix.

you were moaning his name loudly, your knees almost buckling in if it wasn’t for the support of jaemin’s arm wrapping tightly around your waist as your legs gave up on you hours ago.

setting an animalistic pace with thrusting his length inside of you, it made even more lewd sounds coat the bathroom since now water was added into the mix, you were only able to moan as you felt his fingers tightening every now and then, jaemin felt the familiar knot in his lower abdomen only enticing him to fasten the pace,

gripping your hair softly he slowly pulled you back, making your back arch as you faced him while his figure towered yours, holding on the wall for support while jaemin connected your mouths, groaning at his taste coating your mouth entirely as he sucked on your lower lip, his thrusts were reduced to delicious circular rolls of his hips pressed flush against your ass.

with the slow pace you could feel every protruding vein running along your walls as he thrusted deeper, you lost your mind entirely when you felt jaemin suckling on the tip of your tongue while sinking his cock deep inside of you, “daddy- i’m about to- i’m so close- please” you whimpered against his mouth when you felt that jaemin wasn’t planning on fastening the pace and staying in this slower one till you orgasmed.

“please go faster daddy-“ you mewled but it was all helpless, all you felt was jaemin’s thrust getting rough and harder but not faster.

“i know you can cum like this too, angel” he groaned in your ear, and he was right, because at the feeling of his hands brushing against the swell of your breasts before guiding down and wrapping his arms against your waist tightly was enough to make you gush around his dick while you cried his name out, jaemin following soon after you with pressing his tip against your cervix and shooting his load into your womb.

𝟓:𝟎𝟓 𝐚𝐦.

jaemin’s tongue toyed with your clit, the feeling of your hands gripping his slightly damp hair only made him want more, to continue teasing you till you came undone on his mouth, “please- isn’t this too much? i’ve lost count of the amount of times i’ve came daddy please- let us go to sleep” you cried out, moaning loudly when you felt him insert two fingers inside of your abused hole, he only slightly chuckled at your words before pushing you to lay down on the countertop,

“what a careless wife, you’re not allowing your husband to enjoy his breakfast? i’m heartbroken yn” he replied before continuing his work in between your legs, he loved the sounds of your lustry tired moans and broken mewls only pushing him to drag out more pretty sounds from your pretty little mouth,

“for the love of god, you haven’t even proposed yet?!” you squealed out when he began brushing his fingers against your g-spot making your vision go completely white and you released all around his mouth and fingers,

“well i’m glad to announce that your patience has paid off!” he spoke while laughing before lifting his head and finally coming face to face with a shocked you that was only staring at the way his hand was holding a small velvet box that appeared out of thin air.

A/N: karinasbaby debut?? no fr this is just a pre-release i decided to post cuz i was actually planning on making a debut with a heeseung one shot in october but here’s this :D

p.s feedbacks & reblogs are appreciated + my asks are open so please do spill any thoughts u have ! <3

p.s 2 this was proof read but if u see any typos pls ignore & if i missed any warnings pls do tell me.

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