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hwaflms · 14 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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n0hyuck · 1 year

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pretend i don’t want to ride haechan’s face while jeno is riding him it’s so hard😔

#can someone just bring them to me tbh #imagine jeno begging for more #they would look so pretty #i truly can’t do this anymore #😩#bye🚶🏻‍♀️

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neowinestainedress · 6 months

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𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: any nct member!ghostface x detective!fem!reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: “horror”, thriller, yandere-ish, smut, halloween special, scream!au 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in these past months your only goal is to find the killer that is terrorizing the town of Woodsboro, but when you get close to him and feel like you finally have the upper hand, Ghostface turns the game around again. Or, Ghostface wants to play with you but not like he does with his victims, and you let him. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: dark content, talks of [m*rders, sl!tting throats, v!olent stuff in general], dr*g/anaesthetic use [to make mc fall asleep but unrelated to any sexu*l act (she’s awake and willing)], mentions of [dubcon] phone s*x + masturbation, implied stalking, use of restrainers, cl!t rubbing, rough t!t/n!pple play, protected s*x turns unprotected, kn!fe play, ‘fear’ play, clothes cutting, fake sympathy, pet names used in a mocking way, degradation, rough s*x, hair pulling, spit (1), p*ssy slapping, dacryphilia, possessiveness, 1 brief talk of carving, polaroids pictures, all consensual but i’ll still put a dubcon warning just to be safe (tbh it’s more like hate sex bc the mc would rip his head off but also fuck him), reader is kinda fucked up herself. | inclusivity notes: reader has hair long enough that can be pulled (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type but reader is manhandled a few times and has b**bs and *ss big enough that can be cupped, no mention of skin color, no use of y/n 𝐖𝐂: 10.662k 𝐀/𝐍: this year i had vague ideas for halloween but not even a defined good one, i had some suggestions i liked but were far too complicated, and i had no energy to write them in time. but a ghostface/scream au was an idea i had in mind for some time, the original was a ghostface cosplay, but then i went with this one, and I’m happy with how it turned out. i had 2 members in mind (johnny/haechan) for the og plot, then someone suggested jeno and jisung (as a duo) but if i unmasked him the plot wouldn’t have made sense anymore, so he’s whoever you want him to be! the other ghostface is mentioned but doesn’t appear physically in the story, you can pick who you want for him too. i never wrote blankly for the male mc so let me know if it was good. please, if you like it, leave feedback through reblogs or asks! and also let me know who you imagined behind the mask 👀 enjoy and happy halloween

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄.

Your mother always told you to mind your business or else your curiosity was going to be the death of you one day.

It’s clear you never treasured her words, and your curiosity led you to be a private detective with only a few thrills in your life since now, nothing too exciting ever happened in your small town, until one day you received a phone call from the district of Woodsboro. A string of murders was terrorizing the town after years and all the evidence led to another psycho who thought it was funnier to kill people while putting on a Ghostface mask.

Months have passed since that call and you have nothing concrete. It’s like he’s only messing up with you and, in the meantime, innocent people keep dying. But you have your theories, the ones you only keep to yourself, stored away in the privacy of your diary, hidden under the pillow of your bed. Your colleagues seem decent people, but with time, you’ve learned to trust nobody.

And your secret theories led you right where you are now. In the open country, away from the small town, where a small barn grabbed your attention the first time you moved to Woodsboro.

The barn seems empty but eerie vibes surround it. The strong smell of the grass stings your nose as your black boots walk on the muddy ground, the rain of this morning still lingering in the air and in the countryside.

When you reach the perimeter, you squeeze your eyes to see inside, but the few tiny windows don’t allow you a big view. The more you walk around it to make sure it’s empty, the more the hold on your concealed carry with the gun inside tightens.

It’s late October and the cold penetrates your brown leather jacket, but the temperature is not the thing that makes you shiver.

You should’ve never followed your instinct and come here alone. You should’ve spoken to somebody else in the department, told them your theory and have some backup in this crazy plan of yours. But when your impulses take over, your smartness slips away, and you find yourself in the worst situations ever.

Like right now. You stand in front of the wooden door and find the courage to push it open. You should feel thrilled, you found him. You found the psycho that has been haunting the town for months now, messing up with you with clues and mocks that pushed you farther away from the right path. Yet, you beat him, for once it looks like you have the upper hand now that you’re walking around the empty barn away from the town. But something doesn’t feel right, your guts are telling you something but you don’t listen, you can’t walk away now that you’re so close.

There’s not much to inspect, a few pieces of furniture, a disheveled mattress in the middle of the room, and a few chairs in a corner. It almost looks like an abandoned farm if only it wasn’t for the unnerving vibes that carries with it and for two walls that call your attention. On the right, there’s a map of Woodsboro, pins linked by a red thread, connecting all the places where Ghostface hit in these past months. Your hand quickly reaches the back of your pocket to pull out your phone and snap a picture, hoping there will also be places he didn’t go, and this time you can be faster at stopping him.

What’s on the other side is worse.

“What the fuck…” you mumble under your breath as you step closer to the wall. Polaroid pictures hanging from it, Ghostface and the victims, you guess, moments before they were brutally killed. You’re not surprised, one of the gifts he would leave on the scene of the crime being Polaroids, but they didn’t make much sense. “He’s a fucking psycho,” you scoff as you take another picture.

“Surpriiise!!”

Your phone falls on the floor with a loud thud and your heart jumps in your throat when his voice breaks the deafening silence in the room, but your reflections are swift enough to make you reach for your gun and turn around, shooting.

“Boo, fail,” Ghostface laughs, hitting your wrist hard enough to make the gun fall on the floor next to your phone. “You’re really not as smart as I thought you were, don’t you know intruding on someone else’s property is illegal?” he points out, pushing your body against the wall, the sharp blade of his knife grazing the skin of your neck.

You try to keep calm, deep slow breaths as you try to don’t look scared for your life. You might die today, but you won’t give him that satisfaction.

“Don’t look so frightened, my dear. I’m quite happy to have you all to myself,” he chuckles, his hand lifts to caress your face and you struggle to avoid it, but the click of his tongue makes you stop. “I wouldn’t act too careless, it’s sharp.”

You stop moving. You are smart, and you can get yourself out of this situation. “Do you want to play a game, Ghostface?” You ask, ignoring his taunts, the irony in your voice is clear, just like it’s blatant in the slow bat of your eyelashes, but your words only make him laugh.

“Oh, that’s not how it works, detective. That’s my line. You didn’t study the script?”

You scoff, trying to take time to free yourself. “We’re switching roles. Do you want to play a game? It’s called you turn yourself in and I put you in jail.”

He snickers, and his head tilts to have a better look at your face. He’s had many people in this position before and never saw so little fear in their eyes. “Now you want to act like you don’t love the chase?”

“Fuck you, I don’t love it,” you spit out, narrowing your eyes, desperately trying to get a glimpse of anything under the mask. Another failed attempt.

He laughs darkly, so deep it hits you to the core and makes you shiver — in fear or excitement, you’ll let this decide to your better judgment. “I know you do,” he coos as his thumb covered with the black glove caresses your lips. “Enjoy the little clues I leave you around? You were interested in the pictures, I knew you loved them, that’s why you get the prettiest ones. I tell you so much, but you don’t understand me,” his voice is calm, scarily calm, and full of sarcasm filled with a sweetness that feels like a slap across your face. “I was a bit mad it took you so long to find me.”

Rage shoots up inside of you, but you instantly push it down, you can’t lose your composure. “So, what are you going to do, kill me?” Your voice drops of a tone, and your eyes turn into a teasing gaze, making him chuckle.

“Talking about death so nonchalantly with me, mmh… are you brave or dumb? Because if you ask so nicely, I just might let the knife sink in.”

You laugh lightheartedly, putting up the best performance of your life before your eyes flutter seducingly at him. “No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel,” you coo, lips in a pout and innocence in your eyes, until you hit him with a swift, strong kick between his legs, the distraction of your performance giving you time to slip to the side, causing just a bit of your skin to cut and bleed.

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he kneels to the ground. You reach for your gun, but barely have time to grab it before he pushes you on the floor again. “We were having so much fun, you just have to ruin everything.”

You’re waiting for the worst when he traps you on the floor with his body on yours, but his arms don’t lift to stab you in your chest or stomach, the last thing you see before passing out is his hand lifting in the air and the sting of a needle pushing past your skin.

The white light of the room feels like staring directly at the sun when your eyes blink repeatedly as you try to come back to earth and push away the hammering of your headache. You groan hoarsely, trying to adjust to the light, but the biggest discomfort comes from your shoulders, pushed behind your back and around the chair you’re now sitting on.

“Sorry, I had to tie you up, but you’re a bit feisty today. Didn’t want you to get hurt,” Ghostface replies to your silent questions — not so silent, considering how loud you’re groaning and struggling on the chair, trying to break free. He’s standing in front of you, but a chair is right behind him so you guess he was sitting there before you woke up.

“You can’t even take one down without a fight? Need to kill me without breaking a sweat?” You taunt, eyes dark and a deep frown on your forehead.

But your teasing seems to leave him unfazed as he walks toward you with a glass in hand. “Drink.”

You scoff, staring at him. You hate that you can’t see him, not even because you want to find out who’s hiding under there, but also because you feel like you can’t confront him well enough. “You think I’m so stupid to accept a drink from a psycho?”

His head rolls back followed by an annoyed sigh as he stops right in front of you. His black boots bumping against yours. “You know that’s not how I move, no fun in killing with these shortcuts. Drink. I would never want you to pass out here,” he coos while his free hand pushes your hair out of your face. You can’t see behind the mask, but you know he has a shit-eating grin on his face. He moves the glass to your lips, but you turn to the side, he doesn’t give you a choice when he strongly grips your chin, pushing your lips open, and forces the water down your throat. “Oops, it spilled all over, you’re so messy, detective,” he snickers when water drips on your chin and shirt. As if he didn’t do it on purpose.

“Asshole,” you mutter, eyes closing into fissures while you look at him. His head tilts, “Oh, brave. I could slit your throat right now, add you to the collection.”

You chuckle darkly, shaking your head. “You won’t,” you say firmly. “You’ve never had someone quite as fun as me.”

A low laughter escapes from the mask. “So, you are at least a bit smart?” His hand places on your thigh and you try to move away, but the chair screeches on the floor, and his hold only tightens.

“Don’t play games now. Don’t fake it,” he groans, hand moving up on your blue jeans. “You enjoyed our last conversation,” he whispers, the mask close to your face, so close you can almost see his eyes behind the blackness of the two holes. “Had shivers run down your back when the phone rang in the middle of the night, haven’t you? You sat up straight in your big bed, all alone, and felt fear take over. Never answer unknown numbers. That’s what they say, that’s what you say, running around town, warning everyone about me,” he laughs deeply. “And then look at you, picking up that phone call, eager to hear my voice on the other side.”

“You’re a psycho,” you spit out, struggling against the restrainers. But once again it is an act; he is a psycho, but you are starting to fear you aren’t much different.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I am, never denied that. But don’t act better than me. You stood right in front of that window, stripping for me, touching yourself for me, moaning for me. How fucked up that is?” He snickers. “You have fucked up fantasies, my pretty detective, but I’m not one to judge. I’d gladly help.”

You laugh quietly, trying to look confident but it comes out shaky from your throat, “If you want to help, take the mask off and show me who you are.”

“Wow, wow, darling. Not so soon, I’m not one to burn stages in a relationship. What next? Want to meet my mom?”

You inhale sharply, and spit on him, “God, you’re insane.” Your eyes snap open when he pulls out of his back the sharp knife, your breath is stuck in your throat and fear runs all over your body. And once again you regret how impulsive you are. You did well all these past years of training and then on the first real-life experiences at pushing this side of you in the cage, but it looks like it’s coming out like a beast that’s been trapped too long.

“Don’t be so scared,” he huffs, the fake sympathy in his voice should make you mad but it triggers something else inside of you, and you hate to admit that he might be right, you’re enjoying this more than you should, you’re enjoying this entire chase more than you should. It’s like a game, but it’s not when real people are dying. “I would never hurt you,” his voice is raspy, slightly muffled by the ghost mask he’s wearing, and the knife sits on your sternum. “I hope you didn’t like this shirt too much, detective.”

You don’t have time to react, the steel cuts your shirt neatly, the sound bouncing in the small room and the sharp tip brushing your skin. You shiver, gulping hard and closing your eyes, already feeling the sensation of it cutting through you, but it doesn’t happen.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head disappointingly. “You truly don’t trust me. I’m offended, and I don’t like when people offend me. Just like I don’t like when they hang up the phone while we’re playing. If people were respectful, I wouldn’t have to kill them, you know?” You stare at him with a furrow on your face, you’d like to take the mask off and see his eyes, not really to find out who’s hiding underneath that mask, but to see if his gaze is as insane as you imagine it to be.

“Let me go,” you say, the skin of your wrist bruised from the pressure you’re applying against the ropes.

“Don’t struggle too much, it turns me on,” he warns, kneeling at your level. He smiles softly and thinks it’s a pity you can’t see it, you’re just so pretty, with your beautiful face filled with different emotions and your eyes looking at him with a gaze that wants to be threatening but it’s all the opposite, almost making you look like a lost puppy.

“Why?”

“Why? It’s funny to see the victim beg for their life, it makes you feel powerful, you could show mercy, but you don’t,” the smug smile on his hidden face can be heard in his voice and you shiver at how cold he sounds, the shrug of his shoulder is just the cherry on top to his unhinged behaviour.

“So, you’re just going to keep me here?”

“No, I want to play with you. Do you want to play a game, detective?”

Your gaze falls on your thighs where his hand is placed again, the black gloves preventing it from leaving traces behind, as it slowly moves closer to your heat.

You snicker, pretending to play it cool, but your breath twitches at the contact. “’Cause if I said no you would stop?”

“Hey, I’m a killer, not a rapist,” he defends, shrugging. Yet, you still don’t reply, and he doesn’t like that. “So? I’m not so patient when I ask people if they want to play with me, so don’t test me.”

You swallow hard, swiftly looking around to see if you can pull a move on him. Damnit, it’s your chance to get him and throw him in jail but instead, you’re seriously thinking about his proposal. You fool yourself that you’re only doing this because maybe he could slip, maybe he could say something in the heat of the moment that could give you a clue, or he could leave his traces on you somehow, maybe his mask could fall, but you know you’re feeling something else. Attraction.

“I said,” he mutters, his face comes closer to yours, making you pull back, and the knife pushes flat in the hollow of your chest, “do you want to play a game, detective?”

“Yes, yes, I do,” you mutter, starting to breathe again when he pulls the knife away.

“Good, I love playing with you.” His fingers move to unbutton your jeans and then pull the zip down, you look at him attentively. “Lift your hips for me, love?”

You glare at him at the pet name but he only chuckles deeply. “What? If I’m rough with you, you get mad, if I’m sweet with you, you get mad. I can never win, can I?”

You huff, deciding it’s better to not reply and just do as he says. Your pants are quickly at your ankles and suddenly you feel even more trapped than before now that you can’t even move your legs, but his touch on your naked skin takes you away from that thought.

“Pretty panties just for me?” He coos, tilting his head to the side as he stares at your burgundy panties with the lace trim. “Were you hoping to find me here so we could finish what we started on the phone?”

“Shut up, this is not for you,” you retort, your forehead creasing with a furrow.

“And who is it for?” He asks, cupping your pussy, watching your body shiver. “Oh, no, please don’t tell me there’s a boyfriend I’m not aware of. I’d hate to kill him.”

You bite your lips and keep the contact with the mask, but words struggle to come out when his index finger starts rubbing on your clit, moving from the slit —where you can feel you’re starting to get wet— to your sensitive nub. “It’s not for you,” you repeat, trying to don’t show how much his touch is affecting you.

“Well, you want me to work so hard too, I’ll have to find out on my own if someone is playing with what’s mine,” he replays nonchalantly. “I know where to find you, maybe I’ll come visit again.”

“You talk so much for someone who wants to play so badly,” you retort, a teasing grin curling your lips.

“Sorry, I didn’t know my princess was so eager,” he replies, saccharine voice filled with mockery, before a harsh slap lands on your pussy making you jolt and whimper. “Want my fingers?”

The glare you give him would be enough to kill him; isn’t this pathetic enough? How much more does he want you to humiliate yourself?

He rolls his head back and then the knife is against your neck again. “Do we have to do this every time I ask you a question? Do you want my fingers, detective?”

“Yes,” you whisper. Your body relaxes momentarily before tensing up with excitement again, but it quickly shifts to disappointment. “What are you doing?” You ask when his covered fingers press against you again.

“Oh, you’ll get the gloves too, I’m not dumb, you know? Don’t leave fingerprints on dead bodies, won’t even leave them on yours,” his voice is smug, all the confidence of someone who didn’t make a wrong move and somehow was always ahead of you and the police department.

You hate him. You hate he’s so much better than you at this. And you hate him even more now that he has you fighting whimpers and moans.

“Are you seriously going to pretend you don’t like this while your hips are bucking up?” He taunts, clicking his tongue in a mock. “Think moaning is more pathetic than humping my fingers like a bitch in heat?”

Your mouth opens to retort but you can’t deny the evidence; your hips are rolling against his hand, chasing for more, your panties are darkening as your wetness leaks through the fabric and your chest is heaving in erratic motions.

“Look at me,” he sings, hand moving up to graze your neck, thumb pressing on your carotid, making your head snap up. “You listen so swiftly when you fear for your life. It’s funny, you know, because I truly would never hurt you.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, trying to pull away from his hold when his hand moves up to caress your jaw. The gentleness of his touch is even scarier than when he has his knife pointed against you. “Is this what turns you on? The fear in their eyes?”

His head tilts to the side, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Partially. But not in your case, what turns me on with you it’s the chase, and the fact I always win.”

You scoff bitterly, struggling in his hold but his hand quickly grips your chin and pulls you closer. “Didn’t you see the movies? The villain always dies.”

“If the heroine is not busy getting fucked by him,” he mocks, squeezing your face harder and moving his fingers faster on your clit. Your head rolls back and so do your eyes while a chocked moan leaves your lips. “See, I doubt you will shoot me in the head if you keep moaning like this.”

You groan angrily, you’re madder at you than you are at him. You want him and it’s so wrong that you do, but there’s not even a siren ringing in your head, telling you to make this stop.

“No, shh, shh, angel, it’s fine, this will be our little secret,” he whispers to your ear, the mask rubbing against your face, and when your eyes turn to look at him, you can see small dots of blood on the white varnish. “We could play another game: one secret for you, and one secret for me. If you behave, maybe I’ll reveal myself to you, if you promise to keep it to yourself.”

Your teeth sink into your lips harder when he delivers another harsh slap on your clit before resuming his quick movements. “Just — just tell me if I know you,” you mumble. You know he will never reveal himself, but maybe you can get something more, anything to complete the missing pieces of the puzzle.

He chuckles darkly, staring at a spot behind you as he pretends to think. “Mhh, we’ve met.”

You frown and your heart jumps in your throat for a moment at the thought you’ve seen him. “Only met?”

“We talked,” he adds, finally letting go of your face, making you breathe normally again.

Your eyes widen while your brain hurts as you try to quickly connect the dots, and find out who’s hiding underneath the mask, you just have to put a face on a voice — even if distorted, but you can’t. And suddenly realization slumps on you.

“Will it — will it break my heart?”

He snickers under his breath as he looks into your sad eyes, you’re looking at him like a dog when it’s being scolded, but in this case, you’re also silently praying he’s not someone close to you. He has no idea why that would make you feel better, if you care more about Ghostface or whoever is hiding under the mask, but it doesn’t matter, and he mocks you again, mimicking you in a high-pitched voice. “Will it hurt if I was someone close to you? A colleague? A friend? A lover?”

Your breath gets faster. Will it? Would you turn him in or defend him? And you can’t stand you’re even questioning it, of course you’ll turn him in, that’s your job, but most importantly, your duty. But will you? You could be doing it now, and you’re not.

“See? It’s not as funny if you know me,” he laughs at your face, your thoughts so loud he could get a headache. “It’s not as exciting, you love the thrill of this too, more than you like to admit.”

“Fuck,” you curse when his other hand cups your covered breast, it’s a harsh tug and the leather feels weird on your skin, yet, it makes you clasp your thighs and forget what was tormenting your morals, again.

“They’re so perfect, I can’t believe you always keep them hidden under those ugly clothes,” he pouts, giving it another hard squeeze. “Sorry.”

“For what — what the fuck?” You scream when he cuts your bra with the knife, first the middle and then the straps, the matching burgundy bra falling in pieces on the bottom of the chair.

“It was getting in the way, and I don’t like things that get in my way. I cut them off,” in his voice lingers a hysterical laugh that makes you shiver, and in times like this, you’re glad you can’t see his face.

You gulp and automatically close your legs.

“Not you,” he reassures you, forcing your thighs open again with a smack, “you entertain me. And you suck at your job, so it’s clear you also don’t get in the way.”

“I’m good at my job and I will get you and put you behind bars —”

“Uh, uh,” he clicks his tongue, knife under your jaw before you can even finish the sentence, silencing you in an instant. “We were having so much fun, don’t ruin it, babe.”

You swallow and look down following the path he’s tracing with the knife, goosebumps bloom on your skin and you hold your breath when it gets closer to your neck, only releasing it when the blade sits in the hollow of your chest.

“It’s so funny how you shake like a leaf, I’m a professional,” he says, sounding almost offended. And you furrow, is he talking about the knife or his fingers? “Both, love.”

Another groan leaves your lips before he moves the crotch to the side and the cold air of the room hits your burning core. You’ve never been so ashamed your entire life, you shouldn’t be an open book to him, you shouldn’t be so malleable in his hands, it’s pathetic and humiliating.

“You’re so fucking wet. I’m quite pissed I can’t run to the police department and let them know how much I turn you on. I can already see the disappointment on their faces,” he taunts, the slick sound of his gloves against your dripping pussy burns your body in shame and excitement.

“Don’t you dare,” you spit out, but you don’t sound so menacing since your voice breaks, and a pathetically high-pitched moan rolls from your tongue right after.

“I said I’m not going to, I keep my promises,” he kneels to the ground, one hand keeping you spread more and the other is still busy taking care of you. “Maybe if you promise you won’t shoot or put me in handcuffs right away when you’ll find out who I am, I can eat you out. I bet you let out the prettiest moans when you have someone between your legs.”

Your head rolls back, and you hiss. “You wish,” you retort through gritted teeth, but a part of you dies to know what that would be like. “I will never give you the satisfaction.”

He laughs mockingly. “Maybe I should blindfold you and do it now, will you recognize me by that?” At those words your body tenses up, head standing straight again as you look down at him with terror in your eyes. “What?” He asks in a giggle, surprised by your reaction. “You’re fucking with me right now, I still have blood on me. Would that be the most problematic thing? Having fucked with me before? Without this mask?”

“You’re just messing with me,” you mutter but your brain is trying to think, the list of the people you’ve been with is not that long, he can’t be so stupid to out himself like that, right?

“Maybe… I love it when I can see you think,” he whispers. “Usually, you have your hands in your hair, pulling at it even if you just washed it or spent hours styling it, and then you nervously bite your right thumb, somehow there’s always a hangnail to pull until it bleeds, oh, and you also nervously walk back and forth, two steps forward, two steps back. It’s cute, really. You have no fucking clue how to stop this, but you look so into it, chasing after me… well, so you think because, let’s be honest, you’re only chasing after your tail.”

You can’t believe he knows all of this, how close to you is he? And a few names start popping into your mind, but for each face that you see, your only answer is it can’t be.

“Why are you surprised? I told you, I love watching you,” he says, voice scarily soft even through the distortion of the mask. “You’re very pretty, detective. When you work hard to catch me, and even more when you screw it all up to moan for me.”

“Ugh,” you groan through gritted teeth, wrist rubbing against the rope keeping you in place and hips bucking up, anger and pleasure mixing like a drug in your brain. You hate to admit it, but you’re close and you doubt you can push back your climax any longer.

“It’s alright, love, I told you, I won’t judge you,” he hums. He studies your face for a moment, admiring how your teeth trap your lips in the vain attempt to don’t truly show how much you’re enjoying this, but your eyes are filled with lust, lightly glassy, and your cum is painting his gloves white. “Now, will you come for me?”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, your body shutters as the orgasm washes over you, the quick movements of his fingers on your sensitive clit making your nails dig into the palm of your hands while your moans slip out of you freely. Your morality disappears, getting dragged away with the orgasm that consumes you before leaving.

You forget where you are for a moment, or to be more precise, with who you are with, as you let your head roll back, close your eyes and take deep breaths, waiting for the high to pass.

The thing doesn’t bother Ghostface, though, he sees enough fear in people’s eyes, he likes it better when you stop pretending and relax around him. That’s the thrilling thing about you, you are the most entertaining game he has ever played. With all the others he knows how it will end, their lifeless bodies laying in a pool of their own blood and the sirens of the police going off in the background as he blends in with the crowd, but with you? It’s unknown. Like a Russian roulette.

He’d love to shred all your clothes off, but he knows you’d have to spill your guts (not literally) if you walk out of there completely naked, and he’s sure the version you would tell the police would add another crime to his name. So, he takes your shoes off and then pulls your pants down.

Your laugh makes him raise his face and stare at you. “What’s so funny, dollface?”

You shrug, wetting your lips. “You scare me more when you act all sweet, you know?”

He scoffs, standing up again, and caressing your face. “You want me to hurt you so badly. I could carve a heart right here,” he presses the tip of the blade next to your heart, tracing the shape of a heart, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. “It would look so pretty on you, and you will always carry me with you. Isn’t it nice? Couple goals.”

You raise a brow at him, he doesn’t even realize it, but he’s giving away so much of his personality, even if you don’t find it out now, you’re pretty positive all of this is leading you somewhere. You shake your head quickly, trying not to show how hard you’re thinking about your plan. “I only want one thing from you, and you know what it is.”

He chuckles, leaning next to your ear. “My dick.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you curse, accidentally kicking him now that your legs are free to move. You suck your breath in, fearing your move, even if involuntary, might piss him off.

He hisses but doesn’t do anything else. “Don’t get all bratty here, doll. You said you wanted to play a game, and we’re going to play it until the end.”

When he cuts your panties and balls them in his fist, saying “keeping them as a souvenir,” with a grin that can be heard in his voice, you only reply with an “asshole.”

Once again, he doesn’t pay your insults any mind, and you wonder why he’s so nice to you. Should you fear it? Will you be his last victim, getting the worst death of them all because he needs to put on a show? “Now I will untie you, if you play any trick on me… you know how it ends.”

You nod quickly, watching him disappear from your view as he stands behind you. You inhale when the knife places against your neck again and roll your eyes back. “You don’t have to do this every time, you know?”

“It turns you on,” he retorts firmly. “And I need to make sure you don’t do any funny business.”

Your eyes roll back again but you try to relax anyway and keep still when your wrists are finally free. Your shoulders are in a more comfortable position again as you subtly roll them to ease up. “Get up,” he orders, and you follow, moving carefully because the blade is still close to your body and you don’t want to end up dead on the floor. “Good, now lay on the mattress.”

Your face twists in disgust when you’re reminded of the mattress on the floor, but he pushes you forward.

“We didn’t kill anybody there.”

You stop, turning around swiftly, and his reflections are rapid enough that he doesn’t push the knife into your chest. “We?”

“Oh… it didn’t click yet…” He laughs darkly at your expression, the whole world falling on your shoulders as you wonder how could you be so stupid to not realize it. “Sorry, love. But hey, aren’t you happy I helped you out?”

You glare at him but then bring your hand to your hair and your thumb to your lips. Of course, there are two of them, that’s the only way they could always be so headed of you.

“Not the right moment to think about that,” he warns, voice dropping lower, making you stop your nervous ticks. “Get on the bed.”

You turn around again, suddenly aware that he’s completely covered and you’re bare. That thought makes you seek the cover of the mattress more, and swiftly you’re laying where he wants you. But it also turns you on, being so exposed to him while he’s giving you not even a peak of who’s under the mask and the clothes send chills down your body and more cum drips out you.

“Promise you’ll be good? We can play cat and mouse later if you want to,” he asks, the blade running flat on your boobs, making him chuckle darkly when your nipples harden at the contact and your hips buck up. “You promise, detective?” He repeats with urge when you don’t reply, too busy watching the knife move on your body as he pins you down.

“Promise,” you reply, looking into the blackness of the eyes of the mask.

He chuckles under the mask, and you watch him unbuckle his pants. You could easily grab the weapon that’s on your stomach and stab him, you could even un-mask him, but you lay still, almost mesmerized. And the conscience inside of you likes to remind you how fucked up you and your morals are, but you brush it off, shaking your head quickly.

“Turn around,” he orders, but you hesitate. That’s too much vulnerability. It’s clear he doesn’t like your hesitation when he groans, grabbing the knife and pushing it aside. “God, I have to do everything with you,” he sighs as he forcefully flips you on your stomach before his legs trap you again. This time you can’t do anything even if you want to, but once again, you don’t want to.

“Fuck,” he moans, hands cupping your full ass and squeezing hard, the firm hold eliciting a moan from you. “Look at you, so fucking pretty. Keep your head down, don’t try to even get a peak,” he warns, and your immediate reaction is to turn around to understand what’s going on, but you know better, so you press your face into the pillow and only when you hear the loud sound of a spit and a glob of saliva drip between your folds you understand what happened. “Not that it was needed, you’re dripping. But you know, I like to get messy at times.”

You turn your face around, resting your head on the pillow, and bite your lips. The smugness and insanity of his voice causing more cum to ooze out of your pussy.

“I want to feel you so bad,” he hums, spreading your cunt, making you feel so exposed, “but will you run to the police? Will you tell them ‘oh no, I had to fuck Mr. Ghostface to have a bit of his DNA and save the town from this psycho’?” he mocks with a high-pitched voice, it doesn’t sound like you at all, more like a hopeless, brain-dead, blonde girl that dies within the first minutes of any horror movie.

You snicker. “You underestimate me, I could say I got those traces from somewhere else.”

“But will you? Also, I’m pretty sure they will find traces of you too. How humiliating would that be? Come on, honey, I won’t blackmail you, but you will screw yourself over? That’s not very smart of you.”

He’s right, you hate that he’s right. You will have to out yourself in the process of trying to turn him in. “I — I won’t.”

Deep down he knows you won’t, there’s no way they won’t trace it back at you too, and he also knows you won’t try to play the victim when you’re not, but he needs to be conscious, one wrong step and you could turn the game around. As much as he likes to mock you, he knows you’re smart and have been close to discovering them a few times, it was a matter of luck, and they were extremely lucky.

“Better safe than in jail,” he chuckles darkly, you don’t even try to peer around, and only listen to the plastic of the condom rip.

You whimper when you feel the tip against your slit, and you hide your face in the pillow as if that could change the reality of what you’re willingly doing. You’re too excited to be so ashamed of your actions, but, even if some may argue your morality is nowhere to be found, it still feels like a big balloon hovering over you.

You shiver when you feel the mask rest on your shoulder, “Nah, ah, angel, no being ashamed now. I told you I don’t like rude people, so don’t be rude and ask me nicely to fuck you.”

The urge to slap him is stronger than anything else, but once again your greed makes him win. “Please… please fuck me.”

“Not what I want to hear, you know what I want. We practiced the other night, haven’t we?” He reminds you, a hand creeping around your neck, holding tight enough to make buzzes of fear run through your bones.

You close your eyes, inhaling as deeply as you can while trying to find the courage to humiliate yourself one last time, but then the words slip out, “Please, fuck me, Ghostface,” and the air gets knocked out of your lungs when he pushes into you. It’s a strong, deep thrust that fills you to the brim and knocks you over. Your head falls against the pillow again while his loud groan fills your ears, “Fuck, it sounds so good from your lips.”

“Oh, fuck,” you curse through gritted teeth when he starts moving right away, barely giving you time to adjust to the feeling, thick dick grazing your insides and strong hands wrapping around your waist tightly.

“Is it too much for you, detective? My sweet little angel can’t take it?”

A groan slips past your lips, you try to stand up on your elbows, but he pushes you down. His body presses against your back and you feel trapped again. “Don’t move. I will fuck you so deep into this mattress that I will feel your scent for days after this. I want your face smashed against the pillow, I want it to be wet with your ruined makeup and tears, got it? ”

You nod quickly, shoulders dropping as you slump against the mattress. His breathing next to your ear makes you shiver, and you wonder if that’s the last thing the non-so-lucky people have met him heard before dying. But you push it away, for the sake of your sanity, you have to fool yourself that you’re not so attracted to a bloody murderer, that your morals are still intact, and that you are a good person.

It’s pathetic how all the anger you feel disappears with each calculated thrust, pleasure getting to your brain so quickly you stop holding back. Soft whimpers and moans roll out of your tongue and unconsciously your ass grinds back into him.

“Fuck, that’s what I want to hear,” he hums, standing up while his hands wrap around your waist. He never wanted to burn those gloves so badly, feeling the urge to feel your burning skin and mark you with his bare hands, but he can’t risk it. That doesn’t mean he can’t leave marks in other ways. One hand leaves your hips and cups your boob, eliciting a broken moan from you. “Have I told you they’re so pretty?”

“Mhh,” you mumble, eyes closing as he pinches down on your nipple. You wish you could say it hurt you but instead, it makes you clench hard around him, cum leaking out more with each pinch on your delicate, sensitive buds.

“Shit, you really are into pain,” he comments, there’s mockery in his voice —like always— but there’s also a genuine surprise. “Who would’ve thought, my innocent detective is way more fucked in the head than I thought.”

“I — I’m not,” you retort, groaning and forcing your eyes open, but the deep chuckle that rumbles in his chest makes you quiver, and your attitude drops in a moment.

“Honey,” he slurs, voice dipped in honey, “you’re letting Ghostface fuck you dumb, you are fucked in the head.”

You shake your head quickly, but he’s had enough of your lies. The rough tug at your hair makes you let out a choked gasp as your head is lifted from the pillow. “I know you better than anyone else, angel,” he groans, mask pressed against your hot face. “I know your dirty, little secrets. I know what runs into that dirty, little mind of yours. You can’t lie to me,” he almost purrs, a low chuckle making shame fire up inside of you, “and I can feel you, princess. Squeezing me, barely allowing me to pull out to fuck back into you. Fuck — I should feel you right now, no stupid rubber between us.”

Another broken moan slips from your lips when he roughly lets go of the hold on you, your fingers clench hard around the thin sheet under you, and your hips jerk up even more. It’s like you want to feel him more, to have him imprint himself deep into you, so far under your skin that you won’t be able to wash him off, and you don’t even know why you feel like this. Why it made you feel like this a week prior too, all the hesitation and fear as you picked up the phone and heard his breathy, distorted voice, flying out of the window the moment he started ordering you around. But was it truly an order when your only hesitation came from the fear of judgement, and you could only feel your body tingle with excitement? Sitting in front of the window, having no idea where he was hiding, putting on a show for the killer you swore you hated and making yourself come the hardest you’ve ever done.

“It makes you feel special, doesn’t it? The way you’re the only exception. The only one I would never hurt.” His voice is lower, hitting you to the core, making your toes curl and your breath falter in your chest. “You’re like a daisy in a garden of bloody, red roses.”

“Please,” you breathe out, choking on your tongue, eyes fluttering open shyly.

“Want me to stop?” He coos, head cocking to the side as he lands a sharp slap on your asscheek that makes you hiccup on a whimper and then another to your boob that drags a louder cry out of you. “Don’t want to hear how special you are?”

But that’s not what you meant. Your pleads were about something else, something you struggle to confess.

A deep laugh resonates in his chest as he looks down at your already wrecked face. You’re so precious, he can’t believe you sometimes think he could hurt you. His prettiest game, his wildest fantasy. The thrill he feels in his bones every time he’s close to you, so, so near to being discovered and yet always safe. It’s exciting, getting to his brain so much he can hardly hide how much it turns him on. But you’ve never been this close before. He dreamed about fucking you, having you pressed under him, begging, moaning and crying as his dick hit deep into your sweet pussy, pounding into you over and over again until you were nothing but mush in his hands. He wanted to strip you down completely and leave nothing of the women he sees and admires every single day. He dreamed of having all this power over you, watching you get weak on your knees and let him do anything he wanted, watching your body convulse in pleasure and your brain empty. And here you are now; wet, fucked-out eyes looking up at him while your pretty, plump mouth opens and closes as your shut-down brain tries hard to find the words.

“Speak up, princess. I don’t like to wait.”

“Please, wa-want to feel you,” you slur in a whisper, eyes blinking lazily as you try to hold onto what’s left of your sanity.

He chuckles, his thrusts coming to a stop that makes you whine in disappointment. “You want me to fuck you raw, detective?”

You hum, nodding slowly, not for the lack of enthusiasm but for the amount of shame that’s looming over you like a tornado. But Ghostface doesn’t like your silences, he doesn’t like it when you hesitate, that’s not what turns him on about you. It’s your impulses, the way you jump into things headfirst without thinking, for some it may be dumb, but to him, it’s just that sprinkle of insane bravery that makes life exciting. Your head is yanked up again with a rough pull of your hair, but his hold quickly moves to your neck. “I thought we were over the phase where I have to drag the words out of your mouth, detective. I’ll ask nicely one last time, do you want me to fuck you raw?”

You swallow your pride and reply meekly, “Ye-yes.”

He chuckles, pulling out of you almost completely before sinking in again with no warning, knocking the air out of your lungs, air that’s already struggling to fill them as his hold on your neck doesn’t loosen up. “See? It wasn’t that hard, was it? Even your stupid brain could put two words together.”

You gasp for air when he finally lets go and your face sinks on the pillow again.

“I’d love to, but I won’t risk it. Maybe next time, maybe if I’ll ever feel like telling you who I am,” he replies, and you groan in disappointment. Not only he doesn’t give you what you want but he also mocks you, reminding you why you’re here and how your mission flushed down the toilet as you let him play you like a violin.

“Then — fuck — please, fuck me harder,” at this point you want him to fuck you so hard your brain will just unplug and your superego can stop nagging at the back of your mind. You don’t want a single thought in your brain, just pleasure and lust.

“That I can give it to you,” he hums happily, and in a second, he complies. His hips start snapping against you at a fast speed, his tip hitting you deep repeatedly as he keeps you arched back with one hand around your waist and the other one wrapped around the makeshift ponytail he made with your hair.

You can already feel the orgasm build up at the tip of your stomach, but it only worsens when Ghostface roughly pulls you flat against him. Your head falls behind on his shoulder, eyes rolled far in your skull as your lips hang open to let out desperate moans and suck in as much air as possible.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he moans, his thumb rubs against your neck and jaw while his right hand squeezes and pulls your boobs hard before pinching the nipples. “Listen to those pretty sounds you make,” he snickers, “and you still want to pretend you’re innocent and pure? You’re fucked up just like me, baby, that’s why I like you so much,” he slurs.

You blink, once again adjusting to the light is uncomfortable but you make out just in time the fact he’s holding a Polaroid camera. “Smile for the camera, babe,” his voice rings in your ears but doesn’t reach your brain and before you know it, you’re coming just like that. The look on your face is not a smile but an expression of blissed pleasure, the exact moment as the climax explodes inside of you, making you clench around his dick and shake in his arms, your arm twisting back, letting your hand claps on his bicep and sink your nail in the thick fabric of the black cloak.

Ghostface would like to say he’s disappointed and scold you for misbehaving, but he can only stare at you with amused disbelief written all over his face. But you only see the constant expression of the mask and once again, you fear for a second he’s mad at you. Truth be told, he could even kill you right now, you wouldn’t mind much or even notice, too lost in the pleasure that’s still looming on your body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hips slowing down until they stop completely, “you just gifted me the most precious pic in my collection,” he whispers. You feel like the edge of mockery is still persistent but at the same time something genuine lingers in it, it doesn’t make it less creepy, but the ‘fuck me harder method’ worked because you don’t question his, and yours, fucked morality and just smile dumbly.

And that smile, united with the slow bat of your wet eyelashes, is what he needs to lose it.

“Oh, fuck it, I’ll clean you up once we’re done and if you’ll try to turn me in, I’ll find out, so you better keep your promise, alright?”

You don’t get what he’s talking about right away, too fucked out as you lay on the mattress waiting for his next move, but when he pulls out of you and swiftly pulls the condom out, you get it. You bite your lips in anticipation and swing your hips in invitation.

The sight would be enough to make him come right there, and he damns himself because out of all people, you can’t be his biggest weakness. It got to be some fucking joke of destiny. “Will you go to the police?”

“No,” you mumble.

“Good girl, because these little games are just for us, me and you, you can’t use what we do here to help you with your case.” When he sinks inside of you again, he feels like he could lose it all for the way your wet, warm walls wrap around him. “Fuck, fuck,” he curses, voice even more distorted now that he murmurs through gritted teeth, “you feel so fucking good.”

His thrusts now are almost primal, desperately pounding you against the mattress, keeping you pinned down with a hand on the back of your head —not that you need that, you wouldn’t be able to hold your neck up even if you wanted to— and holding for dear life on your hips with the other. You’ll probably have some bruises by the end of the night, if not colored prints on your skin, surely light discomfort at the touch will follow you for a few days. And you almost want to beg him for more, to mark you in some other ways, to leave something just for you to see and carry with you. Sick and perverted thoughts cross your mind, and you push them away swiftly.

You bite down on your lips when his hand leaves your side to torture your nipples again, he can barely push his hand between your body and the mattress, but he has just enough space to play with your sensitive nipples, making them even harder and causing you to clench even more around him. He loves how sensitive you are there and how each rub, pinch, and slap has you easily squirming and moaning under him.

“Look at you, going all dumb on my cock,” he groans, mockingly giving one harsh slap to your tits before his fingers trace your cheek. Your skin is so hot he can almost feel it through the fabric separating you, but what he’s most fascinated about are your tears, black mascara running down your beautiful face, dying on the pillow and your tortured parted lips. “Are you still thinking about being better than me or — fuck — have you finally embraced your dark side?”

Not a word comes out of your mouth when you whimper back, and not even a thought crosses your mind.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grins smugly. “You know,” he breathes out, head thrown back as it gets harder and harder to contain the orgasm, but he doesn’t want it to end so soon, “you should fire yourself and be my toy, just my toy, every time I need you, everywhere I need you. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? It’d make you feel even more special.”

You mumble a weak reply, it’s a whispered ‘no,’ but your body doesn’t deny how much the thought turns you on. Too many responsibilities in your life and your job, too much to carry daily, but right now? Nothing. Guilt will eat you alive tomorrow but not now. Something feels exciting about being on the run with him, being the one that runs, instead of the one that chases. But it won’t happen, you believe in your job, and you want this slasher to end.

“Cause only I can get you like this, ugh,” he grunts, hips slamming faster but more sloppily against your ass, the vulgar sounds filling up the room. “No man before and no man after will make you come this hard. Nobody, love. No matter how much you’ll want to, they all will disappoint you and you will look for me in every single one of them,” he groans, each word punctuated by a harsh slam of his hips, “well, the lucky ones that will get a taste before I’ll get them and kill them.”

You don’t reply, just lay there, looking like a mess as you try to fight another orgasm because coming again would be humiliating.

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” You can hear the grin on his face and his voice has the edge of insanity of the usual. “Let’s be honest, you’ve got a list of shitty partners, you would’ve been grateful if I got rid of some of them.”

“Fuck, just — just fuck me,” you beg, your hand reaching behind to touch him somehow, but he doesn’t like it.

He grips your hand and pins it behind your back bending your arm, you hiss in discomfort, but he doesn’t let go. “Oh, no, angel. You don’t make the rules in this game, I do. If I want to sink into your brain and get so deep into you that I’ll make sure you will never come out the same, I will. I’m the darkest side of yourself, the fucked up filth you’re too afraid to face,” he groans. “And I know you’re close again. Your tight cunt is squeezing me, and you made a mess on the mattress,” he snickers. “Imagine if they find this place, this mattress, your DNA on it,” he stops, leaning next to your ear, voice dropping lower, “or better, imagine if they find us now. What do you say, detective? Would they be disappointed? Would they just jack off at the view? You look so hot right now, I wouldn’t blame them if they’d get off to you, to us together. Kill them surely, blame them not. We’re so hot, detective.”

You squirm under him, feeling like the room is spinning fast and you can’t ground on anything. You have a darker thought in mind, something you can’t confess to him or else he won’t stop mocking you. You want to get caught, but not by your colleagues, by his partner. What would he do if he saw you and his partner in crimes like this? Would he understand this, or would he snap? Maybe even feeling betrayed. Does he even know you and him have been playing this game of attraction for a while now?

Your silence doesn’t make Ghostface suspect anything. You simply look totally fucked out, brain empty as you plead in soft whimpers and moans.

“You sound so fucking good,” he praises. “Why don’t we play another little game, uh?”

Your eyes open in surprise and you hum with no strength, “what?”

“Beg me to save your life,” he says, grabbing the knife again and placing it close to your neck. “Come on, do it for me, I won’t ever hear you say it because I will never want to kill you. Please, detective,” he coos, hips slowing down because your pussy is fogging his brain and he’s not sure his always-perfect aim and reflexes will work right now.

You take a deep breath and then speak. “Please, Ghostface, please, spare my life.”

His head rolls back, and a deep, groggy moan comes out of his lips. “Fuck, yes, keep going,” he orders, hips picking up the rhythm again as he skillfully flips the blade to the lesser sharp side just to be safe.

And you obey. You beg, choked-up words slipping from your lips that soon turn into please, fuck me harder, and then please, wanna come. You feel boneless, your body is too hot, and you feel you might pass out, you need a release and then hope something bigger than you will make you get back on your legs and walk out of there as if nothing happened, as if you never followed your guts and found his —their— safe haven.

“Come for me, love,” he orders, throwing the knife to the side before his hand sneaks under your body to roughly slap your clit a few times, enjoying the louder moans he drags out of you by doing so and watching with pleasure as your body squirms and shakes. “And don’t forget to smile for the camera.”

This time your eyes lock with the polaroid that he points toward your face as his chin rests on your shoulder. But it only lasts for the time of the picture, your body collapses again when he lets go of your hair and you let the pleasure pervade you from head to toe. It’s breathtaking and mind-blowing, and next time you’ll fuck someone else you’ll hate that he’s right. You will feel him everywhere, you will feel his dick deep inside of you every time your fingers will desperately try to take its place, and every time you’ll let someone in your bed, but you don’t hate that thought as you should.

“Fuck,” he groans, giving you a few more pumps to make sure you rode your high before slipping out and then roughly flipping you over. “Close your eyes,” he orders, and you follow with no hesitation —honestly, you were struggling to keep them open in the first place.

Your heaving chest, your parted lips still letting out cries, your wet cheeks, and your trembling closed thighs are the last drop he needs to let go. Deep moans reach your ears while his hot cum drops on your face, most on your skin but some in your mouth, and they get even louder when you shyly swallow it and lick your lips for more.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re —” he gasps but doesn’t finish, holding onto nothing as he empties himself all over your face. “Fuck.”

He feels dizzy, the orgasm still shaking him up, but then he looks at you and has to bite back a moan. The white strings of cum are covering your blissed face, your eyelashes are clumped together by the tears, and your lips are plump and darker, he knows he doesn’t want to forget what you look like right now. “Smile one last time, baby.”

And you do, the corners of your mouth lift and then you hear the click of the polaroid. You think for a second you should’ve told him to don’t take them, he could easily blackmail you, or straight-up get you fired, but once again, you don’t truly care, and you don’t deny how much the idea of those photos turned you on.

You should get up, grab your pants, jacket, shoes and leave. But you feel heavy and tired, you’re still shaking, and your breath didn’t go back to normal, yet.

“Don’t worry, detective,” Ghostface whispers, something passes on your face to clean you from the mess, but you don’t know what, and only then you open them ajar, just to see he’s still wearing his mask. “I’ll take care of you.”

The Ghostface mask is the last thing you see.

When you wake up, you’re in your bed, wearing your nightwear, completely cleaned up, but your bones and muscles are still sore, and a terrible headache is throbbing in the left side of your brain. You turn around, rubbing your eyelids with your palms before you can fully focus on the pillow and see three things on it. The Ghostface mask, a polaroid of you two from before, his face next to yours as he pulled your hair, and a note.

“It was a pleasure playing with you, my pretty detective. Can’t wait to see what our next game will be like♡ ”

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#nct fanfiction #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #wayv smut #haechan smut #johnny smut #jaemin smut #jeno smut #jisung smut #jaehyun smut #taeyong smut #yuta smut

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dawn-in-neocity · 9 months

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“best friend” (™️) nct dream

(that is your man, you’re just in denial)

mark

y’all are only missing the relationship title at this point. you’re always the first to hear his new music. he values your opinion so much. loves lending you hoodies and jackets because when you return them they smell like you. tells you how cute you are 100 times a day. boops your nose and pinches your chin. sends you 360s of his fresh haircuts. shows up to all your events (sports, work events, art, fundraisers, anything you do). makes pinky promises with you.

renjun

you two slowly move into more than friends territory. brings you flowers “for your room”. picks up your vocab without realizing it. reserves his gentlest speaking voice for you only. listens intently to anything and everything you have to say. you two do road-trips and mini getaways all the time. vents to you. creates the perfect bite from his meal for you to try whenever you’re eating together. forehead kisses!!! will be the one to initiate the “what are we” conversation.

jeno

he’s simply your jeno and you do not wish to elaborate. his arm is always draped over the back of your seat. you’re together so often that his friends are confused when you’re NOT at his place. slips up and calls you babe (and keeps at it since you don’t seem to mind). you two are always in a corner laughing it UP about something. y’all dressed up as harley quinn and the joker for halloween. ALWAYS ties your shoelaces for you no matter where you are.

haechan

that’s just your bf i hate to break it to you. posts soft launch-esque pics of you two on his story. everyone thinks you’re dating. teases you by poking his finger into your side. why are you standing so close to each other? his hair is touching your forehead? move? plays with your fingers. named the stuffed animal you won him and now deems it your love child. places your legs on top of his when you sit beside each other. texts you “this made me think of you” at least 4x a week.

jaemin

he would marry you tomorrow if you agreed. makes it clear that it’s you or no one else for him. greets you with a veryyy friendly kiss on the cheek. 0 chill when it comes to pda. got you a really nice gift for valentine’s day. tells you he’s in love with you daily, just in other words. spam comments on your posts. SO flirty. blows kisses and winks at you type of flirty. STARES; like heart shaped pupils, dopey smile staring. “it’s late, you should just sleep over :)”.

chenle

has known you forever and has basically been your bf forever. regularly texts your mother. brings you to all his family events. affectionately bites you. holds your face in his hands and squishes your cheeks together. casually drops the most heartwarming compliments ever. never corrects people when they refer to you as his s/o. places your hand on his arm when you guys walk together. gets close to your face and pulls away when you’re about to kiss. dies when you do it back.

jisung

you two have never been just friends tbh. will bail on plans just to stay in and watch netflix with you. calls you a version/nickname of your name only he uses. asks you for head scratches when he’s tired. picks up on your moods so easily like how??? actively keeps up with all your school/work tea. always brings you a little treat when he comes to see you. forgets you’re meant to be low-key when he drinks and gets very… loving. y’all are always falling asleep on facetime.

#nct #nct imagines #nct dream #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct fic #nct dream fluff #nct x reader #nct dream timestamps #nct dream x reader #nct dream headcanons #nct headcanons #mark #renjun #jeno #haechan #jaemin #chenle #jisung

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tyonfs · 11 months

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stargirl interlude

PAIRING ▸ na jaemin x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, influencer au, strangers to lovers

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, mc and her friends are a little shallow, tbh i wrote this because of jaemin’s tits, dirty talk, sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), kitchen sex, oral (m. receiving), oral (f. receiving), lowkey dumbification, body worship, ft. one night stand with jeno

SUMMARY ▸ and i shouldn't cry, but I love it, starboy / i just wanna see you shine 'cause i know you are a stargirl

PLAYLIST ▸ stargirl interlude by the weeknd, lana del rey • alien superstar by beyoncé

WORD COUNT ▸ 5.9k words

TAG LIST ▸ @leeknowsredeyeliner @geniejunn @sehunniepot @jjaeyoonoh @subhyuck @jenoluuvvs @jaemboi64 @otchae @n0hyuck @hyuckinx @domhyuckie @justhereforimagines @daegalfangirl @soobin-chois @lmkworld @baekhyuns-lipchain @its-taeil-time @produmads @kaislinging-slasher01 @neomorning @learnthisfeeling @glitching-wren @carelessshootanonymous @thiccfullsun

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ jaemin is finally not an asshole. everybody say congrats jaemin.

THE WALK OF SHAME.

The distance from Lee Jeno’s apartment to yours was approximately 0.6 miles. If you walked fast enough, it would take you around ten minutes to get back home. Meaning, that was ten minutes spent doing the Walk of Shame at nearly three in the morning.

Of course, the whole point of being an e-girl was to keep up an unattainable internet persona. You wanted to be a star, and what better way than to weaponize your good looks? Your entire brand was posting revealing pictures of yourself on Instagram and Twitter, maintaining a “gamer girl” image. Sort of like Belle Delphine, but you hadn’t stooped low enough to start selling your bathwater to strangers on the internet. You were a lone flower on the edge of a cliff—so high up that no one could reach for your stem.

Except Jeno, apparently, after you caved and met him in person tonight.

You and Jeno followed each other on Twitter a few months ago. Despite attending the same college, you two hadn’t ever met in person before. He was a popular YouTuber, so there had been rumors flying around about his sudden interactions with you. Your influencer friends were trying to grill you for more information, but you sincerely had no idea where Jeno’s sudden interest in you came from. After you posted a picture of you in pink lace lingerie complete with Hello Kitty clips and pigtails, Jeno had finally slid into your DMs.

jeno: i’d rather spend the night with you

(In response to the caption on your post: spend the day with me?)

As one would expect, things escalated from there. Jeno was hot, you were horny, and he conveniently lived 0.6 miles away from you.

In short, you got good dick. Jeno started with one hand wrapped around your neck and the other snaking its way between your legs. You were satisfied, especially because the streamer didn’t try to dap you up after railing you on his gaming chair, the wall, and then his bed. You two made some small talk afterward, and then you headed home. Prince Charming could not be fucked to give you a generous ride back to your apartment.

You pulled out your phone to look at your face in the camera app. As expected, you were a mess, but you touched up your lipstick and blush with the few makeup products you stuffed in your purse. Then, you called your best friend, Lee Donghyuck, who had been flooding your friend group’s group chat with messages for the past hour.

“Dude,” you started as soon as he picked up. Donghyuck was in the middle of taking his headphones off to put his AirPods in, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Jeno walked me to the door and made me walk home by myself.”

“No fucking way.” Donghyuck laughed. “That’s what you get for hooking up with a guy who plays Val.”

Ah, yes. Featured on Jeno’s YouTube: streams of Valorant, League of Legends, and Overwatch. There were the occasional indie games he was requested to play, too. The only one you semi-watched and commented on was Little Nightmares.

“The dick was incredible,” you told your best friend, “but he’s not cuffing material.”

“Not like you care about cuffing anyone.”

“Yes, I do!” you objected. “I’m boyfriend-hunting, Hyuck. Think about how much attention I’d get if I started dating a hotshot influencer.”

“You should date Mark Lee, then. Everyone’s thirsting over those e-boy TikTokers now. Or maybe Liu YangYang. Heard his body count’s high as fuck.”

You rolled your eyes. “His body count’s high because no one goes back a second time. Plus, I think YangYang’s finally in the talking stage with someone.”

“Good for him.” Donghyuck yawned. “Anyway, I’m going to bed soon since I finished editing my Maldives vlog. I’m still pissed you didn’t come with us.”

You rolled your eyes. Donghyuck, Yoo Jimin, Choi Beomgyu, and Uchinaga Aeri had been giving you shit for backing out on the trip the five of you had been discussing for a few months. There were just too many things going on in your life at the time, so you told them you wouldn’t be able to make it before tickets were purchased. Of course, your absence made several of your followers question if your friend group had a falling out, but you all decided not to address pointless rumors.

“I’ll come along next time when I’m not broke,” you assured. “I’m at my apartment now, so I’ll talk to you later. Bye-bye, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck threw up a peace sign before hanging up. You tucked your phone in your back pocket as you tried to fish out your key card from your purse.

However, there was a problem: it was missing.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself, sitting down at one of the benches outside to dig through your purse. You swore you hadn’t taken it out, so it definitely wasn’t at Jeno’s place. The only possible explanation was that you dropped it on the way or left it inside your apartment.

Screw these auto-locking doors.

You were royally screwed.

Fast-forward to twenty minutes later. You were still sitting at the same bench. This time, your head was in your hands and you were shivering like a chihuahua. It was dark, save for the flickering streetlight above you. You had even resorted to texting Jeno, asking him if you could go back to his place and spend the night. It was downright embarrassing, but it was your last resort. Jeno, however, seemed to have been asleep due to his lack of response.

A guardian angel was sent your way, though, in the form of a cute but tired-looking college student with a bag of groceries in hand. Kind eyes, but he looked far too exhausted to smile genuinely.

“Do you need to be let in?” the boy asked, gesturing toward the apartment entrance. He had his key card in hand, and you nearly jumped to your feet.

“Uh, yeah, but…” you trailed off. Even if you accepted his offer, you wouldn’t be able to get into your own room.

He handed you his brown Essentials hoodie he had draped around across his shoulders. “Cold?”

You wondered if your shivering or hard nipples gave it away. Surely, it had to be your nipples showing through the skimpy one-piece you had on. You never would have dressed like this if you knew Jeno was going to make you walk home yourself.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the hoodie from him and slipping it on. It fell past your thigh and smelled good—a non-offending mix of pine and detergent. “Uh, but even if you let me in, I can’t get into my room. I lost my key.”

“Oh.”

You folded your arms across your chest. The boy beside you ruffled his fluffy brown hair, and you were wondering why he hadn’t gone inside the building yet. Maybe he was waiting for you to find some other place to go, or maybe he wanted his hoodie back.

“Have you tried asking the RA?” he asked.

“I can only get a card replacement in the morning.”

“Can your roommate open the door?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Got a friend who’ll let you stay at their place?”

“Asleep.”

“Significant other?”

“I’m single and my dick appointment made me walk home alone.”

You didn’t realize how bitter you sounded until you saw the shocked look drawn across the boy’s face. You felt sorry for dumping that on him, but you were getting way too frustrated about your lack of options. You didn’t even have a roommate you could call for help since you opted for a single.

He cleared his throat before shyly offering, “Uh… I guess you could stay at my place for the night, if you want. I can sleep on the couch.”

Your cheeks heated up. You were no stranger to random kindness from men, but perhaps you were just grateful for his proposition since you were running low on options.

“That’d be great,” you said. “Thanks.”

You followed the boy into the apartment building. He introduced himself as Na Jaemin, an animal science major in your same year who was president of a club that raised guide dogs for blind people. It was comforting to hear, so your anxiousness over this stranger luring you in to murder you in cold blood was slowly letting up.

He unlocked the door for you, letting you into his apartment first. You looked around to see a quite ordinary looking living space with a few posters and polaroids hung up on the walls. There was a border collie curled up in a dog bed in the corner of the living room, and Jaemin was being extra careful to make sure he didn’t accidentally wake him up.

He set the plastic bag down, which you found out was dog food that he picked up from a friend. It definitely made a lot more sense than him shopping for groceries at three in the morning.

“You live alone?” you asked for the sake of making small talk.

“My roommate graduated a semester early,” he replied. “I’ve been living on my own, just like you.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely?”

He turned the question back to you, asking, “Do you get lonely?”

You shrugged as you sat down on his couch, sitting stiffly at the edge of the cushion. “When you get so much attention online, you kind of need the privacy.”

“Oh, I see.”

No more questions asked.

Jaemin retreated into his room for a moment before returning with a pillow and blanket in hand. He tossed them beside you on the couch and met your gaze.

“Bed’s ready for you whenever,” he said. “The bathroom’s inside my room, if you need to use the shower or anything. Let me know if you need any clothes to sleep in.”

Your face was heating up like a furnace, but you were glad he couldn’t see how his words were affecting you. You flushed with embarrassment when you noticed Jaemin’s eyes flicker past your neck. He probably thought his gaze went undetected, but you noticed. Suddenly, all you wanted to do was pull his hoodie high enough so that the hood hid the hickies Jeno left across your skin.

“I can just use your hoodie,” you replied. “Thanks.”

Jaemin managed a small, tired smile. You took that as your cue to get out of the living room so that he could pass out in peace. So, you headed into his bedroom and stared at his tidy bed, wondering if he had frantically fixed his sheets for you.

Since you already felt like you had asked for too much, you decided to skip your nightly shower and head straight to bed. It was hard to sleep in a stranger’s bed, though—no matter how pretty he was.

You were used to kindness. It normally came in a package deal with being attractive. Bees flocked to honey; humans flocked to beauty.

This feeling, however, wasn’t something you were used to. Genuine kindness with no ulterior motive was almost foreign, which was upsetting to admit. You weren’t sure how to sort out your feelings, but all you knew was that Jaemin’s eyes had stars in them, and you were tempted to lose yourself in them.

You woke up to an empty house.

Even the dog had abandoned you.

To be fair, you weren’t exactly an early bird. You woke up at around 10:30 a.m. naturally, and then spent an extra thirty minutes trying to muster up the willpower to get out of bed. Of course, you spent that time updating your group chat on your whereabouts.

gigi: 15k isn’t that insane?

gyu: holy shit gyu: you have to do it

karibear: gigi i will literally kill you and then resurrect you to kill you again if you don’t

gigi: check out the deliverables tho gigi: [File Attachment]

hyuck: instagram story highlight? the fuck? hyuck: a tiktok should be enough. more people check tiktok than ig now anyways lol

gigi: right???

karibear: OK BUT FIFTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS

y/n: just caught up. I think you should do it for the $$ gigi

gigi: GIRL where have u been

gyu: i told you she probably overslept

gigi: BUT I SEE HER LOCATION ON FINDMYFRIENDS gigi: SHE IS NOT HOME

y/n: i may or may not be in a cute guy’s apartment

karibear: shut the fuck up

y/n: stop he’s REALLY cute y/n: dare i say cuter than jeno

hyuck: stfu ur kidding

gyu: well?? did you sleep with him? gyu: give us all the details

y/n: no i couldn’t find my key after coming back from jeno’s and was locked out of my apartment y/n: so this “na jaemin” appears and lets me sleep over at his place for the night y/n: he took the couch AND let me sleep on his bed y/n: jeno could never

gyu: aww that’s actually rlly sweet

gigi: can’t find him on ig ://

karibear: no social media presence?? karibear: idk if that’s hot or a red flag

hyuck: probably both 💀

y/n: um good thing red’s my favorite color

karibear: omfg karibear: do u actually wanna fuck him karibear: send us a picture of what he looks like

y/n: idk if he’s even interested in me like that y/n: but idk i also want my internet famous trophy boyfriend :( y/n: idk if this guy even has a social media presence y/n: still a starboy in my heart tho <3

hyuck: keep your eye on the prize bbyg hyuck: fame is fleeting so milk it while you can

You figured Donghyuck had a point. You were an internet celebrity (to some extent), so, in terms of marketing, it would be wise to push the “unattainable” image you cemented. Dating someone equally as unattainable would make you look even more desirable.

However, you were starting to lose all rhyme and reason when you walked out of the bedroom to see a plate of eggs and toast waiting for you on the kitchen counter.

A post-it note was right next to it, reading: I’m out walking the dog. I made you some breakfast if you’re hungry but you don’t have to eat it. Door auto locks so just make sure you close it whenever you leave. Here’s my phone number if you need anything. +82 x-xxxx-xxxx - Jaemin

You decided to update your group chat.

y/n: change of plans y/n: i’m making starboy mine

When Jaemin returned home shortly after you discovered his note, you were sitting on his couch, knees tucked to your chest as you forked down the waffles he made. Before you even looked up to greet him, you heard his dog yapping excitedly, hurrying over to sniff you.

“Oh, you’re still here.” He looked genuinely surprised, though he didn’t object. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, really well,” you admitted. Curious, you tilted your head and let your lips curl into a knowing smile. “Are you high?”

Jaemin stiffened up. “Uh, a little. Is it that obvious?”

“I just noticed your eyes look sort of dazed.”

You hadn’t expected it, but he almost sounded embarrassed to be caught. “I’m not like a… a full-on stoner or anything.”

“Hey, no judgment,” you replied, holding up your hands in surrender. “I was just gonna ask if I could get high with you, too.”

After visibly relaxing, a more confident grin dawned on Jaemin’s face as he handed you his pen. You couldn’t help but feel smug as you accepted it gingerly.

About a couple hours later, you and Jaemin were blazed out of your minds. He had offered you an edible shortly after you took a hit from his pen, and it kicked in an hour later for you and Jaemin. There were no words exchanged for a while, but then you two started to converse, although you couldn’t trust that anything you were saying made sense.

You weren’t big on flirting. It was a skill you only put to use when absolutely needed, and this was one of those instances. You figured this was the perfect opportunity to get close to Jaemin. Even though you could tell he was a really, really great guy, and you didn’t want to rush things with Jaemin, there were a few factors that were making you throw your morals to the wind.

For one, you were high and getting incredibly horny.

The other factor was that Jaemin was the hottest man you had ever seen (and you had encountered a lot of attractive men).

“So,” he started, “you’re, like, an internet celebrity? Like a TikToker?”

“I started on Twitter,” you explained, “but, yeah, I’m famous on TikTok, too. But there’s a good chance you’ve never heard of me.”

“Really? Why?”

“I’m known for more, uh”—you let out a nervous giggle—“risqué stuff, if you wanna see.” When he nodded eagerly, you took out your phone and opened Twitter to show Jaemin your account. Right off the bat, there was a mirror selfie of you in lingerie and cat ears. Because you were feeling bold, you added, “And the guy who made me walk home alone? He’s a famous YouTuber named Jeno.”

Something seemed to click for Jaemin when you mentioned Jeno’s name because it was the only thing that snapped him out of whatever trance he was in. He had been looking at the photo of you so intently that you were wondering if he was checking you out or spacing out.

“I think I’ve watched some of his gaming videos,” he said before handing your phone back to you. “He just… kicked you out?”

“Pretty much. At least he made me cum once.”

“Just once?”

You held your breath for a moment. With those two words, Jaemin made the atmosphere all the more tense, and you felt like you two were suspended in time. Although you weren’t sure if he said that to challenge Jeno or not, there was still a strange implication in his words. It left you wondering if Jaemin could treat you better.

“Yeah,” you replied in a quieter voice. “Just once. With my help, too.”

“That’s fucked.” Jaemin reached for his pen to take a long, slow drag. He held it in his lungs for a moment before he parted his lips to blow the smoke out. “And you dressed up so pretty for him.”

Either Jaemin was a secret dark horse when it came to smooth talking or the weed was making him horny, too. Whatever it was, his comments made your cheeks burn.

“I bet he’d be pissed if he found out I ended up in your bed after.”

The animal science major flushed at your words, growing even more shy when you giggled at his reaction. “I mean, I guess so, but we didn’t, like… I mean, we—”

“I was kidding,” you assured. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t say that unless something actually happened.”

Jaemin nodded quietly, falling back into silence for a while. You were worried that you had made the conversation awkward, so you sunk back against the couch and willed yourself to come down from your high. Maybe the weed was a bad idea. Maybe you were just getting ahead of—

“So, you wouldn’t be opposed if something were to happen?”

The question took you off-guard, and you had to process Jaemin’s words for a few moments before you sat up to look at him. There was no shame or shyness drawn across his face this time. Just pure curiosity. (And perhaps a hint of longing which was most likely brought on by the weed.)

You shook your head with a hum. “No, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think you’re cute. You seem really sweet, too, like letting me sleep over and making me breakfast.”

Jaemin smiled brightly, beaming ear to ear before he ducked his head shyly. You were surprised that he was so sheepish given his godsent looks. He had to have heard these compliments about a million times now. There was no way you were the first person to recognize his looks.

“I’m not good at this,” he admitted.

“Good at what?”

“Um, hitting on girls,” Jaemin said. His hand flew to rub the back of his neck as he added, “Cute girls.” After another beat, he let his head hang and then let out a groan. “Sorry, I don’t have a filter when I’m high.”

“Jaemin,” you cooed, scooting close enough so that your knees were touching. You placed your hand on his thigh, which made him finally look you in the eyes. “I’m pretty bad at flirting, too, so I hope this is working.”

The corner of his lip hitched up, amused. “Yeah,” Jaemin murmured, his eyes unfocusing as he leaned in close, “it’s definitely working.”

Your nose brushed against his experimentally before Jaemin pressed his lips to yours. It was gentle and innocent, but then Jaemin turned his body to face yours, and his hands started roaming your body. Your waist, your back, your hips—not an inch was neglected while he felt you up. You let slip a hum of delight, and that encouraged Jaemin to slip his tongue past your lips.

He didn’t use too much tongue, which you appreciated. There was something too sloppy about guys who used too much tongue, but Jaemin had an excellent balance between precise and hasty. And he did this thing where he would pause to suck on your tongue and then your bottom lip, which you really appreciated.

You let a whine slip, and Jaemin gripped your waist tighter. You figured he wanted you on his lap, so you threw one leg over his thigh and straddled him. It was like you were in a trance with how receptive you were, and you only wanted more when Jaemin pulled away to kiss down your neck. After minutes of nipping, sucking, and relishing your whimpers, he was satisfied with the bruises littered across your skin.

Jaemin seemed frustrated by how big his hoodie was on you, so he tugged at it until you pulled it up and over your head. After discarding it to the side, his lips found yours immediately after. The pads of his fingers slipped past the hem of your shirt to dig into your skin, pulling you flush against his body.

You were sure you could kiss him for hours, but your attention was slipping away when you felt his boner underneath you. The very least you could do was offer to help him out.

You pulled away to catch your breath, and your voice was no louder than a breath when you offered, “Let me suck you off.”

Jaemin blushed a little, and you bit back a smile because how could someone be so forward and cute? He was not innocent in the slightest, but he somehow got flustered so easily.

His voice came out strangled when he said, “Please.”

You carefully peeled off Jaemin’s shirt, admiring his muscles as you revealed his bare skin. He had to work out regularly to get a build this good, but you didn’t expect him to be this ripped. It was almost second nature when you started kissing down his chest, smiling when you heard his happy sigh.

When your kisses reached his stomach, you started tugging at the band of his sweatpants. Jaemin carded his fingers through your hair to keep you where he wanted to, and you were pretty sure all his blood was rushing to his cock with how much bigger he got. You tugged his sweatpants down to his knees and kissed up his strong thigh, looking up at him through your lashes. You wanted Jaemin to know just how drunk you were on his body.

Jaemin helped you tug down his boxers, too, and you swallowed hard when you saw how huge he was. His cock sprung up, and you were almost worried that you wouldn’t be able to take all of him in. While you were tying up your hair, Jaemin gave his shaft a few pumps, rubbing his thumb across the precum that beaded his slit.

A few strands of your hair got in your face, so Jaemin brushed them back and held your hair in his fist, undoing your ponytail so that he could tie back your hair properly. He looked down at you expectantly, cradling your jaw while you were mentally preparing yourself to take him. You flattened your tongue and ran it along the side of his cock, licking right where his vein was. Jaemin let out a groan almost instantly, and you looked up to see his eyes burning molten hot with desire.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he growled, gripping the back of your head.

His cock was throbbing, aching for you to take more of him in. So you slid your tongue over his head before hollowing your cheeks to suck him in. Jaemin gritted his teeth and tilted his head back, muttering some profanity that only encouraged you further.

You went slow at first, drawing out each bob of your head so that you got used to his size. You couldn’t go all the way down on him without his head hitting the back of your throat, making you gag a little before you started to properly take him down your throat. Jaemin started thrusting his hips into your mouth, urging you to go faster. You weren’t sure if that meant he was going to cum soon, but you sped up regardless.

“Fuck,” Jaemin rasped out, watching you with absolute admiration in his blown-out eyes, “I’m gonna cum.”

His grip on your hair loosened, as if he was ready to let you pull off of him, but you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes while you sucked harder. You wanted him to cum in your mouth, and he seemed to get the message because his moan was cut off by his orgasm.

You continued to suck on his cock while he came, swallowing without hesitation. Jaemin thrusted shallowly inside your mouth, his husky moans making you pull off him to lick a long stripe down his length.

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, catching your breaths and watching each other’s chest rise and fall. Then, Jaemin leaned in to cup your cheek and kiss you once more. He didn’t even care that he was tasting himself on your lips, but he just needed more of you.

“Let me return the favor,” he said once he pulled away. Before you could respond, Jaemin scooped you up in his strong arms. You held onto his biceps, gasping when he held your bottom firmly. “I promise I’ll make you feel really good.”

Jaemin set you on the cool granite surface of the kitchen counter, and you were glad that he kept the place clean. You would have felt gross if it was any other man, like Jeno’s grimey kitchen counter littered with dirty dishes, but you were too wrapped up in your own lust to care about moving to Jaemin’s bed.

Being high made you so sensitive that every touch from Jaemin left you trembling. As he undressed you, you couldn’t help but shudder and gasp whenever his fingers brushed over a sensitive area. He seemed to take notice, which you observed by his small smirk. As soon as Jaemin got rid of your garments, leaving you naked, he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Gorgeous,” he praised, leaning forward to take your nipple in his mouth. He sucked on the supple skin eagerly, making you moan and grab at his shoulder.

You let out a gasp when Jaemin grabbed your other breast in his hand, squeezing firmly and running his thumb along the nipple. After he decided he showed your chest enough attention, Jaemin started kissing down your stomach until he reached the apex of your thighs. He trailed kisses along your pelvis, peppering more along the top of your thighs, and you used your elbows to balance your weight on the counter. You were surely going to collapse if he kept going.

“Jaem,” you whined, “don’t tease.”

He smirked as he parted your legs even further, humming inquisitively at the sight of your soaked cunt. He lifted both of your legs and settled them on each of his shoulders, and you sucked in a sharp breath to prepare yourself.

Jaemin dipped his head and ran his flattened tongue along your folds, and god, you were floating high up in the clouds.

After some strokes of his tongue, Jaemin stiffened his tongue to lick deeper, parting your slit so that he could ravage your cunt. You couldn’t do anything but cry out his name, begging for more and more. Your engorged clit was soon aching for attention, and you became a complete mess as soon as Jaemin’s lips found your little ball of nerves.

Soon, Jaemin was holding your hips down as he ate you out like a man starved. You had never experienced pleasure so intense, and you were finding it hard to believe that the meek boy you met last night was this bold. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer even though his face was practically wet with your arousal.

“I-I’m close,” you breathed out, and your hips were struggling to grind down to meet Jaemin’s tongue. You wanted more—no, you needed more.

“I know,” he whispered against your thigh, and before you could beg, he snaked his tongue in your entrance, allowing your walls to clench and unclench around his hot muscle.

He used his fingers to rub your clit in small, tight circles, all the while eating you out so vigorously that you couldn’t even think about anything except Jaemin. How good he made you feel. How lucky you were to be under him.

You were drowning soon after—drowning in utmost bliss. A toe-curling orgasm shook your body, leaving your back arching against the kitchen counter. You couldn’t even process how loud your moan was until Jaemin was shushing you gently, abusing your clit throughout your orgasm while his other hand was clamped over your mouth.

“Shh,” he cooed, almost mocking you. “The walls are thin, doll.”

You nodded, looking up at him with glazed-over eyes. You just needed to focus on anything to keep you at bay, to keep you from being pulled under the current of your climax.

“Gonna carry you to the bed, okay?” he told you, and you nodded without a second thought, letting him princess carry you to his bedroom.

As soon as he laid you down gently, Jaemin leveled his cock at your entrance, running his head along the folds of your cunt. You were already exhausted from your previous orgasm, but you were still eager to feel Jaemin inside of you.

“I’ll go slow,” he assured, teasing the tip of his cock inside you so gently that you were about to fall apart. You had no more than an inch inside of you, and your walls were already clenching hard around him.

Your eyes rolled back when he pushed deeper inside you, and then soon he was bottoming out, and you could feel his thighs pressed against yours. The cry that left your lips and the groan that escaped his nearly sounded like a melody in your eyes. Each wave of pleasure made you feel like you were traveling light years past several galaxies. Stars pinpricked your vision, but you could make out Jaemin’s face among the collisions of supernovas.

“I can’t,” you whimpered, unable to form proper, coherent sentences. “Fast—go faster.”

Something primal glinted in Jaemin’s dark eyes, and started ramming into you while holding your hips tight. His head dipped to ravage your neck, kissing and sucking as he pleased while his cock hit that perfect spot that made you see white spots in your vision. You felt a ripple of pleasure shoot under your skin.

And something else must have snapped in Jaemin because he started spewing absolute filth in your ears, and lord, was it making you lose your mind.

“I’m the best you’ve had, aren’t I?” he asked with brimming confidence, opting for sharp and precise thrusts.

You half-nodded, your cheek pressing against the pillow as your nails raked down Jaemin’s back. But Jaemin didn’t appreciate your lack of words.

“Come on, Y/N,” he pressed, “say it.” He pressed his lips to your ear and nibbled on the shell. You squirmed when you felt his hot breath fan your neck. “C’mon, I haven’t fucked you dumb already, right?”

You managed to cry out, “Y-yes, Jaemin! I’ve… I’ve never felt this good.”

He cupped your cheek and rubbed gently with his thumb, smiling down at you so kindly that it felt condescending. “Yeah? You gonna cum for me, then?”

You felt those ripples of pleasure intensify, and soon they were rising to a crescendo. You felt like you were being split apart on Jaemin’s cock, and it didn’t help that he refused to slow down before you orgasmed. You bucked your hips against him, eager to chase the pleasure that was just in your reach.

And, after Jaemin pressed his lips against yours, all of the stars in the night sky collided and exploded into nothingness.

You felt your orgasm tear through you, immobilizing you with blinding pleasure. You gasped and gripped the sheets tightly, praying that you could hold on for dear life. Jaemin slowly fucked you through your orgasm, your clenching walls bringing him to pull out of you and let his cum spill onto your stomach.

Jaemin let out a shaky sigh of contentment, and he quickly returned to your side without giving himself time to recover. Instead of basking in post orgasm glow, Jaemin aided your ongoing climax by rubbing your clit in slow, torturous circles.

“I got you,” he crooned, pressing gentle kisses to your cheeks. “I got you, doll.”

You were a whimpering, moaning mess underneath him, and you couldn’t think of anything but Jaemin as you writhed. After a few more aftershocks of pleasure (all thanks to Jaemin, of course), you finally started returning to your senses. It was possible that Jaemin had actually fucked you dumb.

He hurried to his feet to clean you up. It was a stark contrast from how he acted in bed, but your heart melted when he made sure you got enough water before he tucked you in bed. No guy had ever taken his time with aftercare for you, so you were starting to feel like being kicked out of Jeno’s apartment was a stroke of luck.

Later, he moved to lay down next to you, kissing the top of your head as he slid in. You wrapped your arm around him and you two were eventually a mess of tangled limbs.

“Can I stay?” you asked, somewhat nervous that he would ask you to leave soon.

“Of course,” he replied, easing your nerves with a gentle smile, “you can stay for as long as you want.” You cuddled close to him, burying your face into his chest, and then you heard him ask, “How do you feel?”

You smiled. “Like a star.”

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