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catboyieejeno · 1 year

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nct dream reaction ¡! ❞

"i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

content: smut, cursing, mature, pet names (baby, babe, doll, etc.)

18+ ! minors do not interact

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mark lee

mark had spent the last few hours hunched over the soundboard, paper and pen clutched in hand as he racked his brain for something, anything that would make the verse he was writing not entirely dull. but it was so hard to think, to conjure a single logical or productive thought, when you were sat right beside him, doing what you were.

your fingertips are scratching at his scalp, right above the nape of his neck. meanwhile, your other hand busies itself on his thigh, nails tracing random shapes over the material his sweats. frustrated, tired, and in a haze of unorganized thoughts and ideas, mark rolls his head back into the palm of your hand with a low hiss.

“something about this verse doesn't sound right,"

"i think you've just been looking at it too long," you press your lips softly into his cheek and he sighs at the feeling.

"maybe," hums mark, "i just want to finish already,"

"what if,” you whisper, “you take a break for a few minutes, that way you can look at it with new eyes, find out what’s wrong with it.”

the feeling of your breath on the shell of his ear makes his hair stand on end. the bare minimum— that’s all you have to do and you have mark’s head spinning, analyzing whether or not your alleged ‘break’ really implied something else. immediately, he feels the blood rush to his-

what is he doing? he needs to keep working on the song.

he shakes his head. mark readjusts his pants, but the gesture doesn't go unnoticed by you. you're quick to catch the way he fixes himself and wipes the sweat off his palms. “babe,” he tries.

“yes?” your voice is sweet and airy, resembling a pant, with fingers lightly trailing his waistline.

“baby.” there’s an underlying warning to his tone this time; nevertheless, you can sense the bit of desperation he fails to hide.

with your thumb, you lift the waistband and slip your hand inside in one smooth motion. at the same time, your lips attach to his neck.

"i need to finish the song," his head tilts to make space for you, contradicting his words, and you smirk against his skin as you feel him gulp.

"you need a break, baby,"

"mmph," why did you have him so hooked, "no, i need to work-"

"then work," you place your hand on him over his underwear, "no one's stopping you,"

you're giving his bulge a squeeze, teeth grazing his neck, when mark mentally thanks the heavens that he's sitting. otherwise, he's sure his knees would've given out.

"yeah, but," he gasps, "i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ huang renjun

"jun,"

renjun hums in response, not looking up from the book on his chest. he's lying down, eyes scanning the text on the pages while his other hand rests on his stomach, fingers bouncing mindlessly.

with a pout settled on your bottom lip, you sit beside him on your knees, practically begging for any bit of his attention.

all of your attempts to divert his focus away from that damned book have been overlooked. you tried changing your shirt, toying with your bra, and nothing. he didn't even bother to try and sneak a glance when you pulled up your skirt, flashing your pink panties at him.

it was all getting rather annoying.

daringly, your place your hand over his, maneuvering it slowly down until you stop right over his crotch.

"tsk tsk," he moves his hand back up, "what are you doing?"

"junnie," you mewl, fingers tracing the outline of him.

he remains unmoving until you decide you've had enough. when your hand goes into his pants, his lips part slightly, sharply drawing in a breath, and his eyes finally break away from the page to look at you. they're wide open in shock.

"i've been trying to get your attention for the last 20 minutes,"

"well, you should've just asked." he laughs, sounding a little cocky. your eyes narrow at him when he speaks again, "i'll make it up to you, baby," when he goes to close the book, you stop the motion of your wrist, a devilish idea coming to mind.

"no,"

"what?"

"i want you to keep reading," you say matter-of-factly. he's taken aback when your strokes get bolder and you feel him getting harder in your hand, "since you didn't want to pay any attention to me, you can keep reading."

"but i wanna make you feel good-"

"keep reading or i'll stop."

renjun picks up his book hurriedly and flips it open to where he left off. this time, when you pull your shirt off, his eyes are roaming your skin rather than the words of his novel, shallow breaths leaving his parted lips.

he's fully hard now, a flustered mess, uttering whispered pleas of your name.

"baby, that feels so-" he whines quietly.

"focus on your book."

"i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck." his hips buck up into your hand, book falling to the side as he comes into your fist.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee jeno

about five minutes ago, you were cursing the day you ever let your boyfriend talk you into working out with him.

jeno is normally sweet, shy, affectionate, considerate, but for some reason, when he steps through the doors of the gym, he discovers each and every new way to push all of your buttons.

he’d try to… encourage you throughout your routine, which resulted in you guys bickering the whole way home because he “just couldn’t let you do it at your own pace.” that, or he’d all-together forget about you until he was done with his own work out, headphones plugged in and blasting for 2, sometimes even 3 hours.

tonight, he had dragged you to a small gym that he claimed had less people, for your comfort and his privacy as an idol, and while that was true, you couldn’t help but think to yourself, of course there’s going to be less people— no one is at the gym at two in the fucking morning.

now, however, you’re leaning against the wall, fully over even attempting to finish your work out, watching as jeno does his usual bicep curls in nothing but his tiny black shorts and a matching tank that is skin-tight.

his jaw is locked and tense, face twisting as he strains while pulling up the weights during the rep. sweat makes the ends of his hair stick to his forehead, and when he’s done, he huffs, chest heaving. even the way he grabs his water to gulp it down is messing with your head.

yeah… maybe you didn’t hate the gym that much.

you don’t know what’s different about today, but you’ve been rubbing your thighs together for the last 30 minutes, hoping he’d announce soon that he’s close to done. when that moment never comes, you take matters into your own hands.

“hi, jen,” you stride over to him, a sly smile playing at your lips.

“hey, pretty baby. i’m almost finished, i just have to do-“

blatantly disregarding what he was talking about, you lean in until your lips are kissing the corner of his, “i can’t watch you work out anymore,” you whine, “it’s driving me crazy,”

confused and oblivious as ever, jeno pulls his eyebrows together, “well, i’m sorry, i thought you liked coming here with me-“

“not that kind of crazy, love,” your hand grabs his, guiding it between your legs, “the kind where i want you to bend me over any piece of equipment in here.”

“w-wha-well, i uhm-“

he swallows thickly when you bring your other hand into his shorts, grabbing his dick and pumping it a few times. his hand stays between your legs, though he doesn’t move.

“baby, i promise,” he pants, “this is my last set and then i’m taking you home and we can-“

“why can’t we do it here?”

“are you insane? what if somebody comes in? i have-shit- i have one more set and- ohh, aah-“

“jeno?”

"i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

jeno’s arm flies back to lean his weight against whatever machine is behind him, trying to stay upright. his fingers finally start moving, rubbing some much needed friction to the spot between your legs. his brain has become mush in less than 2 minutes, lost in the pleasure that you’re giving him. his work out is long forgotten as he groans out your name.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lee donghyuck

"you can't sleep with your makeup on, doll," hyuck grumbles, "stop fighting me on this,"

he straddles your lap to keep you from wiggling around, hovering over you with a make-up removing wipe wrapped between his long fingers.

his cheeks are a delicious shade of red, shiny from the sheer layer of sweat that covers his pretty features. he looks boyish and unruly, hair falling messily over his glossed-over eyes as they stare into your own.

your face is surely mirroring his, flushed from all of the drinks in your system. what started as a date night with your boyfriend ended with you having close to a bottle and half of wine each, not that you’re complaining. his body is warm above yours, clouding your judgement more than the alcohol ever could. greedily, your hands wander up his thighs.

hyuck is rambling and slurring distractedly, using the scented wipe to gently swipe away the remnants of product from under your eyes, "it's not good for your skin if you leave your makeup on, you know that-" you can't even focus on what he's lecturing you on because his lips are stained red from the wine, and he seems to have been licking them, given how wet they are.

"hyuck, baby."

"-yes?"

you pucker up your lips, "give me a kiss."

he complies with a cheeky smile, mouth molding obediently against yours. he lets out a throaty moan at your affection.

your fingers fly to the button on his jeans, undoing them. hyuck quickly pulls back, “baby, let me take off your makeup first,”

“but i wanna feel you,” you mumble innocently, hands reaching for the hem of his underwear.

“oh, believe me,” as maliciously as ever, he tongues his cheek, eyebrows wiggling, “you will.”

working as fast and gently as possible, he continues to wipe your face, jaw tightening as you grope him, “hmm, y/n.”

“what’s wrong, baby?”

"i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck." his head falls into the crook of your shoulder and he shudders at the feeling of your cool hands wrapping around his base. under your palm, you feel him twitch, but hyuck is determined to remain unfazed and not engage in your little game until he’s done.

he composes himself and sighs. another wipe is taken from the pack, softly cleaning your forehead and cheeks.

“shit–alright,” he seethes as you squeeze his tip. hyuck tosses the wipe aside, grunting. your boyfriend roughly grabs your face with one hand, making you stop your teasing, “all done.”

instantly, he leans in, letting his lips meet yours again. this kiss is more lustful than the last; it’s sloppy and needy, and when he pulls away for air, he stays so close that he practically breathes his next words into your mouth, “i should’ve left your makeup on so you could watch me ruin it.”

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ na jaemin

it's unfortunate that you're a light sleeper, seeing as it makes it quite difficult for your boyfriend to do something nice for you.

this morning, jaemin had woken up an hour before you usually do with the intention to surprise you by making breakfast and delivering it to you in bed.

he had everything worked out: he set his alarm on his phone and kept it tucked under his pillow so he could rush to silence it once he woke up, hoping that you'd continue to sleep undisturbed. from there, he rolled out of bed as quietly as possible, tip-toeing out of your bedroom and into the kitchen to make you the best breakfast-in-bed ever.

everything was going according to plan, until now. he had just scooped the first bit of pancake batter into the pan when the padding of your feet alerts him of your presence. your arms wrap around his waist, nose nuzzling into his back.

like a child who didn’t get his way, jaemin whines out and stomps his feet a bit, "babe, you weren't supposed to be up yet.”

"i felt you get up, jaem," you laugh, "let me help you-"

"nope! you're not allowed to do anything. this was supposed to be a surprise,"

"alright, fine."

when you try to pull away to get ahead on the dishes, jaemin's hand drags you back in, right to where you were on his waist.

well, if he won't let you let you help in the kitchen, maybe you can help a different way.

mischievously, your teeth graze his back and shoulders, hands sliding under his shirt to feel the muscles on his stomach, which immediately tense at the contact of your cold fingers. when your actions elicit a reaction from him, a small knowing scoff that told you that he knew exactly what you were up to, you continue your efforts, trailing down to loosen the drawstrings of his joggers.

"oh, yeah," he hums when you touch him. no more than a second later, the free hand that isn’t busy flipping pancakes comes down to wrap over yours, guiding it up and down on his length, “you’re so naughty.”

"i just wanna repay you for getting up early to make me breakfast,"

"if you keep going," he whimpers, "i might end up wanting something else for breakfast," jaemin's chest is heaving at this point.

"the food's gonna burn," you half-heartedly warn, mercilessly continuing your pace.

"well, it just might 'cause i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

there's a clattering noise when the pan is pushed back and off the heat, the spatula dropping onto the counter as jaemin pulls your hand and his from his pants.

he quickly flips off the stove and turns to you, hands wrapping around your thighs to pick you up, situating you on the empty kitchen island.

“breakfast can wait.” he mumbles, then captures your mouth in a kiss.

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ zhong chenle

“chenle.”

“the game’s almost over,”

“chenle!”

“there’s 10 minutes left!”

“you’re watching highlights! you can literally watch those whenever!”

“now is also whenever!” he cleverly retorts.

okay, think. that’s the third video he’s watched in a row, the third time he’s fed you the same explanation and promised that this highlight video would be the last.

so, think: how can you get him off his stupid phone?

“you wanna watch your highlights? okay,” you shrug, sitting beside him on the couch.

“okay?” he asks, as if your previous statement is entirely foreign to him, and truthfully, it is. you had never given up so easily before. in fact, chenle had grown to love the banter. half of the time, the only reason he really insists on watching his highlight clips for so long is because he loves to watch you yearn for his attention.

“yep.”

“i’ll be done after this one,” he reminds you, watching closely for your reaction.

you nod nonchalantly, “right.” and give him a forced smile.

you give him a few seconds to get back into the video before you bring your hand over to his thigh. as expected, he doesn’t say anything, continuing his act in hopes that you’ll go back to urging him to shut the video off.

but this time, unlike the others, you remain just as stoic, sneakily inching closer and closer. it’s only a matter of time before he catches on, so you reach over in one motion and undo the button of his pants, putting your hand inside.

oh. so that’s your play?

you catch onto the way his eyes widen for a fleeting moment, but he’s quick to cover it up.

gently, you rub him, leaning in to leave kisses on his cheek, the kind that are so light and soft that they invite goosebumps to spread through his neck and arms.

he resists all urges to shudder or succumb to your touch; instead, he opts for taking his bottom lip between his teeth, a last measure to remain sane as you pleasure him. he can’t care less about the highlights anymore, but he’s stubborn and refuses to lose, so his eyes stay locked on the screen although his thoughts are entirely elsewhere.

you’re supposed to beg for him, not the other way around.

but that’s easier said than done, especially when you’re palming him, pre-cum leaking from his tip as his mind wanders off the game, clinging to everything that is you.

chenle squeezes his eyes shut for a second.

“what’s the matter?”

“nothing.” he says through gritted teeth.

you keep toying with him, bringing your other hand to the button of your own shorts. at this, chenle’s eyes snap over and he mentally curses, blowing air through his nostrils harshly.

his fingers are turning white from the way he’s gripping his phone with so much force. every stroke of your hand is wearing him down, bringing him closer to his climax, but he doesn’t want to finish yet, not before he’s been inside of you.

“chenle, baby, you’re not even watching-“

“yeah, i know, that’s because i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

ੈ♡˳

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ park jisung

“and then, if you press these buttons, your attack upgrades and deals more damage…”

if you’re being honest, everything jisung has said about his new switch game, which he’s explaining to you with so much interest and passion, is going in one ear and out the other.

it’s not that you don’t care, you do! you’re more than happy to sit and listen to him go on about something he’s excited about, but you simply don’t know what’s gotten into you today.

all you can seem to focus on is him.

his lips are plump, looking softer and more kissable than ever, and you think you may pass out when his tongue darts out to wet them. now, they’re glossed over, just like his pretty brown eyes that reflect the video game screen from the console resting on his chest.

your leg lies across his body, unable to keep still with the ache starting to flourish at your core. you’re practically grinding on his thigh and he’s oblivious as ever.

the fingers that hug his waist have now developed a mind of their own: they dance over his stomach and travel south until they make their way under jisung’s waistband.

“what-“ he clears his throat to cover the way his voice cracks, “what are you doing?”

“what are you talking about?”

all of his muscles tense up, “with your, uhm, hand?”

“oh,” you feign surprise, batting your eyes with innocence as if there could be no another reason your hand was holding his crotch, “it’s warm, my fingers were getting cold,”

he nods rather awkwardly, mumbling something that implies he understands and tries to continue with his explanation.

key word: tries.

his speech is a mess and a nervous sweat has broken out on his forehead. he’s even begun to explain things about the game wrong, spewing out nervous laughs in between weak apologies.

as hard as he’s trying to keep his act together, there’s one thing that blatantly gives him away. under your hand, you can feel him getting hard, and he knew it, too.

the entire time he’s talking, he’s growing harder and harder in your palm and you just cant resist moving a bit.

“aah, that feels-“

“so, what does that character do, again?”

jisung blinks at you with wide eyes, an look of disbelief on his face. after a pause, he answers you quietly.

“they—mmh, they shoot these uhm-“

you nod teasingly, “uh-huh?”

“these fireballs that-“ defeated, he groans out, “baby…”

“woah, fireballs?!”

“baby, i’ll tell you about the game later. right now, i-“ he sets the switch aside and you pout in false disappointment.

“what? why?”

"because—i can't focus with your hand down my—oh, fuck."

ੈ♡˳

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