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J.JH | Boy Toy

☞ Pairings : ceo reader x stripper jaehyun

☞ Genre: smut, fluff (tiny bit),angst, forbidden!love au

✩ Word Count: 2,920

✩ Warnings: smoking, cursing, cheating, choking, nipple play, oral giving (m.f), unprotected sex (wrap it plss)

✿ A/N: Hope you like it <33

Big thanks to @playmetheclassics , @yutasthetic and @neozhoen for helping me out💞

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I want nothing on me but you | ACT 1: Cold Hands and Fevers

- collection masterlist - 

MAIN CAST

doyoung: musical actor, main love interest | yn: playwright | jaehyun: yn’s friend, second love interest

SECONDARY CAST

ten: best friend | haechan: therapist, doyoung’s friend, jaehyun’s friend | yuta: director | taeyong: musical actor, doyoung’s friend

GENRE: romance, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, fantasy elements

WARNINGS: +18 (lavish lifestyles, mature topics, drinking, smoking, explicit sex)

words: 10.5k

__________

- PRESENT | February - 

Suffocating. 

How easy it is for another to kill you. No force, no hands on the throat - just their mere presence suffocating you. 

It was so weird but you craved it. As if you had a morbid attachment to death by his hand. More and more. You didn’t care that your head felt light when he smiled or that your heart stopped its beats as you exchanged a look - you wanted to suffocate in him. 

“… and it was sold-out.”

“Wow,” you blinked suddenly, gaining awareness. The crowd around you started to buzz again and the flashing party lights invaded your irises. 

“Yeah. Wow,” your friend rolled his eyes at your monotone voice. He swiftly turned around with a sigh, arms crossed on his chest, staring at whatever you were staring at instead of his pretty face. 

“I guess that comment wasn’t on my ability to sell out a whole ass theatre but on Doyoung’s rude waist in those tight slacks.”

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jaemin: the confident

━ welcome home to housemating smut series :)

☆ click the link above to read background info about this housemate!

☆ GENRE: smut, pwp ☆ DETAILS: fem!reader, college!au, housemate!au ☆ WARNINGS: penetration, impregnation kink, unprotected, dirty talk, petnames, mutual masturbation, explicit language, slight voyeurism ☆ WC: 3.2k ☆ SYNOPSIS: Stumbling out into the dark hallway, you didn’t expect to encounter the one housemate that only ever has eyes on you. Jaemin finally makes you realize just how special you are to him. 

You rub your eyes in the darkness as you wander down the hall to the bathroom. Falling asleep while studying for your final was not in the plans, but reading out of the dusty textbook was enough to make your eyelids heavy with boredom and sleep. The house is quiet, knowing that the only other person home at the moment is Doyoung, who is also probably busy studying his life away. 

So when you reach for the bathroom knob, you don’t expect that the door would open from the other side to reveal a half-naked Jaemin. The sudden momentum causes you to tip forward and Jaemin holds you steady by the waist, your palms landing on his bare hot chest. You, nonetheless, are too stunned to speak at this moment before you. 

Jaemin chuckles dryly, his sneaky hands wandering a bit lower to your hips. “If you wanted to join me in the shower, my sweets, you should have asked me earlier.” The gentle smell of his 2 in 1 body wash tickles your nose and the tips of his strands are dripping with water.

“You’re home?” You say with a bit of edge to your tone, completely not expecting that he’d be here for the night. The last person you’d expect to be home on a Saturday before finals week would be Jaemin. 

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want & need (m)

pairing: haechan x reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

warnings: sad hyuck, thigh riding, marking, unprotected sex, overstimulation

wc: 4.4k

summary: donghyuck is in love with you. he swears he would cross the ocean just to get to you. he only wants you to love him, convincing himself that was all he needed. donghyuck is severely in love, and you’re just scratching the surface of love. you are all that donghyuck wants, but not what he needs.

➣ apart of ‘right lover, wrong time’ series

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I'm not angry anymore (well, sometimes I am) ;; lyy

pairing: liu yangyang x fem!reader starring: singer! lee jeno, drummer! wong hendery, bassist! zhong chenle, huang renjun, lee donghyuck, na jaemin, mark lee, aeri uchinaga genre: band au, guitar teacher au, strangers to friends to not-really-lovers, college au | angst, fluff, slice of life, coming of age wc: 20k (20.481) warnings: the main characters smoke, one mention of drugs, swearing, alcohol, the whole thing is kind of corny, jeno is a bad guy, a mention of sexual intercourse, a lot of pining, unrequited love tagging: @jaynaur bc she asked me to and also because i want to thank her for the support and excitement she shared for this fic<3 playlist: funeral grey - waterparks ; the only exception - paramore ; tantrum - waterparks ; 21 questions - waterparks ; sex sells - lovejoy ; freaks - surf course ; it follows - waterparks ; gloom boys - waterparks ; perfume - lovejoy ; high definition - waterparks ; i'm not angry anymore - paramore

living the rockstar life is not as easy and exciting as it seems-with a frontman that cares more about clubbing than the band, unrequited love for the girl that's, sadly, in love with the said frontman and a huge inferiority complex, liu yangyang finds himself tangled up in the mess of being the guitarist of the next rising local punk band.

FLOAT MY WAY, I’M MELTING FOR YOU

“Are you sure they’re coming?” Yangyang asks, illuminated by the subtle light of the lamp post shining at the end of the neighbourhood. The spot he’s standing in right now is the exact border between the calm, sleeping streets of the place he grew up in, and the rowdy nightlife of the centre of the town. Only a few steps across the road and he’s in the middle of it all– bars scattered all across the corners of the town square, havoc caused by teenagers at the early stages of the evening erupting through your eardrums with a lively sense of freedom. 

Liu Yangyang is standing at the border, quite metaphorically, but also quite literally as well. A few steps back into his neighbourhood and he’s back in his parents’ house, ready to go to sleep and waste another evening watching a few more episodes of Netflix Unsolved Mysteries before bed. A few steps back into his bed and he wasted another day of his youth– doing nothing, meeting no new people, having no memories he can tell to his children once he’s 45 and too old for the party life. A few steps to the other side of the street, though, and he’s walking straight to the excitement, straight to a new life, perhaps. The choice is his, and he could turn either way at any moment. There’s only one thing keeping him from walking away from the stoic place at the edge of the neighbourhood, though, and that’s his best friend Huang Renjun and his promising offer. 

The thing is, he and Renjun have known each other since middle school. They’ve been through thick and thin together, skipping through their high school years together, and finally, graduating on the same day, in the same class. They’re quite the best friends, and everyone knows that. While everyone thought that no one could ever break these two apart, there was one thing that wasn’t a constant in both of their lives, and that was the fact that while Renjun went to university, Yangyang never even applied. He had bigger dreams, ones that didn’t require a degree, and even though his mother wasn’t happy with his life choices, he insisted on making them anyway. 

But with Renjun attending university, there comes a bigger issue that Liu Yangyang didn’t expect to face, and that is the issue of his introverted, short bestie being more sociable than he ever was in high school. Soon enough, the older one had more university friends than Yangyang could count on the fingers of one hand, and while he was happy for him, cheering him on with both his studies and his social skills, he can’t lie, he still feels a bit threatened in the place of Huang Renjun’s best friend.

And that’s exactly why he’s now standing in the same spot at the edge of the neighbourhood for the last 25 minutes– Renjun is going out with all his university friends, and being the nice and considerate pal he is, he invited Yangyang to come with him. And Yangyang, known to have a big fear of missing out mixed with a hint of jealousy whenever his friend had more fun with other people that weren’t him, couldn’t find any other answer in him than to agree and head out with him.

“Of course they are coming! Just… let’s wait for a little more-” the boy cuts himself off when he hears a loud yell somewhere in the distance, making him turn his head around and stare into the space, looking for the source of it, because he’s very familiar with the tones of the voice and the ruckus that’s following each and every one of his friends’ step. 

There’s a group of five that arrive, diverse and interesting to look at. Yangyang assumes he’d be intimidated by them if he was to walk past them in the mall, but when he thinks again, he feels like that in this very moment as well– their gazes are sharp and every person looks like cut-out from a magazine or a coming-of-age movie he’d watch with Renjun when they were fifteen and figuring everything out. 

Looking at the small crowd, Yangyang wonders how Renjun even managed to be friends with them. They don’t seem like the kind that would be easy to approach, and they for sure don’t seem like they share interests with the young male. When he looks at the fairly tall man wearing a leather jacket that came towards the two of them first, it doesn’t seem like he enjoys art or reading in the quiet of his room at dawn like Renjun does. The other one, even taller and more muscular, seems like he enjoys racing more than he enjoys going to university, and so do the other ones– each one of the crowd is unique, but more intimidating than the other. 

Or maybe Yangyang just isn’t used to making friends anymore. Who knows.

“Hi! You must be Yangyang!” one of them announces, smiling and cheerful. His smile makes the ice break, the panic Yangyang felt on his insides stalling for just a minute, before he nods and smiles at him.

“Yeah, it’s me. And you are…?” he trails off, eager to hear the person’s introduction. There’s still faint hesitance in every move he makes, but he figures that he might as well start speaking to the little crowd soon, or he might embarrass himself in front of the cool university kids, and he really doesn’t want that. Three guys and two girls– must be easy. Let’s get it over with.

“Na Jaemin! It’s nice meeting you,” he says, politely smiling at him again and turning around, looking at the rest of the group. The seven of them start walking, the destination not known to the boy, but he follows them nonetheless, okay with not even knowing the rest of their names yet.

“I heard a lot about you,” Jaemin snickers, “Renjun can’t stop mentioning you in conversations. Every time us two are in a Chemistry class, he can’t stop chuckling and saying how you would absolutely despise it.”

Laughing, Yangyang nods. “That’s probably why I didn’t go to university.”

“Good. I regret going, but oh well…” Jaemin shrugs, already getting more comfortable with the conversation. “Anyways, since the rest of the group is totally unhinged and didn’t introduce themselves, I’ll be the nice guy and do it for them,” he grins, pointing to the guy that approached him and Renjun at first, “that is Hyuck. I promise he’s less intimidating than he looks, he just really desperately wants to be cool.”

“Got it,” Yangyang laughs airly, nodding.

“There next to him is Renjun, but I figure you know him… That bloke behind him is Lee Jeno. He’s what Hyuck desires to be, but isn’t. Next to him we have our ladies– to the left, Aeri, and hanging off his right shoulder, finally, Y/N.”

Grateful for the friendly introduction, Yangyang nods with a smile. “Great. Any idea where we’re going?”

Jaemin shrugs, pointing to the convenience store that’s magically appearing in front of them. “My best guess would be there, and then we head off to the skate ramp. It’s empty at this hour of the day, and there's plenty of room for all of us there.”

Yangyang tries his best to pay attention to everything that’s going on around him on his way in and out of the convenience store. He bought himself some Gatorade and Pringles, tagging along with Renjun and Jaemin, yet, he can’t help but ask himself why the rest of the group hasn’t paid any attention to his presence. Perhaps he’s too invisible– not interesting enough to spark a conversation with them, not cool enough to hang out with the rest of the group. 

He’s not quite sure if it’s the insecurities getting to him, or if he’s just right about his assumptions. Sometimes, it’s better to not know, though– reality might make him more hurt in the long run.

Finally getting to the skate park, Yangyang makes sure to stay close to the only people he knows how to talk to. Offering chips to Jaemin and Renjun, he manages to listen to the conversation just enough to know that Hyuck and Jeno are talking about some concert they’re going to over the weekend and that Aeri and you are talking about the project that’s due on Tuesday. Quite normal topics for teenagers to talk about, he thinks– the intimidation seeping off them must be a facade, or maybe his lack of judgement. Maybe he should reach out first and talk to someone, he thinks, but as soon as this thought creeps into his mind, it’s taken out of his head when a girl walks into his point of vision and offers him chewing gum. 

Seeing him turning the offer down with a smile, you shrug at him and kick the rocks under your feet. “You’re Yangyang, right?” 

For the second time that night, he finds himself nodding. The whole scenario looks like it’s cut-out  from a teenage drama, the scenery reminding him of an Avril Lavigne music video that he spent his childhood watching religiously. “Yeah.”

“I’m Y/N,” you say, offering him a hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you,” he replies, wanting to be as polite and as approachable as possible.

Looking at you, he finds himself getting intimidated again. He feels like a kid hanging out with upperclassmen in high school– like someone who’s desperately trying to fit in and be mature about everything, waiting anxiously to be made fun of by the cooler kids around. You’re wearing dark clothing, long black pants and a grey hoodie thrown over your upper body, even though the heat of the summer makes Yangyang sweat in every crevice of his adulting figure. You look bold, not in your appearance, but in your aura– and something about you is dangerously pulling him in, leaving him wanting to get to know you better.

You only hum, seating yourself next to him on the tiny bench. Your thighs are touching as you stretch your legs in front of you, leaning back and supporting your body with your hands pressed into the surface you’re sitting on. “So, Yangyang,” you start, “what do you do in your spare time?”

Surprised by your question, and also acknowledging the way his name rolls off your tongue in a way he likes it the best, he shrugs. What does one reply to a stranger asking about their interests? It sounds like a trick question, when in reality, it truly isn’t. There are no wrong or right answers, yet, Yangyang feels like if he doesn’t choose the right one, he failed, and he can no longer hang out with Renjun’s friends and see you ever again.

“Oh,” he hums, “well, I used to babysit, but I realised that I swear too much to be around children,” he replies, earning himself a chuckle from your side.

“I asked what you do in your spare time, not what you used to do for work,” you repeat, catching the boy off-guard with your insistence. 

“I- well-” he stutters, suddenly ashamed of each and every interest he has, for he thinks they’re not cool enough, or that they’re not interesting enough to mention to someone like you. Short in time, with his imagination not as good to think of something unique, he spills the truth. “I like music, I guess? I play the guitar and I’m actually teaching guitar lessons to get some money so I can start a band one day, or something…” he explains, bashful.

He feels the heat slowly arriving to his cheeks, a pinch of shame behind his teenage dreams, when he’s met with a hum and a pleased tone of your voice when you reply.

“That’s cool,” you say, “Jeno has a band, actually, but they’re kind of shit,” you giggle. “I bet yours would be better, when you’re good enough to teach guitar, you know.”

“Well, I don’t know about that…” he mutters, not wanting to offend anyone.

“Jeno’s in uni as well, so he can’t really focus on music. You gotta show me how you play one day,” you say, the lightness in your tone making him feel like he’s imagining everything. He wasn’t expecting this outcome, and he for sure didn’t think you wouldn’t find him embarrassing. With your proposition to show you how he plays, even though it might be just a nice gesture from a stranger, he feels on cloud 9.

“And what do you like doing?” he asks, eager to get to know you better.

Shrugging, you point your gaze towards your shoes. “I dunno. I like art,” you say, reminding him of his best friend. Perhaps you’re the one that attends the art class with him, perhaps you’re the one he met first before he was introduced to the rest of the group. In the light-hearted conversation, Yangyang doesn’t find you as intimidating as before, but looks at you as rather approachable, the least scary of them all.

“Well, if I gotta show you how I play, you gotta show me your art sometimes, then,” he says, throwing the ball back to your side of the court. Smiling at his proposition, you only nod as you search the pockets of your jacket, seemingly looking for something.

“Sure,” you say. Yangyang dares to say he hears a spark of interest in you, a glint in your tone from the way your conversation went. He doesn’t want the moment to disappear, desperately needing you to find him cool, to be his friend, because you interest him so much– but at the same time, he fears that with one bad move, he might ruin everything. Talking with you felt like walking on a shattered glass, just waiting to get pricked by the sharp pieces scattered all over the floor.

When you finally find what you’ve been looking for– a pack of cigarettes and a lighter– you open the box and take out one of them, slipping it in between your lips. “Do you want one?” you ask, offering him the box.

Now, Yangyang wants to fit in– of course he does– but at the same time, he has his boundaries. Shaking his head in disapproval, he smiles at you with tight lips. “No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”

Shrugging, you light the cigarette and breathe in the nicotine, letting the smoke captivate your lungs. Blowing out a steady stream of greyish clouds, Yangyang watches you with fascination. He won’t go as far as saying he found you attractive like that– you were still damaging your health– but in his mind, he can’t imagine you without that pack of cigarettes in your hand and without the smoke blowing out of your lungs. It’s like you were completed by that small addictive box, like you two fit together, even though he wishes you didn’t have to. He likes you like that, though, he figures– he might need to throw it all just onto the aesthetics, though.

“That shit’s gonna kill you,” he mumbles, seeing you peek out at him from under your eyelashes. 

Smiling, you lean into him, your face dangerously close to someone who you just met a few minutes ago, he feels like he’s melting under your gaze. Shrugging, you blow the smoke into his face, white clouds floating his way in slow motion, a snicker escaping your lips before you move to your initial place, once again putting the cigarette between your plump lips and inhaling.

“Well, now you gotta die too.”

Looking at you, trying to come up with a better comeback, desperately needing to find out when he’s gotten so smitten with you, when you’ve engraved himself into his mind; trying to get you out and forget about you, he finds out, although a little shamefully,

that he’s willing to let you be his best mistake that he’s ever going to make.

AND I’M ON MY WAY TO BELIEVING 

Running his hand through his hair, he stops at the doorway of one of the houses in his neighbourhood. It’s only three streets away from his home, and he’s sure his mother would know who lives there, if he managed to ask before leaving, but to him, the people he’s going to meet are a mystery for now. Sighing heavily, he notes that he should get a haircut, since the hair he managed to push out of his face is now back in his eyes, prickling his eyeballs in the most annoying way possible, before he rings the doorbell and waits for someone to open the door for him.

It’s an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, the clock reads 4:25pm– he’s 5 minutes early, just to be sure– and he’s going to one of his paid guitar lessons. 

Usually, he has fun in these. Mothers all across the town reply to his insert that he posted on Facebook Marketplace, and some grandmas even send him letters, replying to the advertisement they saw in the local newspaper. The kids he teaches are almost always very polite and easy to work with. 

When he arrives, he asks them what they know already, and he progresses from there. He’s not trying to act like he’s a licenced music teacher, because he’s not– everything he knows is all self-taught anyway, from watching youtube videos and playing the same songs with the same simple chords over and over again, desperately wanting to get his favourite songs right, until he progressed up to the point when there’s pretty much no song he couldn’t play after hearing it a few times and taking a look at the chords online. To the local neighbourhood kids, that’s enough– he’s an affordable teacher, and much more approachable one than the elderly men Yangyang’s parents wanted to hire when he was a kid. He refused back then, and he can’t say he regrets it.

Waiting at the doorway, he wonders who will wait for him behind the dark-wooded entrance. Perhaps a little boy– these are always the easiest to work with. They choose the rock, sometimes punk songs they heard on the radio or saw randomly pop out on the recommended page on youtube. Yangyang is happy with that, because that’s what he’s familiar with anyway. It brings him joy to see their faces light up when they get the chords right and when the strumming is similar to the one in the original song, and when he sings along, although a little silly, they even laugh at him and show gratitude with gummy smiles. 

He won’t lie. He likes his job. 

When the door finally opens, his eyes catch the sock-clothed feet of the person behind it. Eyes going up, noticing that the figure in front of him seems oddly familiar, his breathing catches in his throat and he feels his palms getting sweaty.

“Y/N?” he asks, a little taken aback.

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, an expression you pull when you see another teenager in the mall with their parents, both of you shopping for groceries. It’s the awkward smile that says that you recognise their torture, for you are experiencing the same; that awkward smile that reads don’t laugh at me, because you’re in the same position. 

“Hello,” you greet, taking a step to the side so he can get inside. 

Yangyang freezes in his spot. His legs don’t move, too hesitant to enter the house you live in, and he suddenly regrets not asking his mum about the residents of this house before he left. Not that he would know that it’s you anyway, for his mum always provides him with the last name and the occupation of the parents, but at least a hint would be nice, perhaps a mention of a daughter his age, even; both of these would let him prepare for the rush of heat in his cheeks and the awkwardness in his visit. 

“Um…” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, “am I… am I in the right house?” he asks suddenly, embarrassment creeping into his veins. Mentally going back to the address in the text message he got three days ago, checking the house number only a few metres to the right of the front door, it’s as clear as daylight– he’s at the right place, at the right time. 

“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows in confusion. “Will you get inside already, or are you going to stand there all day?”

Eyes wide, Yangyang nods hurriedly, finally stepping inside of the house. Taking off his shoes, making sure he takes his sweet time so he can calm his racing heart, he thinks of every possible thing he could say to you to make the whole encounter less awkward. Or is he the only one that feels awkward at this moment? Are you alright with everything that’s going on? You don’t even seem to be surprised, to be fair. Maybe you expected to see him at the door.

“So,” he starts as he finally straightens his back and meets eyes with you, “um… I came to teach guitar, so… where’s your sibling?” he asks, cracking his knuckles in the process.

“Sibling?” you repeat.

Feeling like he’s said something wrong, but continuing in his interrogation, Yangyang furrows his brows. “Yeah. To… teach guitar to?” he says, feeling more confused than ever.

“I don’t have a sibling,” you simply reply, spinning in your place and taking the stairs up, making Yangyang freeze in his spot in hesitance once again. This whole thing feels like a fever dream, and he doesn’t think he can wake up that soon. 

A few seconds pass in complete silence, the uncomfortness of it all making Yangyang’s ears ring, when footsteps march through the space and make him swing his head up, seeing you standing at the top of the stairs. “Are you coming? I thought I was paying you for teaching me the guitar, and not for standing around,” you mutter.

Teaching you the guitar? Now, every other person would comply and run upstairs, apologise for being all over the place, maybe even mumble a poor excuse of how they haven’t slept well and that’s why they’re not in their right place today. But this is Liu Yangyang– and you’re Y/N, the girl he met almost a week ago and hasn't been able to stop thinking about since. And that’s why Yangyang only simply stumbles over his own legs and drags himself upstairs, still trying to make his mind comprehend the whole situation and let himself process what’s happening. 

He appears in your room in a moment. The journey there has no memory in his brain, for he thinks he acted on auto-pilot, too lost in his thoughts. When the smell of you lingers all around him and punches him somewhere deep in his gut, that’s when he finally wakes up and proceeds to do what he’s supposed to.

The room looks just like he’d imagine it to look. It looks so, so definitely yours; with posters of bands hung all across the walls, stitched between with artwork and polaroid pictures, not one spot left empty in the whole room. The rug in the middle of the space is white and fluffy, the long bristles reminding him of the dog he used to have when he was a kid. There’s not much furniture in your room, and it’s also fairly small, but there’s everything a university student would need in a room at their parents’ house: a big bed, a closet, a bookshelf filled with literature and a desk that’s a little too messy, but still looks oddly organised. The last detail that completes the aroma of you in the room is the easel set in the corner of the room, right next to the guitar stand, like a little pair of necessities that belong together, never to be seperated.

He finds you sitting on the bed, the black acoustic guitar already nestled in your lap, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. The look you give him is unreadable– or he doesn’t know you well enough to read in your expressions yet. Taking a mental note of the urge to get to know you enough to know what you want to say even from a simple look thrown his way, he sits next to you and clears his throat. 

“Shall we start, then?” he asks, hearing you snicker.

“I’m waiting until you finally get a grip, you know,” you say, “I’m ready when you are.”

Your words make him feel the heatness in his cheeks again, embarrassment a familiar emotion to feel whenever he’s in your presence. He once again recognises that he feels strangely intimidated by you in this setting, suddenly scared that he forgot all the chords and he doesn’t know how to play anymore, even though the thought of that is ridiculous and unbelievable, since before, he was sure he could play Smells like teen spirit even in his sleep.

“Okay, so…” he starts, “let’s start with what you already know, and then we can progress from there, I guess?” he chooses the tactic he always does when he teaches the neighbourhood kids, but at this moment, everything about the guitar lesson is making him unsure in his skills. This is the first time he’s working with someone his age, and to find you being the one replying to his insert, it makes it all even harder for him.

“I mean… I know the basic chords, but that’s about it,” you shrug, averting your eyes off him. 

This is the first time Yangyang notices you shying away from his glance. He doesn’t dare to pin much importance to it, for he thinks it must be nothing, but something deep inside of him makes an assumption already and the air is suddenly lighter to breathe for him. He’s in charge now– he’s the one that knows everything, and you’re the one that wants to listen to him and learn from him. He’s not about power dynamics at all, since it would feel strange to pay importance to that, but suddenly, he no longer feels like he’s less from you, but rather on the same level, only a little more skilled, and that makes him feel more sure in his conversation and more strong in his moves.

“Okay, great,” he muses, “that’s a good start. Do you have a particular song that you would like to learn how to play? That’s usually the best way to learn, I think,” he suggests, glancing at you with curious eyes.

If he tried hard enough, he could maybe make out the song you’d choose by looking around your room and paying more attention to the posters on your walls. He’s quite sure he’ll be familiar with it, your music taste overlapping with his, although there are a few bands he’s not familiar with on the pictures on your walls and he suddenly wants to ask you all about them and let you recommend your favourite songs to him. He’d listen to them all afternoon, making sure to get every detail and search for everything that makes you enjoy them so much, trying to get to know you through your favourite melodies. He knows it’s too soon for a step like that, but he makes sure to keep it in his mind for later, when you two are closer; if that moment ever comes, of course.

“Hmm,” you hum. Suddenly, you stand up with the guitar still in your right hand, searching for something in the mess on your desk. There’s your phone in the grip of your left hand now, and with a few taps to the screen, you offer it to Yangyang, a site with the chords to the song you chose now shining on full display. “This one,” you mumble.

Now it’s your turn to look bashful. Yangyang notices the sudden shift in the atmosphere, liking how the awkwardness is suddenly out of his blood system but rather entering yours. Scrolling through the page, his eyes scan the chord progressions, nodding to himself as he recognises the tune, already playing in his head.

“Great! Let’s get to it, then,” he says.

Nodding, you stay glued in your place at the other end of the bed. Your guitar is still placed neatly on your right thigh, resting against it, waiting to be played. “Maybe try playing it so I can see what you need helping with?” 

The suggestion makes you nod, a nervous lick to your lips is made as you take the guitar pick into your right hand and nestle a little in your seat, trying to relax. Not wanting to make you more nervous, Yangyang makes himself not look at you while you play, resulting in letting his eyes roam all across your room, trying to remember the details just in case he’s never invited over ever again. 

You start playing in no time. Even a complete beginner could hear that you’re not used to the instrument yet– your strumming is inconsistent, the changing of chords slow and not all strings play when you press them– too weak for the note to ring. It’s okay, though; everyone starts somewhere and this was a good effort. The G chord is played wonderfully, as Yangyang recognises that this one in particular is not an issue amongst his students, but when you get to the D minor, Yangyang suddenly hears a sigh full of frustration as the strums don’t ring and you seemingly get a cramp into your left palm.

The melody, although a little chopped up and wonky, suddenly stops. You look over at your guitar teacher sitting to your right, trying to find help in him. 

“Your hand got cramped up?” he asks, voice full of consideration he uses when he teaches the small children. He let it slip unknowingly, but now that he recognised it, he prays you don’t make fun of him for the endearing tone of it.

“Yeah,” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“I see,” he nods, shifting closer to you. He tries to be full of confidence, because then, it’s easier for him to mask the effect you have on him and the growing aspect of it the closer you physically are to him. Taking the guitar softly from your hold, he presses down the strings in the right order, three fingers used for the simple chord, strumming to let you hear the chord out loud. 

“What you’re doing wrong is keeping your thumb too far up on the back of the neck,” he says, showing you the way you were playing the chord before, “this way, you have to make more pressure to hold the strings down, and the uncomfortable position makes your hand cramp up. Try moving your thumb a little lower,” he explains, once again showing you.

You hum, taking the guitar back from his hold when he offers it to you. You try to hold the strings down in the way Yangyang’s shown you, but your fingers just won’t comply, too used to the way you were playing the chord before. Watching you with amusement, Yangyang chuckles to himself and unconsciously moves to you, reaching for your hand from behind, and manually moving your thumb closer to the bottom of the neck of the guitar. 

The contact of your skin on his burns him a little, even though he was the one that initiated it and touched you first, and he suddenly feels like a teenager once again, hating that the way he feels about you reminds him of the silly crushes he used to get on his classmates and never acted up on them in the fear of being rejected.

Moving back to his initial place, he sees you bite down on your lower lip as you strum down the strings, hearing the chord loud and clear, your hand in a way more comfortable position now. Humming again, perhaps in understatement, perhaps in satisfaction, you look up at Yangyang again, smiling a little. “Thanks.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay. That’s what I’m paid for,” he snickers.

You roll your eyes at him, but your lips mirror a cunning smile. He teases you back with the words you used when he first arrived, making him wonder if you find him more fun now, when he’s relaxed. 

Sitting quietly, you try playing the song again, now a little more smoothly. Yangyang finds himself humming along, not daring to sing the lyrics just yet, since he’s not that eager to embarrass himself in front of you with his singing as he is when he teaches the kids. But when you look up at him and grin in amusement, he knows he did the right thing– the atmosphere is lighter now, the weight falling off his shoulders.

“You didn’t mention wanting guitar lessons when we last talked,” he says, going back in time just a week ago. 

“Yeah, well,” you stop playing, “I wasn’t really set on it back then yet.”

“I see,” he hums, “what made you change your mind, then?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you laugh to yourself. Putting the guitar down, between your bodies sprawled out on the bed, you fold your hands on your stomach. “If I tell you, promise you won’t laugh.”

Surprised by your request, for Yangyang thought there’s not anything in the whole world that could ever make you ashamed, he nods and agrees. “I won’t laugh. I promise.”

Squinting at him, as if to see if he’s truly honest with his promise, you breathe in heavily, getting ready to speak. “Well… remember how I told you that Jeno’s in a band?”

“Yeah,” he nods. How could he forget? That dude has everything Yangyang ever wished to be.

“So… his guitarist is kind of a dick,” you start, “he doesn’t go to practices, skips the gigs, shows up high sometimes… so Jeno wanted to kick him out and find someone better. And I kind of wanted to be the replacement, but…” you trail off, not daring to look at Yangyang in fear of hearing his laughter.

“Yeah, well, you’ll have to pay me for way more lessons to be the next lead guitarist of an underground band,” Yangyang notes, not trying to make fun of you– rather just tease you, to lighten up the atmosphere.

“Yeah,” you giggle, “you’re right. But maybe you could join them.”

“Me?”

“You said you wanted to have a band,” you mumble, shrugging, “this comes close, at least.”

Grinning to himself at the proposition, Yangyang shakes his head in disbelief. “You haven’t even heard me play. For all you know, I could be a total fraud.”

You turn your head to look at him, eyes squinting in examination once again. “You’re right, dude,” you mutter to yourself, “play me something, then. I’ll be the judge if you’re the one suitable to be the next lead guitarist of an underground band,” you say, throwing his own words back at him, trying to act out his voice in a teasing manner.

Singing, Yangyang shakes his head at your proposition. You must believe him– otherwise, you wouldn’t have texted him to give you guitar lessons, after all. To fulfil the promise he’s given you back in the skate park, though, he takes the guitar laying between your bodies, straightening his back and sitting in a more comfortable position, he presses down the chords you so desperately wanted to learn just a few minutes ago, before you two got lost in the conversation.

A simple G, D minor, a C major 7. Repeating over and over, a strumming pattern so easy and comforting, it’s forever engraved into his brain. He remembers hearing the song for the first time when he was younger, too embarrassed to admit to Renjun that he likes it, since he was always posing as the emo kid in the town. The band might suit the genre, but the lyrics are as sweet as sugar, so romantic it makes his heart clench. 

Caught somewhere in between it all, in the midst of the moment, hearing you silently hum the lyrics to the song you’ve shown him, Yangyang foolishly finds himself dedicating the song to you. This is the second time you two have met, but your whole presence, the way you scrunch up your nose when you laugh, the way you are so genuine and straight-forward, with nothing to hide, he finds himself pulled towards you, wanting to know you deeper, desiring to explore every last crevice of your inside.

He never wanted to be in someone else’s band. He always wanted his own, so he can be in charge of everything, so he can be the leader everyone follows. But if being in Jeno’s band meant meeting you more often, he figures he could try it out. Who knows, he might even like it.

He’s never tried so hard for a girl before. He never really had the urge. Spending his days with blissful carelessness, wasting away his youth by doing nothing, he never really found anyone to yearn for as hard. He swore he was content with loneliness, but perhaps, no one before was ever worth the risk.

Just like in the song he’s playing, you are the only exception.

SO EXCUSE MY TANTRUM, CAN’T YOU SEE I’VE GOT MY HANDS FULL?

Leg nervously bumping up and down, Yangyang chews on his bottom lip as the buildings behind the windows of the car blur into themselves and motion him forward. Hearing a low beep coming from his lap, where he threw his phone after aimlessly checking Instagram for the seventh time today, he reaches for the device and unlocks it.

y/n: are you close yet

Looking around, trying to find out where the hell he’s even going, he turns to his best friend on the driver’s seat. “Are we close?” he asks.

“Who’s asking?” Renjun mumbles, turning on the left blinker and taking a turn towards that direction, pulling up to a street Yangyang’s never seen before in his whole life. 

“Y/N,” he answers, checking all the houses, as if to try to see if you show up at the doorstep of one of them, awaiting their arrival. 

“We’re quite literally 15 metres away from Jeno’s house,” Renjun mutters, turning down the music playing on the radio. Yangyang hums in understatement, quickly looking back over to his phone and typing a swift reply.

yangyang: we’re here 

As the car comes to a halt, parking at the edge of the sidewalk in front of one of the houses on the street– each and every single one of them looking the same, with white walls and a brown roof, creating a homely atmosphere– Yangyang finds his nerves rise even more. It’s not like he’s meeting Renjun’s friends for the first time, after all, so he really doesn’t get the sudden rise in adrenaline. Sure, he only saw Jeno, Jaemin and Hyuck once, but at least him and you are pretty acquainted by now, considering that he gave you guitar lessons three more times since the last time, before he finally agreed on meeting Jeno and his bandmates for a band practice; just to see if he’s fit, nothing more.

Maybe he just really wants to impress everyone. The rest of the band is filled with strangers, so maybe that’s where his anxiety is coming from. 

He almost opens his mouth and tries to talk about it to Renjun, since the boy always gets his emotions and tries to help him calm down whenever his overthinking is getting too irrational, but when he jumps out of the car and closes the door behind him, there’s a screech coming from the small gate leading to the property, making his eyes drift towards the source of the sound. 

You wave at the two, standing in the open gate, a shining grin plastered onto your face. After Yangyang gets out his guitar from the backseat– the electric one, as you specified in your texts last night– you run up to him and envelope him in a quick, yet, comforting hug.

He didn’t realise you’ve gotten this close, but he welcomes the embrace with open arms. He catches a sniff of your perfume– a mix of roses and vanilla, sweet, but also light. It travels from his nose all the way up to his brain, numbing his senses. If this was the only smell he could feel until the end of his life, he wouldn’t complain.

“Finally! They’re all waiting for you in the garage,” you say, leading the pair towards the house. The gate to the garage is open, revealing a group of people clammered in the small space, leaving Yangyang at least some time to prepare for all of them.

Going up to the make-shift practice room in Lee Jeno’s garage, Yangyang puts on his best charming smile, hoping to seem at ease and not at all awkward. Adjusting the guitar in his hold, he comes up to the group and greets them with undeniable ease.

“Hello,” he says, watching Renjun as he fist-bumps the rest of his friend group and sitting at the old, orange couch in the corner of the garage.

“What’s up, man,” Jeno says as he comes up to him, once again, with a handshake. Yangyang begins to wonder why he always looks so cool– even when he’s wearing simple sweatpants and a Nirvana shirt enveloping his torso, he looks like he’s cut-out from a Rolling Stone magazine. He doesn’t even need that bloody leather jacket to look good. Life truly is unfair.

After greeting everyone, Yangyang finds himself awkwardly leaning against the arm of the couch. There wasn’t much space for him to sit, but that was okay– he was here to play the guitar anyway, he could stand. The garage was filled with people he knew, and also didn’t. It felt weird to have such a big audience. He felt like that time when he applied for the school’s talent show; he almost pulled out the minute he saw the tens of people sitting on the folding chairs in the school’s auditorium, waiting for him to begin playing. 

He recognised Jaemin– who warmly smiled at him when he went up to him and greeted him with a rehearsed fist bump– and he also recognised Hyuck, Jeno and you. There was a guy sitting in the corner of the room, who he was told was Mark and he was here to ‘hang out’, and the other two were Hendery and Chenle, the band’s drummer and bassist.

“Want some beer?” you ask, looking at him brightly from your spot next to him. He shakes his head in disapproval– he didn’t really like the taste of it, and much to everyone’s dismay, he was a light-weight and he really didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of everyone sitting in the garage, watching him perform. 

Yangyang’s left feeling lonely even in the full room of people. It’s somehow alarming, but also understandable. He’s not close to any of the people here, except from Renjun, and he’s been with him for the last few hours, so it’s only natural for his friend to drift towards someone else now. Looking around the garage, he spots a sign in the corner of the room, a long, white fabric spray-painted with red. 

Chucky Tribute, it reads. Finding himself chuckling under his breath, you look over to him, raising your eyebrows to find out what he’s laughing about. Pointing towards the sign, you only roll your eyes with a grin.

“That’s the band’s name,” you whisper sincerely into his ear, “Jeno’s a fan of the Chucky movies.”

Upon hearing this, Yangyang already knows he signed up for a wild ride.

After some more catching up between Renjun and his friends, and some awkward conversation that sparked between Mark and Yangyang after he recognised the anime on his shirt, Jeno turns to him with the true reason for his visit today.

“Okay, so,” he starts, “we could try to play something together, so we can see if you’re the fit to be in the band,” he says. Something about his sentences makes Yangyang feel like he’s looked down upon– as if Jeno was the master of everything, not believing that someone like Yangyang could be good enough to be in his band, however small and underground it might be. Looking over at you in the corner of the room, seeing that you’re a regular at the band practices, gazing at him with a hopeful smile, he complies, though.

“Not that we have any doubts about you, though,” Chenle, the bassist chirps from the other side of the room, “our last guitarist was a stinker anyway, so there’s no way you could be worse than that, really.”

“What they’re trying to say, essentially, is that their standards are low in the first place, so there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Renjun teases from his spot next to Jaemin, earning a laugh and a playful bump to his shoulder from Hyuck sitting on his other side.

“Right,” Jeno rolls his eyes, trying to organise the whole evening at least a little, “anyway. Back to what I was saying… maybe you can try playing something and then we’ll see, I guess… I don’t really know how to go about this anyway,” he shrugs, watching Yangyang with curious eyes.

Yangyang feels his palms sweat, but he gets up from his spot nonetheless, getting his trusty, beloved guitar he got from his mother for Christmas out of its case and plugging it into the speaker. Strumming the strums a few times, as if to practice, he nervously clears his throat and points his gaze towards the neck of the guitar– even though he’s certain he could play it even if he went blind– just so he doesn’t have to look anyone in the eye.

Putting his fingers into their right places, he starts improvising. No one really told him what to play, so he assumes they don’t really want to hear any song in particular, so he doesn’t even try to imitate something or fish for chord progressions to anything in his mind in the first place. Moving fast across the guitar’s neck, he masters a melodic play, something he himself is kind of impressed with, something he doesn’t feel ashamed to play. He gets really into it, momentarily forgetting all about his surroundings, as he often does when he plays the guitar, when a low rhythm of drums flows into his ears and makes him look up, seeing Hendery grinning at him from his place behind the drumming kit.

Not a moment passes before Chenle gets to his bass guitar, completing the rhythmic section of the band. The melody flows through the walls of the garage, making Yangyang smile in joy, because only now does he truly feel in his element, when Jeno picks up another guitar and the whole make-shift symphony makes the audience cheer and yell in amazement.

When the players get tired and the song is done, Yangyang finds everyone clapping, making euphoria run through his veins. Perhaps this is what he was always destined to do– and even the slightest hint of the cheering of an audience, all because of his song, is like a gas fueling an engine, a spark that creates the fire in his soul. 

His eyes subconsciously find your figure, standing up from your seat. Your eyes light up and your lips are tugged into the brightest smile he’s ever seen on you, running up to him with much force, arms only dangling by your sides,

before you pass him and he finds himself turning around, watching you envelope Lee Jeno in a fierce embrace.

“That was so good! You did so well, oh my god!” you cheer.

The euphoria fades. Yangyang’s smile drops only a little.

I WISH THERE WAS A SITUATION TO BE MAD AT, OR A PERSON I COULD BLAME

Sitting cross-legged at the edge of your bed, strumming your guitar softly, the sun starts setting and the orange hue makes the features of your face soften. Your room turns into a quiet abode, only filled with the sound of the guitar, mindless chords blending together beautifully as Yangyang continues playing, staring at your face.

“You know you still have to pay me if you call this a guitar lesson, right?” he says, watching you as you lay on your bed, legs pressed against the wall and your head hanging off the edge of the mattrace.

“Yeah,” you reply, “it is a lesson, just so you know.”

“You haven’t picked up the guitar the whole time I’m here,” Yangyang notes, laughing.

“I’m practising listening today,” you mumble, looking at him with eyes squinted from your teasing grin. 

“Didn’t realise I was your personal jukebox.”

“Shut up and continue serenading me, won’t you?” 

Snickering at your comment, Yangyang continues to mindlessly strum the guitar, wondering how and when exactly he got into this situation. A few weeks ago, he didn’t even know about your existence, and now, he’s locked up with you in your bedroom multiple times a week, giving you guitar lessons and sharing small-talk with you when you invite him for dinner to your parents’ kitchen and feed him dry cereal instead.

He’s not confident enough to sing in front of you just yet, but humming the lyrics in his brain is enough for him in this situation, for they fit the whole scenery with a 100% accuracy; I think I've lost my mind/ blurring the fact and the fiction/whilst simultaneously fixing/myself up with a girl named Panadol.

“Have you ever written a song?” you ask suddenly, not once initiating eye contact with him as your head is still hung down the edge of the bed.

“Not really,” he replies, but if the two of us continue meeting this often, I might start, he thinks. “You?”

Humming, you take a few seconds before you reply to him. “I have.”

Your words surprise him, making him halt in his movements. “No shit,” he blurts out in awe, “show me!”

Awkwardly laughing to yourself, you finally plop yourself up on the bed and sit opposite of him, shaking your head in disapproval. “No. Not a chance.”

“Come on!” he insists. “You can’t expect me to not be curious about it, now that you mentioned it.”

“We don’t know each other well enough for me to show it to you,” you mumble, “not even Aeri knows about it.”

“We meet up multiple times a week, and since I’m your trusted guitar teacher, I think I deserve to hear your music progress,” Yangyang pouts, trying very desperately to get you to show him what you’ve written. 

“There’s no use in trying, you won’t convince me,” you laugh, set on your decision.

“What do I gotta do, then?” he snickers. “Play 21 questions with you?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “maybe I’ll show you after that.”

Knowing damn well that you won’t– because Yangyang knows that it’s not as easy to show someone you don’t know that well something that you treasure so close to your heart– he nods and sets the guitar aside, getting ready to play the stupid game with you, just so he can finally know more about you. Sure, he might just learn some trivia about you; things that barely matter in the bigger picture that is life, but he will get anything he can, because you’re basically his biggest interest in life at the moment, right behind music.

“Okay,” you nudge him with your foot, “shoot.”

“Why do I always gotta start?” he gasps, a little offended.

“Because!”

“Okay, alright,” he rolls his eyes, “what’s your favourite colour?”

Sighing at his generic question, you shrug and point towards your torso, hugged in a grey hoodie. Realising it’s the same one you were wearing when you two first met, Yangyang smiles a little, but resolves into teasing you again. “That’s not a colour, that’s a shade.”

“Don’t disagree with me,” you snap back, furrowing your brows. “It’s a colour.”

“It’s a shade of black, actually, so it can’t be your favourite colour-”

“Fuck, okay,” you roll your eyes at him again, irritated, “fine. When did you start playing the guitar?” you ask, changing the subject.

Searching through his mind for an answer, Yangyang hums, lost in thought. “I think I was like eleven, or something?” he says, sounding more unsure than in his final exams, when he forgot what the topic was about. 

“Eleven?” 

“Yeah. My mum got me my first guitar for my eleventh birthday. I kind of sucked, but I enjoyed it anyway,” he says, smiling to himself.

“When did you first want to be in a band?” you ask again.

“If you ask now, that means you’ve wasted another one of your questions and I can go twice in the row next time-”

“Just answer the damn question, Yang!” you curse at him, playfully hitting his knee.

“Jeez, alright,” he mutters, “chill out.”

“I can’t chill out if you take the rules of 21 questions this literally!” 

“Okay, okay!” he puts his hands up in a defending motion, grinning at the annoyance in your face. Something about pushing you over the edge, making you completely annoyed with his antics, makes a spark of joy illuminate his insides. It’s like he’s doing his job right– getting on your nerves, but still being the tiniest bit endearing with it. “It’s actually kind of funny, you know.”

“Is it?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, “I was in surgery when I was like… nine? Maybe ten, I’m not entirely sure. And when I was in a coma, I had this dream where I was on the stage performing my most favourite song, and I had the best time ever. So that’s kind of when I decided that this is what I wanna do when I grow up.”

Looking at him with endearance, you laugh at his story. The noise makes Yangyang feel like he’s on cloud 9 again, the state of euphoria you bring him into once again swimming through his veins like he’s on drugs. 

“No way!” you giggle.

“I’m serious!” 

Laying on the bed, getting more and more comfortable in his presence, you plop your feet into Yangyang’s lap and rest your head in your crossed hands. The sight of you like this, making physical contact with him, comfy and snuggled up in the blanket, Yangyang almost makes his imagination run too far. It almost feels like he’s in your personal space, the only person you let in, it’s like he’s your boyfriend, sitting in your room and chatting about everything and nothing at all at the same time, just enjoying your time together.

“Your turn now,” you say,  waiting for his question.

Humming in response, he carelessly rests his hands on your ankles, finding their place there as if they were made to be there from the very start. “What is your song about?” 

“Yangyang.”

“What? I didn’t ask you to sing it to me, or to show it to me. I’m simply just asking about it, that’s different,” he explains, a voice of a know-it-all that always got on everyone’s nerves.

“Still! Can’t you ask something else, then? I’ll answer everything, but that.”

“Okay. What’s the name of the song?” he asks, grinning teasingly.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re not playing anymore-”

“Fine!” he stops you, tugging you back to your place by your ankles when you dare to move away, as if you wanted to escape him altogether. “I have another one.”

“I swear to god that if you mention my song again, I will physically-”

“When did you start liking Lee Jeno?” he asks.

Your voice cuts out, the whole moment freezes. He feels like he’s in a youtube video, put on pause, stood in the same motion, holding the same expression. In reality, he’s trying to stay stone cold, expression stale, so you don’t realise just how much he cares about your feelings towards the boy. 

You’re shocked, he can see it in your face. Maybe no one’s ever noticed before. Maybe he’s the first one; but the truth is, it’s not that difficult to see when you get so cheerful whenever he’s around, subtly touching him and sending compliments and light-hearted teasing his way whenever you get the chance. 

Or maybe it’s not that obvious at all. Maybe Liu Yangyang just pays too much attention to who’s the object of your interest.

Strange, isn’t it?

PILLOWS PRESSED UNDER YOUR KNEES

Grinning to himself, playing the last few notes of the song Jeno and his friends wrote a few months ago, Yangyang finds you sitting at the old couch in front of him, your phone pointed towards the little show. The video of him playing the guitar will soon hit your Instagram stories, and Yangyang will widely grin as he realises it’s him that you’re showing to the whole world on your social media, and not Lee Jeno, as one would expect.

Once the song is done and over, you clap with much excitement and Yangyang smiles at you. The band practice is now over and he moves to the guitar case he left next to you on the floor, hiding his guitar in it so it doesn’t get damaged.

“That was good,” Jeno says, sitting at the armchair in the far right of the garage, getting out a pack of cigarettes from somewhere and lighting one between his lips, “we’re gonna rock that show. It’s good you got the songs so fast, Yangyang, or else we would be fucked.”

“I’m a professional,” he shrugs with a grin, earning himself a laugh from Chenle. 

Sitting on the couch next to you, he finds himself enveloped in a weird sense of euphoria and excitement. In a week, he’ll be playing his first ever concert– Jeno said not a lot of people will attend, since they’re not known as much in the town, but it’s still something. A first step towards something, if you will. And Yangyang is happy with taking things slow this time around. Sure, he’d be happier if the band wasn’t called Chucky Tribute, and yes, admittedly, he’d be glad if the songs he played were his and the lyrics were more thought-out and not as surface-level as they are, but he’s happy with what he’s got. Better than nothing, right?

“I better head home soon,” Yangyang mumbles, standing up from his spot on the orange couch. Being around all those people without Renjun still feels kind of awkward, but he concludes that he can work on it some other day. 

“We’ll just pack our things and go as well,” Hendery nods, “this was a good one, guys!”

“Man, I would do anything for a spicy McChicken right now,” you mutter, looking around at Jeno, “wanna order and watch Netflix?” you ask him, the question feeling like a knife in Yangyang’s back. 

The thing is, you two established that Jeno is the guy you like a few weeks ago, back in your room. Yangyang promised to himself that he’ll try to get over you, but it’s not as easy as it seems when you’re everywhere he goes; your presence is enough to make him like you even more and more, and that’s a fact that feels more like a curse than a blessing.

“Nah, I’m not really feeling it today,” Jeno mutters, not even meeting your eyes as he scrolls through his phone and takes another drag of his cigarette, letting the ash fall to the dirty floor.

“Oh,” you say, the hint of disappointment in your voice is too noticeable, breaking Yangyang’s heart a little. He wonders how Jeno could be so blind, and mentally curses at him for turning you down, because god knows that if he was in his place, he’d never say no to you. “ I- I better go as well, then…”

Paying your goodbyes to the rest of the band, Yangyang finds himself outside of Lee Jeno’s garage, hesitantly scratching his neck with the offer he’s about to propose. “Still up for that spicy McChicken?”

“Hm?” you hum in question, looking at him with big eyes.

“We can drive to Maccies together, if you wanna. I’m starving,” he proposes, seeing something behind your eyes shift– perhaps relief, or hope, from seeing that someone is still up for hanging out with you, even though you’ve been turned down from the object of your desire.

Kicking the rocks under your feet, you shrug. “I mean… I’m down, I guess.”

“Okay, sweet,” he nods, striding towards his little Volkswagen Golf that he got from his father when he decided to buy a new car, “let’s go.”

Your body drags itself into his white car, slumping into the passenger’s seat. The disappointment in you is still very much seen in the slouching of your shoulders and the frown that is ever-so delicately written into your face, but Yangyang makes it his quest to make you feel better. Turning the engine on and turning up the music in the radio, being quite satisfied with himself that he put the Paramore CD in before he left, he drives off Jeno’s driveway and strolls through the city, into the McDonald’s at the edge of the town. The one in the centre is closer, but that one doesn’t have a parking lot– that’s why he’s opting for the safer choice. 

When he finally gets there and parks in one of the vacant parking spots with much struggle, to be fair, since this was the part where he almost didn’t make his driving test when he was getting his licence, you follow him outside of the car, a little more stride in your step than before. When you get into the McDonald’s and find your place in the line of people wanting to order, Yangyang’s body situates itself right behind you, looking through the menu. He usually gets the chicken wrap, but just to be fancy, he will get it with fries and a coke today as well.

“One spicy McChicken,” you order, smiling at the cashier behind the pult. 

“Coming right at you. Anything else?” 

“No-”

“And one chicken wrap with fries. And two cokes, please,” Yangyang orders, catching a glimpse of your confused expression, “it’s on me,” he mentions, seeing you roll your eyes.

“You know, in any other circumstance, I don’t let men pay for me,” you say, “but I also could not care less today, so go ahead. I’ll pay next time,” you promise, seeing him get his card out and paying for your meal. 

Once the order is ready and you two take a seat in one of the ugly red booths in the corner of the room, you unwrap your burger and get right to it. Yangyang watches you with undeniable adoration. Everything about you is full of amazement for him– the way you manage to not get the sauce all over your face, the way you don’t bat an eye over the spice in the burger. He studies your face, grateful that you don’t look at him, but rather watch the world behind the window, making him not caught. 

“Want some fries?” he asks, offering you the pack and glancing at you. Turning your head to him, you sigh.

“I really wanna get over him, you know,” you start, putting the burger down and pulling at your hair in frustration, “I hate that I’m still so caught up with him. I despise it. But he’s so sweet, and he’s so charming, and I’ve known him since forever! It’s just so hard to let go of him, but I know that I should, because none of this is good for me in the first place…”

“I mean… that’s not what I was asking, but go ahead,” Yangyang mumbles, seeing you crumble in front of him, all frustrated and heartbroken because of his bandmate. 

“It would be easier for me to move on if he was a complete dick, you know,” you mutter, pouting a little from the sadness in your heart. The expression is kind of adorable in Yangyang’s eyes, but a little heartbreaking nonetheless, for he knows the frown is genuine and there’s nothing he can really do about it.

“Give it some time, Y/N,” Yangyang finds himself saying, “time heals everything. Don’t push yourself into anything, because that’s only gonna make you feel worse in the long run. Let yourself feel things, you know,” he shrugs, seeing you watching him with eyes big, resembling pools full of emotion he’s not even going to try to decipher.

Taking a bite from your burger, you smile at him with a full mouth, an expression that would look disgusting coming from anyone else, but you. “Wow,” you say, “didn’t think I’d get actual, useful advice from you, you know.”

Gasping, Yangyang acts hurt. “So you’re saying my advice is useless? Haven't heard you saying that when I teach you the guitar.”

“We could argue and say that that’s not really advice,” you grin, kicking his leg under the table, “but no, I’m serious. Thanks. I guess I really needed to hear that right now.”

Smiling at you, grateful that he was able to help you at least a bit, Yangyang offers you the fries again, watching you take one and plop it into your mouth. “I’m glad you understand me, though. Aeri doesn’t help much, since every time I talk about Jeno, she keeps bad-mouthing him and telling me how I’m blind if I like him that much. You should have heard her what she said when she found out that we-”

Raising his eyebrows at you in question, Yangyang hums. “You?”

“We…” you nervously laugh, trailing off.

“You what?” 

“I- well… Promise not to tell anyone? I wouldn’t be telling you this at all, but I already started and you seem like a person that I can trust with this, but please, swear to god that this will stay between you and I only,” you say, quite sincerely, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” he nods, “what is it, then?”

“We… me and Jeno hooked up once,” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek, eyes drifting away from Yangyang’s, “it… it was a while ago, after one of their shows back in July, and I thought it was getting somewhere after that, but Jeno… Jeno didn’t really seem like he wanted something more, so I just never talked about it with him after that.”

Blinking a few times at you, feeling like someone’s just suddenly unplugged his brain, leaving him with no power to gather his thoughts, he stays silent, trying to process everything. His blood goes cold and the food in his mouth suddenly tastes like dirt, his mood dropping instantly, for Lee Jeno had more of you than Yangyang ever will, and all of that while not caring for you near as much as he does.

“Don’t judge me,” you say, awkwardly laughing to yourself.

“I’m not judging.”

“Yes, you are, I can see it on your face!” 

“I’m not judging!” he insists, finishing the last bite of his chicken wrap. 

“What is it, then?” you push him, stomping your feet under your table. “Your face changed. You’re judging.”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” he blurts out, “not you, though.”

Looking at Yangyang for a few seconds, your eyes soften. Pulling your lips into a tight line, an expression only vaguely reminding him of a smile, you nod and sigh in understatement. 

“Yeah. That’s why I’m getting over him.”

I DREAM OF YOU ALMOST EVERY NIGHT, HOPEFULLY, I WON’T WAKE UP THIS TIME

The drums ring all the way from his feet towards his heart, making it bump quicker and quicker as the rhythm changes and Hendery starts playing the opening melody of their last song of the night. Yangyang scans the crowd once more, trying to engrave it into his brain forever, trying to remember all the faces and all of their expressions, their outfits and haircuts, their lively smiles and cheers coming out of their mouths at each song they perform. This is the first time Yangyang is playing for a crowd that seems to be enjoying itself– he never knew that Chucky Tribute could have this many fans.

According to Chenle and Renjun, Jeno is kind of a big deal at their local university. He can only imagine that half of the crowd are his admirers; each girl in a prettier outfit than the other, screaming louder than the other in a non-spoken competition over his heart. 

The view of the crowd enjoying the music is a lovely one, for sure. But when Yangyang’s eyes finally land to the very middle of the crowd, the spot he was saving for last, he realises that the sight of you in the crowd, holding your hands high as you jump around to the familiar songs, occasionally taking a picture of the band or recording a short video, that this sight– the sight of you, is for sure his absolute favourite.

“Are you ready to jump? Let’s go!” Jeno cheers into the microphone, the whole crowd that is currently packed in one of the medium-sized bars in the centre of the town listening to him and doing as he pleases– going absolutely crazy, jumping around and screaming when the chorus hits and some of them recognise the lyrics. 

A doll with red hair lands on stage, thrown there by a grinning girl in the first row, making Jeno chuckle and take it from its spot on the floor. Yangyang soon realises it’s Chucky– Jeno’s most favourite fictional character, the one he named his band after. It’s kind of funny, the sight of the rockstar running around with the doll in his hands, screaming the lyrics to his song, and he almost lets out a loud laugh when the frontman gets to his new guitarist and makes the doll rest at his biceps, like a newborn baby. The crowd laughs at that, followed by a loud cheer, as they like the sight of their new guitarist and find it funny.

The sense of euphoria that comes with the last chorus is something Yangyang never knew he could feel. Lost in the music, enjoying the melody of a song he didn’t know a few weeks ago, he feels at home. He’s not good with crowds of people, for he always feels like he is watched and judged, examined by a microscope, but right now, he feels like he is in one unity with everyone present– music connects them all, no barriers left.

“Thank you so much everyone, this was Chucky Tribute! Make sure to stream our music on Spotify and Soundcloud, we’ll see you again soon!” Jeno says, moving to the edge of the podum and bowing, leaving the band to follow his lead and wave at everyone as the group leaves the stage.

Running off the stage, still grinning, Yangyang chugs some water in the backroom and once again, packs his guitar. If anyone would see him right now, they’d surely think he won a lottery or something, with how cheerful and genuinely happy the boy looks. 

“The best part of playing at bars is the thing that comes after,” Jeno laughs, making Yangyang furrow his brows in confusion.

“Now, we party,” Hendery concludes, shooting a serious look at the newbie. 

Once they’ve wiped their sweat off and drank some more water, the small group is heading towards the door to the bar. Now, Yangyang is not usually the one up for a party, but today is a special day. Of course he won’t miss out on the first afterparty with his new band. 

You find him at the entrance. Your smile mirrors his, and your eyes only leave him for a second, as Jeno passes by and you greet him with a strange sense of politeness. Once Yangyang is close enough to run towards, you envelope him in a bear hug, jumping around in excitement. He takes notice of your perfume– this is not the first time he’s smelled it, but the light aroma of roses and vanilla always manages to make him feel a strange sense of bliss. 

“You did so well! Oh my god, I’m so proud of you!” you yell encouraging words into his ear, making him jump a little from the loudness of your voice.

“Thank you!” he says, jumping around with you and squeezing you harder for a mere second. Something about you being the first one to congratulate him on the first step towards his big goal makes his heart swell, the sight of the light behind your eyes making him feel a tad emotional.

“Now let’s go party! Renjun and Jaemin are waiting at the bar,” you say as you move from him, “Jun ordered you a beer, he insisted that you liked it. If that’s not the case, blame him, not me.”

Laughing as you two disappear deeper into the bar, you quickly find the two at the bar, accompanied with Hendery, Chenle, and who he remembered was Mark, even though he’s only met him once. “Where’s Jeno?”

“Most likely somewhere with his groupies,” Renjun shrugs, sliding the beer closer to his best friend. “You did well, by the way. You looked like a rockstar,” he says, a teasing tone sent his way with a grin on the older one’s face. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up-”

“I mean it! Now, have your beer so we can get some shots,” he says, making Yangyang roll his eyes and chug the beer, although not in one go– he’s not a monster. Or an alcoholic. Yet.

Once he’s done with his drink, the group moves to one of the booths in the corner of the bar. It was full just a moment ago, but the group that was sitting there before left, so they were free to take their spot. It was more comfortable to sit on the royal-blue sofas than the tall, lanky barstools, and Yangyang was happy for the support of the cushions under his bottom, if he was about to drink more. His centre of gravity is always a little messed up once he has something to drink, so a tall barstool wouldn’t really help him in this case.

Glancing at you, sitting right next to him, you don’t seem as unhappy with Jeno’s lack of presence. It makes him feel a bit relieved, especially after the talk you two had at McDonald’s a week ago. He knows that one can’t just get over someone in a week, but the idea of you still yearning after someone who was so out of reach was making Yangyang’s head hurt, so he was happy to see that you’re not running after him, or trying to look for him in the crowded bar.

You take your phone out of your pocket, yelling over the loud music as you read out the text shining on the screen of your phone. “Hyuck should arrive here any minute! He says he’s sorry for missing the gig, but he had to watch his baby sister, so there was nothing he could do.”

“It’s okay!” Chenle yells back, taking another sip of one of the cocktails you ordered for him when he was still in the back. He complained about it looking too girly for his current look, but he liked the taste nonetheless, so the argument was quickly settled.

“Yeah!” Yangyang chimes in, “family comes first. And babysitting,” he adds.

“Wait! Didn’t you use to babysit too?” Jaemin asks over the music, pointing his eyes at Yangyang.

“He did!” Renjun agrees with a laugh.

“But they kicked him out because the girl he was babysitting learned the word fuck from him,” you add, laughing as you remember the story he told you once when he was over at your flat.

“That’s not why they fired me-”

“It was! You told me!”

“It really wasn’t, you’re just-”

“Listen. We all know that’s why, every other word that comes out of your mouth is a swear word,” you say, grinning at him as he gets worked up over the small argument.

“I don’t fucking swear-” he tries to argue, when it hits him. He… he just did. Right there.

“Anyways!” Jaemin chimes in to lighten the mood, “I believe it’s time for shots!”

“I-”

“No, Hendery, you can’t skip this round and no, we don’t care that sambuca makes you sick. Now, let’s get to it, lads!” 

The shot glasses with the clear liquid are distributed amongst everyone in the circle, all of them taking the shot. Once the glass is pressed against Yangyang’s lips, he catches a telling look from Renjun on the opposite side of the table; a one that asks what is going on between you and the girl you were too shy to talk to when you first met her, but he ignores it and just lets the sambuca shot hit his throat, swallowing. No one is brave enough to not make that disgusted face after taking a shot, but at least no one gets made fun of. Just yet. 

With Yangyang’s low alcohol tolerance, he can sense that the teasing is only yet to come.

More and more shots in, he can feel his head spinning and all jokes shared along the group get only funnier. Somewhere along the way, Hyuck arrives, squishing himself next to Mark at the edge of the seat, greeting everyone and congratulating Yangyang on his first ever gig. When there’s a promise to drink to that with him, Yangyang is suddenly tugged by his hand, making him almost fall over as you try to make him stand up from his place.

“No, pretty boy, you’ve had enough for now,” you say, “let’s dance it out, shall we?”

“Probably not the best idea, Y/N,” Renjun notes from the other side of the table.

“We’ll be fine.”

“No, you don’t understand, like, he will fall over. It will happen,” Renjun explains once more, the sureness in his voice not making you even bat an eye.

Yangyang doesn’t even try to advocate himself. There’s no use– Renjun is most likely right, and he will fall over. But he also doesn’t really pay attention to the conversation you’re having anyway, when your hand is still in his, fingers intertwined, and the nickname you used for him, although a little mockingly, is still ringing in his head.

Dragged across the dance floor, you two find your place in the corner, where there’s not that many people around. It’s getting late and the bar is only getting more crowded, leading towards the rush of the night, but Yangyang doesn’t find himself minding as you hug him loosely around his neck and swing with him to the music playing through the speakers.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking at him with honest concern.

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Do you feel sick? Do you want water?” you ask him questions, all caring and making his heart swell. No one’s ever made sure he was okay when drinking before, so the sight of the frown on your face is making him feel content in your hold, as he dances with you– although not really catching the rhythm, since balance is the thing he’s trying to catch at this very moment. 

“I’m fine,” he says, smiling at you, “just a little drunk.”

“I can see that,” you laugh, “are you having a good time?”

He nods. “Are you?”

“I am,” you agree, smiling at him.

Yangyang finds himself pressed closer to you, but it really might just be because of the alcohol, when he talks closer to your ear. He doesn’t have to yell as much this way, and he finds it more comfortable, considering that he would still like to have his voice when he wakes up in the morning.

“Thanks,” he says.

“For what?”

“For… watching me play, I guess,” he shrugs, “and for staying here after.”

“I think you’re forgetting that all those other people are my friends as well, Yang,” you tease him, the tone of your voice making him shake his head in disbelief and roll his eyes at you.

“Okay, well, that’s true. But… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I do. I just don’t know how to articulate myself.”

You laugh at the simple honesty behind his drunken slurs, finding the tired boy endearing. “It’s okay,” you don’t push him.

“It’s just… if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here tonight, that’s all,” he says, finally, not knowing that he secretly articulated everything he wanted and more, making you smile at him. 

One of the hands that was previously clasped with your other one around his neck moves up towards his face, brushing the hair that’s falling into his eyes out of his face. The boy watches you with big eyes, mouth a little agape in shock. This action feels intimate to him, only treasured between you two, tugged secretly in the corner of the club. He feels weak in his knees, and although he manages to hold himself up, he knows that it’s no longer the effect that alcohol has on him, but yours.

“Don’t thank me. You were made for this,” you say, “you shined out there, you know? Give it a few more gigs and you’ll have even more groupies than Jeno,” you giggle, pressing your forehead against his for a brief second, just to be close to him, allowing yourself to be sincere even in the loud atmosphere of the night.

Swallowing hard, Yangyang chuckles airly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “You should probably stop looking at me like that.”

“What? Why?” you ask, confused.

“Because it’s making it really hard for me to act like I don’t like you,” he confesses, watching your expression shift– the wrinkle between your eyebrows appearing for a second before your palm moves away from his hair and briefly touches his cheek and you move away from him, shaking your head.

“You’re drunk, Yang.”

He is. But even being sober can’t make his feelings for you go away.

“Yeah. I am.”

KISS ME LIKE NOBODY WOULD WHEN I WAS SIXTEEN

When you and Yangyang meet, it’s usually either at your place, in your little room covered by posters and artwork, or in town with all your other friends; going to the skate park, or having boba at the local mall. You rarely have time for just each other alone, and the only times when Yangyang has you all for himself is in your quiet room, where you learn to play the guitar, and he stares at you with fondness when he casually plays you love songs just for the sake of playing something, not wanting you to see the intentions behind his song choices.

Today, though, you’re nestled at Yangyang’s place– at his little balcony, to be exact. His parents were going out to the theatre, they said, so you only met them briefly, but Yangyang is glad for that fact, because he’s almost certain they’d embarrass him in front of you with childhood stories or prying questions, assuming you two were together, and he’s not entirely ready to face that yet. 

Alone in the whole house, you tucked yourselves into the small space of the balcony, sat at the floor with pillows under your bottoms, looking out to the hills. Yangyang used to complain to his parents about the placement of the balcony– when he was little, he didn’t understand why someone would want to look outside and see nature, only metres and metres covered in tall trees, when they could look out and see the busy street, people living their lives, laughing and screaming in joy. The older he gets, though, the more he understands why this is so much better; the sight of nature calms him down, creating the balcony into a humble abode, a relaxing spot for him to watch the trees move with the wind. If he’s lucky, sometimes, he can even spot a stray deer, looking out of the forest, tasting the city on its tongue. He subliminaly tells it to come back where it came from, for it’s safer for the animal to be kept in the woods, but he feels like the sight of it makes him appreciate what he has even more.

It’s early November, the leaves of the trees in front of you are starting to turn all the pretty colours of the rainbow, orange hues making the place look ethereally beautiful. You sit next to him, legs crossed, your outfit the most casual he’s ever seen you wear. The sight of sweatpants and the loose hoodie on your frame makes him unconditionally happy, for it means that you’re comfortable with him to the point of not even needing to dress up. 

“Why is your guitar so different to mine?” you ask him, furrowing your brows in question.

“Mine’s an acoustic, yours is the classical one. The strings are different,” he notes, seeing you nod in understatement.

Your guitar lessons are not as frequent as they used to be– truth be told, you only paid for an actual lesson a few times. The other times, when you two just laid in your bed and talked about everything, only sometimes taking your guitar into your hands and playing a song or two, Yangyang refused to take any money from you. It would be like paying him for hanging out with you, and that’s not the case here. Sure, he helps you with playing, he shares advice, but it’s not the regular guitar class he gives to the kids in the neighbourhood, and that’s why he’d feel bad to make you pay for them. 

“They hurt my fingers,” you scowl, making Yangyang giggle at your hurt expression.

“They’re harder to play, ‘cause they’re steel,” he says, “want me to play instead?” 

“No,” you say, shaking your head, “I wanna show you something.”

Opening his eyes wide in surprise, Yangyang only nods, becoming you to start. When you came over into your room, you didn’t say much. Your eyes travelled around the walls, adoring the few posters he hung up above his bed, squinting at the collection of energy drink cans at the top of his wardrobe. There’s a bowl full of guitar picks on his table, which you scanned over faintly, and a hoodie, the only thing he forgot to clean up before you arrived, draped over his chair. When your eyes found one of his guitars– the acoustic one– in the corner of his room, you asked to borrow it, taking him by surprise.

Strumming the guitar a few times, testing it, trying to get to the rhythm and the sound of the new thing, you clear your throat and look at him again one last time before you start. “I practised some more, since your guitar lessons are pretty much useless now, when you won’t shut up for one minute-”

“That’s entirely your fault!”

“Whatever,” you mumble, “but, basically, I think I finally learned that song.”

Smiling faintly, perhaps a little nervously, you start playing the song you requested him to teach you in your first guitar lesson. The chords fall smoothly from your hand now, the strumming rhythmical and exactly like the original, everything falling into its place nicely.

You even start singing, and although your voice is not the prettiest one when you sing, the notes sounding flat and the high-notes a little shaky, although your voice isn’t like from the movies and you’re not a princess that’s good at everything, something about this moment feels truly special to Yangyang. When you notice the seriousness of the whole thing, his examining eyes and the lost expression, your singing turns more silly, purposefully not hitting the right notes towards the end of the song, dragging the lines for longer than you should, making Yangyang laugh.

He thinks that perhaps, he’ll remember this moment forever. When he’s old and the memory of you fades, his brain no longer able to make out the sound of your voice, he’ll go back to this day, to the strumming of the guitar, and he’ll have you back, for at least a second. He’ll remember the way your hair reflected in the golden hour, he’ll remember the sound of your voice when you sang the chorus of the song, he’ll remember the way you smiled at him after, a little proud, but still shy, and he’ll feel the same things he does today, looking at you in real time.

“How was it?” you ask, a hopeful glint in your tone.

“Wonderful,” he replies, and he means it– it’s an easy song to learn, sure, but he knows how much you’ve tried, how much work you truly put in. To work on something so hard and finally get to the goal, must feel fulfilling. He’s proud of you, in a way.

The grin that appears on your face is wider than he’d ever seen, as you put the guitar down next to you and try to battle it, as if you were afraid to show him just how much this moment meant to you.

“Thank you.”

“For what? This was all you, as you said, because I can’t shut up for one minute in our guitar lessons, so…”

“Fuck off, you know I was only joking,” you say, “we both know that I wouldn’t have done this without you. It’s a small victory, but it’s still important to me nonetheless.”

Your body shifts closer to him, a hesitant look on your face flashing for a second before you wipe it off and hug your companion from the side, both of your hands enveloping around his torso. Warmness spreads all through Yangyang’s body, making him wonder that perhaps, it’s the appreciation you are trying to convey, sending it to him through your touch. Your head rests on his shoulder, staying in your position for a few more minutes, just listening to the silence that’s only occasionally ruined by the chirping of birds or the shuffling of the wind in the trees.

Yangyang doesn’t dare to break the silence. He only lets you do as you please, when you pry your hands off him and move so you’re more comfortable, with your head still resting on his shoulder. It’s a simple act, but it means a lot to him– a subtle hint of affection, perhaps, which he treasures close to his heart.

Your hand silently finds his, resting in his lap. Taking it into your hold and playing with his fingers, Yangyang finds it hard to not think about just how much he’d like to kiss you right now. The smell of your shampoo mixed with the hint of your perfume hits his nose, lullying him to sleep. 

A little naive, perhaps, he thinks of the paradox– you started playing the guitar for someone you were chasing after, and proceeded with it for someone that was chasing after you. 

Or maybe, it was all because of yourself. You just needed someone that would support your little dreams. And with the dreams treasured somewhere deep in Yangyang’s insides, some that no one else but you knows, perhaps you two are a great duo. Nobody else would hold you up just as much as he does.

SO SPIN THE BOTTLE IN YOUR BRAIN AND MATCH THE WEAKNESS WITH A NAME

“If I knew that you’d just be doing your homework, I wouldn’t have come,” Yangyang mumbles as he lays on your bed, looking at his phone. His screen shifts with Tiktoks– the social media is almost embarrassingly too addictive for him not to check up on it once in a while, and now, when he has nothing better to do, he naturally gravitates towards it. 

Also, just for the record, that’s a lie. And he knows it– he just won’t admit it. Of course he would come anyway. Even if you told him that today’s activity is staring at the ceiling for three hours straight, he’d come. He’d come for any event you invite him to, because it means that he can spend time with you, stay in your presence. And that’s enough for him.

“Shut up,” you mumble, “I already pushed this assignment back too much, because you wanted to go get boba the other day.”

“So it’s my fault you’re late on assignments?” he gasps, offended, as he puts his phone down to put his whole attention towards you. 

“Yeah,” you nod, a little absently, “of course it is. You were distracting me from my studies.”

Scoffing, Yangyang shakes his head in disbelief. Truth be told, he’s happy to be your distraction. That means you gravitate towards him whenever you need to get your mind off things– that means he’s your safe space, in a way. The realisation warms his heart a little as he proceeds to climb off your bed, joining you on the floor.

You’re sprawled out on your white fluffy carpet, with a plastic white tablecloth thrown over the surface, a canvas plopped in the middle of it all, tubs of acrylic paint carelessly situated all over the floor. As an art major, your homework is different to the usual. You don’t write lengthy essays, although the time for them comes every once in a while when you take your Art History class. Your assignments mostly include doing art itself, not only studying it, but experiencing the beauty of creating on your own skin.

“What are you painting?” he asks, eyes scanning the canvas. 

It’s not a big one, it’s just the right size to fit on the plastic covering under it, making sure your pure white carpet doesn’t get paint stains on it. He notices the brushes all over the place– one is even thrown under the bed, making Yangyang chuckle as he remembers your sudden outburst of frustration a few minutes ago, huffing through the silence and throwing something to the other side of the room. 

“Don’t look. I hate when people look.”

“Why?” he asks, confused.

“It makes me feel watched. I don’t like it,” you mourn, stopping in your process and finding his eyes for a split second, truth mirroring in them.

“I’m not watching you,” he mutters, “I’m just looking. I’m appreciating the art, if you will.”

“You’re gonna judge it. I hate when people judge my art,” you say as you get back to painting, mixing the shades on your pallet and then moving back to the canvas, plopping them on there, creating all sorts of images in the small space, “it makes me wanna cry when they say it’s bad.”

“Isn’t that like… the whole point of art school?” he asks, confused.

“Yeah. Exactly,” you nod, making the boy hum in understatement. “Makes me feel fucking miserable, to be honest.”

Yangyang chuckles. The room falls into silence again, as you let him watch you paint. He feels special, for you said you don’t let people watch you, but even with his eyes plastered on the whole scene– your art, but mostly you, scanning your focused face– you don’t glare at him, you don’t curse him off, you just let him peacefully sit next to you, appreciating you.

After a while, you start to hum a song, seemingly happy with your progress on the painting. Your eyebrows relax and your face doesn’t look as tense, and when Yangyang takes a look at your painting, it seems like you’re almost finished; not a blank space left on the canvas, your hand taking the smallest, tiniest brushes, adding small details to the whole thing.

“What did you paint?” he asks again, making you chuckle.

“Don’t you have eyes?” you ask, making him roll his eyes at your question.

“I do,” he replies, “but I wanna know what it symbolises, you know. Like.. What was the theme you were supposed to paint and shit, that’s what I’m interested in.”

Your eyes meet his for a brief second, smiling. Perhaps no one’s ever asked you about your art in such depth before. “It’s a William Oliver replica. It’s a scene from Much Ado about Nothing,” you say, finally done with your piece, stretching back to straighten your neck.

The painting is a beautiful scenery, Yangyang would even go as far as saying it looks like the original, although he’s never seen it before. It’s a picture of two women sitting on a bench in the woods, one of them looking past her shoulder at a couple walking by, her expression distraught. He wonders why you chose the piece, but before he has time to ask, you’re already giving him the reply.

“We were supposed to replicate a painting that resembles one of our deepest emotions and… I chose this one,” you add, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Taking one last look at the saddened woman, her expression dark and solemn with the sight of the couple passing by, Yangyang suddenly understands it all, he no longer has the need to ask you what the deepest emotion you have is, because it’s clear as day, right there in front of him, served on a golden plate.

And you might try to mask it, try to hide it from him as hard as you can; perhaps that’s why you haven’t told him the original name of the painting, after all, but he can see it in your eyes, he can sense it in the way you speak about him when he comes to your mind. 

Perhaps Yangyang understands your art so well because he deeply resonates. He too feels the way you do, he too looks at a pair passing by, the sight of them together making his heart clench with the feeling you can only describe as Unrequited Love.

I CAN STILL SMELL HER PERFUME, DID IT RUB OFF ON YOU?

“And…” Jeno’s singing suddenly trails off, his eyes shooting towards the ceiling as he searches for the next lyrics in his head, sighing when they don’t come to him as naturally as they always do. The band practice isn’t going well today, and frankly speaking, it’s getting on everyone’s nerves.

Hendery slams the drums with much furiosity, cutting the rhythm off abruptly. Yangyang finds himself following him, his strumming coming to a halt as an angry figure appears from behind him, screaming close to his ear.

“What the fuck, man?” Chenle yells at the leader of the band, sighing. “We have a gig in three days and you can’t even focus on a single band practice?” 

Jeno shrugs, pacing around. The frustration smeared all over his face is enough to make the whole group even more annoyed, the tense atmosphere making the air in the old garage feel particularly heavy. 

“You come to the practice late,” Chenle starts his little rant again, counting all the reasons why he’s annoyed with his bandmate on his fingers, “and mind you, the practice is at your fucking place. You live here and you’re half an hour late. Then, you’re all over the place; not paying attention to anything we have to say, forgetting the lyrics, playing the chords wrong in the few little songs where you actually have to play the guitar-”

“Are you done?” Jeno cuts him off, the tone of his voice stern and cold.

“I mean, I could go on, but it seems like you don’t really wanna hear it,” Chenle says, pacing towards the sofa and taking a seat on it.

“Glad you caught that,” he scoffs, not meeting anyone’s eye. 

Yangyang doesn’t say a word; he’s not the one for verbal or physical fights. Sure, he does have some pent-up anger inside of him, most of it aimed towards Jeno, but he won’t dare to show it. It’s not his place to say anything. He hasn’t been in the band for long, and for all he knows, the frustration he feels towards the boy may as well be because of the unreciprocated feelings you have for him. And now, that wouldn’t really be fair of Yangyang to act on, would it?

So instead, he wanders over to the corner of the room, figuring that it’s time for a break, sitting on one of the old, dusty armchairs. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Hendery asks, making the other boy frown.

“I don’t know, man,” he shrugs, indifferent, “I’ve got a headache.”

“Hangover again?” Chenle asks, the tone of his voice ironical and snappy, snickering to himself when the boy doesn’t reply and instead just looks ahead of him, too shameful to answer the simple question. “Of course. I could’ve guessed that.”

“Look, it’s not my fault that you don’t take the opportunities you’re getting into your hands,” Jeno shrugs, grinning to himself. Leaning over to the small coffee table in the middle of the garage, he takes the can of Redbull into his hands and takes a sip from it.

“What opportunities, you say?” Hendery asks.

“Well,” he starts, “the parties, the invitations, the attention…” he trails off, before a snarky look falls to place onto his face, “the girls…”

Chenle scoffs in response, putting his legs up onto the table. “Maybe if you gave more attention to responsibilities, the music and the band, we wouldn’t be still stuck in this fucking garage,” he shrugs and Hendery only hesitantly locks his eyes with him, nodding to show him that he agrees with his point.

“Well, it’s still my fucking garage, isn’t it?” Jeno grins, meeting the others’ eyes. 

After another set of sighs, nothing being able to loosen up the atmosphere and make the air lighter, Hendery moves from his spot on the sofa and takes the bag from the floor. “You should probably get some sleep. We’ll practise tomorrow, since you’re pretty much useless today.”

Chenle follows his actions, feet pacing around the garage to gather his things and hide his treasured bass guitar into the case, taking it with him. “See you tomorrow,” he says, turning around to wave at Yangyang, still sitting soundly in the corner of the garage.

With only the two of them left in the dusty practice room, Yangyang feels himself get awkward. The truth is, it’s easier to get on with Hendery and Chenle. He finds them to be more approachable, less intimidating and also more friendly. Yangyang doesn’t recall ever hearing Jeno speak to him with the niceness they always use, and he also doesn’t remember the prideful boy to ever look at him with eyes that would show that he finds him equal. Something about their relationship is always based on a feeling of superiority and however hard Yangyang tries, there’s nothing he can do to make the feeling go away.

Figuring that it’s his time to leave, he stands up and moves towards the sofa, where his bag is. 

“I hope you’re in better shape tomorrow,” he mutters, getting closer to where Jeno’s sitting.

“What, you’re gonna give me another lecture? I’ve heard enough, trust me,” he snaps back, making Yangyang furrow his brows in confusion and shock, sighing to himself. Leaning closer towards his bag on the sofa, something lingers in the air, and it’s not the awkwardness or the unsaid rivalry between the two.

It’s the smell of roses and vanilla, the faint aroma of it hitting his nose and making his stomach twist in anger. Suddenly, everything clicks into place– the hangover, him being late and all over the place, the smell of your perfume lingering on him wherever he goes.

“Were you with Y/N?” he asks.

“What?” he furrows his brows, pointing them onto the other boy as he scoffs. “You’re jealous?”

“Jealous?” 

“Yeah. Because I can get her whenever I want, and you can’t?” he says, cocky and full of confidence. “Don’t worry, I caught the way you feel about her long ago. Too bad she’ll never be yours, man.”

Gathering his things, hands trembling and his whole body lighting on fire, he finds himself walking off towards the exit. Turning around only once, he finally gets out what he’s been thinking of for the past few weeks. 

“You know what? Fuck you, Jeno. You can look for a new guitarist for your next gig now. I hope you find someone that doesn’t find you absolutely fucking insufferable.”

You might be completely his, magically under the rockstar’s spell, but the truth is, sadly, that Lee Jeno can never be truly yours. You’re always gonna have to share him with every single girl at the club, with all his crazy fans that post about him on Facebook. You’re always just gonna be his second choice, the girl he turns to when no one else is around, the girl he uses for his pleasure when there’s no other person willing to get on with him.

And that makes Yangyang perhaps even more furious than if you were dating. 

This might be his deepest dream, the thing he’s felt the most happy and excited about in a long while, but still, he can’t find it in him to continue in a band with someone that only finds you when they feel like it, stripping you off of everything, using you to their best and then throwing you out like a piece of trash, not satisfied with you anymore.

He could never go on with someone like that.

IT’S 3:45, THE TAXI’S NOT ARRIVED, I DON’T THINK THAT HE’S COMING

The rain hitting the asphalt does nothing to make Yangyang feel better about everything– truthfully, it makes him feel even worse, as expected with the gloomy weather, as he walks down the street towards the bus stop at the edge of the neighbourhood, the one that is the furthest away from his house, away in the crevices of the roads that he doesn’t know that well, despite living there his whole life.

It’s a little past eleven and he’s gotten your text just about ten minutes ago. The contents of it were simple, just a single sentence asking him to meet you at the bus stop at the edge of the neighbourhood, far away even from your house alone. 

You two haven’t spoken in a little over three days. After quitting the band, he’s pretty much sheltered himself from everyone. Even Renjun’s calls were getting ignored, and while the rest of the group just figured to leave the poor boy alone, his best friend made it his quest to walk down to his house and scream at him in person, for the little angry human was worried that his friend was six feet under a long time ago.

Nearing the little glass box, acting as a bus stop, Yangyang already sees your figure sitting at one of the benches, knees up and pressed towards your chest, hugging yourself. The sight of you makes Yangyang’s heart break just the slightest, for he already knows what’s going on just by reading your text message. It would be healthier for him to stay at home and leave you to deal with everything on your own, but he was never the one for good life choices. Somehow, he always has to fuck himself over. His own sweet self-sabotage.

Drenched in rain, droplets of water falling off the tip of his nose, he finally makes his way towards you and sits on the bench next to you. Sniffling a little, presumably from the cold, he waits for you to talk first. It’s hard for him to find words to say to you at this moment. No conflict happened between the two of you, but he’s sure you already know about what happened between him and Jeno, and he doesn’t have it in him to talk about it. He doesn’t know what you think about the whole thing; he also doesn’t know how Jeno explained it to everyone. All he knows is that the uncomfort he felt whenever he was around him is not something he should be putting up with, and that the decision he made was final, and also good for him, in the end.

“Why didn’t you take an umbrella with you?” you ask him, your voice faint in the silence of the night.

Shrugging, he snickers. “Dunno.”

The truth is, Yangyang doesn’t like umbrellas. Walking anywhere with them feels awkward and embarrassing, and he’d rather die than to feel humiliated. It’s a habit of his, to walk everywhere without an umbrella, even when it’s storming outside. The struggle of getting his wet clothes off before he hops into a hot shower is not really worth it, if he really thinks about it, but old habits are hard to break.

Taking the hood off his head, Yangyang runs his hands through his hair, shaking the water out. You lean away from him for just a second, trying to shield yourself from the droplets of water flying everywhere, but there’s no use– you end up getting a little wet anyway.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he finally breaks off the awkward silence. “There are no buses coming at this hour.”

You nod. “I know.”

“So… why are you here, then?” he asks. 

Shrugging, you sniffle from the cold as well, making Yangyang notice the lightness of your clothes. The fabric looks thin, the mesh long-sleeve doing nothing to shield you from the cold, and he suddenly regrets not bringing another jacket with him to keep you warm. 

“You already know why, Yangyang,” you mumble, “you already know.”

“What happened?” he asks. 

The truth is, Yangyang has a faint idea. He may have quit the band, but he hasn’t forgotten the schedule yet– today is the day of the gig. It’s a special one, presumably, because it’s away from the town. A big bar somewhere in a big city called Chucky Tribute to play on the opening night, so there must be a lot of people there, leading the band to getting more recognition than ever before. Everyone went– the whole friend group, including Renjun and Donghyuck, although the latter always seems to be late everywhere. Everyone went… except for you two.

“Jeno was supposed to drive me,” you say, “but he never showed up. I called him numerous times, sent him lots of texts, but he just wouldn’t reply.”

“Have you tried reaching the others?” he asks.

“I have. They arrived safely, had a great show…. Jeno didn’t mention me… you know, it’s funny,” you chuckle ironically, bitterness behind your tone, “Jaemin thought I just didn’t feel like coming today. They’re all there and now I look like a douchebag that doesn’t want to support their friends. It’s ridiculous.”

“That makes two of us,” Yangyang scoffs, trying to lighten the situation.

Humming, you only resolve to nod. “Then, Jeno texted me saying he’ll send a taxi for me and that I should wait here.”

“He did?”

“Yeah,” you faintly reply, shuddering from the cold. “So I’m… waiting, I guess.”

Yangyang smiles to himself. Everything about you screams devastation– the way your eyes don’t meet his, the way you refuse to change your position into another one, hugging yourself to comfort. The makeup under your eyes is a little smeared, but he won’t mention it. You look devastatingly lonely, and something about you texting Yangyang just to battle the feeling makes him feel at least a little valued by you. It’s a sign of something– a sign of your trust, perhaps.

You’re waiting for Jeno’s taxi. It should make him seep in envy, but it doesn’t. Strange.

“You know, I finished my song the other day. I could show it to you sometime,” you say, starting a conversation, “it had a lot to fix and I wasn’t quite happy with it, but I think you’d like it. It’s… it means a lot to me.”

“Sure,” Yangyang nods, scooping himself closer to you. Seeing you shudder from the cold once again, he bites on his lower lip, hesitating on his next question, but saying it out-loud nonetheless. “I know this might sound a bit out of place and as if I’m being stingy by not offering it to you, but I’m really cold as well, so do you wanna share my jacket?” 

Looking at him for the first time since he got there, you shake your head in disbelief and break out into a grin. “You’re unbelievable,” you say, “but yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Moving closer, Yangyang takes off one of the sleeves on his jacket, pressing his side flush to yours, watching you as you take his jacket and drape it over your right side. Soon enough, taking the boy by surprise, your left arm moves under the jacket and hugs him around the waist, making yourself more comfortable in the awkward position. 

“Thank god for your ridiculously oversized clothing,” you mumble as you sigh in warmness, making him snicker.

Sitting in silence, the time passing without either of you knowing or noticing, the intimacy and closeness of you two occupying both of your minds, Yangyang wonders how he ended up in this mess. Living his teenage dream for a little over a month, playing one show, getting to know you and falling for you harder than he’s ever fallen for anyone before. He thinks he’d rather be unaware of his growing feelings for you. It’s not like they hurt him, it’s not like the idea of not being loved back by you makes his heart break or anything, but he feels like slowly, it’s ripping on his edges and making him feel a little worn-out. 

He wonders why your actions towards him haven’t changed since he drunkenly told you that he liked you. You showed no signs of discomfort with him, no awkwardness. It’s like somewhere in the depths of your soul, you were content with the idea of Liu Yangyang being in love with you. What that says about you, he doesn’t know, but it’s sure that it has to mean something.

Your head slowly falls onto his shoulder. The steady rhythm of the rain falling on top of the roof of the glassy bus stop acts like a lullaby, the darkness, only lightly discarded with the yellow hue of the lamppost a few metres away providing you a shield of some sort. The neighbourhood is almost scarily silent, but it’s no wonder due to the late hours of the day.

“I’m glad you came,” you mumble.

“Of course I came,” he replies. The choice of his words is quite obvious– there’s nothing else he could do, but to help you ease the pain of being thrown away to the side by Lee Jeno once again. After some time, it almost looks like he’s getting used to it.

“Sometimes, I wish I loved someone else. Sometimes, I wish that someone was…” you trail off, not finishing your sentence, but rather choosing to start a new one instead, “Jeno doesn’t deserve it. I’m done with him now. For good.”

Yangyang doesn’t reply, leaving your words to sink in. Noticing the familiarity of your sentences, the things you’ve already said to him multiple times ago, he only snickers in half-amusement, half-pain. “Are you?”

Thinking, you shrug. “Most likely.”

“I mean… it’s okay. You can’t really make your emotions go away like that,” Yangyang says. He knows what he’s talking about, after all– he tried.

“Yeah,” you agree, “but I think it doesn’t hurt to try.”

Remaining silent, Yangyang pays attention to the rhythm of the raindrops falling to the ground. Your body hangs off his, holding on to his clothing as if to keep yourself afloat. Somewhere along the way, his arm found its way around your waist, but he doesn’t really remember when it happened. All he registers is the faint movement of his fingers against your skin, trying to calm down the storm you refuse to show him, but he knows too well is going on inside of you at this very moment.

Eyes travelling towards the red neon sign outside of the bus stop, Yangyang finds that it’s 3:45am already and the time he spent with you passed by without him even noticing.

“It’s getting late,” he says.

“It’s been late for at least a few hours now, Yang,” you mumble, the nickname rolling off your tongue soundly.

“Yeah, but I mean… I don’t think the taxi’s coming,” he explains, a bit of hesitance in his voice, trying not to break your illusion.

“Oh, I know,” you muse, “I know. I knew it the very moment he sent the text that he’s gonna call it for me.”

Your statement confuses him, makes him furrow his brows and search for an answer. When you don’t explain further, he gets it, somehow, and the realisation both breaks him and makes him feel content all at once, as most things about you always do.

You already knew you could never trust a word that comes out of Lee Jeno’s mouth. And in times where you most need comfort, you call Yangyang. 

You always call Yangyang. 

“Let’s go home then, shall we? I’ll walk you.”

I’D LOVE TO BE IN LOVE WITH YOU ENOUGH TO WRITE A LOVE SONG

Looking at you plucking the strings of your jet-black guitar, sitting in your room, Yangyang is enveloped with a strange sense of nostalgia that cuts right through his bones and sits inside of his stomach. You’re sitting at the opposite edge of the bed, not looking him in the eye as you strum an unfamiliar melody.

Nothing much changed since the two of you met for the first time. You’re still the same you that surprised him with a sharp remark as he entered your house for the first time, the same you that he silently adores and watches, paying attention to all details; the freckles on your skin, the calluses on your fingers, the hesitant smile you flash him as you start singing the lyrics to your song almost absent-mindedly. And he’s still the same person you met in the park; the boy with a dream, only waiting to be fulfilled, the boy that tries so hard to find his place in the world. The boy that quietly supports you with each step you take, the boy that fell for you fast and hard, without knowing how to control it.

Your room is still the same shade of white, splashed with colour on the edges, where the posters reach. The comfort and the easiness of the atmosphere is still the same as well. 

The truth is, everything stays the same. Time passed, but nothing happened. Ignoring the mess in the middle, it’s like you’ve come full circle, stayed exactly the same, stuck in motion, but progressing nowhere. Yangyang can’t choose if it’s scary or comforting. 

But when your eyes meet and you sing the lyric, your voice unsteady, but absolutely, 100% raw and honest, Yangyang thinks that perhaps something changes over time. His feelings for you don’t disappear, not at all, but they progressively grow. They deepen and he starts to understand them, getting in touch with them, welcoming them despite knowing they will never get received and reciprocated.

“I’d love to be in love with you enough to write a love song,” you sing, the easy chords forming a melody, the lyrics hitting the boy in the stomach. 

It’s like they’re addressed to him the same way they were addressed to yourself. A silent confession, opening yourself up to him completely, because after all this time, he’s the only one you can get yourself to fully trust and let see everything. The truth is, he deserves it. After being so patient; after being so calm and caring with you and your emotions. 

When you’re finished with the song, putting the guitar aside, Yangyang can’t help but grin at you.

“Us two could make a band, you know,” he smiles, seeing you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t think the rockstar life is for me, dude,” you say, moving closer to him, but still keeping your distance. That’s how it works between the two of you all the time, in a way; you always somehow get closer, but the pit between the two of you never really disappears. Maybe, it never will. But that’s okay. 

Yangyang is okay with that. 

He’s not angry about it anymore. The truth is, some situations can make him truly furious; seeping with jealousy, cursing at his fate for making him feel the things he does, asking himself all the what ifs and why me questions. But after taking a step back, Liu Yangyang can finally recognise what he found and what he learned, and appreciate the anger for being there, for it’s an emotion as well and he has to let himself feel it, and finally let it go.

Maybe, he’ll never have a band. Maybe, he’ll never be the same as Lee Jeno. Maybe, he’ll never have you.

But he’s not angry about it anymore.

Your body slowly shuffles next to him, putting your head on his shoulder. Something about the gesture makes him feel all warm inside, a slight smile creeping up his lips at the sight of you curled up to his side.

And once again, he thinks that perhaps, he’ll remember this moment forever. When he’s old and the memory of you fades, his brain no longer able to make out the sound of your voice, he’ll go back to this day, to the strumming of the guitar, and he’ll have you back, for at least a second. He’ll remember the way your hair reflected in the golden hour, he’ll remember the sound of your voice when you sang the chorus of your song, he’ll remember the way you smiled at him after, a little proud, but still shy, and he’ll feel the same things he does today, while looking at you in real time.

And that’s okay for him. Sometimes, even a glimpse of someone is enough.

When you cuddle up with him in the bed later that day, watching Netflix like the old times; when a kiss lands into his hair and makes him shy away from your touch, he wonders if he’ll ever live up to Lee Jeno and if he’ll ever get loved by you the same way you loved him before.

He’s not angry anymore. 

Well, sometimes, he is.

someone like you | kim doyoung

SOMEONE LIKE YOU PARING: kim doyoung x reader GENRE: angst, break up, fluff, strangers to lovers to strangers to lovers WC: 13,5k SUMMARY: helping a stranger hit by a car was never supposed to change your life like it did. being in love with doyoung was best thing that had ever happened to you, and you were glad you have met person like him. but it’s seems like you weren’t destinated for each other since he was married to another woman. but what if? TW: cursing, AN: damn, it might be my favorite for now. i almost cried writing airport scene damn lol sorry for any typos etc. i’ll edit it later. thank you for your support for that series, bless ya <3 READ HERE 

“boss, please.” you huffed. “i know our client is big and will let us earn a lot of money but it’s not quite moral to let a fraud win. yes, of course it’s my work but i don’t want to be his attorney. i am sorry, but i don’t think-” you could cool down on lights while driving. “he admitted to fraud! isn’t it more than enough to not keep him? we can earn a lot of money by other ways.” light turned green. “if i have to i can take responsability for it. then ask kim junmyeon. of course he would take that case. yes, i don’t want to be his attorney and keep lie, because-”

  panic took over you as you saw last second what happened. you were too busy with conversation with your boss, you didn’t notice person walking on the lans. you, y/n lawyer of big prestigous company just hit a person. ending phone call, you got out the car so fast you almost were flying. on the road was laying young male with arm high with ice cream in his hand. even tho he was jus hit by a car, he didn’t let go of an ice cream.

“what the fuck?” he was mumbling in pain. “were you talking on the phone while driving?! so many incidents and y’all still don’t learn to not do it. you almost fuckin killed me if you didn’t notice me, you dumbass.” he was pissed off because hit was strong enough to make him feel pain. “where have you had your eyes? you just fuckin hit me-”

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pairing ▹ haechan x original character genre ▹ fluff, angst, arranged marriage!au, collegel!au, enemies to lovers!au warnings ▹ not a warning but use of honorifics, if that makes you cringe; Saemi is dislikeable at first, but so is Haechan 😂; a world of spoiled rich kids word count ▹ 2.8k

How It Started

"You're getting married to Lee Donghyuck."

When her mother says that, Saemi thinks it's the most unfortunate sentence she's ever heard in her entire life. Her eyes almost roll to the back of her head.

Not again.

But in reality, it's the boy's words that weighed tons, and she's convinced that she doesn't want anything to do with him.

"I don't want to get married to Kim Saemi."

◦ • •

- Ten hours ago -

Saemi is on her way to her Business Analytics class.

Her grey plaid skirt is short and taut, but her white blouse is long-sleeved and smart-looking, adorned with a black silk ribbon. Her designer handbag is small, but it fits everything she needs for her classes. Her lips are plump, and it's painted a matte Flamenco Red.

Greetings and murmurs alike fill her ears as she walks unbothered through the corridors.

"Here she comes! Hey, Saemi!"

"Hi, Saemi! I love your outfit!"

"Good morning, Saemi-yah!"

"Have you heard the rumors? Saemi was seen with—"

"Shh! She's here!"

"Uh—oh—hey, Saemi!"

She spares an icy glance to the girls who are gossiping about her, but continues walking without an ounce of care.

That's pretty normal.

She is both hated and loved by women and men alike. She's got everything after all: beauty, brains, talent, and money.

Well, everyone in her school is rich. There's not one person who could've gone to West Seoul University that can't afford the price. The place was built exclusively for the rich and wealthy.

But Kim Saemi?

She's filthy rich.

"Hana!"

"Saemi-yah!"

Saemi rushes towards her best friend who's standing by the locker area, her black velvet high block heels clicking against the marbled floors of the university. They greet each other excitedly, giggling like little girls, despite seeing each other just the other day.

"I missed you at the party last Wednesday!" Hana exclaims, closing her locker door.

"Ugh. My mom forced me to go shopping with her at the last minute."

They begin to walk as they chatter amongst themselves, linking arms with each other.

"Let me guess, the dinner meeting tonight?" Hana asks, earning a nod from Saemi.

"Yes, again. It's getting really boring, honestly," the latter rolls her eyes. "But I love the new dress. She let me choose."

"Ooh. That's new from Mrs. Kim."

"I know, right?"

The two giggle once again.

"Considering it's dinner with the Lees, it was really surprising. I can't wait to show you, by th—ow!"

Saemi yelps when a guy bumps into her on accident.

"I'm sorry!"

"Hey! Watch it, you—"

She stops speaking when she sees the face of Jung Jaehyun.

"I'm sorry, Saemi, I didn't see you." The tall and handsome boy said, rather hurriedly.

"Oh, no! It's fine, Jaehyun sunbae-nim." Saemi shakes her head and smiles dreamily towards Jaehyun. "Um, are you heading to class?"

"Yep. I'm really sorry for bumping into you. But see you around, yeah?" Jaehyun smiles, his dimples showing, which makes Saemi fall into a daze.

"See you around." She continues smiling dreamily.

It takes a few moments before she hears her best friend calling her name, shaking her awake.

"Saemi! Saemi!"

"Yes?"

"You're not listening."

"I know, he's so... handsome." Saemi sighs as she watches Jung Jaehyun disappearing into the distance. "When will he ask me out?"

Hana giggles towards her lovestruck companion, "maybe you should ask him out."

"What? No way! I don't ask people out. They ask me out." Saemi flips her naturally light brown medium-length hair confidently, but her voice becomes small as she says, "besides, even if I go out of my way just to do that, what if he rejects me?"

"Jung Jaehyun rejecting Kim Saemi? He'd be crazy to even think about that."

Hana makes sure to point out how crazy it is for him to reject someone like Saemi.

Of course, it's no secret that Jaehyun is a favorite among the university peers. He's a definite eye-catcher with his cute dimples and a smile to die for, and he's also one of the top students at school. Not to mention, he's co-captain of the soccer team.

Saemi, on the other hand, is very popular as well, and for the right reasons.

A natural-born leader, she's considered one of the most brilliant minds in the university, despite only being half-way into sophomore year.

Her beauty and her charming personality are well-loved by most, if not all. And on top of that, she's a well-rounded actress in the university's theatre society.

So, why on earth would the one and only Jung Jaehyun reject the one and only Kim Saemi?

"I don't know, maybe he doesn't like spoiled rich kids?" Saemi shrugs and simply sighs.

"Point taken—"

"Hey—"

"But it's not like he isn't one. I mean, aren't we all just a bunch of spoiled rich kids here?" Hana shrugs before smiling sweetly. "Anyway, I have to go. See you later, Saemi-yah!"

Hana walks further into the corridor towards her designated lecture hall.

"Bye-bye, Hana!"

Meanwhile, Saemi enters her room not far from where she and her best friend bid goodbye. Greeted by the usual setting of her classmates chitchatting, she takes a seat at the front.

Soon after, the professor comes in and starts the lesson.

◦ • •

- Three hours later -

Saemi breezes through her morning classes, not an ounce of stress visible on her features.

She's used to it, she likes to lead the busy life.

Despite the second semester only starting a week ago, she's already packed with meetings: an introductory gathering for the new recruits in the theatre society, a meeting with the student council members—where she's the secretary—and the (not-so) awaited dinner tonight with the Lees.

Not again, she rolls her eyes.

There, written in bold black ink inside her lavender planner, are the words: Dinner with Lee family, 7pm.

She shuts the planner close and puffs.

Saemi is confident that she can handle the first two meetings. After all, they're for school. And she won't really be seeing that one person she's been wishing not to see for the past nine years, since she doesn't have any classes with him so far.

But this dinner date, she can feel that something unpleasant will happen later tonight.

It's not exactly an intuitive kind of feeling, but rather, she just knows that nothing good ever comes from meeting with him.

Oh, well, she inhales quickly. The meeting is still seven hours from now, so she shakes any incoming thoughts of him away.

She eats lunch with Hana, her best friend since 10 years old, in the school's high-end cafeteria.

Now, in this particular world of wealth and popularity, you wouldn't see Kim Saemi without Park Hana. The two have been inseparable for eleven years, and counting.

They're significantly popular at the university for being two of the richest personalities in Seoul city: Saemi being the heiress to her family's famous company while Hana comes from a long line of well-known celebrities.

Saemi and Hana, respectively, are friendly to their peers in general. They have other friends, they hang out with other people, they acquaint themselves with other individuals like them. But at the end of the day, they only really have each others' backs.

They're somewhat deemed "untouchable" by most, having the famed "It Girl" reputation. A lot of people like them, some are afraid, while others pretend to be nice when in truth, they're not.

They think that's why they're best friends in the first place, because most of their peers are intimidated by them.

However, even with their extreme wealth and reputations, they're still normal people. Maybe not ordinary, but normal.

They go to parties, they act childish and arrogant, they know how to have fun, and they make mistakes like any other people. Because no matter how rich they are, they're still human.

"So, is he in your classes yet?" Hana asks as she eats her sandwich in a very lady-like manner.

Saemi puffs again, almost rolling her eyes. "Nope, I don't think he'll be my classmate, just like last semester. I haven't seen him for almost a week, which is good news."

"Awww, that's so unfortunate," Hana teases. "You won't be seeing his handsome fa—"

"Oh, please, Hana. No matter how handsome he thinks he is, he can never beat Jaehyun sunbae-nim." Saemi continues the eyeroll, earning her a giggle from her best friend.

"But he's literally you're fiancé—"

"Technically, he's not. We're not engaged yet."

"But aren't you supposed to be engaged already? You're both twenty-one now."

"Don't even remind me about that," Saemi sighs and looks sadly at her own sandwich. "Honestly, I think Eomma and Appa forgot about it. It's been two months since my birthday and we haven't discussed about it. We only ever talk about business when we're meeting with the Lees."

She slightly smiles at the thought of her parents forgetting about the arrangement. But the bell then rings, interrupting her inner peace.

"Is it me or does time fly by so quickly?" Hana wonders aloud, then shrugs. "Oh, well. I'll see you on Monday, Saemi bear. Good luck later! And tell me what happens!"

"Sure thing! Bye-bye, Hana!"

Saemi once again bids goodbye to her best friend who has a class now. Meanwhile, her next class is still at 2, so she heads towards the auditorium for the introductory gathering.

So far in the week, she hasn't bumped into the son of the Lees, and she thinks it's a relief.

But alas, speak—or think—of the devil and he shall appear.

Thankfully, it's only a brief moment of sighting. But she does take note of how the small smirk he sent her way before turning towards the corridor vexed her.

The Lee heir, clad in a white polo and black leather jacket, is walking with his friends.

She ignores the brief meeting, however, and walks to the opposite direction, towards the university's auditorium. Despite her mood, she smiles brightly once she sees the familiar faces of her theatre colleagues, as well as the new ones.

"Saemi!" A cheerful voice calls her from the stage up front.

"Jungwoo-yah!" Saemi excitedly walks towards the stage, waving at the other members.

There are chairs arranged in a big circle on the stage. She takes a seat next to her upperclassman friend, then looks around to examine the new faces. There's still one chair that's left unoccupied, which is meant for their leader, so she chats with Jungwoo while waiting.

"Oh my gosh, I can't wait for this semester's show!" She exclaims, the latter matching her excitement.

"Me too! I'm so excited for my role on the show!"

"But shows aside, how's your summer, Jungwoo-yah?"

They exchange stories about summer vacation, while also trying to get to know the new members. She recognizes Zhong Chenle, a freshman who's best friends with Hana's younger brother, Jisung.

Saemi has seen the young boy countless times, whenever she's at the Parks' residences. Most times, he and Jisung are playing in the room next to Hana's.

She's surprised to see him, she didn't know he's interested in theatre acting. But she warmly welcomes him to the West Seoul Theatre Society, making the young boy relax a bit in the new environment.

She also sees Jung Sungchan, the new student who just transferred this school year from the neighboring university. As a newcomer, he's famous for being a sophomore despite having the same age as the freshmen. But he'd proven himself last semester, being second to Saemi herself on the list of honors. She's quite surprised to see him there as well.

It doesn't take long before the current president, senior student Seo Johnny, suddenly arrives and greets the members brightly.

"So, most of you already know Moon gyosu-nim, but the new members haven't met him. Unless he's your professor?"

The new recruits shake their heads sheepishly, to which Johnny smiles and nods.

"Alright. Well, I've already announced prior that our adviser won't be here for today's meeting. Anyway, for those of you who don't know yet, I'm Johnny, and I'm this year's elected president."

When he commences, it only takes thirty minutes for the members to briefly introduce themselves and talk about the rehearsals for the year-end show. Soon, they are wrapping up and the students go to their respective classes for the afternoon.

◦ • •

- One hour before the dinner -

When her last class ends, Saemi proceeds to the student council office. It's just a short meeting, with the president overviewing the plans for the whole semester. Right after that, Saemi goes home.

And her head is swarmed with thoughts of the dinner meeting.

Normally, her mind wouldn't allow such a thing to occur. She hates the Lee heir, and she hates the mere thought of seeing him. Heck, she even hates the thought of him appearing in her thoughts.

But today, she just has a hunch that this particular dinner is not about the business. It's about something else, and that something else is the one topic she's been avoiding for nine years now.

And she's quite... unamused.

Saemi does everything in her will to look presentable—no—convincing for the Lees. Even if she dislikes their son, she didn't necessarily dislike the whole family. And besides, she loves dressing up.

These dinner meetings aren't new to her. She's had it for most of her life, be it formal or fancy ones. She's used to it all, because being born rich has its perks: luxury, comfort, a big house with a big pool—you name it.

Being born with an older sibling is even more advantageous, she's the family's little princess. And what she wants, she gets.

But being born as an heiress to a company, which said older sibling refuses to inherit due to a "conflict of interests," and of which is in a tight partnership with another rich family's company, is not at all princess-y.

And Hana's right, time seems to fly by so quickly.

"Miss Saemi?" A female's voice, one of the housekeepers, calls from outside her bedroom after a few knocks. "Mr. Kim asks for you to come down to the living room immediately."

Saemi slams down her make-up brush on her white vanity table, irritated.

"Tell him I'm coming down in a few!" She commands loudly from her cushioned seat, not bothering to open the door.

"At once, Miss Saemi." The housekeeper obeys.

She huffs, irate.

She hates being rushed. Especially if it has something to do with the Lees. Or rather, just their son. She really dislikes the boy so much.

Nevertheless, she doesn't let it bother her mind anymore and instead, she continues to put a blush on her cheeks. After that, she moves on to her favorite part of her face: her lips.

She looks at her vast collection of lipsticks, lip tints, and lip glosses in one of the drawers.

She thinks the shade she used earlier was a bit too fiery for the Lees. She wouldn't want them to think she's aggressive, although they're not really unfamiliar to that side of her.

Still, she wants to look respectful in front of the parents, never mind the son.

So, she tones it down to a Cherry Red. When she's done, she puckers her lips then stands up, checking herself out on a full-body mirror next to the vanity table.

Saemi is pleased with how she looks, but she knows the smile she has won't be staying for long on her lips.

And it proves to be true when she and her family arrives at the restaurant.

"Saemi, please remove that frown off your face. The Lees will be here any minute." Saemi's father, Mr. Kim, instructs her sternly. He doesn't, however, look to Saemi as he is busy with the company tablet.

She rolls her eyes, puffing a breath as she crosses her arms against her chest.

She's well aware that soon enough, she'll be the one holding that piece of electronic gadget, handling every issue with the company.

She glances towards her brother on her left.

Doyoung is too deep in his book that he couldn't care less about his surroundings.

So, she glances back to the empty seat in front of her.

"Why are we meeting with them, anyway?" Saemi mumbles under her breath, looking at her golden wristwatch.

It's just two minutes after 7.

"We've already met with them twice this month."

The older boy, albeit not paying attention initially, hears her and replies monotonously, "oh, don't you remember?"

"Remember what?" She retorts. "What company matters have we not yet discussed with them?"

"Your engagement, honey."

This time, it's Mrs. Kim who answers, and Saemi's eyes almost roll to the back of her head as she finally spots the Lees approaching their table.

"You're getting married to Lee Donghyuck."

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a/n: questions? send your thoughts! feedbacks are much appreciated!

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©️ 2022, moonstarsunflower. All rights reserved. Do not copy, repost, or use without permission.

Falling For Another — Jung Jaehyun.

PAIRING Ex!Jaehyun x F!Reader.

SYNOPSIS when relationships go sour, break ups are inevitable. But Jaehyun and Y/N were different: they decided to stay friends who occasionally reached out to the other. That doesn't mean being invited to his wedding made Y/n happy though.

GENRES Romance (past kind). Angst with a little fluff (like little) mostly Bittersweet?? Lovers to Exes (to friends) trope, flashback midway through the fic, Jaehyun is getting married 😵‍💫 only hurt, no comfort 😃

WARNINGS alcohol consumption, Y/n is sad, mentions of their break up.

NOTE reposting from my old blog because I just love this fic too much.

WORD COUNT 1.9k words.

Y/n’s memories of Greece were bittersweet.

It was where she had first met Jaehyun at a beach party, both tipsy and done with the crowd. In hindsight, the party had sucked pretty badly and if it hadn't been for the something of a meet cute with him, she probably wouldn't have bothered remembering it.

It had gone from there: a long conversation about their favourite songs and genres in music, and a couple more drinks later, they had decided they were acquainted well enough to exchange numbers.

The catch? It was also the very same place they had broken up at.

Memories of coming to this exact beach and spending time with Jaehyun here filled her mind. Memories that made her smile, yet made her heart ache.

And now, as she saw him standing in front of the huge mirror, dressed in a expensive suit, nervously fixing his bow tie whilst speaking animatedly to Johnny, his best man, all she could do was tuck away the lingering sadness she felt and put on a bright smile; for him.

They might be exes, but they were friends first.

“Well hello there, Mr Jung,” She greets him with a dramatic gasp. “Looking handsome in your wedding suit!”

Jaehyun whips his head around at the sound of her voice, his smile brightening further at seeing her.

“Well hello there, Ms L/N,” He rolls his eyes with a grin, but plays along. “Looking beautiful in your dress!”

She laughs at that, walking further into the room to stand next to Johnny, who gives her a one-armed hug. She notices Jaehyun’s hand reaching for his bow tie again and stops him by the wrist.

“Don’t fidget.”

Jaehyun gives an awkward chuckle, tucking his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting further.

“Nervous?” She inquires teasingly.

“Me? Nervous? Never.”

“Yeah, right. He almost passed out when his mother said Yeona’s almost ready and the ceremony would begin soon.” Johnny laughs, and Y/n smiles, a small twinge in her chest.

Yeona was the name of the bride - Jaehyun’s to-be-wife.

When Y/n and Jaehyun were seeing each other, his family had wanted him to 'hangout’ with a business partner’s daughter, despite knowing about their relationship. Their suggestion had been innocent enough, but Y/n knew better.

He had refused and there had been a huge argument within the family and Y/n had just smiled sadly and told him to go. He had protested, but she didn’t want him to fight with his family.

That was her first mistake.

Because one hangout became several and it looked like he liked hanging out with Yeona. Until eventually he ended up liking her as well.

And then came the canceling on her because of some “family gatherings” with his parents, Yeona and her family.

And she agreed, not complaining much - though she felt him drifting away from her.

Soon, their parents began talking about marriage; and the rest was history.

She wished she had been more selfish and possessive of him. But at the same time she was glad she had let him go - it was over ever since he started prioritising someone else over her.

Shaking her head at the unwanted bout of memories, she cuts off her inner monologue.

They were just friends now. And he was getting married.

She didn’t want to further ruin her memories of Greece with anymore bitter memories.

Seeing Yeona walk down the aisle and towards Jaehyun wasn’t per se pleasant to Y/n. Seeing the smile he gave her as she slipped her hand into his outstretched palm, almost hurt. Almost.

It was the same way he had looked at her before; fond and happy, as if she were something precious to him. Although she had moved on — she swore she did, — she couldn't help the bitterness.

When the time came, everyone stood to congratulate the couple on getting married and amidst the happy sighs and coos from the others, all she could do was watch.

The wedding reception was at full swing. The happy crowd surrounded the star couple, laughter and joy filling the room; while Y/n stood by the railing out of the celebration hall, looking out into sea instead.

The buzz from the alcohol she had drank earlier still lingered, bordering on tipsy - allowing memories that she had been repressing, to flow in more easily.

Jaehyun was the one she had spent many of her firsts with - first love, first real relationship, first heartbreak, etc. So it was rather difficult for her to move on from him.

⇝(begin of memory lane)

Standing at the balcony of the beach house with a coffee mug in her hand, Y/n continued to gaze at the sun rising beyond the waters, colouring with rays of gold, yellow and orange.

“Hey.”

She starts at the sudden voice, and the feel of arms around her, but eases into it immediately when she realised the source of the warmth against her back, and the chin resting on her shoulder.

“Hey,” she greets back, smiling as she reached up to brush Jaehyun’s cheekbone with her free hand.

“Sleep well?” She questions, voice soft as she turned in his arms, carefully cradling the coffee so as to not spill it — before she sets it down on the table placed next to the relaxing chair. She settles her arms around his shoulder, smiling in content as he lightly bumps his forehead against hers.

He hums in response and grins, wild haired and handsome, the gleam of the rising sun softening his features and leaving her feeling breathless.

He was so painfully beautiful that it made her heart stutter in her chest. It was then that she realised that she didn’t just like him.

She loved him.

And she hoped that there would be many more sunrises to come, where she could enjoy them with him. So she smiles and quietly makes a wish, closing her eyes and savouring this moment with him, hoping that it would come true.

“Hey, Jae?” Y/n calls for Jaehyun, her tone mischievous.

When he turns around with a smile, she splashes him with water, immediately running away as his relaxed smile fades away to an incredulous look.

He drops her hat that he had been holding and chases after her, to get revenge.

“No! Stay back-” she shrieks as Jaehyun picks her up effortlessly and throws her over his shoulder, both of them laughing as she pounded her fists on his back.

He doesn’t stop, however, continuing to walk a little deeper into the water and shuffles as if he were about to drop her.

“Jae, wait! I’m wearing a dress-”

And she gets thrown into the water.

Resurfacing, she glares at him, but he just laughs, borderline cackling at her misfortune. Huffing, she reaches out her arms towards him with a pout. He raises an eyebrow, but complies, stepping forward to help her up when she yanks on his wrist, causing him to fall in after her.

And they continued to laugh and splash each other, joyful and blissfully unaware of what was to come.

“Stop that!” Jaehyun yells as Y/n, yet again, moves the decorations around and changes it from how he had set it up.

“No, you stop that!” Y/n counters, tired of having to keep moving them again and again because he was so darn stubborn.

“I asked first!”

“Well, I was the one who gave you the idea!”

“God, you’re so annoying!” Jaehyun grits his teeth, jaw clenching.

Y/n gasps at that, eyes narrowing at him threateningly and Yuta, Jaehyun’s friend, shuffles uneasily.

He really regretted asking you two to help him decorate the house for his partner's birthday surprise.

“I think you two should just take a break for now-”

“I can’t believe I love someone like you!” Y/n exclaims, frustratedly throwing her hands in the hair.

“I can’t believe I was attracted to you first.” he grunts, with an exasperated eye roll.

“Hey! I confessed first!”

“But I asked you out first.”

“And I said I loved you first-” Y/n gets cut off by a very frustrated looking Yuta.

“Are you two seriously fighting over that now?”

And that’s how those two got kicked out of his house.

“Hey Jae, it’s late where are you -”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry I don’t think I can make it to today’s dinner.”

There’s a pause as she blinks, confused at the voices in the background. And then she a female voice calling for Jaehyun and he hurriedly apologises again and hangs up on her, leaving her confused and dazed.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“I… I think we should break up.”

Y/n’s hands pause mid-stir, halting mixing the batter. She turns off the stove and turns towards him.

“What… What do you mean?” Y/n couldn’t believe her ears.. What was he saying, all of a sudden?

“Listen, I’m sorry -” Jaehyun tries to explain, holding her by the shoulder, but she shrugs him off. Sighing, he runs his hand through his hair.

“Do you mean that? Please tell me it’s a joke-” Jaehyun cuts her off this time, with a shake of his head and her voice trails off.

“Why?” her voice tremors a little, and she swallows thickly. “Why now?”

And the guilty expression he gives as he explains how his family wished for him to marry Yeona, instead.

What hurt the most was, he didn’t even seem to want to fight back.

⇝(end of memory lane)

After weeks of moping around and avoiding people, Y/n had finally begun to feel like she was recovering - Jaehyun had tried to reach out to her several, under the request that they remain friends.

She said she would think about it.

She would be fine.

And eventually she agreed, but then a few months later she received an invitation to their wedding and it had felt like a slap to her face. She wanted to decline, but didn’t want to seem like a petty ex. They had been friends at first after all.

“Are you okay?”

The sudden voice snaps her out of her mini walk down the memory lane moment and she turns around to see Johnny standing there with his hands in his pocket, a small smile on his lips.

She looks away from him and at the water, pondering at what to answer.

And she was fine now, standing there with a drink in her hand, eyes on the beach where the water reflected the moon and the sand glistened from the light shining from the millions of lights set up outside the venue.

She was fine before him, and she would be fine now too.

“Yeah.” Her voice comes out soft but firm, and she’s grateful it doesn’t shake.

Johnny just nods, coming to stand beside her in silence, and she was fine with just standing next to him, sharing company in a comfortable silence as they both gazed out into the night, under the peace of the stars and beauty of the moon.

NCT masterlist.

Cry For Me

“There’s something about Mark Lee.”

Summary: There’s something about that Mark Lee. Everyone praises him for his kindness, for his respectfulness, for his easiness. He never shows anger or distain, no, he’s always—always content. So how does he do it? He’s human like the rest of us, surely he must get angry? You know the truth, you see all sides of him, the nation’s dear Mark Lee.

Pairing: Idol Boyfriend!Mark X female reader

Genre: smutt, hm? Yeah just smut and a cute aftercare moment

Warnings: oh boy..BDSM (Dom Mark, hot wax, spanking, handcuffs, electric shock usage, stick flogger, dacryphilia), impregnation/breeding kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex, mirror sex, unprotected sex (be safe tho!), c*eam pie, biting..forgive me for my sins

Word Count: 4.6k

(A/N: bro so like Mark is so sweet and so adorable and I couldn’t help but think “what if he’s actually wild behind close doors?🤔” and well..that’s how this was born! Hope you like it! It’s been a while since I’ve written such descriptive smut but it was fun!

———

Mark is a sadistic dacryphiliac. He enjoys taking his anger out on you and watching you cry. 

Seguir leyendo

SWEET LIES

TITLE: SWEET LIES | part of the INFERNO event

PAIRING: ghost!jeno x fem!human!oc/reader

GENRE: smut, light angst, monsterfucking, soulmates

SUMMARY: you find out what’s the weird sensation that’s been torturing you for years, but just when you think things start to make sense, he confuses you even more. Are you really who he thinks you are?

WARNINGS: obsession, stalking, voyeurism, nipple play, fingering, temperature play, dirty talk, rough sex, hair pulling, light degradation, mentions of sex toys, mentions of oral sex (m), mentions of anal sex (f), suspended sex, multiple orgasms

WORD COUNT: 7.250k

if you click 'read more' you agree you have read the warnings and take responsibility for the media you consume.

Traditions are not something you can break. They are called traditions for a reason. 

And even if going back to that house with her family was the last thing she wanted to do, there was nothing she could say. Her mom insisted she would go with them. It was just a week to spend together in that town in the countryside in their lovely house. 

Lovely, now, it looked anything but lovely. Or maybe it was, from the outside, two floors, light green-coloured walls with bricks around the windows, white curtains that covered the glasses, and a perfectly cured lawn around it. 

But as soon as she stepped inside she could feel there was something wrong with it. Nothing looked bad, or out of place, there was just a weird energy. 

She hated that place. As much as her mom always told her she was just paranoid, or tired and she needed to sleep, she still could feel that weird agonizing sensation assault her every time she stepped inside. 

It had been going on for years, the first time they got here she was only eighteen, but even now that she was twenty-three, nothing changed. But since she had skipped last year’s trip, she couldn’t miss this one too. 

“Oh, please, you’re just tired from the long trip. Go to sleep, we’ll take care of the few bags we have,” her mom had told her when she complained about feeling strange two seconds after entering the place. And she listened, honestly tired from the day, but she didn’t agree. Anyway, she tried to shrug it off and made her way into what was going to be her room for the week. 

However, the sensation didn’t stop. It was strong and persistent. After they went out and came back for dinner. Every time she walked in a corridor and could feel a breeze blow on her skin. When she passed in front of a mirror. Or simply even now that she was sitting on the couch and trying to distract herself by looking at the phone. 

Something, or somebody, was watching her, but there was nobody at home. 

She huffed and walked to the window, maybe there was somebody outside. Some crazy obsessed man that had nothing exciting to do in that small town and had to find a new obsession. But there was nobody. 

Not a single soul walking on the sidewalks, nobody entering their lawn by mistake, just a weird, cold, and intense sensation not letting her breathe. 

She huffed loudly while turning around in the mansard, desperately trying to find what her mother had asked for, but more than an abandoned room, it looked like a maze with tricks to solve to find anything. There were so many things there and most of them didn’t even belong to her family.

Weird. 

But then one thing caught her eyes, a golden frame sitting in a corner, half covered with a white — now grey thanks to the dust — sheet. She pulled the fabric and it revealed a painting, portraying a man that wouldn’t have been older than 20. 

“Finally.” She jumped in surprise, looking around as fear assaulted her, thinking for a moment she had imagined that word. 

“Who are you?” She asked, ass on the floor and hand on the chest to calm her beating. 

“You abandoned me,” a voice whispered, it sounded sad, distant, and weird. 

“I… I did what? Who are you?” She asked looking around, still not seeing anything. 

“I’ve been waiting for you all week last year, walking past every room to look for you in the hope to find you,” the voice got closer, and a… man? A very pale man was standing right before her… Who was he? And why was he dressed like this? Clothes looking like they belonged to a completely different era. 

“You left me all alone.” 

“I don’t know you,” she replied, now terrified. He was crazy. 

“I know. I usually don’t show myself. But I was afraid you were going to slip away again.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Her agitated tone was muffled by a fake, forced chuckle but the panic in her eyes was there and visible.

“I know. But I know you.” 

“Are you a stalker? How did you get in?” 

“I live here.” 

She laughed, shaking her head. “No, you don’t. This is my family house.” 

“I’m trapped here.” 

Her eyes widened and she started laughing lowly, “I mean, if you, if you don’t have a place to go we can help you, we can, I don’t know, I’m sure there’s a hotel…” 

“I can’t leave. I’m damnded for eternity to be here.” 

Her eyes lift up swiftly. Her head spinning. 

“And you are the only light I get to see once a year,” he whispered, leaning close to her. “And last year, you didn’t come. You didn’t think of me. You left me here, all alone.” 

“I don’t know you,” she replied, feeling tears at the corner of her eyes, trying to crawl back but was stuck there on the spot. 

“Why didn’t you come?” 

“I… I was busy,” she surely couldn’t tell him that probably, he was the reason she didn’t go there last year. 

He kneeled, and two of his fingers gracefully lifted her chin up. Cold. He was freezing. There was no way a single drop of blood was still running in his vein. And when she remembered the picture she glanced at before he could scare her and the target “1849 — 1869 Lee Jeno” and then looked at him she could see the resemblance. No… it couldn’t be. 

“I missed you,” his voice came out almost like a broken beg. “Don’t ever leave me alone again.” 

She started shaking under his touch. What the hell was going on? Why was he obsessed with her? 

“I… I,” she stammered and then tried to think smart. She couldn’t let him know she was terrified and at the same time, she couldn’t look too gentle. She needed to find a way out. 

Maybe getting to know him a little? No, too friendly. Maybe tell him she was busy? No, he was going to be offended again. 

“Well, I’m back,” she replied, trying to force a genuine smile on her face, ignoring the tears that rolled down her face before. 

“You’re even more beautiful than before,” he whispered, cold hand caressing the skin of her warm, wet cheek. And as strange as it was supposed to feel, it actually felt nice. His touch was delicate, soft like a feather, and gentle. But she couldn’t give in. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled. Should she add he was beautiful? Because he was. But wasn’t that too much? Wasn’t that a risky path to take? Yes, it was. And she needed to get out of there, away from him, at least for a while. It was just three more days. 

She glanced up at the clock and said, “Oh, it’s late. I have things to do, I can’t stay here.” 

“You’re leaving me again?” He asked, quirking a brow. 

“I have to go.” 

“Why can’t you stay here with me? We can do things together now that I don’t have to just watch you.” 

She froze in her step and turned around. Suddenly realizing everything he had said to her. He had been watching her. Every single thing she did. He was the weird sensation she felt in her bones. He was the eyes boring holes into her skin. He was the light breeze that moved her hair. And that happened everywhere and every time. 

“H—how much have you been watching me?” She asked, voice shaking, fear jumping in her lungs again. 

“A lot,” he admitted, walking, almost flying for how gracefully he moved around, to her. “I just couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.” 

“Always? Everything?” 

“I feel like you want to know something specific. Have you done something that people weren’t supposed to know?” 

She gulped. Well, she did. Not only she obviously got changed and showered, but it had happened that like once or twice — more than that, it was boring there — she had masturbated. 

“I didn’t watch,” he replied to her secret doubts. “I simply listened to you. You sound amazing.” 

“Why… why would you do that?” 

“I didn’t look.” 

“But you listened… that’s cre—” She stopped and walked backward to the door. “Don’t do that, okay? If it’ll happen again.” But surely she wasn’t going to let it happen again. She could go only three days without an orgasm. 

“I could be the reason for those moans.” 

Her eyes widened. Fucking with a ghost? He was insane. Now more than before she knew she needed to get out of there. 

“I don’t… I need to go. I have things to do. It was lovely to meet you, though,” she replied and rushed downstairs. There was her mom in the living room, he couldn’t show up also to her, she had to be safe there.

“I’m going out,” she warned, making her mom turn around. “A date with my friends, see you later.” And without waiting for an answer, she ran out of the door. 

These three days had to pass by swiftly, there was no way she could survive there with an obsessed ghost that probably wanted her death to keep her with him forever. 

When she came back home it was late at night, past midnight and she only hoped he wasn’t going to pay her any attention. 

“Are you scared of me?” He asked, sitting in the armchair of her room, legs crossed on top of each other and hands intertwined together. 

She gulped. She thought she was alone all this time. 

“I… you promised you weren’t going to watch me again.” 

“Are you trying to run away from me again?” He completely ignored her question, but he didn’t seem mad, just sad, heartbroken. But something about it made it even scarier. 

She chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t understand I just spent a night out with friends, I always do that when I come here. I see them once a year.” 

“You always go out with them on Friday. They come pick you up, enter, greet your mom, and then you leave. And punctual as a clock, at eleven you’re here.” 

She was speechless… He truly was obsessed. 

“You like to follow the rules, you like to have things in place, you never go out of your schemes.” 

“You don’t know me.” 

“I’ve been watching you and I’ve spent the rest of the years playing back in my mind everything you did, the memories of you the only things that keep me going. I have eternity in front of me, nothing will free me from this curse and you have no idea how painful it is to know that I’m damned here,” he said, voice calm, walking toward her so lightly that it looked like he was flying, and soon she was trapped between the wall and him. “But you,” he whispered, freezing pale fingers caressing her cheek, “you are the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

Her eyes quickly moved everywhere, his face, the room, the floor, she felt her blood pressure rise and her heart skip beats. She knew she shouldn’t have done that, she should’ve stayed at home trusting her guts for once, her mom wasn’t going to leave her out of the testament and her family just because she didn’t go on a stupid trip together. 

“I would never hurt you,” he said, leaning close to her, lips almost touching each other, but she was quicker at turning around and avoiding it. Lips touching her cheek instead. 

“I told you I’d never hurt you,” he repeated, voice stern unlike before, hand firmly wrapped around her wrist now. 

“I – I know, I trust you,” she lied. “But I don’t get what you want from me…” 

“The happiness that was taken away from me.” 

“I can’t give you that, I’m sorry, I…” 

His eyes ran up and down her figure and she felt a cold shiver pass through her bones. “You’re just like everybody else,” he spat out, disgusted by her, turning around on his heels, and disappearing from her sight. 

She broke down crying, arms wrapping around her shaking body. 

These were going to be three long days. 

Living in a fantasy can be a dangerous thing and Jeno knew it. He was damned for eternity to live the same days over and over. The only way to survive without going crazy was to live in a fantasy. And she was his fantasy. 

He knew from the first moment he had seen her that it was her. But he had no idea how to get to her. He couldn’t show up, he couldn’t let her know who he truly was. 

So he started to create his own world where they could finally be together with none coming between them, no family, no friends, no destiny, nothing but them. 

Jeno loved her. More than anything and anyone else. She was always on his mind. Running inside it like a hamster on a wheel that knows nothing but that reality. Trapped. Just like him. Trapped. Just like he wished she was. Stuck in his world, the only thing she knew, him. Him being the only one on her mind. But that wasn’t. That would’ve never been. 

Jeno hated her. How could she betray him like that? After everything he had done for her? After all the minutes spent watching her, observing her, getting to know her, making sure nothing bad was going to happen to her. 

She was afraid. She was disgusted by him. 

Jeno loved her. He loved her in a way he never loved someone before. If he still had a beating heart in his chest he knew it would’ve beaten so loud just for her. 

And she didn’t feel the same. 

No, worst. 

She was avoiding him. Barely staying at home, he wondered what she was doing around that boring town with her just as boring friends.

The only time he could sit and stare at her and count the beats of her heart, was when she was asleep. Her eyelids covering her pretty eyes, her lips slightly parted, pouting out just enough to make him crave them even more. For how many days and nights he had dreamed of kissing them, of feeling them, to have his doubts cleared. And right when he was so close to doing that, she turned away from him. 

Just like right now. 

Jeno could feel how tense she was. How much she tried to fight her body and don’t fall asleep. Terrified something would happen to her while she was unconscious. But Jeno would’ve never hurt her. He would just stare. Floating over her and admiring every single detail of her face. That was how he had spent his nights all those years there since she came around. That was the only thing he could do, too scared of making her run away. 

But he hoped she was different. He hoped she would understand. He truly believed she wasn’t like everybody else, rejecting him, pushing him to the sidelines, forgetting him as if he meant nothing. 

He knew she was different. That was just a stupid reaction because she didn’t know the real him. 

Jeno wasn’t going to let her go. She belonged to him.

Those three days did pass quickly, but everything that happened later seemed to be a curse. 

“What do you mean the car doesn’t start?” She had asked her father when, coming downstairs with her baggage ready, she heard him discuss something with her mother. 

“Yeah, it’s just a small thing,” he said, smiling at her. “I called one of my friends to come help me, he should be here in a few minutes.” 

She hummed, hugging herself tighter around her sweater, “So, we’re leaving tonight anyway, right?” 

“Oh, Lord, why are you in such a rush?” Her mother chimed, smirking. “A boyfriend you didn’t tell us about to go home to?” 

She sighed, shaking her head. “No, mom. I’ll go back to my room,” she cut short. She couldn’t give them the real reason behind her panic. As much as Jeno didn’t show up again she could feel him and not knowing what he wanted didn’t let her sleep at night in peace. 

“You know what?” She changed her mind, turning around to reach for the coat hanger next to the door under the concerned gaze of her parents. “I’ll go out, just a breath of fresh air and maybe catch up with some friends before leaving.” 

“Yeah, be back for dinner,” her mother said. “We’ll leave after that.”

But as a joke of destiny, they didn’t leave, they couldn’t. A storm was announced and her family didn’t feel like driving in those conditions, so she had dinner with a lump in her throat and then stomped upstairs, wishing her parents a goodnight knowing she was going to have another terrible one. 

“Are you doing it on purpose?” She asked, talking to herself, hoping he was going to show up. Thinking he was already there, waiting for this moment. But he didn’t respond. 

She sighed, sitting on her bed, rubbing her hands on her face, and looking around. “Jeno,” she called, a bit of fear as she let out his name. 

When he appeared she slightly jumped. “Why can’t you knock? You are physical…”

“You think there are some flesh or bones here?”

“You don’t look like a ghost from the movies…” she said, getting lost in him. If only this wasn’t his cruel fate and his nature, he would’ve stolen so many hearts. He was beautiful. 

He chuckled for the first time ever and she smiled too, mimicking him without even realizing it. “No, I’m a bit more real than them but I’m still not what you think I am. It’s called corporealization. Anyway, I don’t like to talk about me… why did you call me?”

“I…” she stopped, now regretting it. He seemed genuine, like he couldn’t hurt her, as if he cared. “I was wondering if all of those things that are happening are caused by you.”

“You think that if I was that powerful I would be stuck here?”

She didn’t expect that answer and stared at him with an open mouth. 

“I could trap you here. I could haunt you, make you mine, but I won't. Not like I could. Not like a monster.”

“Then why didn’t you appear here anymore? You had me for so much longer…”

“I prefer your indifference to your hate.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t remember.”

“I don’t remember?”

“You don’t remember me,” he said, voice coming out low, emotionless. She couldn’t tell if he was mad, or sad. She couldn’t even tell it from his eyes since he wasn’t looking at her but at the tiled floor. “You forgot about me.” 

When his gaze followed her she wanted it to go back on the floor. He wasn’t crying, he couldn’t cry, but the pain, the anger, the madness were all there, hidden — or not so much — behind his big brown eyes. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she confessed, voice trembling, body shaking against the bed, stuck in that room with him, unable to escape. 

“I know,” he replied, still standing there immobile, his piercing eyes boring holes into hers. “You promised, you promised when I was covered in blood in your arms and yet, you forgot.” 

She chuckled awkwardly, feeling her throat get dry. “I — I think you have mistaken me for somebody else.” 

“No, it’s you. It has always been you.”

She gulped when he dropped an old photo, it was faded, and pictured two young people. They seemed close, cheeks resting together and bright smiles on their faces. One was him and the other was… a girl. A girl that weirdly resembled her. 

“Do you remember the fire? And the blood? My screams and then your cries?”

She met his eyes and shook her head. 

“Can I sit?” He asked pointing to the space next to her. 

She nodded, shifting to leave him more space. 

“Back when we were happy. Our days in the meadow, picking up flowers and sewing flower crowns. Our kisses under the weeping willow. The wooden swings with the wind caressing our skins? Do you at least remember that, when destiny didn’t step in and drifted us away, forever?”

She closed her eyes and let herself travel to a world she wasn’t sure she knew existed. And for a moment it felt like there were some kinds of memories unlocked in the deepest part of herself. A version of herself she didn't know. 

“Do you remember our song? Can you remember our voices singing it together?”

When he started singing his voice sounded like a haunted melody, and the song felt familiar, but she didn’t feel like herself. 

“I know this song,” she whispered, trying to remember where she heard it. “In my sleep... I heard this in my sleep every time I came here… it’s because you sang it. You sang it to me.” 

“I hoped you would remember.” 

“But how can I remember something I didn’t live?” She asked, and Jeno raised a hand to touch her but she pulled away, standing up. 

“Please,” he cried, “please don’t be afraid of me.” 

She stopped in her tracks, hands shaking at her side.  

“How can I not? I’m not who you think I am.” 

“Then can we pretend?” He asked. “Just for one night.”

She looked at him, eyes drifting from him to the room, not able to hold his stare, his broken, in love, stare. 

“Then I promise, I’ll leave you alone. I’ll spend eternity hidden in the attic, I will never bother you again, but just for tonight. I want to feel something again.” 

“This is…”

“I just want to feel alive one last time.”

Her heart broke into million pieces at his words. She had read his story, lurking in the library of the town she found a section of old newspapers and the way he died was tragic. And being the only one trapped here, in this cruel world, must’ve sucked. But he was still a ghost, a damnded soul left to wander there for eternity and she didn’t know if she could trust him. 

“But… what do you want from me?” 

“I want you,” he confessed. “Can I… can I come close?” 

She nodded, biting her lips as she stared at him float toward her. 

“Are you afraid of me?” 

“I…” the words died in her mouth. “I don’t… I don’t see how this could work. And yeah, a bit…” 

“I would never hurt you. You’re the last thing I have left in this world.” 

When he reached her, cold enveloped her, and goosebumps formed on her skin. She didn’t talk, she didn’t know what to say, she could only trust him and hope that his intentions were real. But she wasn’t afraid of that, she was more taken aback by the sadness he brought along, this kind of excruciating pain that seemed to seep deep into his bones, running in his blood if only he had some of it left.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, staring at her lips. 

“Yes.”

Jeno couldn’t contain the big smile that curled his lips, and his hands moved immediately to cup her face before erasing the distance between them. 

And when his lips met hers, she wondered how much he longed for that moment, how much he must’ve dreamt of that to happen. Because if at first it was odd and cold, then it got warmer, almost as if there was something coming from deeper. 

“Dreamed of this for so long,” Jeno whispered against her lips. “Every night when you fell asleep, and you looked so peaceful.” The way he caressed her face was comfortable and washed away all the fear that came from the reminder that he stalked her. “I’m so grateful you got to live this life, I’m so grateful nobody can hurt you. I want you to be happy, always.” Until we’ll meet again. He wanted to whisper, but he knew they weren’t going to meet again. That her afterlife wasn’t the same as his, that he was cursed there and she was going to fly high when on a faraway day she would’ve been called upon. 

“Let me show you,” he whispered, kissing her neck. “Let me show you how much I love you.” 

She could only mumble ‘yes,’ and let him fly her to the bed, mattress dipping under their weight. 

Jeno wasn’t proud of that, he knew watching without consent was wrong, but her muffled moans and whimpers dragged him to her, so he knew exactly what she liked. He knew what made her feel good and what turned her off. He knew her. Deeply. 

So after she was naked under him, his hands moved immediately like she wanted to, making her tremble under him. Light like a feather and cold like ice, making goosebumps rise on her skin while he moved them on her chest, playing with her nipples like she was used to do.

He knew she loved teasing. He guessed it edged the pleasure and kept her on her toes. Or maybe it was a vague illusion of those fingers belonging to somebody else that wanted to tease her and make her work to get to a bigger feeling. 

Either way, Jeno loved how her fingers brushed on herself, taking their sweet time, grazing every inch of her skin. 

“You’re so breathtaking,” he whispered, moving his eyes from her bare breast to her face; slightly thrown back and with a sweet frown on her forehead. “And you are as soft as I always imagined you to be.” 

His words should’ve shaken her to the core more, making her feel ashamed that he had been watching her every single time she let her hands wander south and take care of herself. Even mad since he lied the first time they met, swearing he would only listen. It was wrong and dirty, but something about it got to her brain and made her think it wasn’t that bad. 

“And you smell so good,” he mumbled, face buried in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. “Is it the bath foam you use? Your favourite, isn’t it?” 

“Vanilla,” they whispered at the same time and their breaths got stuck for a moment as they stared at each other in shock. 

Jeno was the first one to look away, feeling that he couldn’t let himself be dragged down an emotional path. So his fingers moved down, caressing her belly, and then meeting the soft layer of hair before starting to move on her clit. Exactly how she did; collecting the cum that drooled out of her, smearing it on her sensitive bud and then starting to slowly tease herself, moving in circles. 

And here it was, her legs bending, and spreading like a butterfly, her lips parted, and her nails sinking into the mattress. 

That picture he had framed in the back of his head was now right there in front of him and he was the cause of that pleasure. Not those men she surely fantasized about while she took care of herself. 

It was him. 

She shut her mouth with a hand when his fingers slipped in, remembering for a second that they weren’t alone, and as big as the house was, her parents were still downstairs and the door wasn’t locked. 

“I want to hear you,” he said, moving her hand away. 

“But my parents —”

“They’re sleeping on the couch, TV running loud enough to muffle us but don’t wake them up.” 

“Did you —” 

“Shh,” he shushed her with a kiss, his cold, covered body, pressing against hers, shivers running down her back. “Don’t think. Not tonight, not here with me. Please.”

She nodded, eyes wide as the emotions felt enhanced. And then tried to calm her breath, if only it was possible. 

“Jeno, fuck,” the moan came out of her lips broken as he kept moving his two fingers into her. It truly felt like he knew her by heart, and she should’ve found it creepy, but right there, she couldn’t. She liked to think it was love and dedication and that all the times he stared at her doing something so intimate were to learn how to get here, right there, in the highest of pleasure, touching her like nobody else ever did before. 

A smirk curled his lips as he stared in awe at how her pussy was clenching around his cold fingers, it had been years since he felt something like this, he honestly couldn’t remember how it was when he was human. But it was with her, so he was sure he was going to feel the same emotions. 

“Are you close?” He asked even though he already knew the answer, he could point out the shift in her moans when she was closer to the climax, and the cute way her hips would bounce against the bed to run after the high. 

She hummed, eyes opening to look at his before she came all over his fingers, trembling and trying to close her legs to stop him from curling inside.  

“You taste so good,” he hummed with his fingers still inside his mouth, sucking harshly after he pulled out of her. 

“Do you want more?” Her voice was shy, words barely audible as she tried to calm down from the pleasure. 

Jeno stopped unbuttoning his shirt and stared at her. “Do you?” 

She hesitated. It was embarrassing to say that, yes, she did want more. She felt addicted to him. “I — I do, I want you.” 

The smile that crept on his face was all she needed to let the fears slip into the back of her mind and stare while he took off his clothes, showing her his body. 

“Were you like this before?” She asked, tracing his arms, modestly toned, when his body caged hers underneath him. 

He gulped and only stared into her eyes as he tried to find an answer. “Maybe.” That was the only answer he could give her because he couldn’t remember anything about himself, his body was just an automatic reaction that his new nature knew had to transform into when he needed to at least appear human, but he had no memories over it. Blame time or blame himself because he only wanted to forget. 

“Does it get lonely?” 

“Please, don’t,” he replied, cold hand caressing her cheek, feeling his heart break at how warm she was. He didn’t know what that warmth felt like. The fires he lit up in the fireplace to pretend and fool himself of some intimate cosiness weren’t enough to be compared to this. 

She nodded, and even if he didn’t answer explicitly, the way he was looking at her was an answer. Yes, it did get lonely. 

What came after that left Jeno speechless for a second. “Can I kiss you?” She asked with a low and shaky voice, sounding so sweet and taken aback as if his fingers weren’t inside of her a few minutes ago. 

But romance is worst than sex. 

A kiss is scarier than a ruthless fuck that leaves no scars behind. 

But Jeno loved pain. And he loved to live in his fantasies. 

“Yes.” 

Her head raised from the pillow and soon after her lips were on hers, this time they weren’t shaking like before, and her hands weren’t still at her side, letting him have control over everything. Her fingers tangled in his hair and pulled enough to make him moan in the kiss. 

It felt real and sweet and needy. It felt like something else inside of them was calling. 

“Please, take me,” she whispered, hips rolling against his hard cock. “I promise it’ll feel good.” 

“I know it will feel good,” he replied with a bitter chuckle because he wasn’t so sure the physical pleasure could drown the pain. “I know it,” he repeated, forehead falling on top of hers as he slipped inside, thick girth stretching her wet walls, their moans rolling out together as they both tried to adjust to the new sensation. 

It felt different. 

Burning hot for him. 

Freezing cold for her. 

But as he started to drag his hips back and forth, and they merged together, they found a balance. 

“Je—Jeno,” she whimpered, dragging her nails across his back and biting her lips. 

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He asked, fearing a negative answer. 

“So good, it feels so, so good,” she replied with a small smile on her face as her legs wrapped around his waist, and that made him lose his mind. 

“Fuck,” she groaned when his hips started slamming harder against her, pressing her against the mattress. 

“Is — is it too much?” 

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes as the second orgasm approached already. 

“Good, ‘cause I can’t help it — fuck,” he moaned, kissing her roughly, grabbing her wrists and pinning them over her head. “You feel too good, too fucking good.” 

“Oh, shit,” she moaned when his fingers grazed her nipples again, so cold against her burning skin that it got the two sensitive buds even harder and made her skin raise with goosebumps. 

“Is it weird?” 

“No, I like it,” she reassured him, chest moving up to feel him more, finding addiction to the contrast between them. “More.” 

Jeno found it odd, he couldn’t get how she enjoyed that so much but he surely wasn’t going to make her repeat herself, so letting go of her wrists, his other hand moved between their bodies; freezing fingers playing with her clit, making her jolt in surprise and pleasure. 

“Fuck,” she whimpered. “Good.” 

Jeno leaned in to kiss her again, to warm himself in her, to feel the heartbeat that wasn’t pumping in his ribcage anymore. 

“I’m close,” she moaned when he pulled back, moving her hand to touch his back. 

“Come, babe. Say my name,” he begged. “Scream who’s making you feel good.” 

“You, Jeno, fuck,” she moaned, head rolling back as the shocks of the orgasm made it harder to breathe. 

“I’m not done with you,” Jeno groaned, pulling out and flipping her over, ass arched up and face pressed against the mattress before he slumped hard into her swollen hole again, thrusts hard and swift. “Dreamed of this for so long. Wanted to be your favourite toy so badly,” Jeno grunted against her neck, teeth sinking into the skin, leaving a mark behind. “Would’ve fucked you harder and better, fuck, just how you like.” 

No words came out of her mouth, oversensitivity getting to her head and so did his words. The image of him being always there as she masturbated, watching so attentively that he knew exactly what she liked, almost brought her over the edge again. 

“But this…” he huffed, throwing his head back, hands gripping around her waist harder. “This is so much better. You’re so fucking wet and tight, clenching around my cock and dripping all over the sheets. You dreamt of this, didn’t you?” 

She shook her head to deny but Jeno grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her up. “No? Pretending to be terrified of me but you wished I would come back to you. You hated not having my attention for a few days.” 

“I — I —” 

“Shh, I don’t need your sweet lies, I know you did,” he groaned, a hand slipping in front of her neck to hold her up. “When you sneaked in the bathtub at midnight and played with yourself. Not only dumb enough to think I wouldn’t see you but dumb enough to think of me.” 

Her mouth fell open as she realized he could hear her calling him even if she didn’t let out a word, shame creeping over when she remembered what she fantasised about. 

“You wanted me to fuck you hard, didn’t you?” 

She nodded, head falling back against his shoulders as his hips kept slamming hard against her. 

“Wanted me to ruin you. Wondered what my powers could do to you.” 

“Want me to possess you? You love that it’s scary and — fuck — that you’re helpless.” 

She shook her head, lying because that was exactly what ran in her brain that day, moaning louder. “Want — want you to keep fucking me, Jeno.” 

“How?” He grunted, stopping moving inside of her and waiting for her to confess. 

She stuttered, trying to look at him to beg him to don’t let her say it, but Jeno had no intention of back away. 

“While… against a wall.” 

Jeno smirked, kissing her jaw and then her neck, air fanning against her hot skin as he spoke, “and?” 

“While you’re flying,” she confessed, chest panting hard and walls still pulsing around his cock. 

“That’s my good girl, my naughty good girl,” he whispered before pulling out, the feeling of emptiness didn’t last much, after a few seconds she was up in the air, shivering, breath stuck in her throat for a second when she realized how far from the bed they were. 

“I won’t make you fall,” he said, sinking into her again, dick filling her so well while her legs immediately wrapped around his waist for safety, pushing him deeper. “I would never hurt you.” 

“I know,” she replied, kissing him. 

For some reason Jeno seemed to be faster like this and the whole not having her feet on the ground was making her head spin so much she could barely register another orgasm ripple through her. Nails digging into the skin of his back. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Jeno groaned, cupping her chin, thumb caressing her cheek, “so drunk on my cock, aren’t you? All hot and flustered, pretty glossy eyes, pretty lips parted,” he kissed her roughly, pressing her back harder against the wall behind her, the texture rubbing against her skin, creating a light discomfort. “Should’ve made you suck my cock, bet your mouth would feel so good.” 

“Would take it all, wouldn’t you?” He asked and she nodded enthusiastically, hoarse moans coming out as an answer. “Just like you do with your toy, let it hit the back of your throat, so you gag on it.” 

“Yes,” she mumbled, drool dripping from the corner of her mouth as he kept applying pressure on her chin. 

He nodded, a sting hitting his heart again at the thought he wasn’t going to have a taste of it, he wasn’t going to have a taste of her again. 

“You’re my pretty, pretty girl,” he whispered against her neck, cold fingers letting go of her face and grazing her nipples again, making her shiver in his hold as she limply let him use her to reach his high.

“Is this what you wanted?” He mocked, biting her lower lip and pulling. “It was so hard to don’t come and take you right there the other day and give you exactly what you wanted,” he groaned. “I know it would’ve scared you and you would’ve hated me more.”

She shook her head, “I don’t hate you.”

“Did my cock make you change your mind?”

“N-no, it’s you, fuck,” she replied, hips pushing against his messily. 

“You love the thrill,” he commented. “Such a nasty girl, your thoughts were worst than this. You wanted me to do the worst things to you. And you still lied to me and — fuck — pretended you couldn’t see yourself with a ghost.”

“Are — are you mad?” She asked, fearing for a second to have angered him. 

But Jeno denied, cupping her chin again, lips pouting out. “I’m mad I don’t get to do them to you.” 

“Do — do them,” she whimpered, “I’m here.”

Jeno didn’t reply, he couldn’t do all that even if he wanted to, she was too tired for other rounds and crazier things and so was him, more mentally than physically. But he still tried to fulfil some fantasy, moving their bodies higher as he kept moving in and out of her wet cunt with a fast rhythm, and his fingers played with her clit before reaching around to graze her rim, but without doing anything.

“Wanted me to fuck your ass,” he whispered. “How nasty, baby.”

She grunted, blinking heavily to focus on him, but no more words formed in her brain. 

“Wanted to see how strong I am and for how long I could fuck you. I could go all night buried in this sweet little pussy of yours, but you? Can you?”

She shook her head, biting her lips, she could barely don’t pass out after this orgasm. “Jeno,” she breathed out, half–lidded eyes looking into his. 

“What, babe, are you gonna come again?” He asked to prove his point, a smirk on his face as he stared at her wrecked face. 

She nodded, unable to give him a proper answer. 

“Tell me you love me,” Jeno cried out, holding her body closer to his. “Please, even if it’s a lie, even if it’s fake, please.” 

“I love you,” she screamed, squeezing her eyes to suppress the tears from falling down. Why did she feel so connected with his pain? Why did it feel like she was going through the same thing? “I love you, Jeno. I — I always did.” 

And Jeno believed it, after all, her soul was the same and he knew they were soulmates, nothing, not even death, could’ve changed that. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she repeated, legs tightening around him, and fingers creeping in his hair to pull him close and kiss him. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he came too, bodies shuddering against each other, fingers dipping into the soft flesh of her waist.  

She leaned against him, leaving small pecks on his lips, and massaging his scalp. 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

What a sweet lie, coming from her lips to target his non-beating heart. 

“I love you, too,” he replied, moving her hair out of her face before kissing her another time. 

Jeno laid her on the bed again, and he would’ve loved to talk some more, but a deep slumber took over her immediately, and he could only smile bitterly as he felt emptiness fill him again. 

When the sky cleared and the moon shone outside, the silver rays peeked inside the room, lighting her face, and showing him her beautiful features as he was standing once again at the side of her bed. He tried to, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stand laying so close to her, knowing he didn’t have her, knowing it was simply a silly fantasy. 

Or worst. 

They were a sweet lie. 

A bitter-sweet lie. 

And the only thing he could think about as he transformed back into his ghost form and stared at her sleeping peacefully, was that destiny, or God, or whoever had the reins up there, was a bastard. 

The love of his life was right there, it had incarnated in herself and he had lost her again. 

TAGLIST: @kpopgirl124127 @kwnshi @auroraichimaru @kundann | let me know if you want to be added by commenting under the INFERNO masterlist

A/N: hope you liked it! let me know with comments, reblogs or even asks ♡

FALL FROM GRACE

TITLE: fall from grace | part of the INFERNO event

PAIRING: seraphim!taeyong x succubus!oc/reader

GENRE: smut, angel/demon, light angst, (kinda) enemies to lovers

SUMMARY: after consuming many human souls, there’s one thing you want to do. Corrupt an angel. But not any angel, God’s favorite angel.

WARNINGS: religious themes, religious trauma, religious guilt, mentions of God, blasphemy, mentions of homicide, mentions of death, smut, corruption kink, loss of virginity, worshipping, praise kink, God kink, some blood, dubcon (consent is explicit but the whole circumstances and the mc nature make it hard to draw a clear line), oral sex (m receiving), suspended sex (flying), anal (m receiving), vaginal sex (f receiving), mindbreak, sub!taeyong, dom!mc (not really bdsm sub/dom dynamics)

WORD COUNT: 9.338k

More info before you read: starting from saying that succubi and incubi are technically middle age demons and are nowhere to be found in the bible, in the folklore they are shapeshifters; the succubus has sex with a man, ‘takes’ his sperm and then, turning into an incubus, has sex with a woman and get her pregnant. I know in fiction you usually don’t find this aspect but I liked it and thought it worked in this, so the mc first has a vulva and then a penis, obviously is not written with the original purpose, I just thought it was ridiculous to make a demon pull out a strap-on from under the bed in hell. If you’re religious I advise you don’t read but if you really want to do it, please, I’M BEGGING, keep in mind that she’s a demon, a demon WOULD NEVER praise God. So PLEASE don’t come at me if a succubus makes comments against God. Also, keep in mind her story when she was alive and how she died, the religious trauma is big as a house.

A/N: this was a wild ride but I loved writing it, I never imagined it would get so deep and intense but I shouldn’t be surprised by myself anymore. If you hop on the train to hell and decide to read this it would mean a lot to know your opinion with a comment, a reblog or even an ask! Enjoy!!

if you click 'read more' you agree you have read the warnings and take responsibility for the media you consume.

“You can’t corrupt an angel,” Johnny snickered, watching his friend try to pick something to wear for her ‘mission’. 

“You’re forgetting who you’re talking to, Johnny,” she replied, a confident smirk on her face and eyes lighting up in anticipation. 

The incubus sighed, shaking his head, and then walked closer to her. She was right. She was known in hell and heaven — and even on earth if humans could only talk about being fucked by a succubus — for her abilities. 

She was good, a tease, an expert manipulator. A dammed angel, that’s what other angels and demons loved to call her. Because she knew exactly how to give doe eyes and then put her victim on the ground. 

And her victim this time wasn’t a human that dumbly called for her, or sold their soul, but Taeyong; probably the purest angel heaven had ever seen. 

And as much as Johnny trusted the ability of his friend, he had seen her in action, even sucked the soul out of people with her, he wasn’t so sure she could make him fall apart. 

“I know you, but I also know him,” he replied. Well, for what was possible. Demons and angels didn’t share the same places. They were forced to live in the darkness of the underworld while the others flew in the blinding light of paradise. Even if there was a grey zone, most of the angels despised them to their core — they were so full of themselves, Johnny couldn’t stand them — and demons avoided meeting them anyway, there was no denying that angels could kill them with ease, the powers of some species had nothing on what the demons had.

But voices ran anyway, and getting to Taeyong was impossible. He was a Seraphim, the closest angel to God. Their whole existence was for worshipping Him and everything He did. And it was true that out of all the other Seraphim he was one of the few God let out on missions, his pure heart too precious to don’t be used to bring humans on the right track again, but there was no way he was going to be corrupted. 

“He’s the only one dumb enough to don’t be afraid to come close to us,” she replied, finally picking the bold fit she was going to wear, looking in the mirror, and watching her long, black tail swing behind her. 

Well, it was true. He did try to talk with some of them sometimes, no matter how visibly disgusted by their needs he was. But in the end, he was pure, curious, and fascinated by what the other side of the medal offered. 

“He won’t come close to you.” 

“Are you sure?” She asked, extracting a dagger from her thigh, watching his face contort in disbelief, and curling her lips into a smirk. 

Her scream pierced through the woods, loud and clear to be heard for miles. Heaven’s gates were far away from where she was laying, partially covered in blood, panting, and crying, but he wasn’t. 

She knew Taeyong had a mission. Haechan, her dearest messenger angel, let her know. And to get to heaven he had to pass there, in the woods of the middle ground. And he couldn’t ignore a suffering soul — as damned as she was, she was still a soul, right? 

After what felt like ages, she heard the bushes rustle and a light breeze on her skin followed by a bright golden light.  

“Are you alright?” Taeyong’s voice was light and delicate, it sounded like a melody and she usually detested that sound on other angels, but other angels weren’t him. As much as he was the purest being in heaven — second to God, but she couldn’t care much about Him — he was one of the few that didn’t look at them up and down. 

“No,” she cried, eyes looking at the ground, hands clasping at her scarred thigh to stop the blood from flowing freely. 

Taeyong looked around; he hated that place. It wasn’t Hell and it wasn’t Heaven, it was a scary ground where anything could happen. And he knew the figure in front of him was a demon, but he couldn’t just leave her alone at anyone’s mercy. Demons were different, some only craved sex, some craved blood, and some only pushed people toward sin, and he knew when they got bored they weren’t afraid to use each other for fun. 

“We need to go somewhere safe,” he said, looking down at the covered demon. She seemed to be a succubus, nothing further from his beliefs and ideals, but he couldn’t leave her there. “You’re bleeding,” he whispered, noticing her cut flesh as he lifted her from the ground, feeling a rush when they touched. 

“I know a place.” 

“Guide me.” 

She smirked under the cap, He was going to be so easy to win. 

“I can’t enter Hell,” he said as soon as they reached the board, the black and purple doors standing big and gloomy at the frontier. 

“Please, I’m hurt, I can’t walk.” 

Taeyong sighed and with one swift look around he passed the gate. It wasn’t forbidden, it just wasn’t a smart move. And God wasn’t waiting for him to come back just yet, technically he wasn’t disobeying Him. 

After a few minutes, that to him felt like an eternity, they reached what looked like a castle. 

“Is this the place?” 

She nodded, trying to still keep her head low and then grunted, she wasn’t even faking the pain, she actually stabbed herself for this. But it seemed to be working, he was walking straight into the trap, he was going to fall. 

And Taeyong suspected nothing, he surely didn’t like this, and this wasn’t the night he had imagined, he wanted to arrive back to God’s side as soon as possible and worship Him after yet another mission that succeeded, but he couldn’t don’t help someone in need. He was an angel, he was good. 

So he didn’t stop and thought much when she guided him to a bedroom, expensive silk, velvet and ruby stones adorning the place. 

“I can cure your cut,” he said, laying her against the mattress. 

“Oh, I know you can,” she replied, exposing the skin of her thigh. 

He gulped when his eyes fell on the red flesh. “Are you a succubus?” 

“Is that a problem? I’m literally bleeding, I’m not trying to seduce you, but well, if a small portion of exposed skin has that effect on you…” It was going to be easier than expected. Maybe Taeyong being just too pure was a good thing. 

“I won’t fall from grace, I just know your nature,” he replied, sitting on the bed next to her. “I can help you, and I will.” He moved the long cloak and pulled the cut fabric of her skin-tight pants away. “It will burn… a lot, our nature goes against each other and it will probably leave a scar, but it will stop the bleeding.” 

“Are you going to use Holy Water on me?” She asked, snapping her eyes. That wasn’t something she considered. “That will kill me.” 

“It won’t. But no, I won’t use it. Just, trust me.” 

Trusting an angel, absurd. They were more invidious than they looked. So good and kindhearted and then if a demon was dying at their feet they would’ve walked past them. But he didn’t. He was the closest to God and he walked all the way there to her bedroom, kind or dumb, he was there. So maybe the rumours were true. He was the purest angel Heaven had ever seen. 

And she was going to stain him with sin. 

But he was still an angel, and unfortunately for her, angels were amongst the most powerful beings walking in Heaven. Especially Seraphim, probably the only ones more powerful were Archangels. 

She nodded, and then closed her eyes, waiting for him to heal her cut. His hands felt soft at the touch but as soon as a blinding light started coming from his fingers she felt a piercing pain run through her. 

“It’s over,” he said after a few seconds. “It’s healed.” 

She looked over at her thigh, a small wound replaced the cut and no more blood covered her skin. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I should give you a favour back.” 

Taeyong shook his head. “No, no, I’ll leave. I can’t stay here.” 

She rolled her eyes and then walked off the bed to stand between him and the door. “Scared of me? So, it’s true that angels hate other species so much. Thought you were supposed to be kind to everybody.” 

Taeyong coughed and tried to look behind the cape, but it still covered half of her face, crimson red lips the only things he could see. “I don’t hate you, but I don’t sin and don’t associate myself with souls that do it. I’m a Seraphim, my job is to praise God in all His almighty and I shouldn’t be here.” 

“Boo, that’s so boring, doing so much for your boss that sends you on earth to save silly humans from the fucked up things they chose to do,” she teased, twirling around a string of her coat.

The angel rolled his eyes. “Don’t use those words. And He’s not my boss, it’s different. Humans need help, finding the light in that world can be hard, and I’m glad I can help.” 

“I also help them find the light,” she smirked, tail swinging behind her.  

“You help them find sin and fall into temptations.” 

“They summon me, I’m their favourite,” she bragged. How much light she had sucked… eternity was by now a sure thing for her. “You and I will outlive everybody here with my soul count.” 

“We won’t meet again. I respect you, but I need to go, probably to help the humans you and your kind pushed into sin.” 

“You know you can’t save the soul of a sinner that sold their soul to the devil. Not everything is under your control or the one of your boss.” 

“My boss recognizes the ones that are truly redeemed of their mistakes and will save them.”

“Yes, and then sends the others down here. How kind.” 

Taeyong huffed and glared at her. “I have to go.” 

“You can’t leave me like this.” 

“I won’t spend a moment more here,” he retorted but his voice was shaking. Was he losing his powers? Was the underworld weakening him? 

She rolled her eyes and then walked to the door, body stopping him from walking past it. 

“It’s so rude to decline an invitation,” she cooed. 

The angel gulped, feeling his body getting weaker around her. He had been around succubi and incubi before, but nobody ever made him feel like this. 

“Fine,” he gave up. “But be quick.” 

A smile of victory curled her full lips as she got up from the door and reached her hand out for him to take. “Perfect,” she smiled. “There’s something I want you to try.” 

Taeyong knew he should’ve gotten up and left. He wasn’t sure to be weakened by these creatures’ powers, but with the devil, you can never be sure enough. Yet, he felt stuck there. 

There was something about her that seemed nice. A characteristic that should’ve made him stay on his toes even more. 

He didn’t judge them. 

Angels and demons have different natures. And perdition is such an easy road to get lost in. So he couldn’t blame them if they fell down that road.

“Are you listening to me?” She asked, shaking him out of his thoughts. 

“I, mmh, no, I wasn’t, sorry,” he replied, looking at her, studying her features attentively. 

“I was asking about your job,” she said, sitting in front of him and filling his cup with a liquid, he had no idea what it was, it was red, and smelled nice. 

Taeyong fought back the urge to roll his eyes again, and only answered, “It’s not a job, it’s something that goes deeper than that.” 

“Yeah,” she replied, rolling her eyes, “whatever. You care about filling heaven with poor souls that redeemed themselves, I care about fucking them and becoming immortal, I don’t care about the details,” she stopped, lips lifting in a smirk. “Unless you want to know the details.” 

He blushed, choking on the drink. 

“The unholy things you do should never be heard by a Seraphim ear.” 

She smirked, cocking her head to the side and he had no idea when she shifted closer to him, he only felt her fingers graze his shoulder and jolted. 

“Please, don’t drag others into damnation.” 

“Damnation,” she huffed with a move of the hand to dismiss the heaviness of the accusation, “why is pleasure a sin in the first place?” 

“It’s carnal pleasure. It’s something you don’t need. Superficial. There are many other joys in life, and even after death if you follow the light of God during your trip to earth.” 

She wanted to gag, but to have some decency, she didn’t. Yes, their same old tales. The same tales that she heard when she was a teenager in 1779 and was considered a witch because — along with many other reasons — she enjoyed sex. She always found it so infuriating how women didn’t have to enjoy it, but just suffer; a sick, sick concept. So being there, ‘burning’ in the pits of hell and seeking lust to survive wasn’t a punishment for her. 

“So, I also guess that your Almighty and most Merciful God sends already built babies on earth,” she pouted, a mocking edge in her voice while her gaze dared him.  

Taeyong sighed, taking a deep breath. “That’s not sex, that’s procreation.” 

“Yeah, that’s funny,” she laughed loudly, shaking her head before adding, “got a girl pregnant once.” 

“You can’t,” he whispered, blushing at her lustful words, his confidence faltering against hers.   

“You have no idea of the things I can do,” she smirked. “And by the way, there’s nothing worse than mechanic sex done just to procreate.” 

“It’s two people loving each other bringing another light of God on earth but I don’t expect you to understand,” he retorted promptly, shaking his head to wipe away the effect she was having on him.  

“I don’t expect you to care either,” she said, and he quirked a brow. “I was murdered by my arranged husband because I didn’t want to give him a child. I was murdered because the rumours running in town saying I was a wicked witch manipulating ladies’ husbands to fuck with me got in my husband’s head. Well, keep in mind I did all that before being forced to marry him. And also keep in mind that those husbands crawled to me. So why should I cry now? Why should I don’t find joy in people calling me just to feel something?” 

Taeyong didn’t say a word. He didn’t know. He knew that most incubi and succubi were created by Satan Himself, but he had no idea normal people could turn into one. 

“Why was I sent here and not up there?” She asked. “Why did your God turn his back on me and left me here? My husband’s hands stained with blood are not rotting in hell. He begged for forgiveness. He stuck a knife into my chest while I was sleeping and couldn’t even try to defend myself, but he begged, and he pleaded, and he…” she had to stop, this wasn’t where she wanted the conversation to go. Her past was in the past, far back in the timeline, and she still couldn’t let that have a hold on her. But it hurt nonetheless when she thought how unfair it had been.  

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong whispered, swearing that for a split second, he could see vulnerability in her eyes. 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” she said, gulping. 

“But why you didn’t ask for forgiveness too? God is generous, He would’ve let you in.” 

“I don’t care about going to Heaven, I just wanted him to be here too. I mean, I had my fair amount of fun haunting him at night, but it still wasn’t enough to make him pay for all he did to me. But as I said, I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about you.” 

“About me?” 

“Yeah, the most devoted God’s angel. How does it feel?” 

“You wouldn’t get it,” he replied, eyeing the clock, wondering if in Hell time moved slower, standing up to leave. 

“Stay,” she said, and he could feel a shift in the air around him, but he had no idea what it was. “Please,” her eyes turned softer. “It gets lonely down here.” 

The Seraphim swallowed hard, feeling a vibration in his bones as he locked his eyes into hers. There was something about her that was calling him, but he couldn’t answer. “Can’t you go on earth and have some fun?” 

“If they don’t summon me, I rarely can. And I don’t want that kind of fun… not with them at least,” she whispered the last words. 

Taeyong sighed, rubbing two fingers on his temples and sitting again, making her smirk. “Don’t you feel guilty?” 

“Guilty?” 

“When you spend your nights with them and hear their screams of pain and you know you’re taking a bit of light from them, their sweet time coming away with you.” 

“Trust me, their screams are of everything but pain,” she replied, sipping on her glass again. “But how could you know, right? I bet you never felt something like that in life.” 

“You bring pain and perdition.” 

“I bring pleasure and perdition,” she replied, winking and clicking her tongue. “Never wondered why I’m the best?” 

Taeyong wanted to answer that it wasn’t his business, he did what he could, but he had no control over the underground, that was the rule if they wanted Heaven and Hell to get along. So even if he heard voices about her, he didn’t dwell on them.

And he knew he shouldn’t have had those thoughts, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t so surprised that she was so famous and good at what she did. Her black siren eyes with long lashes that fluttered so nicely every time she blinked. Her full lips lightly curled in a teasing smirk. Her long black hair falling in waves on her shoulders. The burgundy horns that peeked from her head, standing straight before curling just at the tip. And lastly, her long tail, curving so perfectly he couldn’t even find it gross. 

“Are you still with me?” She asked. And once again she was standing so close to him, too close to him, her fingers under his chin. When their eyes met, Taeyong felt all his certainty fall to the ground. 

This was wrong. 

This was so wrong. 

This was a sin. 

The worst sin he could ever commit. 

The biggest pain he could’ve brought to His God. 

And yet he closed his eyes and leaned in. 

And when their lips met, a bolt resonated through Hell, as the storm started racing outside. 

And that made him pull away, falling on the floor, shaking his head, feeling too dizzy. 

“I should — I should really leave.” 

“It’s raining,” she pointed out, walking toward him, and towering over him. 

“I can shield myself from rain, there’s nothing wrong with it.” 

“I think you should stay,” she said before her wings spread from her back, wide and black with crimson red dripping down. “You’re safe here. My wings will shield you.” 

“God can’t reach here anyway,” he whispered, and it was more of a personal realization. God was absent from Hell. Hell was submersed in perdition, He wasn’t there. He couldn’t see him, and He couldn’t save him. 

And he, Taeyong, his dearest angel, was starting to think about Him less and less. 

“Scream it,” she said, lifting his chin again, watching as a drop of tear fell from his eyes. “Beg for Him to save you. Beg for Him to open his arms and forgive you. Say it, loud and clear, and see yourself if He cares about broken souls.” 

“He does,” Taeyong replied, but his voice was shaking like a leaf, hanging from a branch on the last day of fall, fighting against the harsh winter that wanted to leave no traces behind of the warm season that had been. “This is just the wrong place.” 

“Is it? But if I begged nicely enough, He would’ve let me in, right?” She reminded him of his words, a bitter edge in her tone. “Beg Him to save you.” 

And Taeyong thought about it. Thoughts that never would’ve crossed his brain were filling it, fogging his sanity, drowning his morality. 

“What if I don’t want to be saved?” 

She furrowed, tilting her head to the side. 

“You don’t want to be saved?” 

He nodded, feeling a weird, new sensation creep into his bones. He was feeling hotter, and he was sure it got nothing to do with being in Hell, his chest was raising up and down faster and his pupils were dilated. 

“Well, I don’t mind, I don’t like forcing things out of people, so you would make it all so much easier.” 

Taeyong didn’t reply, he felt stuck, ass still against the floor. 

She smirked, leaning closer, moving his face side to side with her fingers, studying his expression. How ethereal he looked even right now. “You are terrified. Playing with fire?” 

“He won’t find out, right?” 

“You should know Him better than me,” she chuckled, “but no. This is not his playground.” 

She wanted to add that God finding out should’ve been the last of his worries, that his biggest problem right now was her, but she wanted to see him fall deeper and deeper without thinking about the consequences. It was working. Her aura was working on him, just like it worked on every other people she stained before. 

And she never felt more powerful than this. 

“I could tell you wanted to feel good,” she whispered, kissing his neck, making his head fall backwards. “A pretty face like you shouldn’t be deprived of pleasure.” 

When she sat on his lap, Taeyong’s heart faltered and his hands unconsciously moved to wrap around her waist. 

“Oh, angel, learning faster than I expected,” she commented, making her fingers run in his hair and tugging his head back to have more access to his neck. Her teeth grazed the soft white skin, causing him to buck his hips up and let out a soft moan. 

“I — I feel weird,” he whispered, eyes squeezing shut and hands tightening around her body. 

“You feel good,” she reassured him, sucking the skin on his neck, smirking against it when a louder moan rolled out of his lips. “You like it when I suck here?” She asked, doing it again on the same spot. 

“Ye-yes,” he replied, voice airy and weak. “Where are you going?” He asked when she flew away from him, floating in the air. She looked so powerful, and so… captivatingly beautiful. He truly shouldn’t have thought that but it was too late by now and he might’ve as well let himself get lost in her beauty. 

She chuckled, finding it so cute how he was already afraid she would leave him behind. “Come with me,” she said. “You deserve to be fucked in a soft bed, not on the floor.” 

“My — my wings will blind you.” 

She smiled before flying to him and lifting him in her arms, “I’ll carry you then.” 

When Taeyong rested against the bed his brain completely shut down. He had no idea if she was using some sick powers over him, or if he truly had slipped down a treacherous path and was enjoying this more than he should’ve. But whatever it was, it didn’t matter. 

There was something… something he couldn’t describe with words. It was in the way her lips were kissing every inch of his skin while her slim, soft fingers traced his body to get him out of his immaculate, white clothes, leaving him bare and exposed before he could register. 

There was something in the way she was looking at him. Her eyes were intense, but oddly enough, not scary.  

“You truly are God’s most beautiful creation,” she whispered, sharp nails trailing his skin, enough to make him hiss but without leaving scars on him. “God’s most precious, and purest creature.” 

Hearing His name again made Taeyong realize what he was doing. He was still in time, he could’ve left, he was a Seraphim, he had powers that could’ve destroyed her and turned her into ashes to the ground. But he didn’t want to. 

Taeyong didn’t want to leave. 

Taeyong didn’t want to leave her. 

“What a shame I will stain you with sin,” she whispered, leaning close to him again, kissing his lips roughly, teeth sinking into his soft, plump flesh, hard enough to make a droplet of blood roll down his chin.

She smirked, looking at the first draft of the mess she was going to turn him into. Long tongue rolling out to lick the blood. “Holy,” she noted, his blood tasting like God’s wine more than iron. “But it won’t last for long. You look beautiful in red, maybe I should drain more out of you.” 

“No, no, it will kill you.” 

“Worried about me?” 

He only nodded, trying to keep her focus on her and not on the movements her hips were making against his lap. 

She didn’t answer, only another smirk curled up her lips before she was flying on top of him again. Black wings spread open, shielding him and enveloping him with darkness, while her hands moved sensually on her body to get rid of her clothes. 

And once she was uncovered, Taeyong’s mouth parted open. His eyes were stuck on her, following her hands that slowly moved from her round hips to her waist before cupping her breasts, and throwing her head back while her fingers circled her hardening nipples. 

“I’m the Devil’s best creation, aren’t I?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he mindlessly replied, thinking that for how perfect she was, she also could’ve been God’s creation. But when she sat once again on his chest all his thoughts fogged again. 

“I can’t wait to ruin you,” she whispered in his ear, hands moving down to touch him in a place he never even imagined grazing. And yet, here he was, laying in the bed of a Succubus, no, worse, of the most powerful Succubus that walked Hell and earth, with her hands wrapped around his cock, making him feel new sensations. 

“Why — why do I feel like this?” He barely breathed out, eyes wide open, pupils dilated, chest panting as his lungs struggled for air. 

“Why do you feel good?” She asked, the movement of her hand rhythmic and slow, pumping him with no pressure. After all, they had eternity. 

“I — I feel hot. Are you burning me? This is our nature, we can’t — we shouldn’t,” he had no time to complain more because her lips shushed him. Another kiss that not only left him speechless but breathless.  

“We look so good together, Taeyong,” she whispered, hand moving faster, and his head unconsciously rolled back, while out of his lips only moans came out. No more fights or complaints. “And I will show you how well we fit in each other.” 

Taeyong wanted to ask how they could fit when they were so different. Two different poles of two different realities. But all the need for an answer disappeared when her lips started kissing his neck. “Beautiful.” Her voice was sultry, low, and reached him deeply, shaking him to the core, making him smile, loving being called that. Beautiful. Such a human thing to be. In Paradise beauty didn’t matter, it was all about the inside, about the soul. But somehow, he loved being beautiful for her. 

He loved being stripped of his higher entity. Of his immaculate being. Of his non-human being. Of his non-flesh being.

“I’m so glad God created you,” she said, looking into his eyes, seeing their purity and composure dim with each passing second. “I’m so happy you exist.”

“Mhh,” he whimpered, closing his eyes, biting his lips when he felt he couldn’t control those filthy sounds to come out from his lips anymore. 

“Don’t, angel,” she said, fingers freeing his lower lip from between his teeth. “Only I can bite them, only I can make them bleed.” 

So Taeyong let go of himself, face contorting as pleasure seeped into his veins, staining his holy blood.

“That’s right, angel. Don’t think, there are no judgements here. You are safe,” she whispered, lips trailing on his chest, licking his nipples before moving down, wetting his stomach, and reaching the soft layer of hair at the base of his cock. “Safe from anger and cruelty cast upon those who don’t follow Him. You’re safe with me.” 

A groan rolled out of his lips when her mouth wrapped around his cock, not expecting her to do that, not expecting it would… feel so good. 

“What are — what are you doing?” He mumbled, lifting his neck to meet her eyes, stomach twitching when it happened because nobody ever looked at him that way. Both as if they wanted to destroy him and worshipped him at the same time. 

She pulled away with a loud, lewd pop, and then replied, “taking care of you. Making you feel what you deserve to feel.” 

“Ye — yes but this… this looks so dirty and…” 

“And does it matter?” She stopped him, raising a brow, her hand replacing her warm mouth on his hard cock, moving swiftly up and down. “I’m the one that knows what she’s doing, here. Trust me, and don’t think.” 

The Seraphim hummed, letting his body relax against the bed, skin crawling in anticipation as he waited for her to do what she was doing before again. He couldn’t deny how good it felt, it was just weird because he didn’t know what was going on. And ignorance wasn’t something reserved for them. 

Her movements were slow but intense, and her hands caressed his thigh as if she was creating him from scratch, and probably she was. He wasn’t going to be the same Taeyong that crossed the doors of Hell after that night. 

Her lips, her fingers, and herself were changing him, crafting him into something he wasn’t. And yet, for how delicate she was being, he felt like he wasn’t being stripped away of his holiness. 

Right at that moment, he felt like he could be both, damned and holy. 

“You taste so good, angel,” she hummed, warm mouth pulling away from him, hand replacing it swiftly, moving up and down with a steady rhythm. 

“My angel,” she whispered again, moving her lips on the soft skin of his thighs, kissing and brushing, marking him of a faint memory. 

And when her lips were back on him, Taeyong felt religion. 

Her tongue like a remedy for all the ages spent loving in devotion to something intangible. 

Bringing him to a Heaven that had no absolutes. 

Bringing him to a death that brought along a new life. 

But that required a sacrifice, and he still wasn’t aware of what it was. 

She didn’t tell him, she wasn’t going to be the one telling what the price of it was going to be. He was going to find it out, eventually. But right there, with his hips moving quickly against her to meet her midway, hands scratching the sheets and angelic moans slipping past his lips, it didn’t matter. 

Maybe that was the sacrifice. 

Maybe they were the sacrifice.

“Please,” Taeyong pleaded, not even knowing for what, shy hands daring to touch her body, wrapping around her hips, feeling himself get even warmer, unexpected shivers of pleasure running all over his body, shaking him from head to toe. 

“What – what was that?” He asked, eyes wide, looking at her. He was no stranger to extreme powers and abilities but those of demons weren’t his field and he had no idea what she had just done to him. 

A sweet chuckle rolled out of her mouth, “that was your first orgasm. Felt good?” 

He blinked repeatedly, swallowing saliva trying to wet his throat, and hummed. 

“I’m not done with you,” she said, floating once again. And seeing her stand so big over him, shielding him, even protecting him, made him feel something. Once again, he couldn’t name it, but he liked it. Because all his life nobody ever shielded him or praised him. That was his job, and the faith he felt for Him was blind, was natural, but this? What trick was this? What spell was she casting on him to make him feel so devoted to her, so drawn to those attentions he never, ever, felt the need to receive?

Those thoughts flew away when he couldn’t believe his eyes when her body transformed. “You — you can do that?” 

She snickered, coming down again, big cock laying on top of his tummy, right next to his, making him shiver. 

“Afraid?” Her hands caressed his hips, circling gently to soothe his anxiety. 

“Is that your real form? Are you lying to me?” 

“Calm down, angel. Your powers are not the only cool things that deserve to exist, right?” He hummed, not totally convinced, not about her abilities, but about how this could work. “And I am me, it’s just a cool trick to have whomever I want, however, I want.” 

“And what… what are you going to do with it?” 

She laughed lowly, shaking her head at his innocence. “What do you think I’ll do with it?” 

His head fell back when her fingers tapped against his rim. 

“I will never do anything to hurt you,” she whispered, giving a tug to her cock to collect precum on her fingers before they were once again pressed against him. “But I need you to relax. Will you relax for me? Will you let me make you feel good?” 

“Yes,” he replied with no hesitation. A low grunt ripped past his throat when she pushed inside. “W-weird.” 

“No, no,” she reassured, looking for his hand to hold it in hers. “It’s new. It’s the pleasure you’ve been deprived of all your life. Something that had been taken from you but you deserve this. You deserve every touch. Every kiss. Everything I will give you.” 

And Taeyong believed. He couldn’t tell lie in her words. Because they sounded so true. And they rolled so nicely from her tongue. And her voice was the most celestial sound he had ever heard even if it was the furthest thing from the lauds he would sing to God. 

And God, where was He now? Not in his mind. Not in his wings that were pulsing to come out in their glory, to shine and worship something that was the creation of Lucifer. 

“I need you,” he cried out, having no idea where this need was coming from. But he knew that her fingers weren’t enough anymore. He knew that he needed to feel her all over him. 

“Say it again,” she ordered, getting lost in the contorted expression on his face. She had fucked countless of damned souls, but this, this was incomparable. Having an angel, seraphim, looking like a mess under her was a feeling nothing else could come close to. The rush of power she was feeling had no equal. 

“I need you, please. I need to feel — mmph — everything you have to give me.” 

“Careful, now, you might get burned,” she laughed, pulling her fingers out, hand wrapping around her cock to lube it more before the thick tip pushed against his hole, making his eyes snap open. 

“It’s too big, it will never fit,” he said, voice worried and full of fear, his fingers clenching tighter around hers to find a support he knew wouldn’t have been enough anyway to prepare him for what was coming. 

But she smiled, moving the hand that was wrapped at the base of her cock to cup his cheek, thumb caressing the soft skin. “I’ll make it fit.” 

He was about to complain, tell her that there was no way. He wasn’t made for it. 

And Taeyong was right. 

He wasn’t made for it. 

But he was made for her. 

And when her thick dick slid into his hole with ease, he could only stare at her with open eyes and mouth, a bit for the astonishment of it, and also because it felt good. It felt good and he never imagined it could feel this good. 

“Told you,” she winked before she kissed him, a long, passionate kiss, while her hand reached the back of his thigh and pulled it against his chest, caressing him slowly. “God might have created you for Himself, but I’m going to craft you just for me.”

No answer formed in his brain because when she dragged out and then pushed in again his eyes fell shut, his head rolled back and his hips rolled up to seek for more. 

And she gave it to him, “I will ruin you, I will sink so deep inside of you that nothing and nobody else will fill your brain,” she whispered before she sat straight and started moving her hips at a steady, intense rythm. Her body pressed against his hips as their skins met with loud sounds, resonating in the room. Hips moving skillfully back and forth against him, pushing his smaller frame deep into the soft mattress. 

A broken groan escaped from his lips when her sharp nails grazed his skin, leaving red trails on his thighs, chest, and neck as the pressure made blood come up on the surface. She wanted to sink them in his flesh so bad, to see him bleed, and drink his blood, and cut herself too, to mix with each other, truly staining him with something that he couldn’t wash off. 

But she didn’t. It would’ve been too much. It would’ve been a pain Taeyong didn’t deserve to feel. And she didn’t want to hurt him, but Him. 

“He was so stupid for making you so beautiful, how can he — Hell — expect nobody would want you? You should be grateful I was the one taking you, ruining you, other demons or even humans wouldn’t have been so gentle with you.” 

Taeyong’s eyes squeezed closed as his hips moved to meet her halfway, chasing down the pleasure. It was addicting, but he believed it wouldn’t have been as addictive if it didn’t come from her. At this point he didn’t even care if she was using some of her powers to make it feel better, as long as it felt this way, as long as it was with her, he would’ve taken everything. 

And when his hips started meeting her halfway, she threw her head back, nails unconsciously sinking further into his skin, drawing out some droplets of blood, but the bliss was spreading trough his body with so much strength, blinding his senses, that Taeyong didn’t feel pain at all. 

“Feels good.” The angel’s eyes blinked away a lonely tear, locking into her black pools, her eyes were like voids, deep and scary, he was sure that if he could walk in them, he’d get lost. There was no light. There was no salvation. There was sin. So much sin. In the way her eyes were digging deep into his —once— pure soul. In the way her lips were leaving marks behind. In the way her hands were grazing his skin. In her words, praises and mocks, rolling from her tongue like a mantra, like a hymn. 

And Taeyong was lost in them. 

He was lost in her. 

In every wrong turn, deep down with the tide of perdition he swore he was never going to let himself get drowned into. 

Demons were fascinating, but far away from him, far away from poor human’s that were struggling to find the right path to eternal salvation. 

And now, the poor soul that needed saving was him. Pressed under a succubus’s body, or better, The succubus’s body, rocking her dick deep inside him, pushing his body into the mattress with so much strength he was sure the lines of himself were going to stay there for years to come. 

And he was letting her. 

Taeyong wasn’t even thinking of complaining or fighting the feeling back. He wasn’t crying because he knew she was staining him with red. He was crying because she wasn’t staining him enough. Was it a trick? Was it power? Was it a need he had buried deep inside his soul that had to resurface sooner or later? He had no idea. 

He had no idea. 

“You’re so beautiful, Taeyong,” she whispered, caressing his burning, wet cheek. His blood staining his pearly white skin. “I’m so blessed to have you here.” Her eyes were teary, and Taeyong didn’t get why. He was sure this was simply a rather sick fantasy, something she had to check off her bucket list. Eternity is long, and it gets boring. But right there, as her hips faltered, and her wings sheltered him more, and a damned tear rolled down and met his on his face, he wondered if maybe there was more. If under that strong, confident shell, she was hiding some insecurities. If after all, she was human still somewhere in her soul. 

And he wondered if it was the same for him. If after all, after all the years spent on earth, his humans’ weakness didn’t seep into his bones and led him there. 

Maybe truly nobody was perfect, except the Lord. Not even His creations. Not even His Children. 

Of one thing, he was sure. He wasn’t worthy anymore, of His love, of His grace, of His protection.

But the worst part of it all, wasn’t that. 

He didn’t want it anymore. 

“I need you,” the seraphim cried, this time being the one scratching the other, nails doing nothing compared to hers. 

“I will fill you with me, I will stain every single inch of you with sin. You will feel me for days.” 

Taeyong had fallen from grace. 

Crumbling apart in her arms as she filled him with her cum, touching him, grazing him, burning his skin up with invisible flames. 

Taeyong had fallen from grace. 

Begging, squirming, screaming her name, chanting it in the same way he chanted His name. 

Taeyong had fallen from grace. 

When nothing but her crossed his mind. When he moved from the bed to kiss her, to hold her close, to feel their skins burn together. 

Taeyong had fallen from grace. 

When his three pairs of wings spread open from behind his back, blinding white light shining through the whole place before disappearing, washed away by the storm that was still raging outside. 

“They’re not blinding me,” she pointed out when she opened her eyes and saw them, beautiful and golden, beating as he kept them up, floating away from the bed. Chest panting, coming down from the afterglow and the surprise of how their natures could combine. 

“I’m not blinding you,” he replied, kissing her again, holding her hips tighter. 

Their wings started beating together, darkness mixing with light, creating a current that was keeping them afloat as they were still tangled with each other. Fitting perfectly.

Made for each other. 

“You’re not blinding me,” she repeated, lips against his, as her heart crushed in her chest, a twinge so hard that it shook her breath away. The pain starting to get to her brain, and before she could let that fragile, vulnerable, human-like part take over her, she pulled out, making him whine at the emptiness and the cold as she flew a few meters away from him. 

Only for a split second, she thought of stopping, fearing that this was going to leave them both burned and scarred, more than she anticipated when she started playing this game. But when her eyes flickered on his again, shining of a light only he had, begging her silently, she realized it was too late, they were too far down into this to withdraw now. 

Taeyong was about to ask why she was hesitating, but his thoughts stopped when she twirled again in the air and her body went back to its original form. 

“I want to feel you now,” she whispered, flying on top of him again, their wings beating against each other, the feathers brushing and tingling. “I want you to be inside of me.” 

“I don’t know how to do it,” the angel replied, gulping as he stared at her; he felt like something shifted, but he couldn’t grasp it. 

“You only have to follow my lead, angel. I’ll show you the way,” she said, sinking on his, once again, hard cock. “I will always show you the way if you let me.” 

And he would’ve. Maybe not always. Maybe once this spell exploded, he would’ve cried all his tears and damned himself for what he was letting happen, killing himself for how blasphemous he was acting in the land of the enemy while he was supposed to be serving his One and Only God. 

Later, maybe. 

Not now, not now for sure. 

This felt different, her hips grinding on him, lifting up and down, hands laying flat on his chest, strands of hair framing her beautiful face. The light coming out of her was dark, gloomy, a mix of silver and black and red, but he still found it enchanting. He found it hauntingly beautiful how their lights would mix together, his gold, and her silver. Sin and holy coming together to create this. 

A mess of fleshes that technically fleshes weren’t. A mess of bones, and veins, and skin, getting along as if they were something they were not; humans. 

That was why sex was forbidden in Heaven. Because it was so human, even if it was done for His right reasons, he was still dirty, vulnerable… raw. It scratched the wildest and deepest and darkest desires. Sex made creatures human. And in Heaven, there was nothing worst than being human. 

But if that meant being human, Taeyong couldn’t complain. He loved that vulnerability, he loved that feeling, that intimacy. He loved feeling that they were becoming one with every single thrust on him. 

He now got why humans suffered so much for love, why they did crazy things for it, crossed traced lines, and chased treacherous paths. Because love makes you crazy. Carnal. Romantic. Familiar. Religious. Love makes people crazy. It turns them blind and devoted. 

And that was what Taeyong was right now, blind and devoted. 

Blinded by her. 

Devoted to her. 

So his head rolled back again, harmonious moans coming out of his mouth as his hands wrapped around her thighs. He could feel her inside twitch around his lenght, wetness dripping down, surely creating a pool of white on the bed underneath them. And his hips moved again, it was as if he knew exactly what to do, mimicking her. 

“You’re doing so good, angel,” she moaned, biting her lips, head falling forward because she had no intention of missing a second of the vision he was. She knew she wasn’t going to have him again, God forbid if they were even going to cross in the middle ground again. So she impressed the image of him in her mind, white hair framing his perfectly sculpted face, some sticking to his skin, some falling around him, golden halo glowing over it, eyes half lidded, and pink lips parted to let out the most beautiful moans she had ever heard. 

“Keep singing for me,” she ordered. “Sing for me like you sing for your Lord.” 

And Taeyong did. Moans came out of his mouths like the prayers and canticles he would sing high up in the Sky to his one and only Lord. To his God. The One that created him. The One that gave him life. The One that made him his subject. And now Taeyong was ripping all the trust apart, the faith, the loyalty. Taeyong was singing for his God, but his God now wasn’t the same one that created him, gave him life and made him slave. 

He was singing for a God that set him free of his limits, of his fears, of the firm rules he had set himself to follow strictly everyday without even thinking of questioning them. 

She was his God now. She was worth of worshipping, and blind believing, and mindless following. 

So he kept chanting her name, praising it, singing it with joy and tears flooding from his eyes as he stared into her eyes, heart beating loudly in his chest as she made him feel lighter than he ever felt. 

And she felt a peculiar feeling, mixed between feeling as light as him and also feeling heavy.

She had watched Taeyong from afar. Studied him for ages because he seemed so different from everybody. She couldn’t blame God for picking him as his favorite even when He shouldn’t have done it. 

She had been jealous of Taeyong. And she wasn’t even sure why. She didn’t want his life, she didn’t want to be washed over by the blinding lights of Heaven. But then one day it hit her. She wasn’t jealous of Taeyong, she was jealous of God. Because God had him, every day, every night, singing for him, praying for him, worshipping him. 

She had fallen for him. 

She had fallen for an angel and she couldn’t understand how that could’ve happened. 

And now that she was there, filled by him, as he sang to her, prayed to her, worshipped her, she realized she couldn’t care why it happened, because this felt better than all the other sex she ever had, in her life and her death. 

And when tears stained her face, Taeyong brought his hand up, wiping the liquid away and encouraging her to lean in, and kissed her, healing the pain. 

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, lips meeting hers again. “Heaven doesn’t like to see tears.” 

She chuckled, sniffling before sinking into the crook of his neck. She wanted to answer that they were in Hell, and Hell loved seeing cries and hearing screams, that Hell loved pain and broken souls, but she liked to pretend that for a second, in that small patch of Hell, there was a small patch of Paradise. 

A limbo. A holy ground. A safe place where they could exist and don’t feel the weight of their existence. 

Because eternity might seem like a good thing but it’s a tragedy. 

It’s long, and exhausting, and after all, it’s lonely. 

And always takes away from you what you want the most. 

“Beg for me,” she screamed, hips moving faster on him and fingers intertwining with his. “Beg for me as you will beg for forgiveness. Beg so loud that your God might hear you and shame you. Beg to show him whose your God truly is.” 

Taeyong cried harder, harshly stripped away of everything he had been believing in for decades, ages, millenniums. His whole existence falling apart into her hands and he had no thought in his mind that wanted to retort her words. No matter how painful they were, how deep they cut, opening his chest in two and ripping his heart out of his ribcage, making it bleed with lust and disgrace. 

“Please, don’t stop,” he begged, blinking the tears away. “Don’t stop. It feels too good. I— I,” he stopped, heart clenching as if his true nature knew how wrong his next words were. “I love this. I love you.”

The purest angel, crafted by God, to be immaculate and pure, made human by a succubus. 

Feeling an emotion that wasn’t made for him to feel, in particular to feel for a Satan’s creations. 

The purest angel that ever crossed Heaven and earth had fallen in a trap he couldn’t get out from. 

He had fallen in her. 

“You… you don’t think that,” she cried, hips faltering as those words made her mad. She wasn’t new to hearing people scream it when they were close to the high, surely a defensive reaction to try to beg for forgiveness as the thought of what they put themselves into meant. But this… this fake love was painful and it left her breathless. It hurt. It was God revenge for her crimes. 

“I do,” he blurted. “I need you. I never… never felt better than this. Never felt more real.”

“Say you want me,” she said, cupping his chin. “Say you want me. Say it until Heaven falls and Hell crumbles. Say it until God will get mad and punish us for our crimes. Say it until His anger will strike upon us.”

“I want you. I only want you. I would spend eternity getting lost in the creeks of your body,” he sang, leaning closer to her, kissing her. “I’d spend eternity to show the beautiful creature you are. The monster you are not.” 

“You can’t change who I am,” she breathed out, pleasure making it hard to talk or think, pain making it hard to talk or think. But as usual, she was trying to drown that feeling with sex, doing what she was the best at. 

“I don’t want to change you,” he wept. “I will never want to change you.” 

His head rolled back when he felt her tighten around him, cum dripping down, creating a mess between their bodies. 

“Beli-believe me.” 

“I do,” she moaned, wings spreading and stopping their movements to keep them afloat for a moment. “You’re the only one I’ve ever believed in my entire life." Taeyong didn’t know, he couldn’t know how secretly devoted she was to him. He didn’t know that if she could choose her religion, she would’ve picked him. Him over everything. She would’ve turned human again as a punishment if only that meant she could have him. 

“Oh, God…” he moaned when her hips got faster and he felt the same sensation of before run in his bones. 

“Call him all you want,” she whispered, “you know he won’t answer.” 

“I know,” Taeyong replied, tears streaking his cheek. “I’m not calling him, I’m calling you.” 

And as the last drop that falls and makes water erupt down, his words brought them to their high. Bodies freezing against each other as the wave of pleasure ran through them and their moans mixed before muffling as their lips met in a desperate kiss.

When the feeling dimmed, they were panting chest to chest. Wings flapping slower as they started flying down, and finally felt the soft mattress again. 

“Stay,” she whispered, voice shaking, hands caressing his chest. “Only for a while, long enough I can fool myself this can be real.”

“This is real,” Taeyong replied. Surprised that guilt didn’t assault him yet. Caressing her hair and touching the horns. 

“This is wrong.”

He chuckled, burying his head against her hair for a moment. “This is a fall from grace.” A lonely tear marked his cheek, falling on the sheets. “A fall from grace.” 

She hummed and then a bittersweet but satisfied, smile crept on her lips as she hid her face in the crook of his neck.

She couldn’t have him, but God didn’t have him either. 

Taeyong was marked, stained, and ripped at the edges. He wasn’t the same anymore. 

God had deprived her of her happy ending, so she stole his dearest angel.

Taeyong had fallen from grace. 

TAGLIST: @kpopgirl124127 @kwnshi @auroraichimaru @kundann | let me know if you want to be added by commenting under the INFERNO masterlist

A/N: hope you liked it! let me know with comments, reblogs or even asks ♡

INTO THE WOODS

TITLE: INTO THE WOODS | part of the INFERNO event

PAIRING: werewolf!johnny x werewolf!yangyang x werewolf!jeno x werewolf!jaehyun x werewolf!kun x fem!human!oc/reader

GENRE: smut, werewolves/abo*, halloween themed * they are alphas but there are not abo dynamics since the mc is human

SUMMARY: ‘don’t go in the woods, past the first two rows of trees.’ It’s a simple rule, planted in every kid’s mind in the village since they are born. Nobody knows why, but nobody dares to question why. But pride leads to do dangerous things and what’s supposed to be a silly bet to prove something, gets you lost a bit too far into the scary forest. And those who seem to be polite strangers turn out to be something they’re not.

WARNINGS: smut; dubcon (monsterfucking, light fear play, aphrodisiac saliva), monster fucking (= monster c*cks and bodies* and unrealistic sex), unprotected sex, sixsome, oral sex (f&m), marking, biting, degradation, minor impact play (slapping and chocking), manhandling, rough sex, slight animalist behaviours here and there (mostly within each other), big size difference, spitroasting, knotting, mean!kun (he hates human, rip), in general some dark content. * they're not fully transformed, though

WORD COUNT: 11.604k

if you click 'read more' you agree you have read the warnings and take responsibility for the media you consume.

Growing up in that small village she learnt that there was only one rule to follow: don’t go in the woods past the first two rows of trees. And honestly, unless it was really necessary, avoid going in the wood at all. 

And she always listened, she never had a reason to disobey and get further into the dark woods and risk dangerous meetings. Her grandmother and the other old ladies of the village warned the kids from a young age, telling them stories about unknown beings that lived in the deepest heart of the forest. Scary tales about men never coming back from the hunt, innocent ladies being found dead at the edges after disappearing for days, and kids being unable to sleep for months after meeting the eyes of those creepy beings. 

So she always kept her distance from it, even if she lived near the borders and never really felt scared of that vastness of trees. 

She also wasn’t the type to let her friends’ remarks get into her head, but when Donghyuck didn’t stop mocking her for not going with them past the second row, she felt something inside of her rise. 

“You can’t seriously believe some monsters live there, you think two rows of trees would be enough to scare them?” He had said, laughing at her mad face when he and their other friends, Jaemin and Renjun, came back from the forest. 

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I don’t believe in those stories,” she replied, “but I follow the rules. You could’ve got hurt,” she added, checking that nothing happened to them. But Donghyuck simply rolled his eyes before grabbing his backpack and starting to walk away. 

“You’re a scaredy cat, honey. But that won’t stop us from being your friends,” he joked, waving at her as the other two followed. “See you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, bye,” she greeted, grabbing her things too and walking back home. 

But for the whole way back home, walking right across the river that separated the wood and the village, she couldn’t help but wonder about what lived there. It couldn’t have been anything bigger than some deers or hares, right? And the woods seemed so quiet, how could they possibly be as terrible as her nanna told her when she was a kid? Why were the villagers so terrified of them? 

So curiosity got the best of her, and at the nearest bridge, she crossed, making sure nobody was around to see her break the rules. When she found herself in front of the first row, she gulped. The sounds surrounding her weren’t creepy at all, she could hear birds chirping, the creaks of some insects and the water flowing behind her. 

She took a deep breath as she started to walk past the permitted zone and then whispered to herself ‘Just a little bit, but don’t get too deep. Just to prove Donghyuck you’re brave.’

But she soon lost track of time, and before she could realize it, the night had fallen, turning the woods into the stereotypical scary place they were in the tales the ladies of the village told. And the more she tried to find the way back home, the more lost she felt. She was sure she had followed a quiet traced path before, but now she couldn’t find anything of that kind anymore and she felt like she was spinning in circles. 

Panic started to creep in when the sky turned darker and the air around her got colder and every sound rang scarier in her ears. 

When she felt something behind her, the only thing she could do was run. She had no idea where she was going, or if she was putting herself into more trouble, but she kept running. Fast as the wind blew on her face and made her force her eyes to fight to stay open. 

And she kept going for what felt like ages for her, she could feel her heart race in her chest and her lungs were struggling to keep up with the fast speed she was forcing her body to move, and all of a sudden it became too much, but right when she felt like giving up and falling on the floor to meet her destiny…  

“Oh,” a voice said when her scared, small frame impacted against his broad chest, “what do we have here?” 

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to let out the loudest scream of her life that was in vain; nobody was going to hear her here, in the pulsing heart of the forest. And the yell didn’t scare the figure in front of her at all, instead, it caused him to laugh. 

“Scared?” 

She gulped and then started walking backwards only to be trapped by another figure. And at that point, she felt tears stream down her cheeks, but the man in front of her was swift at leaning down and cupping her face, gently.

“No, shh, don’t cry. Are you lost?” He asked, his voice low but almost reassuring. 

She nodded, not able to let out a single sound. As she desperately tried to look for a way out. But the more she looked around the more it seemed there wasn’t a way out there. Trees all around her. Trees that were all the same. She was going insane. 

“Guess you need a place to stay for the night. It gets quite cold here, we were just coming back from the hunt,” he said, giving a quick glance to the man that was still behind her, not even blocking her anymore since fear had frozen her on the spot. “Should we take her home, Yangyang?” 

The man, well, boy, behind her smirked and then replied, “It’s not polite to leave a nice lady like her out here.” 

The other wet his lip and then said, “Mind following us?” 

She hesitated, looking around again, trying to grasp onto anything that could’ve made her run away from there and go back home, but there was nothing. She had been looking all evening for that, and it only seemed like she made it worst by going too deep into the woods.

“If you’ve never been in the woods, you don’t know how to move in them. Trust us, it can get dangerous at night out here, especially for people that don’t know how to recognize beasts.” 

“I just… I want to go home.” 

“We know. We’ll take you home tomorrow as soon as the sun comes up. Right, Yang?” 

“Yes, the walk back to the village is long and impossible to follow right now.” 

She nodded, mindlessly… they didn’t seem bad, they were trying to help her, and also if they were there, it meant that whatever lived in the woods that the eldest talked so much about wasn’t real, or anyway, they probably knew what it was and knew how to defend themselves from it. Nobody survives the woods. And yet, they were there. 

So she nodded and grabbed the man’s hand, silently following them. 

The walk in the forest was silent, and even if it looked like they knew exactly what they were doing, she couldn’t help but jump at the slightest of sounds. Owls hooting, branches creaking, wind whistling. Everything frightened her. 

She had no idea how long it took to get to their small cabin but it felt like ages, and when they passed the door, the sensation didn’t dim. 

“We’re back from the hunt,” the taller man shouted as soon as they opened the door of the wooden house and she stilled on the spot once again. It wasn’t just them? 

A man peeked out of what she guessed to be the kitchen and his eyes moved from his friends to her, an unsettling smirk on his face. 

“Brought dinner?” He asked, eyes still boring holes in her. 

“Yeah, hunted a hare,” the youngest replied, lifting up the animal in his hand. She didn’t even notice he had been carrying it the whole time. 

The other man huffed, “Just that, really? We also have a guest.” 

“Go out and hunt yourself, Jaehyun,” the tallest man replied. “Let’s see if you can catch something sweeter.” And in his tone there was something that made her think that he probably wasn’t talking about the animal, but her… 

“You look stressed.” Lost in her thoughts she didn’t realize she was alone in the room with the other man. Jaehyun? Was that his name? 

“I… I just need to sleep,” she replied, gulping and feeling her heart pump hard in her chest. He was walking around her in circles, studying her every detail and from so up close she felt a weirder sensation creep into her bone. He was tall and broad, just like the other man she had first spoken to. They probably were way too big but she simply didn’t notice that before in the dark, but now, in the dim, warm lights of the house, she could pay attention to the small details. 

“Sleep? Really?” His laugh was deep, almost mocking and her only reaction was to cross her arms on her chest and stare at him that now came to a stop in front of her. “The night is still young.” 

“But I’m tired,” she mumbled, looking around, once again trying to find a way out. All of a sudden this didn’t seem like a good option. 

“Did you run here?” Another voice spoke from behind her and she turned around to see another man. He looked a bit younger than the other two, she would’ve guessed he was around Yangyang’s age. He had black hair that fell messily on his forehead and was tall and fit, muscled arms peeking out of his white shirt. And she was so lost in the sight of his body that she didn’t realize how close he had walked to her. “Ran straight into the wolf trap?” 

When her eyes widened and her breath faltered, he laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “I’m kidding, kitten. Don’t be so scared, we won’t eat you. Well, unless you want to,” he smirked, wetting his lips and suddenly she felt embarrassment take over fear. 

“I’m Jeno, by the way,” he greeted, smiling at her, an oddly reassuring smile that made his eyes turn into half-moons. She simply nodded, not giving him her name, brain so hazed she didn’t even remember it anymore. 

“Are you okay, kitten?” The other one asked. “Want to sit on the couch?” 

She nodded, grabbing his forearm and letting him guide her to the sofa. Right when she was about to speak and ask once again to just have a bed to sleep, the door slammed open making her yelp and move closer to Jeno that smirked and rested a hand on her shaking thigh. Oh, it was going to be fun. 

“Who’s she?” 

“I… I’m — I,” she stopped when the man’s stern gaze got even more intense, and he huffed. 

“Great, can’t even put two words together,” he mocked, getting rid of his heavy coat and leather boots. “What is she doing here?” 

The men at her side shrugged and pointed at the door next to the room. “We didn’t bring her here.” 

“We brought her here, Kun,” the tallest man explained coming out of the room with Yangyang behind him. “She was all alone in the scary woods. You don’t want such a pretty doll to be all alone out there, right?” 

She felt her face heat up at the name but didn’t dare to say a word. Her eyes instead wandered to Kun that was now staring at her, eyes running on her frame, making her shiver. 

“I can… I don’t want to bother,” she whispered but the man ignored her and walked around the couch, and stood in front of her. 

“What were you doing in the woods in the first place? Don’t you know it’s against the rules?” 

She gulped and shifted back until her back met the couch. “I didn’t mean to.” 

Kun scoffed and then leaned down, lifting her chin with two fingers. “I thought at the village they planted this idea into your human stupid brains since you’re born.” 

She furrowed… what did he mean by that? “I —”

“Shh,” he said, moving his finger to rest it right on her lips. “I can’t blame you, though,” he said, letting go of her face and taking a step back to walk to the fireplace that was burning and add more wood from the heavy bag that he carried on his shoulder, before leaving it next to it. “They never explain why you can’t go in the woods.” 

“I was scared,” she replied, trying to defend herself but that answer made all of them laugh. 

“You were scared and ran into the woods? Wow, so Kun’s right when he says that you humans are dumb.” 

“Hu-humans?” She mumbled, looking around. What were they talking about? Weren’t they just like her? 

“Still didn’t click?” Jaehyun asked, resting a hand on her covered thigh. 

“I… I don’t,” she started saying but the words got stuck in her dry throat. 

“Guess I’ll have to show you the hard way,” he replied, and before she could say anything she felt a sharp pain as the skin of her thigh was being pierced, white dress staining with the dark red of her blood. His nails weren’t normal nails now, they looked like claws and felt just the same. 

She looked up at him, speechless, she couldn’t even scream from the pain, she was just petrified. He didn’t even dig that deep, but the sting and the sharp cut were enough to cause pain. 

“No, don’t cry, kitten,” he cooed, lifting his blood-stained hand to caress the skin of her tears-streaked face. 

“We won’t hurt you,” Jeno whispered against her ears, hands wrapped around her waist, feeling her shake. “If you behave.” 

Her eyes scanned the room, trying to look at the others for reassurance but something inside all of them shifted. Their gazes were more intense, their eyes were of a brown that seemed closer to red or yellow and, unless she was going crazy, she could swear she could smell their changed scents, stronger, sweeter. 

“I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to find you. I swear I was trying to go home and got lost. There was somebody following me, I was scared,” she stammered. She truly didn’t walk in the woods trying to find out why it was forbidden. It was a mistake; she didn’t want to reveal their true nature.  

Kun smiled, kneeling to stare at her, big hand tracing the scarred thigh. “We don’t really care why you’re here. But since you are, we might as well have some fun.” 

“You know,” the tallest man said, standing in front of her, brushing her hair back. “Nobody ever comes to pay us a visit. It gets so lonely here.” 

“Yeah, Johnny’s right,” Jeno replied. “We’re all alone because of that dumb rule your people decided to establish.” 

She gulped. “I’m… I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Jaehyun said. “You decided to betray them.” 

“I didn’t. I’m not supposed to be here,” she said, finding the last drop of sanity to stand up and get out of there. But her attempt was all in vain when Jeno pulled her back down against the couch and his lips crashed against hers, hand cupping her face, holding her in place tight, strong body not letting her go. And it strangely felt good. There was something almost intoxicating in his lips and the way they moved on hers. Nobody ever kissed her like that. 

“It’s dangerous outside,” he cooed against her lips. “We don’t want you to meet bad people.” 

“Oh, c’mon,” Yangyang whispered behind her, lips brushing against her right cheek. “Don’t tell me you’d rather be outside and not here with us.” 

“I don’t know you and you… you…are” she hesitated, terrified of saying the wrong words; Jeno’s hand was still around her chin and it would’ve taken him nothing to sink the claws into her neck and kill her. 

“Monsters?” Kun finished for her, moving Jeno’s and Yangyang away from her, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, forcing her to stay still and look at him. 

“N-no, no, just… strong. You’re stronger than me,” she cried, tears starting to flow on her face as fear took over. But no feeling of pity sparked in his heart. Kun knew exactly what the tales in town told about them. He knew how they were pictured. And as much as some things might’ve been true, some others weren’t.  

“Are you afraid, little thing?” Fuck calling her ‘kitten’, humans were humans, disgusting, selfish things and he couldn’t stand them. And yes, she was beautiful and probably she truly had no idea what was going on, but he knew she was disgusted by them anyway. 

“I’m… I won’t tell anybody.”  

Johnny snickered. “You think the eldests don’t know about us?” 

She looked at him with a confused expression. 

“Oh, you want to go back and tell your little friends?” 

“No!” She screamed. “I won’t. I promise, just let me go.” 

“It’s dangerous outside,” Jaehyun repeated, fingers tracing the skin of her legs. “And if something bad happens to you, it’s over for us.” 

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Yangyang remarked, taking advantage of Kun forcing her head back to lick a stripe on her neck. Her eyes closed and her breath faltered for a moment, why did it feel good? No. She couldn’t give in. They weren’t human. They were werewolves and for all she knew they could’ve killed her with a snap of the finger. They were bad. Her grandma always told her when she was little. Monstrous creatures are not trustable. 

Her eyes snapped open again and she tried to push Kun off of her but with no success. 

“You’re not going out of here, tonight. We’re not letting you get hurt.” 

“I won’t, I know what I’m doing.” 

Kun scoffed. “You’re human. You’re fucking dumb and get hurt with the smallest things, and we won’t let this be our fucking responsibility,” he growled, making her freeze on the spot. But her body betrayed her when her thighs clasped hard against each other. His growl triggering a feral reaction inside her. 

“Fucking pathetic,” Kun muttered, looking at her closed legs. “You humans get off over the weirdest things.” 

“I don’t… I’m not. I don’t like this.” 

“Not even this?” Yangyang asked, kissing her neck again and she had to fight hard with herself to don’t moan when his sharp teeth grazed her skin. 

“N-no…” she replied, but her voice was close to a whimper, and she could feel her panties getting wetter. They were bigger and stronger. They could’ve done anything to her. Then why she felt excitement rise? 

“Starting to loosen up, finally?” Johnny said without getting closer to her, and she almost wished he was the one so near her body. But instead, she was pressed between Jeno and Jaehyun while Kun still hovered over her and kept her face still. And the teasing smirk on Yangyang’s face that she could feel wasn’t helping at all. Probably he was the one that scared her the most, he seemed so nice, way too nice for being a monster. 

“What do you want from me?” She dared to ask, eyes drifting on the others in the room and chest panting hard, in fear, in arousal, she had no idea anymore at this point. 

The same teasing smirk curled Jaehyun’s lips, “Isn’t it clear already, darling?” He mocked, fingers brushing next to Kun’s as he tilted her head toward him. “A taste.”

She felt her head spinning while she blinked repeatedly. “Are you going to kill me?” 

Jeno snickered, “And what’s the fun in that?” 

“Well, I don’t know, I don’t think like a…” she stopped immediately, and her eyes drifted up at Kun that was sternly staring at her. 

“Right, because you are superior to every other species,” he scoffed, not even being mad at her. He didn’t need it. He just needed to prove a point, and his point was going to be proven soon. 

“No, I meant —” 

“Just shut up,” he groaned back at her. “Shut the fuck up.” 

She stilled once again, terrified of him. 

“Good, so you can listen when you want to,” he huffed, running a hand in his hair and taking a step back, briefly looking outside of the window. It was going to be a fucking long night and he just wanted it to be over as soon as possible. If the others craved to have some kind of fun with human beings, he despised them, and nothing could’ve made him change his mind. 

“I —” 

His stern gaze glaring back at her stopped her once again. “Did I say you could talk?” She shook her head, shrinking back into the couch and averting his gaze. “Well. And now listen clearly. You have to spend the night here, we won’t get in trouble because of you. And when the sun comes up again, you’re going back home without saying a single fucking word about what happened here tonight, got it?” 

She nodded, lips pursed together and feet nervously tapping on the ground. 

“And stop doing that,” he said, pointing at them. “You’re getting on my nerves.” 

She immediately stopped, but still felt shaken. What did she even do to him? She had all the right to be scared of them, they weren’t humans, and it wasn’t even a bad thing, it was their nature. And she knew nothing about it, she knew nothing about them. 

“And see what you have to do with her. One more scratch on her body and I’ll kill you before anybody else can,” he warned the others before disappearing somewhere, probably in another room of the cabin, she had no idea. 

“I just,” she started saying but Jeno’s lips were already on hers, again. Her hand raised in the air to try to push him away, but they soon gave up and rested against his broad chest. Pecs flexing as he moved closer to her. 

“You talk too much, that’s humans’ biggest problem,” he said after pulling away from her. “Just let things happen.” 

“I never —” 

“Shh,” Yangyang shut her up, sharp teeth grazing her neck once again. “He just told you to don’t fight it, why are you doing it?” An answer crossed her mind, but she had no time to speak that his lips were on hers. His kiss was messier than Jeno’s, it was playful, and he nibbled her lower lip a lot. When he pulled away, he was giggling lowly. “See, it wasn’t so hard to kiss me back.” 

And then another pair of lips were on hers, this time more adventurous as Jaehyun’s tongue passed her lips and when he pulled away he had her lower lip trapped between his teeth, pulling hard before letting go with a smirk. 

Johnny was next, after attentively looking at the scene in front of him he leaned down and cupped her face with his big hand. Lips so good she felt he was sucking her soul away. And at that thought she realized once again what was happening. No. She couldn’t give in. They were werewolves, and not one, but four. Four big alphas against her. And as much as curiosity pushed her closer to the danger, again, her rationality was making her realize that there was no way she was going to be able to walk back home, or worst, survive the night. 

“Hear me clearly, the night is long, so long. And as much as we would all love to have fun, I need to hear it from you. Do you want to spend the night or go to sleep?” Johnny asked, signalling the others to stop touching her with a stern glare, he needed her to be lucid right now.  

“I don’t do these things,” she gasped, shaking her head to scroll far away the dumbest part of her that wanted to give this a try. “I don’t, I never. I couldn’t take it.” 

Johnny raised a brow. “So you want to but are afraid?” He asked to make sure. 

“I do,” she replied faster than imagined, “but I don’t think it’s a wise thing. I don’t think I could take it.”

He hummed, smiling at her, “You’ve never done that, you can’t know. Why don’t we prove it?” 

She shook her head and tried to stand up, but Johnny swiftly pushed her down again. “I said, why don’t we prove it?” 

She gulped. “You’re going to… fuck,” she cursed just imagining what a night with them could’ve meant.  

“Destroy you?” Jaehyun whispered against her ear, fingers brushing the skin of her arm where the sleeve of the dress rolled up. 

She hummed lowly, slowly shaking her head. 

“Oh, no,” Jeno purred against her other ear, shifting in his place, moving closer to her. “We’ll be gentle with you, right, guys? Also, you heard Kun, even if we wanted to, we can’t even mark you too much.” 

“A shame, by the way,” Johnny added. “That’s my favourite part.” 

“Or maybe we could leave you some memories that this night happened in places where nobody looks at,” Jaehyun taunted. 

“Yeah, so when you go back, they’ll remind you, and only you, that you’re not crazy.” 

“You — you’ll let me back?” 

“Be a good girl tonight and you’ll be home before midday,” Johnny promised, reaching a hand for her to take. “But if you don’t want to, the door to your room for the night is open and you'll get home tomorrow anyway. It’s up to you.”

She hesitantly looked up at him and then shook his hand. Having no idea that was like signing a path with the devil. “I want to try and I’ll... I’ll be good.” 

“I love it when you listen,” Johnny smirked, lowering to get closer to her. “I hope you’ll be a good girl for the whole night… because it’s going to be a very long, long night,” he whispered, lips brushing against her cheek and big hand cupping the flesh of her thigh, right where Jaehyun had cut her. She closed her eyes, almost as if he was commending her, guiding her body just with his touch, or thoughts, she had no idea, and she hoped they didn’t have any special powers, that they couldn’t read her mind and see how excited she was getting over this. 

But they didn’t need to read her mind when her body was singing to them. 

“Are you going to be good for us?” Jeno asked, pushing her hair back and letting his fingers wander on her neck down to her collarbone, loosening the strings that intertwined on her chest. 

She nodded, forcing her eyes open to try to stay grounded. Somehow her head was already spinning and they had barely touched her. 

“Answer,” he ordered, forcing her to look at him by cupping her face and turning it around, not so gently anymore. 

“Y-yes, I’ll be good.” 

“Good girl,” he cooed, leaning close to her to kiss her again. And while Jeno kept her busy with his lips, she couldn’t understand much of what was going on around her; sounds of clothes meeting the ground, hands running on her legs, other lips wetting the skin of her body.

“You’re so fucking greedy, Jeno,” Jaehyun huffed, trying to break their kiss and successfully doing so when they had to part to catch their breath. 

Johnny giggled when Jeno rolled his eyes but wasted no time pushing the sleeve of her dress down. “We have all night,” he said, kneeling on the ground and forcing her legs open, eliciting a gasp from her, muffled by Jaehyun’s hungry lips. “And she’s promised she was going to take everything we have to offer, right?” 

When the man pulled away she nodded, chest already panting hardly just by the way Jeno and Yangyang’s hands cupped her boobs completely. And just now she was able to get a glimpse of how big they were and how their bodies weren’t so human-like at all, the clothes hiding their broad shoulders and defined back and abs and well… their enormous cocks. And it was just two out of four since Jeno was still dressed and Yangyang was behind her. 

“Should I take this off?” Johnny asked, already rolling up her blood-stained white dress. “Or would you rather if I tore it apart?” He smirked, tilting his head to the side, sly smirk curling his face when she yelped at his words and started shaking her head. It was so funny to see humans’ reactions every time they reminded them how strong they were. But it was even funnier to see that fear wasn’t enough to push her away. He could smell her arousal since he walked back into the room, so sweet and intoxicating. And now it was just stronger. He didn’t need to take a peek to see that her panties were drenched. 

“You don’t want me to ruin your dress? But it’s already dirty. It’s better to get rid of it, maybe we’ll give you something prettier to wear tomorrow,” he pointed out and she only moaned when Yangyang sank his teeth in the exposed flesh of her breast. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Johnny shrugged and with one swift movement tore the fabric in two. She froze at the sound of the fabric being pulled apart and at the effortlessness that it took him to do it. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t be so harsh with you,” he reassured before doing the same with her soaked panties. “Well, unless you want me to.” 

“I want to eat her out,” Yangyang’s voice rang next to her ear before Johnny could bend down on her wet core and she looked up to stare at him. He looked so out of place there, she couldn’t understand him. Something about him was too nice and that made him even scarier. And her doubts started to make more sense when he kneeled between her legs and, after spreading them apart, pulled out a long tongue and his lips twitched in a smirk. 

“Surprised?” Jaehyun asked, now taking Yangyang’s old place and torturing her neck with tickling kisses and bites. “He’s the only one that has this gift,” he snickered lowly, placing a hand on her knees to keep her in place. 

Yangyang winked at her still-shocked expression and then completely leaned in, licking a long stripe of her wet pussy. He hummed loudly and gutturally at the taste and then whispered, “So fucking good. I could smell you from there.” 

She felt her face burn and had to close her eyes due to the embarrassment, they could fucking scent her. In no way she could hide what she was feeling, she was so exposed. 

Jeno snickered against her ear and then whispered, “Don’t worry, kitten. You smell good, the sweetest cunt we ever had.” 

Her eyes widened and she was tempted to ask just how often they did that, but Yangyang’s tongue started moving on her and it left her no chance but to concentrate on it and what he was doing. 

“Wh-why do I feel like this?” She mumbled, already feeling so close. 

“Sensitive?” Johnny asked, raising a brow and she nodded, letting her head fall behind, the rest of the body frozen at their manage. 

“I told you it was a gift for you,” Jaehyun said. 

She tried hard to hold back the moans but Yangyang was too good at what he was doing. She never had many experiences in her life, but she could swear on her life she never felt so sensitive. She had no idea if it was the texture of his tongue, or the way he knew exactly how to move it on her, or the excitement that came with his big claws keeping her legs spread apart and his eyes staring at her intensely. She couldn’t look away, she was drawn to and enchanted by him. 

And the first orgasm rippled through her easily, probably didn’t even take him two minutes to make her come. 

But when she thought that at least he was over, his thick long tongue slipped past her wet walls, fucking in and out of her while the tip curled inside perfectly. 

She let her head hang back, mind going hazy with every passing second and she almost didn’t even register the mocking laughs of the others. 

“Is it too much, kitten?” Jeno asked, and she could barely feel his fingers playing with her hard nipples; mind completely focused on Yangyang. “You promised, remember?” 

She nodded, mouth falling open to let out loud and lewd moans when the tongue speed got incredibly fast. 

“This is just the start, pretty girl,” Johnny added, staring at the scene while licking his lips. It was always funny to see how easily they fell apart into Yangyang’s little tricks, well, when nature gives you a gift, it would be a shame not to use it for others. “You have to let him stretch you good if you don’t want it to hurt later.” 

She gulped, remembering once again that the night had just started and there was no way on earth her body could take them. 

Yangyang wanted to praise her for how good she felt, pussy clenching hard around his wet muscle and sweet juices dripping down his chin, but he had no intention of pulling out of her. He surely had aphrodisiac saliva, but she was just as addictive. 

“He’s good, isn’t he?” She heard Jaehyun say, hand wrapping around her neck and claws grazing her neck, enough to make her snap her eyes open but not enough to cut. He didn’t want to make her bleed, not again. 

“Y-yes,” she breathed out with a string of voice. “ ‘s so good.” And her words made Yangyang twirl his tongue in a way that sent her over the edge again. She felt boneless and yet, somehow, needy for more. It was good, but it wasn’t enough. And a new strange confidence wanted her to prove she could take them. 

Yet, when Yangyang was done with her, she was so lost in the pleasure that she didn’t even realize Kun was leaning against the doorframe and was staring at the scene. He had tried to ignore her, but fuck, her moans sounded like a haunting melody. And when he came out of his room and saw her there, legs spread on the couch with Yangyang’s head between them, eyes closed, head thrown back and mouth open, he knew he just couldn’t go back inside as if nothing happened. As if a stupid human being didn’t just get him rock hard. 

“A little bit unfair to let him go first, don’t you think so?” 

Johnny chuckled. “She didn’t need him to loosen up, she promised she’ll be good, right pretty girl?” 

She mindlessly nodded, with no strength to even pay attention to the fact that now also Kun was in the room. 

“You like easy games,” he replied, moving a big furred armchair closer to the couch to stare at the scene. He wasn’t going to take part in it, but he wanted to watch her fall apart. 

Johnny snickered and then walked close to her as Yangyang got up and moved to her face to kiss her; a wet and sloppy kiss, before winking at her and walking away to sit in front of her. 

“Now, are you ready for the big thing, pretty?” 

Her eyes darted up to meet Johnny’s gaze, an oddly reassuring small smile plastered on his face. “Want more,” she replied, brain completely shut down she knew she couldn’t put together more words even if she wanted to. Her mouth was almost watering at the sight of his big cock, pulsing and veiny. 

“I want her first,” Jeno said before swiftly getting up and getting rid of his clothes too. Her eyes wandered on his body and she felt more wetness pool down her thighs, immediately closing them, but Johnny pushed them open again. 

“No, no, pretty girl, let him see how badly you want him.” 

Jeno smirked, before reaching her. “Can I be the first?” He asked, somehow managing to hide the urge behind his voice. He needed to fuck her. He just couldn’t take it any longer. 

As soon as she nodded Jeno grabbed her and tossed her against the couch seats, body trapped underneath his, legs pushed up, close to her chest, a feeble pain on her right thigh where the cuts still hurt a little. 

She held her breath when Jeno’s tip brushed against her slit, smearing her cum and his pre-cum and slowly trying to make its way in. It was big, bigger than anything else she had ever taken before, and she couldn’t find any rational way how was going to fit. But he was going to make it fit. 

Jeno was tempted to just go all the way in and make her take it, but he truly wanted to have fun with her. He wanted to watch his cock stretch her open, thick girth slipping further into her wet cunt desperately trying to fit him all in. Walls opening up to welcome him because she needed him. 

Jeno’s gaze drifted from their bodies to her face, head lolled back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth gritted as she tried to fight the pressure he was putting her under. But even like this, with some sweat pearling her forehead and tears starting to stream down her face again, she looked absolutely breathtaking. The prettiest human he had ever seen. 

“Big,” she mouthed, voice barely coming out. 

“I know, kitten. I know,” he cooed, brushing her hair out of her face and finally bottoming inside of her completely. “But you can take it. You’ll be so fucking full once we’re done with you.” 

She mumbled something incoherent and Jeno started thrusting into her, not waiting any longer for her to get used to him. Because no matter how much he tried, he was a monster for fuck’s sake, he couldn’t control himself. And he was used to omegas being made for this, not humans, so full of themselves and yet so fragile. 

Yet, after the first discomfort, she started relaxing and her moans got loud again. Probably it was whatever Yangyang put on her while going down before, or maybe it simply was the way Jeno was thrusting into her. Big cock hitting her hard and right, bulge already visible in her tummy. 

Oh, it felt like he was going to split her in half but somehow, the more he fucked into her, the better it got. 

“It’s good, right, kitten? You like that? Big cock stretching you open.” 

“Y-yes,” she moaned, whole body being yanked back and forth with his every move. 

“Fuck, you’re sucking me inside,” he groaned, feeling her getting tighter with every stroke. “Want more? Want it harder?” 

She didn’t answer, mind too far gone to formulate a sentence, but moaned and when her hips rolled up so gracefully to meet him halfway, Jeno lost it, the animal inside him took over. One hand grabbed her wrists pushing them over her head, pinning her down onto the couch, and the other wrapped around her waist and held her down. Sharp nails grazing the soft flesh not caring if he was going to leave a scar. He wanted to make it clear he had been there anyway. He wanted to haunt her following nights, his hands, mouth, cock, and voice the only things she could think about. 

“Please… please, fuck,” she mewled, uselessly trying to struggle underneath him as the pleasure became overwhelming. She felt so weak in his arm, broad body caging her, shielding her from other hungry eyes that wanted to watch but could only hear, the sound of their skin slapping together, the lewd sounds of her wetness squelching every time he penetrated her, her pretty moans and his grunts. 

Jeno was possessive, he didn’t like to share, he wanted to own. And he needed to make sure she was going to remember him and be already completely gone when she was going to be passed to the others. 

“Scream my name, kitten,” he whispered against her ear, teeth nibbling at her lobe making her clench hard. “Let them know who’s making you feel good.” 

She opened her mouth to talk but getting a word out was harder than expected. “You, fuck, you’re so good, Jeno,” she forced the words past her lips, and felt him smirk against her skin. 

“Again, kitten,” he ordered, sharp fangs grazing the flesh of her boobs. “Louder.” 

“Je-jeno,” she moaned, digging her nail in the palm of her hands, trying to buck her hips and find the release but he kept her still in place. 

“I’m not letting you go. Stay there,” he growled with a harder thrust that made her yelp. He was hitting places she had no idea she had and if a part of her wondered how it wasn’t painful and how she wasn’t already split in half, the other just took it and whimpered at his mercy.  

“Jeno, please, please.” 

“Gonna take my knot, kitten?” 

“Don’t knot her up,” before she could answer, Kun chimed in. There was no way she could’ve taken a knot already, and strangely enough, he was enjoying the show. He didn’t want this to stop or see her pass out, not so soon at least. 

Jeno groaned in anger and then threw his head back. But he ignored the comment and leaned down again to kiss her messily, hands holding her so tight he surely left marks around the wrists and waist. If he couldn’t knot her, he was going to make sure to leave his sign in some other way. 

“Jeno, ple-please,” she mumbled, slightly parting her eyes to look at the alpha on top of her, big luminous yellow eyes staring at her. “Need you.” 

He smirked, “Need my cum? Need to be filled to the brim?” 

She nodded, tears spilling down her face as she could feel the knot in her stomach get incredibly tight, she was so close and it felt so intense she was sure she never felt something like this before, and she wasn’t so sure she could take it. 

“Then take it, kitten. You’ve been so good,” he growled, knowing he just couldn’t last longer. Pussy too good, sucking his big dick inside. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, voice low and thrusts getting even harder as the orgasm pierced through the both of them together. 

She screamed when the pleasure washed over her, so strong she felt close to passing out and completely powerless while Jeno kept thrusting into her to ride their orgasms and make sure all of his cum was deep into her womb. 

He sighed, pulling out when he could feel his knot start to grow. How badly he just wanted to grow even more inside of her and stick all the cum inside but he knew better than to disobey Kun. 

So as he got up, after kissing her one last time, huffing and trying to catch his breath, she laid there, panting heavily and feeling every muscle in her body ache. 

But she had no time to try to gain sanity that Jaehyun was already on top of her. 

“Hi, darling,” he purred, pushing back her sweat-soaked hair and caressing her burning wet cheeks. “He made you cry? Was it so good?” 

She nodded, barely registering what he was saying. Already feeling her body beg for help. She might’ve miscalculated how hard it was going to be to take them all. 

“Oh, poor human. You look so pretty like this, though.” He caressed her face and then swiftly turned her around, face smashed against the couch and ass up in the air in full display. He pulled her cheeks apart, white cum spilling in a blob from her swollen cunt. “So, so pretty.” 

Her watery eyes were barely open and stared at her right, where the others were staring at the scene. Her eyes swiftly drifted up to Kun, he was the only one still fully clothed and he seemed to be so unaffected by the scene and she almost wanted to talk to him, to beg him to look at her like the others were. But she couldn’t read him, and before she could dwell too much on it, Jaehyun’s fat tip pressed against her entrance. Unlike Jeno, he didn’t hesitate to push past and immediately bottom in, stretch so good she let her mouth hang open and her nails dig in the fabric under her. 

“So fucking tight, fuck,” he moaned through gritted teeth, hands placing around her waist to support her limp body up. 

His thrusts were fast even though she could feel him go completely out before slamming back inside. Her brain went dizzy with every animalistic sound he let out and the other grunts that filled the room. She felt drool slip out of her mouth but she couldn’t care much about the mess she was making when it felt just too good. 

“Fuck, ‘s so good,” she slurred, toes curling when his claws pressed against the skin of her waist and his body kept slamming against hers. 

“Pathetic thing,” Kun mocked, wetting his lips as he watched how well she was taking so much. “You’re taking it a little too well for somebody that has never done this before.” 

His stern and cold tone made her squirm under Jaehyun that was still restlessly moving into her. 

“Maybe you humans are good at something,” he snickered, unzipping his pants, fat cock finally being freed, throbbing hard and leaking cum at the sight in front of him. She moaned at the sight and the smirk that bloomed on Kun’s face made her face burn up.

“Do you want this?” He asked, big hand wrapping around his length. “Want this cock?” 

She nodded shamelessly, half face still smashed against the couch and mouth drooling at the view and pleasure.  

“How shameless,” Kun scoffed. “All these cocks, and you still want one more, still want mine.” 

She mewled something, a whine, or a beg, she didn’t even know what she wanted, she just knew that she wanted more, whatever they could give her. 

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be able to take it,” he simply replied, lazily pumping himself, watching her wasted state. 

She wanted to complain again, but Jaehyun’s groan and slap on her ass cheek made her pay attention to him once again. 

“How disrespectful,” Jaehyun said, “I’m fucking you so good and you focus on somebody else. He was so mean to you, why do you want him?” 

She mumbled a senseless reply and the werewolf pounding into her slapped her ass again. 

“You like it when they’re mean with you? Is this how you let the other boys in town treat you?” 

She shook her head rapidly, sobs coming out louder. 

“Oh no, I think you want it hard. Want to be pushed to the limit?” 

“Don’t do anything dumb, Jae,” Johnny warned this time. “We still have to fuck her and if you make her pass out I promise you won’t see the light of the day.” 

Jaehyun huffed and rolled his eyes before grabbing her hair and pulling her behind, back arching up and hands planting on the couch to stand up. “Don’t worry, she won’t break.” He leaned closer to her and then whispered, “You won’t because you promised you were going to take it and I don’t like being let down, got it?” He almost growled in her ear, pussy clenching harder around him and cum dripping out more. 

“Y-yes, ‘ll be good… pro-promise,” she mewled, but wasn’t expecting what came after. Jaehyun chuckled and then pulled out of her, but before she could whine at the loss, he grabbed her again and lifted her from the couch. Standing in the middle of the living room he effortlessly eased her on his cock and after quickly smirking at her, he started fucking her up and down, hands wrapped around her fragile frame to hold her up and make her bounce on his dick. 

“Fuck,” she cried, feeling him so deep into her belly in this new position that he was taking her breath away. 

“You like that, don’t you? Them silly humans can’t fuck you like this. Pick you up and turn you around however they want to.” 

“N-no,” she replied weakly, hands wrapping around his broad shoulders, suddenly realizing even more how small she was compared to him, well, them. She let her head fall behind as he kept moving her up and down his dick, feeling him so deep inside she felt like she was going to be broken in two. 

“Look at me,” he ordered, hand cupping her chin and forcing her face to stay straight and stare into his yellow-brown eyes. The way he was staring at her tempted her to roll her eyes back and moan louder but she didn’t, she knew better than disobeying him, he didn’t like it, she had to be good. So instead her nails dug into his broad back, not even making him flinch, doing nothing compared to what he had done to her before. 

“Please,” she moaned, feeling like she couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to come again, she needed to feel another load inside. 

A snarl ripped through his throat when she squeezed incredibly tight and he could only still inside of her, balls deep stuck in her as he released while holding her up, feeling her walls pulse around him. Pulling out before he could knot her almost felt like a fucking punishment for how good she felt. 

Her legs gave up from wrapping around him and he held her up on his shoulder, limp like a ragdoll, cum spilling down on her thighs, legs and to the floor. 

“Who wants her?” 

“Me,” Yangyang said, signalling him to let her sit on his lap. 

“Twice?” 

“I didn’t fuck her, please,” he whined, glaring at the older alpha. Jaehyun grinned at his desperation and then turned her around, left one last kiss on her lips and then sat her down on Yangyang’s lap. 

“Finally,” the younger moaned. “Hi,” he said, moving his hand to her ass. “Have you ever been fucked here?” He asked, fingers playing with her sensitive rim. 

She shook her head, whispering a broken ‘no’ and squeezing her eyes when his fingers pushed past her rim after collecting a lot of cum that spilled between her legs. 

“Well, guess it’s going to be a first time, then,” he winked, successfully inserting two fingers inside. 

“You’re big,” she whined at the intrusion. “You’ll hurt me.” 

“No, if you relax and listen to me.” 

“But I —” 

“You’ve been listening to them all night so you will listen to me, too, right, pup?” 

“Pup,” Kun snickered, scratching his chin as he looked away for a moment to avoid her eyes that immediately snapped toward him as soon as he spoke. 

Why was she so damn attracted to him? Why was she craving his attention when she had four other wolves on her? 

And it was clear they weren’t enjoying the way it took him nothing to have her attention. In fact, in a second Yangyang’s tongue was tapping against her lips, and his free hand forced her head to turn around again. If he had to play dirty, he was going to do it right. And it took nothing for her to fall apart, muddy at his mercy as he kept kissing her and swiftly pulled out his fingers to replace them with his dick. 

She almost didn’t even notice, or well, didn’t feel the pain she was expecting to feel. But why was it so easy with him? Why Yangyang always felt so good, almost unrealistically good? 

As much as she wanted to know, she couldn’t care to think about it, not now. Pleasure overflowing as the alpha didn’t stop kissing her and started thrusting up into her. 

“Do you like it, kitten?” He asked, staring at her face; eyes closed, mouth open and tears streaming down her cheeks. 

She nodded swiftly, not able to let out any word. She could feel him in all her body, everywhere. It was like he was owning her completely, mind totally clouded by pleasure. 

“Fuck, ‘f course you do,” he groaned, nails digging into her skin as he tried so fucking hard to don’t let his claws come out and sink into her skin. “Are you sure you’ve never been fucked here? You’re taking me so well.” 

She shook her head, biting her lower lip to suppress the pathetic moans from leaving her mouth so shamelessly. 

“Pft, can’t even say a word.” Kun’s voice grabbed her attention once again, head snapping toward him, and eyes looking at him. 

Yangyang growled, “Stop getting in the way,” he glared down at the older werewolf. “If you think you can do better just fuck her yourself.” 

Kun grinned, wetting his lower lip and whispered, “Maybe.” 

But before his word could be registered, Yangyang was once again forcing her to kiss him. Tongue twirling around hers and reaching the back of her throat making her gag, without stopping fucking into her. 

Her hands wrapped around his broad shoulders as she tried to keep herself steady when his speed became incredibly fast and she felt like she could pass out. It was too much. Muscles aching, mind gone, throat dry from all the moans that slipped out of her. 

“Please,” she breathed out with a string of voice, trying to keep her eyes open and look at the creature in front of her. Feeling the familiar sensation in the pit of her stomach once again.  

And her pleading eyes and wasted expression were what he needed to let go, “Fuck — I’m gonna come,” the alpha under her warned before realising into her and making her come too. 

“Fuck,” Yangyang moaned, rolling his head back, slowing his thrusts, still holding her from the waist. 

She collapsed on top of him, trying to steady her breath but soon after, somebody was lifting her up. She whined but was shushed immediately. 

“Shh, kitten, let me have some fun, too,” Johnny whispered against her ear before laying her down on the couch once again. “I was the one that saved you after all,” he smirked, moving her hair out of her face, gently caressing her wet cheek. 

“I can’t,” she wept. 

“Oh, you can, pretty girl,” he cooed, sitting on the couch. “Come here, on your knees in front of me.” 

Her eyes drifted around the room before she hardly moved her body right where he wanted her. Her toes curled when she looked up and Johnny was looking down at her. He was big and she felt so small, even more now that she felt like a boneless being. 

“It would be a shame don’t use that pretty mouth of yours.” 

Her eyes widened… he didn’t want to… 

“What? Scared? Don’t tell me you’ve never done that before?” He teased, wrapping his hand around his cock to pump it slowly, precum rolling down his thick length. 

“Don’t make us think it was a night full of first times,” Jeno chimed in, walking closer to them because he wanted to watch her. It was always fun seeing them trying to do their best to take Johnny in and, most of the time, fail. 

She gulped, briefly looking at him and then going back at Johnny’s cock. Well, it was a night full of first. And it was a night nobody was going to hear about. She disobeyed running into the woods, and then fucked with the very creatures that terrified her people, she surely wasn’t going to let out a single word about this. 

Her attention was brought back there when Johnny tapped against her lips and she could only open her mouth and try to take it. But she could already feel the corner of her mouth burn at the size of his tip. 

“Shh, kitten, you’re doing great, see,” he purred, slowly entering her mouth. “Keep your eyes on me.” 

She did as told, even if the smirk on the other’s faces that now surrounded her made her frown. He wasn’t going to be gentle, right? 

And as expected, the gentleness lasted just until his cock reached the back of her throat, and then his hands were in her hair and he got up, mercilessly fucking into her mouth. 

Her whines were completely muffled by his strong strokes and the tears falling swiftly on her face didn’t stop him at all. Instead, the sight made him groan louder and tighten the hold on her hair. 

“You’re doing good,” he praised, voice soft and caring, keen contrast between his moves. “Relax, kitten.” 

She tried to, jaw slacking as she welcomed him in. 

But then something happened, an exchange of gazes, and whispered things she couldn’t hear behind the sound of her gagging and spitting around his cock. Johnny pulled out, making her gasp and then swiftly yanked her up, making her sit on the couch on her knees, face staring at the backrest where Johnny was standing behind. 

“What are you —” She had no time to finish that another pair of hands were on her. She turned around and Kun was standing behind her, now completely naked too. 

“Kun?” 

“Shut up,” he ordered, cupping her chin and forcing her against his chest. “I don’t want to hear any complaints from you, got it? Can you be good and take it?” 

She hummed swiftly in his hold and he squeezed harder around her face. “And answer me, I don’t like dumb bitches unlike them.” 

“Y-yes, alpha,” she mumbled, feeling excitement and fear creep together. She was smashed between the two biggest werewolves and none of the two seemed to have a little bit of mercy in their bones. 

“See,” he said, talking to the other three that were staring at the scene with their hands wrapped at the base of their cocks. “You can make her talk if you know how.” 

They rolled their eyes but didn’t say a word and before she could realize it, Johnny was again prodding at her lips, dick easily sliding into her warm mouth. 

“Look at the fucking mess you made,” Kun mocked, collecting the cum that dripped, and was still dripping, on her legs. 

She let out a strangled cry when he pushed two fingers into her and then pulled out, making more cum drool. 

“Is this what you do in your small town? Let boys take turns with you? Fill you up as if that’s your only purpose in life?” 

She shook her head for what she could, considering the way Johnny kept moving into her mouth. 

“No?” Kun scoffed, shaking his head, hands still running over the soft flesh of her ass. “Because humans are not enough, right? You ran all the way here because you wanted this. Ignoring the rules because you wanted to be fucked by monsters.” 

She cried a ‘no’ when the other alpha pulled out of her mouth, spit and cum dripping down her chin. 

“No? You humans are so reckless. Think we’re the only creatures in the wood? You were so lucky you found us.” 

She had no time to reply that she was getting filled by both ends. Kun’s cock filling her in one single stroke making her silently cry out around Johnny, hole burning up at the nth penetration of the night, bulging veins rubbing her walls and tip reaching her cervix. 

“Always want so much, you need to be adventurous, brave, but you’re just dumb,” he laughed against her ear. “And since you wanted this so badly, let’s see if you can take it. If you can take the real thing.” There was a reason if he avoided fucking with humans, his seeping hatred not giving them a way out, and as much as he hated them, he usually was also kind enough to keep his distance, but with her, it felt nearly impossible. No hesitation crying and moaning that she could take it all, only to be proven wrong at the first orgasm. 

She closed her eyes and fought against everything to don’t bite down on Johnny as Kun started thrusting into her at an inhuman speed. She could feel her lungs burn, trying to let out sounds that were locked in by Johnny’s size. Kun was bigger than the others and all of a sudden she regretted how badly she wanted him before, because no matter how good it felt, she knew she was going to fail to take him, there was just no way she could last longer. 

“Are you crying?” He cooed with a mocking tone, wiping the tears that were spilling fast from her eyes. “Afraid you’re going to break? Not so sure you can do this anymore, right? Always so good at throwing the rock and then hiding the hand.” 

She wanted to bite back, tell him she could take it, but she wasn’t so sure anymore as she felt her body get weaker with every passing second. Maybe it was the flow of hair getting restricted by Johnny, or the way Kun was pounding into her, or the five — if she remembered correctly — orgasms she had before, or the way she could feel the other three bore holes into her skin and the slick sounds of their hands on themselves. 

When Johnny pulled out to let her breathe, she coughed and looked back at Kun. “I’m close,” she whispered, shivering when his eyes looked up at her, drifting from where their bodies met. 

“Again? Pathetic little thing. I barely touched you.” 

She whined again, letting her face fall against the backrest but Johnny’s hand forced her up again. 

“Come on, pretty, keep sucking me,” he ordered, but this time he didn’t start moving, he simply let her do all the job. Her cheeks hollowed around his length and her eyes tried to stay open to look at him. But trying to suck him properly was hard when she felt like she had zero control over her body and when another alpha twice her size was railing her with no mercy. 

“Make me come and I’ll leave you all alone with him — fuck,” Johnny groaned when her tongue licked his slit. “Do you want to be left with Kun?” 

She shook her head, and felt her heart skip a beat at the thought. He hated her. 

Another one scoffed, probably Jaehyun and then said, “Now you don’t want him? Acting as if you didn’t keep begging for him while we were fucking you.” 

She looked at him, an apologetic look on her face and then felt another orgasm rip through her. Long and exhausting since the werewolf behind her never slowed down. Probably she even came twice in a row but she had no idea. 

“So pretty for us,” Johnny praised, cupping her chin and starting to pick up a rhythm again. He needed to come and get this shit done, he had been on the edge for the whole night. And so his hand quickly moved down and wrapped around her throat making her almost gasp when he closed it around it and she felt the air completely block out. 

“Shh, just like this,” he moaned, rolling his head back and then looking back at her, and her eyes full of fear were the last thing he needed to send him over the edge. His cum spilled down her throat and her chin and boobs as she coughed trying to breathe again. “So, so good, kitten,” he purred, kneeling to her level and wiping the mess on her lips before kissing her. 

“Good? Coming like this, like a pathetic little thing, and you think she’s good,” Kun mocked, slapping her ass cheek, pussy clenching around him harder. 

“I’ve been good,” she cried and he yanked her by her hair and said. “did I say you could fucking talk? Especially talk back to me?” 

She shook her head and mumbled, “no, no, alpha.” 

“Then keep your mouth closed and don’t you dare test me.” 

She nodded and rolled her head back on his shoulder as he didn’t let her go, but kept her body up against him. Cock slamming into her perfectly, sending her close to the edge once again. 

“Please,” she cried out, feeling her stomach curl and her thighs shake. 

Kun smirked. “Hold it in, human. Don’t you dare come.” 

Her eyes snapped open, and she slightly turned around to look at him. She wanted to retort but he had warned her and at this point, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to take any kind of punishment. So she kept staring at him, trying to distract herself from the pleasure, trying to look for any sign of flaw on his beautiful face and she couldn’t help but wonder how could a monster be so fucking attractive. When her eyes fell on his lips they curled into a smirk. 

“Want me to kiss you like they did?” He mocked harshly, bringing her back to reality. “Want me to praise you? Uh? Maybe you should fuck with humans like you if you want sweet things. Remember what I am, princess.” 

She let out an angry moan and then gasped when his hand wrapped around her throat and his claws crazed her skin. Her heart jumped in her throat but a loud laugh rolled out of his mouth when her walls tightened around him. 

“You like this more than you want to show, human.” 

“Don’t — don’t call me that,” she mewled, and his claws dug enough to make some blood spill out of her. 

“That’s what you are, that’s your nature. Human, fragile, nature,” he growled. “You know how easily I could kill you right now?” 

She felt blood freeze in her vein. She knew it damn well. Had been aware of the fact the whole night, but none of the others seemed capable of actually doing something to her. Him, on the other hand…

“You — you won’t,” she cried, hating her body for the pleasure she was feeling with every single one of his thrusts even right now that he was playing with the thin string of her life. 

“No, you’re right, I won’t,” he whispered against her ear. “But I could, and I want you to always keep in mind how inferior you humans are. Got it?” 

“Y-yes, alpha.” 

“Good,” he smiled, licking a stripe on her neck. “Can you take my knot?” He asked and her eyes snapped open again. 

“I – I,” she stuttered.

“My bad,” he added and for a moment she thought he realized how impossible that was. “You will take my knot like a good brainless human and then tomorrow we’ll bring you back and you won’t say a single word about tonight, got it?” 

She nodded and mumbled a faint yes, by now not even caring anymore. She needed to come. And a dark side of her brain craved to be knotted up by him. They had already pushed her way past her limits, so how hard could that be? 

“Good, then take it,” he groaned, letting go of her neck but still holding her close. Orgasm exploding for the both of them, but this time he didn’t pull out like the others did shortly after they came, he stayed there, balls deep into her, letting his knot grow. 

Her body fell limp forward when he started growing and the stretch felt unbearable to take. But Kun held her by her waist as his head laid against her shoulder and low grunts left his lips. “Fuck — so fucking good,” he whispered, lazily moving his hips in circles pressed against her ass to make sure every drop of his seed was inside of her. 

And if it wasn’t for his body covering her, some cum of the others would’ve landed on her tired-out body. 

They stayed there for what felt like hours to her but when he pulled out, she had no more strength to say or do anything, body aching, holes gaping, chest panting and eyes dried out of all the tears.  

She could feel arms lift her up, what she imagined to be a wet cloth pass between her legs and on her body, maybe even some faded praises but she was too far gone to be aware of what was going on around her. 

“She’s nice, you can’t lie,” Johnny chuckled, staring at her sleeping figure on his bed. The others went to their rooms and they were left alone with her, a big white shirt covering her sore body as she slept peacefully curled up on herself.  

Kun rolled his eyes, running a hand in his hair, and swiftly looked at her, thinking of before, how easy it had been to ease her into that, how naïve she truly was. A smirk curled up his lips, “Maybe we should keep her.” 

TAGLIST: @kpopgirl124127 @kwnshi @auroraichimaru | let me know if you want to be added by commenting under the INFERNO masterlist

A/N: hope you liked it! let me know with comments, reblogs or even asks ♡

Eyes on you (m.l)

Your roommate’s brother was…something. Obnoxiously cocky, attractive, and insanely good at pressing buttons that cause your gut to bubble with arousal.

requested by @markiepoos​: “Open your mouth for me, baby.” + “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it.

wordcount― 6.1k

pairing― mark lee x afab reader

content―  mark is the punk brother of your roommate who stays for a weekend, he has long hair and piercings, he’s also a tease, you have a high sex drive, spit kink, masturbation, voyeurism, cream pie, rly–he goes for it raw, he asks a lot of questions as a form of dirty talk because he likes constant confirmation that he’s the reason you’re so wet.

note― mark lee reigns supreme in my brain once again. all these drabble requests keep ending up being fics, but yknow what? you’re welcome. 

Keep reading

KISS U RIGHT NOW (L.MK)

pairing. mark lee x fem!reader genre. some fluff, smut word count. 6.9k contents. kissing, breast play, fingering (receiving), oral (giving), unprotected sex

summary. in which mark just really wants to kiss you. alternative summary. five times mark wanted to kiss you and one time he actually does.

notes. happy (belated) birthday @najaemarkl !! this fic is based off the song ‘kiss u right now’ by duckwrth 🥰

saturday.

Mark thinks he might be going insane.

Mark is standing in the middle of this party on a Saturday night, red Solo cup in his hand, surrounded by dancing bodies, among which there are undoubtedly several girls who would go for him.

Mark is standing in the middle of this party, and all he can think about is how badly he wants to kiss you, his best friend. 

monday.

It started as an inkling these past couple of weeks, but it got a little stronger on Monday, a persistent nagging feeling as he watched you in the back of your shared Linguistics class. You’d knocked your dangly earring out in your hurry to raise your hand and answer a question your professor had asked, and were currently preoccupied with lightly dragging the point of the earring hook against your lobe in an attempt to find the piercing hole.

There’s something about the soft tilt of your head, the focused look on your face as you devote your attention to putting your earring back in, and the way the tip of your tongue peeks out in concentration that has Mark seeing you in a light getting further and further from platonic by the day. 

He wants to feel your tongue against his lips, wants to caress that space of your neck you’re thoughtlessly exposing to him with his hand, feel the soft skin under his fingertips, tilt your chin towards him and lean forward to connect your lips. You’re nibbling at your bottom lip now as you write something down in your notes, and Mark bets you wore that lip balm he’s always loved the smell of, unbeknownst to you due to his never mentioning it, and he wishes he could just lean over and see how it tastes—

“Mark!” You whisper, placing your hand on his thigh just a centimeter above his knee, and Mark jolts out of his stupor, meeting your gaze with a sheepish tint to his cheeks and ears that he prays you don’t notice or ignore. “I asked if you have correction tape? I made a mistake.” You frown and Mark almost spirals all over again at the sight of your bottom lip jutting out in a pout that he just wants to kiss over and over until it goes away in favor of a smile. 

“Uh, yeah—I definitely do,” He stumbles over his words as he roots through his pencil case and finds it, passing it to you. Your hands touch, fingers brushing the other’s palm, as you take it from him with a grateful smile, and Mark knows you definitely don’t think much of it, but he’s thinking about how soft your hand is, how warm, how he wishes he could just reach over and hold it for no reason other than the fact that he wants to.

Mark’s not sure if this wave of wanting to kiss you is going away anytime soon, but he hopes it does—for his sake.

tuesday.

Mark’s inkling, his persistent nagging feeling, turns into a whisper on Tuesday, accompanied with a phantom tugging sensation that he fears might literally pull him towards you for more than comfort when he comes over to your dorm, as requested, to see a very sad and teary-eyed you sitting on your rug dejectedly. He almost drops the takeout bag he carefully carried from your favorite Chinese food restaurant to your dorm, and he cannot afford such a financial loss, so he clutches onto it protectively.

The glossy look in your eyes, lashes, now wet with tears, clumping together, your pouty bottom lip—that damn lip—trembling slightly with the weight of unshed tears, and the occasional sniffles you let out almost make Mark drop the damn takeout bag, the male floored by how pretty someone can look when they cry. He approaches you carefully, settling down on the rug beside you and folding his limbs in somewhat clumsily. When you look over at his struggle, a small chuckle escapes you, and Mark’s heart clenches at the sound, eyes sweeping over your frame to assess any physical injuries you might have. Finding none, Mark sighs in relief and slumps back, his head resting against the side of your covered mattress.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Mark asks softly. You hadn’t specified what was wrong in your distress signal text; you only sent “SOS,” your and Mark’s Best Friend Code for “come over and bring comfort food,” and Mark readily complied as soon as he caught sight of the notification banner; he’s not sure if this is a symptom of being hopelessly whipped for you or just a testament to the strength of your friendship.

He’s pretty sure it’s the former, as another glance at your tear-streaked cheeks sends his poor heart lurching again, but Mark really hopes for his sake that it’s the latter.

“No,” You mumble, sniffling twice before meeting his gaze with wide, shining eyes that, to Mark, are just screaming for him to lean forward and capture your lips with his. “Just need you here.”

“I’m here,” Mark promises, and sets about opening the takeout containers and laying everything out as nicely as he can, even using some textbooks from his backpack and your desk as a makeshift table. “I got your favorite.” He says hopefully, spearing a piece of chicken and bringing it to your lips expectantly. You laugh softly, the sound fond, your cheeks lifting into a smile as you lean forward, accept the forkful, and chew, relief taking over your body as Mark watches you visibly relax.

You slump against Mark’s arm, resting your head against his shoulder, and Mark prays you can’t hear the pounding of his heartbeat which sounds out loud and clear in his own ears. Mark drapes an arm around your shoulders and tries not to stiffen when you turn yourself inwards, tucking yourself into his side and humming softly, tries not to let his desires take over and give in to the tugging feeling that urges him to nudge your head up with his own and slot your lips together.

Mark really isn’t sure if he can hold out much longer.

wednesday.

Wednesday almost has Mark caving when you two lie on his bed, watching movies on his laptop. You’re so close, the side of your thigh pressed up against his, hips brushing, shoulders touching, and Mark knows it’d be so easy to turn and press his lips to yours. 

To make matters worse, Mark’s eyes keep trailing down to your chest, which moves every time you laugh, and by the time you’re engrossed in the film, Mark’s lost interest entirely, instead opting to study your features and reactions. Try as he might, Mark’s eyes continue to wander down to your breasts, shamefully gazing as if looking hard enough would grant him the feeling of what it’d be like to touch you.

Mark’s finally coming to accept that he wants to do more than kiss you; far more, actually. He wants to touch you, hold you, be intimately familiar with the taste and feel of you—

More than anything, though, Mark wants to love you. If you’d let him. He wants to make you smile, laugh, understand the meaning of love songs—he wants to spin you around in the rain and leave kiss after kiss against your lips and trailing down your neck to your collarbones. He wants to buy you thoughtful gifts and watch your eyes light up; he wants to be the one to wipe your tears and kiss everything all better.

He wants, firstly, however, to know if you even want that from him. He hopes you do. Overwhelmed by his thoughts and unshakable desires, Mark reaches up and fitfully runs his fingers through his hair, no doubt messing it up. He mumbles a quick apology when his sudden movement causes you to jolt in surprise, looking over at him. To his confusion, you don’t look away yet, observing him for another moment before leaning towards him.

Is this it? Is this the moment Mark’s been dreaming about for ages? He can barely contain his excitement, reflexively nibbling his bottom lip out of nervous habit, and he tries to remember to breathe, to relax, there’s no good in kissing someone who’s stiff as a board—

“You messed your hair up,” You murmur distractedly, reaching up and ruffling his hair, adjusting it until he looks presentable. “All better,” You say sweetly with a soft smile, and Mark wants nothing more than to cup your face and kiss you over and over and over until your smile is so wide he can’t kiss you anymore.

Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him? Mark hopes you don’t, because that would be uncharacteristically cruel of you.

“Thanks,” He forces out a small chuckle, and your brows furrow instantly, of course they do, you know each other like the back of your hand.

“You okay?” You ask curiously, a tinge of worry in your voice, and Mark nods reassuringly. “You sure? You can talk to me about anything, you know.”

As Mark successfully de-escalates the situation and redirects your attention to the movie, he can’t help but think that there are, unfortunately, some things he might be better off keeping to himself.

thursday.

By Thursday, Mark doesn’t know how much longer he can hold his feelings in. He’s driving down the road, endlessly pursuing the night if it means staying by your side, and you’re sitting right next to him, content as can be.

“Were we supposed to be turning soon?” Mark asks, and you look over at him, shrugging.

“I dunno.” 

“You’re riding shotgun,” Mark chuckles, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel and looking over at you. “You’re in charge of directions.”

“Nuh-uh,” You counter, furrowing your brows—very cutely, Mark thinks to himself—and turning slightly to face him better. “I’m a passenger princess.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mark snickers, and you nod firmly, settling back into your seat.

“Yep,” You reply, popping your lips on the “p.” “I’m in charge of looking pretty and maintaining the good vibes.”

“Well, in that case, you’re doing an excellent job,” Mark replies with a laugh, barely registering his words until they’ve settled in the now thick air between you two.

“…Did you just call me pretty, Mark?” You tease, reaching over and tugging at his pinking ear.

“Don’t distract the driver!”

“Answer my question!”

“Maybe I did.” He admits, and you smile widely, flipping down the mirror and checking your reflection. Mark steals a glance while you do, studying the slope of your nose, the curl of your lashes, and the faint pucker of your lips as you reapply your lip balm, the faint but pleasant scent of cherry Chapstick wafting past Mark’s nose.

He’s never been one for cherries, but he can honestly say he’s never wanted to taste them so badly in his life.

“Why, thank you, Mark.” You don’t yet look at him, fixing your hair in the mirror before flipping it back up, and Mark’s eyes rove over your face with an almost hunger, drinking in your beauty as you sit beside him, entirely unaware. When you turn to look at him, he shifts his gaze back to the road as if he’d never been looking, and you hum thoughtfully, picking up your phone and connecting it to the Bluetooth speakers in his car. “Any requests?”

“Nah, play what you want,” Mark offers. “I trust your taste in music.”

“Mark, you’re just killing it with the compliments tonight.” You say gleefully, stretching your legs out before you cross one leg over the other. Mark can see the faint line of muscle in the side of your thigh, and he wants so desperately to run his fingers along it, press his lips to the indentation, leave kisses lower and lower and back up until his mouth grazes your inner thighs— “Who are you practicing on me for?”

“I’d never use you as practice,” Mark replies indignantly, offended that you’d even suggest such a thing. 

“Sorry,” You stress the word with a playful lilt as you raise your hands defensively. “Was just asking.” The car falls into a comfortable silence between you two as the song you picked plays in the car speakers. ‘Crush’ by DUCKWRTH sounds throughout the car, and Mark can barely hold back his chuckle at just how apt your song choice is. 

He’s crushing, and he’s crushing bad. 

He can’t help but steal glances at your bare legs as he drives, eyes gravitating towards that damn muscle, and he’s moving before he knows it, reaching over to you with his closest hand. He wants to stop, pretend it never happened, but he’s more than halfway to you and to stop now would mean an awkward retreat of his hand back to his lap, and he doesn’t think his pride could handle that.

He swallows hard and pushes past his worries—literally—and pats your knee comfortingly, his hand almost trembling under the feeling of your warm, soft skin under his palm.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” Mark echoes his sentiment from earlier. “Use you as, like, flirting target practice or something.” He hopes he sounds sincere because he means every word. 

You have no idea that you’re the main event to Mark. 

You smile at him, eyes bright, and place one hand on top of his, patting it gently and leaving it there. Mark’s over the moon, floating on cloud nine, and it’s a miracle he can stay focused on the road and not swerve off from how frazzled his thoughts have become. 

“Passenger princess?” He calls to you, and you hum in acknowledgement, half-turning to look at him. “Can you go above and beyond your job description and look up the directions, please?” 

“Mm,” You hum thoughtfully, tapping your chin with your index finger of the hand holding your phone. “I guess I can do that.” You answer finally, shooting him a teasing grin before unlocking your phone and devoting your attention to it.

To be honest, Mark could drive for hours aimlessly if it meant getting to keep his hand on your leg and you by his side.

friday.

By the time you two get your food, eat it in Mark’s car, and drive somewhere to relax, it’s well past midnight and officially Friday, the night enveloping you two in its cool embrace. As soon as he puts the car in park, you’re leaping out of the passenger side door and making your way to the front of the vehicle.

Mark can’t help but chuckle as he gets out of the car and heads over to where you’re standing at the precipice of the overlook, all the city lights twinkling in the night.

“It’s so pretty,” You sigh dreamily, the lights reflecting in your eyes, and Mark can’t help but agree, his gaze only on you. You’re practically bouncing on your heels with excitement, bounding back over to his car and carefully sitting on the hood, crossing your legs at the ankles.

“It really is,” Mark echoes, but he’s still watching you, mentally hyping himself up for his next move. Swallowing thickly, he throws caution to the wind and walks over to where you sit, standing so your knees push against his hips. 

Mark’s not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t for you to uncross your ankles and hook them behind his legs to pull him closer to you. You release him almost immediately, the moment fleeting, but the mischievous grin on your face sends Mark’s heart lurching as he wants nothing more than to cup your face and press his lips to yours. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask curiously, and Mark blinks out of his daze.

“Nothing?” He winces inwardly at how defensive he sounds, and by the unconvinced look on your face, you’ve picked up on it too.

“You’re biting your lip like you do when you get all…in your head.” You point out, tapping his chin lightly, and he swallows before releasing his poor bottom lip. “Let me in there, Mark.” You say softly, reaching up to trace light circles on his forehead. “What are you thinking?”

I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so bad that it hurts, Mark groans internally, but says nothing yet. In an act of boldness he’ll surely regret later, he loops his fingers around your wrist and brings your hand down to your lap, slowly slipping his digits between yours. You smile down at your linked hands fondly, squeezing his hand comfortingly, and Mark thinks for one hopeful moment that you want him too. 

Mark looks up from your hands, pushing away the thoughts of how nicely they fit together, to see that you two are much closer than he thought; your eyelashes are close enough to count, and he can smell that fucking lip balm that drives him insane. A shaky breath leaves him before he can stop it, a breath of anticipation, of hope, of—

“Mark!” You laugh incredulously, and he jolts, sheepishly refocusing his gaze on you. “You disappeared again.” You murmur fondly, releasing his hand and trailing your fingers up his arm to tickle the back of his neck lightly. 

“Sorry,” Mark mumbles, nerves sitting tight in his throat, a lump he can’t seem to swallow, and you shake your head dismissively, smiling up at him.

“Will you take me with you next time?” You joke softly, and he nods before he knows he’s doing it, his body so tuned into you that he’d give you anything you want without a second thought. “Good.” You sigh, content, and Mark makes another bold move, acting on his desires for the second time tonight—third if you count his touching your leg in the car—and stepping closer until his knees hit the bumper, placing his hands on the car on either side of your body to tentatively trap you in. 

Your bright eyes look up at him curiously and, if he’s allowing himself to indulge in his thoughts, challengingly, as if daring him to take the step he so desperately wants to. His chest swells with anticipation, his eyes slowly dropping down to your lips, and he thinks for a moment about leaning in and biting the bullet. 

But flashes of your panicked, nervous, even disgusted possible reaction to him have Mark popping the balloon of hope suddenly, an awkward laugh forcing itself out instead as he leans back from you slightly, freeing you from his embrace.

“You’re welcome anywhere I go,” Mark assures you. 

Your responding smile almost soothes the ghostly chill of rejection Mark imagined.

Almost.

saturday. (again.)

A cracking noise startles Mark out of his thoughts, with him quickly coming to realize that his grip on his cup has tightened considerably, denting the cup. He’s about to go and toss the cup, having lost his taste for the drink inside, when he hears his name being called from behind him.

“Hey, you.” Your voice cuts through the sounds of the party with ease, and Mark turns his head as your arms wrap around him in a tight backhug. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothin’, really.” Mark answers, shrugging casually.

“I ask because you love this song, and yet you were just standing in the middle of the floor like a statue.” You snicker, and he balks, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. 

“Oh, nothing, for real; just thinking about school.”

“Thinking about school on a Saturday night? Don’t we come here to do the exact opposite of that?” You tease, and he chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Come with me to the bathroom? I need you to stand guard.” You grin widely in an attempt to convince him, and Mark fights back the urge to chuckle. 

You have no idea that he’d do damn near anything for you.

“C’mon.” He murmurs, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow just a step behind him, Mark’s hand ghosting along the small of your back as he guides you through the many bodies. For a brief second, Mark loses you, the feel of your back slipping away startling him into turning around to see you a couple of feet back stuck behind a kissing couple. 

He moves back towards you, hand returning to your back as you graciously lean into him, and continues making his way through the crowd, keeping you closer to him than before. Your hand grips the hem of his shirt—Mark guesses it’s so you two don’t get separated again—and Mark’s hand accidentally dips under the hem of your shirt, fingertips briefly grazing the bare skin of your waist. His mind reeling, Mark moves his fingers and, if you notice, you say nothing, readily following him upstairs to the bathroom.

When you two reach the door, the last thing Mark expects is for you to pull him into the bathroom with you, the sound of the door clicking shut finally letting the situation sink in. 

“Are you sure you want me in here—”

“I’m not actually using the bathroom, Mark.” You laugh, leaning up against the sink and inspecting your reflection. Mark watches as you pull your lip balm from your pocket and apply it to your lips, and he can’t help but wonder if you’re doing this on purpose. “I missed you, y’know.” You hum thoughtfully, and Mark makes a surprised sort of sound.

“Yeah?” He asks, trying and failing to hide his incredulity. 

“Yep,” You confirm. You turn to face him with a (very cute) frown. “Did you not miss me?”

“No—I mean yes, of course I did—”

“Then why wouldn’t I miss you?” You counter, and he presses a hand over his face, laughing despite his building nerves.

“You just love messing with me, don’t you?” He chuckles, and you shrug, lips curling into a beguiling smile.

“I like pulling you out of your head, Mark.” You say. “I like knowing what you’re thinking.”

Mark thinks that it’s basically now or never; when else is he going to get the opportunity to tell you how he feels?

“You know, lately, I’ve been thinking about—” Mark starts off boldly, but he cuts himself off at the last minute, still unsure if he wants to take that forward step and possibly ruin your relationship.

“Mark, you’re always so in your head.” You chuckle fondly, leaning in towards him. “Thinking about what?”

“Thinking about…kissing you.” Mark finishes slowly, and the look in his eyes when he looks up from his shoes to meet your gaze is a look you’ve never seen from him before. He steps towards you, your feet inch back reflexively, and this continues as he slowly backs you up against the countertop, his hands coming to rest by your hips on the sink, carefully closing you in.

“Oh, yeah?” You hum, blinking slowly at him, and your lips curl into a small grin.

“Yeah.” Mark’s serious—more serious than you’ve seen him in a while—and the intensity in his gaze has arousal stirring in your lower abdomen as you watch him intently.

“And how long have you been thinking about this?” You ask softly, voice low and curious. Mark chuckles finally, looking away from you for a moment before answering you.

“A while.”

“How long is a while?” You press.

“Couple weeks.” He answers, knowing he’s severely lowballing it, and you roll your eyes, nudging his thigh with your knee.

“And you never thought to tell me this because…?” You question, and he shrugs dismissively.

“Didn’t think you were interested.” He replies, and you nod thoughtfully.

“Ah.” You say. “That’s stupid.” 

Mark lets out a small chuckle as he leans even closer to you, his face closer to yours than it’s ever been. “Don’t make me laugh right now.”

“Why not?” You tease, gently poking his stomach and trying to mask your surprise when you feel firm muscle as opposed to the squishiness you expected. “You can kiss me, you know.”

“Stop talking,” Mark groans, his brows furrowing, and you grin at him mischievously.

“Or what?” You’re lifting up onto your tiptoes, leaning in closer to him and stopping just before your lips connect. “What if I don’t?”

“I’ll make you.” His words thrill your mind and the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips thrills your body, your blood starting to buzz in anticipation.

“Mm, is that a threat or a promise?” You know Mark well enough to know he needs to be goaded into boldness, and you’re just the right person for the job.

“Whichever you want.” His voice is throatier, huskier, and almost unbearably attractive.

“I want you to shut up and kiss me already.” You lightly bump the tip of your nose against his, a wide, excited smile growing on your lips.

“I can do that.” He breathes, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck as he pulls you in and finally connects your lips. The kiss isn’t an explosive fire right away, but a slow, warm one that builds steadily to an inferno as you two get used to the feeling and taste of each other. 

Mark’s mind is reeling, finally getting to taste your lip balm, which is almost as delicious as the unique taste that’s just you, and he thinks for a moment that he could probably stay there forever with you.

Before you can even process it, Mark’s kissing has morphed from cautious and hesitant to heated and passionate, and his hips press against you, pushing you against the countertop of the sink more insistently. His fingers on the back of your neck slip into the hair on your nape, tugging not-so-gently at the locks. When you softly gasp in surprise, he pulls back as if you’d shocked him, eyes wide and apologetic.

“Is this okay?” He asks worriedly, and you scoff, leaning into his embrace.

“Yes, Mark. Didn’t I say something along the lines of ‘less talking, more kissing?’” You huff, and he grins, pulling you back against him to slot your lips together once more. “You don’t have to be gentle, Mark—I can take it.”

“God, you’re gonna drive me insane.” He groans under his breath, sounding strained as he obliges and presses you against the countertop roughly, hands flying to your hips to lift you, guiding you on top of the sink. His lips detach from yours and start descending down your neck, sucking and licking, his fingers digging into your hips as he moans against your skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He grunts, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your sweet scent as he presses his lips to your skin over and over. 

“That feels so good, Mark,” You hum, content with the feeling of Mark’s mouth working away at your neck.

“Can I—?” He starts, but you cut him off.

“You don’t need to ask about everything, Mark,” You chuckle fondly, pulling your neck away from his lips in favor of running your fingers through his hair and tugging gently. “If I don’t like it, I’ll tell you.” 

“Promise?” Mark mumbles worriedly.

You nod. “When have I ever missed out on an opportunity to complain about something?” You say playfully, and Mark relaxes visibly as he laughs and nods in agreement.

“Good point.” He murmurs, and you smile sweetly as you pull him in for another kiss. “In that case,” Mark says in a low tone, lips pressed to yours, “I’m gonna indulge for a bit.”

Before you can ask what he means by that, he’s yanking your shirt up and over your head and discarding it thoughtlessly on the floor, his hands finding your waist and slowly gliding up to your chest, where he cups your breasts and squeezes, kneading them and tugging gently at your nipples through your bra.

Without his having to ask, you reach back and unclip your bra, shrugging the straps off and letting the garment fall off of you. It lands between you and Mark on the floor and Mark looks down at it, up at you, down at your bare breasts with wide eyes, then back up at you in awe.

“Damn, you’re incredible,” He groans, his hands eagerly massaging and caressing your breasts as you arch your back in pleasure, pushing your chest towards him. His lips attach to your neck, kissing and nipping his way down to your chest, where he takes a nipple into his mouth. You moan lowly and tip your head back, hissing when his teeth catch your sensitive bud, tugging and releasing before swirling the tip of his tongue around it and sucking. He cups both of your breasts in his hands, pressing them together, before rolling his tongue over your nipples, moving from one to the other eagerly and punctuating his surprisingly skillful swirls with gentle nips. 

“Feels good, Mark,” You sigh dazedly, a lazy but content smile curling your lips, and he groans, the sound low in his throat, in response, sucking at your nipples with more fervor. He bathes your chest in wet kisses, groaning louder when you whine plaintively. 

His hand leaves your breast to snake between your bodies and unbutton your jeans, pushing into your underwear and stroking along your folds, parting them until he reaches the fleshy pearl of your clit. Your hips jolt at the touch, Mark releasing your nipple from the warmth of his mouth and moving up to kiss you as you rock down on his fingers.

His fingers, thicker than you expected, push past your entrance, two digits curling inside of you and eliciting a pleased hum from you. He slowly fucks his fingers into you, your walls slick and tight around them, and he can’t help but think about how tight you’re going to feel when he’s finally inside of you.

“Right there—” You whimper when he hits a spot that has your toes curling, and he chuckles, diligently thrusting his fingers into you repeatedly as your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and making him hiss. “Sorry,” You pant and he kisses the corner of your mouth sweetly, an unspoken acceptance of your apology. You turn his face to yours and kiss him full on, Mark moaning against your lips as your core flexes around him. 

You’re practically riding his fingers at this point, breathy whimpers escaping you as he strokes along your inner walls, your orgasm rapidly approaching. 

“Mark, ‘m gonna—” You moan, and he nods, flicking his tongue into your mouth and kissing you through your climax, the liplock turning sloppy and clumsy as your lips part to moan his name and a string of swears. 

As soon as the aftershock trembles disappear, you’re pushing him back gently, creating enough space between you two for you to slip off the sink and sink to your knees.

Mark thinks he could faint at the sight of you looking up at him, opening his pants with one hand. His cock aches at the prospect of your mouth wrapped around it, and he tilts your chin up to look at you better.

“You don’t have to, you know.” Mark assures you, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that, Mark.” Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and he hisses. “I want to.” Your mouth is around the head of his cock without a moment to prepare himself, and Mark swears—loudly—his head tipping back and thumping against the wall behind him. Mark whimpers, both in pain and from pleasure, and your giggle tickles his ears as you pull off of him and pump his length up and down, positioning yourself above his length to drip a trail of spit down onto his tip, working your fist over it to lubricate your movements. 

Mark blinks down at you in awe, shuddering when you take his length as far into your mouth as it’ll go, the tip of your nose pressed against his stomach as you swallow around him.

He whimpers when you start bobbing your head slowly, dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock with every movement. His breaths are ragged, chest heaving, blunt nails scratching uselessly at the wall behind him, and he curses when his hips buck up of their own accord, sending his length further into your mouth. There’s a moment of bliss when he’s smoothly sliding into your mouth only to be topped by a second of ecstasy when he hits the back of your throat, which flexes around him and drags out a groan of delight from deep in his chest.

“Sorry—” Mark whispers, poorly restraining the urge to thrust into your mouth. You pull off slowly, swiping your tongue over your lips to break the string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his tip, and when you speak, your voice has a slight rasp to it that has Mark’s eyes practically rolling back into his head.

“Do you wanna fuck my mouth, Mark?” You ask with a beguiling smile, your hand slowly stroking his length, and it’s all he can do to stop his knees from buckling right now. 

“I’m not gonna last if I do,” He warns you in a choked voice, and you frown.

“But I want you to finish inside of me.” You huff petulantly, and he groans, gripping your wrist to stop your movements.

“You can’t say that or I’ll cum right now.” He complains, and you roll your eyes. 

“Then I’ll finish that later.” You decide, and Mark successfully contains his surprise at the prospect of doing this again with you. You stand back up and Mark’s hands move to your hips, the gesture almost second nature, before he’s gently pushing you back so you’re pressed up against the sink countertop. He nudges himself between your legs and brings the thick head of his cock to your entrance, gliding it up and down through your slick folds to collect your arousal. “Mark, we don’t exactly have the luxury of time.” You chuckle, and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Well, sorry for wanting to take my time with you.” He mumbles, and a fondness spreads through your body, your lips curling up into a sweet smile. He pushes into you slowly, and you hiss at the stretch, your best friend being more well-endowed than you expected. “Told you I should slow down.” Mark wants to gloat, but his heart seizes with concern at the look of discomfort on your face.

“I’m fine,” You answer stubbornly. “Just—give me a minute.” Mark nods and rubs comforting circles into your hips, bringing his lips to your neck to press sweet kisses from your ear to your shoulder and back up again. 

“Tell me what you want me to do.” Mark urges against your skin, brushing his parted lips along the spot behind your ear, and you sigh blissfully.

“You can move,” You murmur, and he thanks the powers that be as he pushes forward into you, bottoming out and feeling the tight wet warmth of your walls wrapped around him. Both of you let out a moan, your head falling forward to rest on his shoulder, and he pulls out before starting to thrust into you, deep strokes reaching every spot inside of you that makes your mind go blank. “Shit, Mark,” You cry out as he fucks into you with all the desperation and desire he’s been restraining for the past weeks.

“You like that?” He chuckles breathlessly, pulling back slightly to reach between you two and massage your clit, and you nod with a whimper, rolling your hips against his. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Me too,” You breathe, and he’s so surprised he almost fucks up his rhythm, sending you shifting back on the sink with a particularly powerful thrust. “Fuck—”

“Sorry, I’m—I can’t,” He moans, pressing his fingers against your clit harder and angling his hips so he can drive his cock into the spot that makes you roll your eyes into the back of your head.

“Mark, please, I’m gonna—” You gasp, and he nods, kissing you again to silence your moans as you both climax, your walls tightening around his length almost painfully as he pumps spurt after spurt of cum into you. He presses kiss after kiss to your lips, the corners of your mouth, your cheeks—anywhere he can reasonably reach.

He pulls out of you carefully, his chest heaving as he catches his breath and tucks himself back into his clothing. The air is thick and silent as Mark starts to spiral; are you coming to your senses? Experiencing some sort of post-nut clarity? Are you about to tell him you two can never be together and that he’s ruined everything—

“Wanna get food and watch a movie at my place?” You ask, turning around to face him. You’ve adjusted your top back into place and are in the process of zipping and buttoning your jeans.

“Y-Yeah.” Mark mumbles, half-dazed, half-relieved.

“Great! C’mon.” You say with a smile, washing your hands and leaning against the door as he does the same. When he’s finished, you take his hand and open the bathroom door, ignoring the stares you two garner as you leave. As you lead Mark through the party, he can’t help but hope things stay this comfortable even in the morning. 

sunday.

When Mark wakes up on Sunday, his mouth is drier than he ever remembers it being, his head feels like someone’s drumming on his temples, and he can barely get his wits about him quickly enough to take in his surroundings. All Mark knows right now is that there’s sunlight streaming in from the window beside the bed he’s lying in, he is not in his bed, and the person lying beside him is still asleep—

Hold on.

Mark turns his head carefully, lifting off of the pillow to look beside him so he doesn’t make any noise at all, and—it’s you.

At the sight of your sleeping frame, your back to him, Mark feels himself go limp with relief—well—almost everything on him goes limp, but one thing remains very, very…stiff.

Mark is now trying to piece together everything that happened last night, and the realization of what exactly went down hits him like a freight train, damn near knocking the wind out of his lungs in an involuntarily sucked-in breath.

Flashes of the night before start to run through his mind; his hands on your cheeks, your waist, your breasts, grabbing at your hips, his lips following the trail blazed by his lustful fingertips, the way your mouth felt wrapped around him—his cock—nestled deep in your folds—how tight you were, the pretty sounds you made—

Mark remembers damn near everything, but he can’t remember how it ended. Did you hate him for taking that forward step? Did he fuck up the relationship between you two? Did his lust get the best of him and potentially cost him his best friend?

“You really are so in your head, Mark.” Your sleepy voice remarks softly, fondness and amusement audible even past your just-woken croakiness, and hope fills Mark’s chest as he turns his head towards you. You’re now facing him—Mark wonders when you did that without him hearing, but figures he was so distracted by his thoughts that he must not have noticed—and smiling sweetly, tired eyes twinkling nevertheless, and Mark thinks it’s insane that you’re every bit as lovely when you’ve just woken up as you always are—maybe even more so. “Good morning,” You greet with a small chuckle.

“Morning,” Mark mumbles, his thoughts still racing. “Did—last night, did I—was that a bad idea—?”

“I’m happy,” You cut him off pointedly with a wider smile than before as you stretch your limbs, a small groan escaping you as you relax again. You look over at Mark and raise your eyebrows in question. “Are you happy?”

“I’m fuckin’ thrilled.” Mark rushes to get the words out, feeling like he can’t reassure you quickly enough, and your eyes scan his face before you laugh, and the sound is so free, so void of worry, stress, concern—

You’re not stressed in the slightest, so maybe Mark doesn’t have anything to worry about.

“I like you here with me like this,” You muse lightly, looking over at Mark with warm eyes. He’s about to speak, but you continue, “in my bed.”

“Yeah?” Mark can barely get the word out alongside his exhale of immense relief, but you hear it, as you always do.

“Mm, yeah,” You hum, and he nods, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know what else?”

“What else?” Mark’s relaxed considerably, smile morphing to a small smirk as he parrots your cadence back at you playfully. You don’t say anything for a moment, and he looks over at you curiously to see that you’ve propped your head up on your hand, elbow resting on the mattress. There’s a playful glint in your eyes, mischievous, even, and Mark’s a little bit lost, but your happiness is infectious.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

It’s Sunday morning—or afternoon…Mark hasn’t figured that part out—and Mark feels like something’s clicked into place, and, when he looks at you, he knows you feel the same way.

i hope you enjoyed! donations are not required but appreciated 💖

SUPPORT ME?  VENMO !!  CASHAPP !!  KO-FI !!  WISHLIST !! (why?)

Wanna know what it’s like (l.j)

m.list | ao3 | minors dni! otherwise please like and reblog my works!! 

requested by anonymous: “i keep thinking about that one doja cat vid where she said she likes big noses because she can sit on them,,,Could i request smth similar to this? With Jeno and reader?”

wordcount― 5.7k

pairing― jeno x fem reader 

description― after several weeks of casual hook-ups with Jeno, a man you’d met at some back-alley party, he playfully asks you what your favorite thing about him is. Your answer leads to an interesting change of events, one where he can’t find himself growing tired of having his head between your legs. 

Or the one where Jeno learns just how much he enjoys being unable to breathe.

content― alt!jeno, a smidge of fluff just to get to the special question, you’re both in dom mode but like, in a really desperate way, nose kink???, mentions of weed and alcohol

note― y’all like big noses? looks like you’re in the right place bc anon here got me fucked up on this idea. also, you guys should know by now that im never gonna proofread any of my works. 

smut tags under cut:: 

Keep reading

my christmas wish come true

SYNOPSIS. Mark Lee has been a staple in your life for the past six years and you haven’t even met him in person yet. You say yet because you’re steps away from the arrival gate of the airport and he’s there waiting for you on the other side. Nerves out of control, you wonder if coming to him for the holidays is a mistake but it’s way too late to turn back now. The only thing you can do is move forward and hope for the best. 

PAIRING. penpal!Mark Lee x fem!reader GENRE. Christmas!AU, Holiday!AU, Penpal!AU, College!AU, Friends-to-Lovers!AU, Fluff WORD COUNT. 1.4k+ WARNINGS. mark calls her “puppy” (?), tooth-rotting fluff, mark is so cute here, profanity

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters and concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work.

Looking around the crowded area, you double check that you have everything with you. Hands patting your shoulders, you feel the heavy weight of your travel backpack. Your fingers reach down to grip onto the handlebars of your carry-on and matching check-in luggage. Everything is within your grasp, so why are you so unbelievably nervous? Maybe it’s because once you pass the arrival gate, the moment you’ve been waiting for will finally arrive.

You’re stalling. 

You’re definitely stalling but of course you have to buy yourself some more time to kick all the nerves away. 

Keep reading

#. 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 | 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤

[ ; M.List including other Neos! ]

─ Synopsis: You lived a different life with your best friend. He is the prince with a reputation due to his social status and you are a university student with a dream to become a fashion designer…To you, he is a flower with thorns you grown to love. 

This summer you are falling for the prince with a blossomed heart - Mark Lee.

─ Pairing: Son of CEO!Mark Lee x Gender-Neutral Reader

─ Genre: Fanfic, Fluff/Wholesome, (Some) Angst w. Comfort

─ Concepts: son of ceo!mark x aspiring fashion designer reader, use of they/them, opposites attract kinda, he fell first and fell harder troupe, best friend!mark becoming your boyfriend <3, lots of fluff/wholesome content, reader lowk inferior complex, reader also getting jealous, boyfriend mark taking care of reader, just boyfriend mark moments tbh, got that ONE annoying extra chara for drama, angst but mark is comfort boy, haechan and jaemin special appearance(s), best friend!haechan bc he’s included in the mark package

─ Count of Words: 19.5k

─ Inspiration of the work: “This feeling was made by you, we are a perfect pattern - I think i’m in love with you.” (Designer by NCT 127) + Flowering by LUCY +  this fancam living in my head rent free 

❒ a/n: made so many drafts for this story because it went through so much plot changes </3 but, i finally made the final draft and was satisfied with it!! this is def one of my longer fics and bigger projects… it was stressful, but im glad i was able to finish it and be proud in the end :) possibly in the future, some of my fics will be just as long or will even bypass this one… oh dear. anyway, i hope you enjoy reading! 

i have some good news and that is… REQUESTS ARE OPEN! wooo!! please check out the guidelines first before requesting. you can find it on my navigation post pinned on my profile or the link attached to ‘OPEN’ on my profile’s bio!! 

Mindlessly your pencil scribbles into your sketchbook, eyes lost in thought whilst your hand is busy. It was a slow day in the tailor’s shop, other employees within the shop busy elsewhere assisting customers; fortunately, you had time to spare with your sketchbook at the front desk. However, you had no inspiration whatsoever. After endless schoolwork at your university, you finally had time to catch your breath during summer break.

You had time to create yet you are wasting time without any creativity to use. Supposedly, the work ethic of a university student has been implemented in your body; you have no idea how to have fun with the amount of free time you have. Disappointed, you let a heavy sigh leave your lips with footsteps approaching the counter and you are looking up from your sketchbook.

“Is something the matter?” Your co-worker asks, the young brunette politely smiling at you with eyes coated with pretty makeup. You shook your head, “Just bored.” Your reply was followed by a shrug of your shoulders, closing your sketchbook after dropping down your pencil. She tilts her head, “It is a slow day, huh? Maybe there aren’t many weddings going on this summer.”

Her words made you chuckle, letting your body lean back on the wooden stool. The wood underneath you creak of its old age, arms lifting to stretch out the tension cursing your limbs from the long hour of sitting - “I might just host my own wedding to cure the boredom of this job.” You sarcastically comment, your co-worker raising a brow with a nosy grin.

“Who will you be marrying? What is your ideal type?” She asks, arms resting on the counter to lean towards you.

You blink back at her, “Ideal type? I don’t know. A nice guy?” You answer with uncertainty. You never thought about it, the very idea of being in relationships is the least of your worries; as a university student, you know you barely have time to manage one. Who was willing to stay by your side due to your busy lifestyle?

A scoff comes from her lipstick filled lips with a roll of her eyes, “You are so focused on being a fashion designer, you never thought about what type of guy you like? If I have to think…’ Thoughtfully she places her fingers on her chin, exaggerating her reaction to what her answer could be. ‘Kim Soo Hyun! He is definitely my ideal type. His eyes are gorgeous, don’t you think?” she says, proudly expressing her infatuation for the male actor.

“Sure. He’s cute,” you simply nod. Recalling the actor’s face in your mind, you are reminded of how round yet expressive his eyes are; they are pretty. Before you could hear your co-worker ramble on, the bell of the door chimed of someone’s arrival. Both your gazes are torn away from one another, landing on the very person who entered - a familiar face and your best friend, Mark Lee.

Blue gray dyes his locks of hair followed by a plain black tee and a pair of tanned pants; of course, he tops off the outfit with a black snapback on his head. Your eyes habitually rake along his figure, taking in every detail of his casual outfit. As an aspiring fashion designer, you are observing and unraveling your best friend’s wear for today. Standing by the entrance, he scans the shop before his round eyes land on you, a smile blossoming on his thin lips once meeting your eyes.

Seguir leyendo

how to self-sabotage: a bulletproof guide by zhong chenle

pairing: rival! zhong chenle x fem! reader genre: college au | humor, fluff wc: 10.8k warnings: swearing, a mention of alcohol and weed, this is written like a bad disney channel sitcom. i really channeled my inner business graduate with this fic i am so sorry a/n: this is a repost from yesterday bc tumblr was shitty and turned my text black!! playlist: self-sabotage - waterparks ; are you gonna be my girl - jet ; countdown (1, 2, 3) - nct dream ; teenager in love - neon trees ; maniac - conan gray ; drama - txt

one would say it's ungraceful to turn a charity fundraiser into a competition, but you and zhong chenle have no boundaries when it comes to beating each other in a fight. crashing each other's plans, making irresponsible decisions, all just for the sake of winning a competiton you two made yourself; zhong chenle finds a turn of events when the whole thing turns into a self-sabotage.

❥ hello! this is y/n and welcome to my new youtube video! to celebrate my 600 followers milestone, I prepared something special: let's look at all the boys I've ever had a crush on and interrogate them with a fun questionare! for today's part, we have the boy that tried to sabotage me, but ended up doing quite the opposite: zhong chenle himself! ❥

this fic is a part of my collab! find the rest of the works from the dream chronicles collab here! [tba]

Sitting at the table, fingers drumming against the light wood, you stare into the unknown and make your dear friend Jisung a little afraid of what’s about to come. Being your best friend is always a challenging fact, considering your over-the-top ideas and drive that makes your clueless friend a little taken aback, but with the premise of a challenge– the charity event that’s going to take place at your university, he already knows he’s up for something wild.

Maybe taking a step back from your master plan would be a better idea. Jisung would save his sanity and also, most likely, a lot of trouble; but that’s not who Park Jisung is. If anything, he’s a loyal friend. No one will take that title away from him. And that’s exactly why he’s sitting opposite of you right now, listening to the hum of the cafeteria, waiting for what you have to say.

“How many people are joining?” you ask, voice stone cold and focused. You don’t meet Jisung’s eye, focusing on the people flowing in and out of the cafeteria instead, the gears in your brain turning faster than on your midterms.

“I don’t know exactly, but I’d say around ten teams of people, each one consisting of at least two to three people, so… at least 30..?” Jisung hums, quickly calculating the numbers in his brain.

“30…. so that means we have at least a 20% chance of winning,” you mutter, chewing on your bottom lip and furrowing your brows, seemingly lost in thought.

“That- that’s not adding up, Y/N…” Jisung mumbles, running the numbers through his brain once again, trying to see if he’s made a mistake or if it was you. See, Jisung is not a straight A student– that’s what you’re here for, after all– but when it comes to Maths, he’s pretty confident. He’s not quite sure why it’s the only subject he’s good at, considering it might be the hardest of the course, but for some reason, logical things are easy for him to grasp.

“I ruled out the freshmen girls, they’re absolutely not winning this. Also, Renjun and Jeno are out as well, because they will underestimate everything and not try hard enough. That leaves us with Yangyang and Hyuck, since I know damn well that each and every girl that’s ever hooked up with either of them will hop on their dicks and buy anything they’re selling,” Jisung chuckles at the seriousness of your voice as you talk, finding the fact that you’re taking this whole thing as your main mission of the semester amusing, “and then… Him. He’s the professor’s favorite. And he’s super good at persuading people. And I know damn well he’s gonna try hard, so actually, the chances of winning are split into three teams, so we have an approximately 30% chance of winning the prize.”

Jisung blinks at you a few times, trying to clear his head. Right now, you look like you’ve been programmed– a robot with no emotions, only set on the task it’s been told to do. You’re not even blinking, he notes and immediately gets freaked out– because what if they switched his best friend for a robot while he was sleeping? What if this is some sick experiment? What if he’s in the Truman show? You may never know these days…

“Y/N, that’s not-”

“It’s 50/50, actually,” you cut him off, nodding.

“How can it be-”

“Simple. It’s me or him. And I will do anything in my power to win, Jisung, so be prepared for a fight,” you order, taking a sip of your water, still not meeting eyes with your companion. Jisung’s kind of glad for that, though– what if you turned into a siren and eye contact with you will turn him into stone? He really doesn’t need that, he hasn’t even had his first girlfriend yet. He’s too young to die!

“It’s for charity, for fuck’s sake, don’t be so competitive…” Jisung sighs, taking another bite of his sandwich that he forgot he was eating for a second as you started with your business meeting, shaking his head in disbelief at your antics. Is anyone even taking this whole thing so seriously?

The business department at your university is having a charity event the upcoming month. The goal is to sell things and raise the most money you can– it’s all for a good cause, of course. The only thing is that your university already realized that your generation, although it loves to help people in need, won’t do anything without having enough motivation. And so, the head of the business department– professor Lee– promised that the team that raises the most money for charity (or the winning team, as you like to call it), will get an iPad pro for their efforts.

Jisung would understand if you were doing it for the iPad. Hell, even he wants one. But the reality is completely different– you just really, really need to be the best at everything. It’s your main purpose in life and when you fail, you fall into weeks long depression, mourning every single aspect that made you fail at your task and getting angry at every person in your sight. That is even scarier than your weird transe that you’re in right now, Jisung admits, and so he usually does his best to help you with your efforts, because he doesn’t like to get screamed at for multiple weeks if you come second.

That, and he also really doesn’t like to see you sad.

“Yeah, so I’m having the right intentions, aren’t I, Jisung?” you finally meet eyes with Jisung, your devoted business partner, as you smile with that kind of curve to your lips that doesn’t really meet your eye.

A shiver runs down the poor boy’s spine at that, pupils widening with terror. Standing up from your position at the table, completely ignoring Jisung’s half-eaten sandwich left at the red tray on the table, you move towards the exit of the cafeteria, expecting him to follow along. “Let’s go, Jisung. We have work to do.”

“I’m so so surprised at everyone’s interest in the charity event! Thank you so much for coming here today to discuss the details,” Ms Lee chirps from her spot at the top of the table, swinging her arms around like a Disney princess when she sings to all the animals that gathered around her in the backyard of her palace.

Your eyes scan the figures gathered around the room. You’re sitting at one of the big, rounded tables settled in the middle of the conference room, two of the same, mahogany ones to your left and right side, all filled with business students. Some of the faces are familiar to you– like your classmate’s Renjun and Jeno’s, but some of the other ones are foreign to your eyes. You doubt you’ve ever seen those people in your whole, entire life, and you were in the student council last semester, so you were pretty much friends with everyone back then. Maybe it’s the freshmen, you think, as you look at your overly-excited professor and try to listen to what she has to say.

“Only if she knew that half of these people are here for the iPad,” Jisung murmurs into your ear, making you chuckle. He’s right– almost everyone’s here for that. But not you– you could never make your interest in charity so surface-level like everyone else does. You care about much more than getting an iPad, your interests are deeper than that. You don’t need the iPad– although you wouldn’t hesitate to take it if you win, you’re not stupid, after all– you need to win and beat your longest academic rival.

You need to win against Zhong Chenle himself, the top of the business class– he owns the title mainly because his parents own one and he’s had enough time to learn about all the wonders of the business world long before the rest of the people in your class– because you need the satisfaction of being the absolute best. See, you were used to that your whole life. In high school, you were the model student. The one that was set as an example. The best student, the most praised one, the most talented one, the gifted one, even.

You may already know why all of this was more damaging to you than it was good. Getting into university– into the sea of people that were told just that while growing up– was a feeling that made you fall down from the tallest heights of talent to the very middle of it all. The shift from being the best to being mediocre was perhaps the most painful experience of your whole life, but after you managed to get your shit together– and studied your ass off, because it won’t work any other way anymore, it seems– you set your mind on being the best one again, because in your whole childhood, you didn’t know any better. And if you were raised to be the picture perfect child, it’s hard to outgrow these habits.

So if Zhong Chenle was the top of the class in most of your courses, you had to be better than him eventually. The charity event is just another part of the whole process.

“I know this is all for a good thing, but I feel like we still need to set some rules for this whole thing. The main thing is to sell something– anything you want, really– and raise the most money you can for charity. I think everyone already got that, since you’re all sitting here, but I know that the vision of the iPad can blind some of you and get you to be a little too competitive, and while I encourage you to try hard, I also want all of you to play fair. So, here’s the thing,” your professor announces, making you shift a little in your chair and whisper to Jisung to get his notepad out so he can scribble the important info down, preventing you from forgetting it.

“Rule number one. No bad mouthing the others, no anti-campagne. I want all of you to be nice to each other and play it fair, got it?”

A few of you nod, humming in agreement, when a disappointed sigh comes from somewhere behind you, a low mumble reaching your ears and making you chuckle. “I had so much dirt on Donghyuck…”

“Rule number two. I don’t want you selling alcohol, cigarettes, or pretty much anything that’s against the university rules. God forbid if you bring drugs. I won’t hesitate to call the police on you if you do,” your professor continues, earning herself another set of bored hums and nods, cut off only by a pair of your classmates sitting right next to you at the big, rounded table.

A disappointed sigh leaves Yangyang’s mouth at this one, shaking his head in disapproval. You won’t say anything, because you don’t really want your classmate to get in trouble, but the last time you were on a party where Liu Yangyang was present, you couldn’t shake off the smell of weed for weeks, so you’re pretty sure his plan was to sneak in a little something to get more money for the charity. His friend and business partner in one– Lee Donghyuck from your Economy class– grins as his hand shoots up into the air, waiting to be called to ask a question.

“Yes, Donghyuck?”

“Are condoms allowed?” he asks, the innocent grin on his face making the freshmen girls in the back of the room chuckle and hide their face behind their hands.

“Why are you asking that?”

“No reason,” he shrugs, the innocent smile not leaving his face for a second as his childish friend only giggles at the encounter.

“Please don’t sell condoms at the charity event, Donghyuck,” professor Lee pleads, her eyes already full of misery as she realizes just what she’s gotten herself into when agreeing to lead the whole event.

Another disappointed sigh leaves his lips at that, shaking his head. “That’s our whole business plan gone, then…”

Taking exactly three seconds to calm herself down, your professor takes a deep breath in as she runs her hand through her long black hair and then clasps her palms together at her waist, regaining her composure. “Back to what I was saying, we have one more rule you have to follow. You can’t lie about your product. No false advertisement, no made-up stuff to make what you’re selling be more interesting than it already is. We want this to be a serious event, so please, take all of these rules to heart and try your hardest to follow them. Got it?”

Scanning the room, waiting for each and every single one of you to nod, the gathering falls silent. “If none of you have any questions, I consider this meeting to be over.”

The room is instantly filled with the shrieking of chairs on the linoleum ground, making your hair stand up as you arch like an angry cat, hating the sound. Waiting for everyone to get out of the room, you find a pair of men sitting still opposite of you, a cocky smirk plastered on the face of your moral enemy, his friend Jaemin sitting next to him with a well rehearsed poker face. They already look like they run a company, you realize, the thought making your blood boil just at the thought of Zhong Chenle looking more professional than you do– in your baggy sweatpants and a cropped top you grabbed from the top of the pile of half-dirty clothes in your room this morning.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” Chenle asks, grinning to himself as your eyebrows furrow and you reveal an annoyed face to him. It makes him happy to see you like this– it gives him more satisfaction than anything in his life, to be exact.

“The game’s on, Zhong.”

Walking towards your table in the cafeteria, a pair of young boys looking very engaged in their conversation lands in your rear point of vision. Eyes squinting, as if it was supposed to make you see better, you watch your best friend Jisung walk side by side with the accomplice of your moral enemy, Na Jaemin. One of them looks cool, dressed in all black, flashing a charming smile, and the other one is truly bubbly– jumping up and down, almost, as he giggles like a boy and adjusts the straps of his backpack. I won’t tell you which one’s which. Figure it out by yourself.

“We have a visitor today?” you ask as the two of them sit down at your usual table in the cafeteria, both of them smiling to themselves like two teenagers in love. The sight is an unusual one, to say the least, and you don’t know what it is about it that makes shivers down your spine. You just know that you kind of despise it.

“Yeah, Jaemin will be sitting with us today, if that’s okay,” Jisung smiles, looking at you with wide eyes full of excitement.

“Great, great,” you mumble, eyeing the boy with suspicion. Is this how he chose to execute your plan? You did tell him to be nice to Na Jaemin– you did even tell him to try to befriend him, if that was what he needed to do to get under his skin– but at the same time, you didn’t think that sitting together at lunch exactly two days after you told him to try to get some information from Jaemin was the right way to go around this.

See, you’d call it intuition. You know something’s wrong, you just don’t know what it is yet.

“So, what’s up, Jaemin?” you ask, poking the food on your table around with your fork, avoiding eye contact. You despise even sitting at the same table with one of Chenle’s friends– you feel like you’re suddenly in his circle, and that makes you gag a little into your mouth. While you need to be better at everything than this young businessman, you also need to stay away from everything that includes him– and yes, that means his friend circle as well. Who knows, Na Jaemin might even be a nice guy. You just don’t care enough to find out.

“Oh, a lot of exciting things are happening! Aren’t they, Jisung?” he smiles, kicking the clueless boy into his shin under the table in excitement, “the charity event, for example! We are preparing a lot of stuff with Chenle, and I think it’s gonna be a lot of fun. What about you two?”

Humming, you try to take the opportunity by its reached-out hands, smiling a little on the inside. “You’re doing a lot of things? What things exactly, may I ask?” you lock eyes with Jaemin, seeing his cunning smile.

“That’s a surprise, dear Y/N,” Jaemin mutters, the combination of his low voice and glimmering eyes making your stomach twist in anger and frustration. Of course he’s not that stupid– he won’t reveal what him and Chenle have planned for the event. He knows who you are. He knows how far you’re willing to go to completely destroy whatever the two of them have planned, just so you could win. And he won’t even dare to give you a single hint on his plans, because he’s intelligent and cunning.

“Is it…” you mutter under your breath, matching his competitive energy.

“Yeah,” he nods, turning to Jisung, “but maybe if you tell me first, I can share. Maybe we can brainstorm together, you know, that would be so much fun. Wouldn’t it, Jisung?” he asks your best friend, smiling sweetly at him.

You know damn well about the effect Na Jaemin has on people. He’s charming and sweet, magically alluring. He pulls everyone towards him, and he does it oh so easily. You’ve heard enough about how this man worked his magic spells on the girls in your grade, getting them on dates and then deciding he’s bored of them a few weeks later.

Now, you didn’t know that your best friend Park Jisung wasn’t immune to this effect. He was, in fact, very much not immune to it– he was just like every other girl in your class, just like all the poor freshmen girls that giggle at his stupid jokes in the cafeteria.

It was a saddening fact and an even more devastating sight to see your best friend fold under the eyes of the local charmer. You should’ve expected it, though– maybe this was the intuition you were supposed to listen to the very moment Na Jaemin showed up at your table in the cafeteria.

“I mean, I think that’s a good idea, maybe we can work together on it as well,” Jisung hums, eyes big never leaving the man as he nods to his manipulation tactics.

“See? Amazing! That’s exactly what I love to hear. So, what are you two planning?”

“Me and Y/N wanted to-”

“Jisung, shut up,” you coldly say, taking a hold of the situation and trying to save the day. Your poor best friend looks at you all lost, the furrow in his brows breaking your heart as you had to be rude to him for no reason at all– well, there is one, he just doesn’t know it yet.

“Why-”

“Why are you shutting your friend down like that? That’s not really nice of you, Y/N,” Jaemin says, locking eyes with you. The look in his orbs is knowing, your wavelength matching as he knows that you finally see right through his plan, that you know exactly what he’s trying to do– because you and Zhong Chenle are more alike than you both think, it seems. At least with your business tactics, after all.

“How about we work on our stuff alone, Na Jaemin? I don’t need Chenle’s help with anything,” you snap back, watching as the boy grins to himself and takes the red tray into his hands as he stands up from his place at your cafeteria table.

“Okay then,” he mutters, “have a nice day, you two.”

With his departure comes a loud whine from Park Jisung himself, earning himself a kick into the shin as you start your scolding session.

“What was that? Why were you so rude to him all of a sudden?”

“Jisung,” you coldly stare at him, making him silence, “I told you to befriend Na Jaemin to get out some information from him. I didn’t tell you to do the exact opposite and get exploited of all our plans instead!” you finish your little rant, breathing heavily as you notice the boy’s face clearing into understatement, smiling to himself a little in shame.

“Oh. I didn’t notice that…”

Park Jisung’s good at Math. Social interaction? Not so much… Maybe you should take things into your own hands and get some information yourself, instead of sending your most gullible friend on a mission that requires interaction with Na Jaemin…

“I still don’t understand what we are doing here. I thought you didn’t like parties!” Jisung mourns as you two step your feet inside of a big mansion (or at least that’s how the house looks in your eyes), the loud music of the event that’s going on inside making your eardrums bubble along with the beat.

“Jisung,  you have so much to learn about this world…” you sigh, smiling at some of the girls you encounter on your way to the big kitchen, aiming straight for one of the red cups waiting for you on the kitchen island, all filled to the brim with various alcohol.

Turning around in your spot, two solo red cups in the palms of your hands, you offer one to your companion and grin at him. “Here, have this,” you smile, “I know you’re not a fan of vodka, but they don’t have anything else… Try not to die while I’m gone,” you note, earning yourself a confused look from the tall boy standing in front of you, listening to your commands.

“And where are you going? What’s going on-”

Sighing, you take the boy by his hand and drag him into the half-empty hall, the dim lightning making the whole encounter feel more secretive than it already was.

“Jisung, this is Zhong Chenle’s party,” you say, the sentence alone enough for the boy to instantly widen his eyes and part his lips agape in understatement, nodding at you. There’s a slight glint in his eyes that’s telling you that he doesn’t like where this is going, but you don’t really care about what he has to say right now. Your mind is set on one thing– winning, and that’s why you’re not afraid to do even the most desperate things of them all.

“Try to enjoy yourself,” you say, “but please don’t talk to Na Jaemin while we’re here, okay?”

“But Jaemin is nice-”

“Okay then, just don’t talk to him about the event, alright? They’ll use it against us if they know anything,” you mumble, downing the entirety of the red cup, scowling at the taste of your most hated alcohol. It’s like Zhong Chenle knew you were gonna appear– it’s like he wants to kill you. You wouldn’t even have to drink the poison that vodka is, but having some liquid courage in you could be useful in the crime you’re about to do right now.

“Try not to die,” Jisung resonates with the same words you’ve said to him just a few minutes prior, making you smile at him with a tense smile, hugging him goodbye before you go. Who knows, if Zhong Chenle catches you, you might not even make it out alive and see Jisung ever again. You might as well embrace your best friend for the last time.

Taking a deep breath in and out, you march up the stairs. The second floor of the house is not as crowded as the first one– the stairs are too steep to walk up if you’ve had too much to drink already, so it’s quite understandable. Looking around like a spy, you try hard to stay as natural as possible, not wanting to make anyone suspect you. Walking casually through the halls, you figure this is the best way to make everyone believe that you’re supposed to be here, that you were invited, and that you’re not just about to do a very, very bad thing.

Opening the first door to one of the rooms, you notice a king’s bed and flowery wallpaper. Closing it again, deciding that this isn’t the room you’re looking for, you continue your search on the second floor– opening the room to one of the bathrooms, and then what you presume is a guest room occupied with someone moaning loudly on the bed, making you shut the door behind you with disturbance.

Finally finding the right one– you assume so by the obnoxious Gucci hoodie sprawled on the chair right opposite of the door– you silently walk inside and close the door after you, making sure you’re alone and not watched by anyone. Trying the hardest to not make any sound, you walk through Zhong Chenle’s room and let your eyes roam across the furniture, looking for the thing you broke into his room for in the first place.

When you don’t find what you’re looking for anywhere at sight, you choose to walk over to his desk and open the first drawer. It’s full of textbooks and other notebooks, making you sigh and close it in disappointment, moving over to the one under it that surprises you with a stash of snacks and a single sock laying on the very top. Disgusted by the state of everything, you result in looking through the last drawer, wanting nothing more than to find the materials you saw Chenle write on the last meeting your charity event group had.

You needed to know what he had planned, so you could plan something bigger, better.

A stash of white paper appears in your eyes, the handwriting of none other than the owner of this house recognizable to you for various reasons (no, you never look at his exam papers over his shoulder just to make sure you did better than him. Never…), the title “charity” in a wobbly, light blue pen making your eyes light up. Bingo.

Excitement flowing through your veins, you scan over the paper and try to find any clues about the boy’s plan. The handwriting is a little hard to read, though, and so you squint your eyes, slowing down your breathing as you try to focus all of your attention to decoding the content in front of you–

–when the paper is swiftly pulled away from your grasp, making you gasp in shock and surprise. Turning your head around, you see the owner of the handwriting looking at you with a glare, making your body instinctively shoot to your feet and taking a step back.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, although he knows damn well what your previous actions were already.

“I’m- I was- I-” you stutter, your brain not allowing you to form coherent sentences.

He takes one step towards you, which leads in you taking another one back, repeating enough times for you to be pressed against the wall, shivers running down your spine either at the contact of the cold against your shoulders, or the look that Chenle gives you as he towers over you both physically and mentally, scoffing.

“Are you really that low? That desperate?” he spits, making your blood boil. You feel red in your face as the hint of his cologne makes its way up your nose, feeling both embarrassed and flustered by the whole encounter.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you peep, seeing the boy shake his head in disbelief, putting his hand up against the wall, close to where your head is resting.

“So what were you doing with this, then, huh?” he asks, showing you the paper in his other hand, waiting for you to answer, but not stepping away from you.

The truth is, you have no words in you to defend yourself. Suddenly, you’re left unarmed, empty and humiliated– but what’s worse, you’re left with no new information about the charity event, which means you’ve done all of this for absolutely nothing.

Seeing that you’re making no effort in answering the boy, he leans even closer to you, which makes your whole body tingle with what you presume is uncomfort, biting at your lower lip as your eyes lock with his mouth as he speaks to you. “Play fair, Y/N.”

Focusing on his plump, pink lips, you wonder if he uses a lip scrub or a lip balm– because there’s no way his lips are this luscious and beautiful, and so inviting…

“Get out of my room,” he orders, making your body unfreeze, feeling sweat drip down your back as you run out of the place, suddenly not having enough oxygen.

Maybe this wasn’t your best idea.

“Jisung, we gotta do something,” you mourn, head in your hands as you sit at the table in your room, papers scattered all around you and a half-made banner laying on the carpet in the middle of the floor.

“We are doing something right now, Y/N,” Jisung mumbles with the paintbrush in his hand, leaning over the white sheet of paper, trying his hardest to not go over the lines you’ve scribbled onto the banner just a few minutes prior, ordering him to paint in the bubble letters of your banner.

Grunting, you turn around in your office chair, looking at the boy. He doesn’t seem as stressed as you feel right now– it’s only a week until the charity event is supposed to take place and you really, really don’t want to be thinking about how badly it will go if you don’t think of something big at this exact moment. You feel defenseless. You have zero information about what Chenle’s about to do, so you can’t get prepared to do something better. Jisung didn’t manage to get any information out of Jaemin, and while you were able to find Chenle’s plans in his room, he took the paper out of your hands and cornered you against the wall before you even managed to read a single sentence.

You’re selling cupcakes. Jisung said his mum will help and chip in more baked goods, since she’s a good cook, but you doubt that cookies and pastry will help you win the first place. This sounds like something Renjun and Jeno would do– and you hate to put yourself onto their level, because they’re not the greatest when it comes to business. You doubt you’ll beat Hyuck and Yangyang’s condom stand either. There’s a lot of guys at your university that will rather go for a condom than a cupcake.

“No, Jisung, you don’t understand. Cupcakes won’t win. We won’t win. Zhong Chenle and his big head will win, and that will be absolutely fucking infuriating. I won’t let that happen,” you exclaim, huffing.

“But you don’t even know what they’re going to sell! What if it’s really bad? We still have a chance to win,” Jisung smiles at you, trying to encourage you.

Bless him. Even when seeing you so annoyed and having to deal with your snappy attitude every day, since the nerves always get the worst of you, he still tries to be your rock and help you through it all. His words might not help you win and they for sure do not help you calm down, but he’s trying– and that’s the important part.

“Chenle’s the son of the wealthiest business man in this country, Jisung. He has winning in his fucking genes,” you roll your eyes, “and that’s why I need to think of something right now or else I’ll physically combust.”

Jisung just sighs at you, not really knowing how else to help you. He’s trying his hardest– and you appreciate it, despite the fact that your actions suggest otherwise– and this is not even his battle. He’s okay with being mediocre– he’s just cursed with the burden of his friend always trying their hardest to be an overachiever. It’s not healthy, but he doesn’t feel like he can do anything about it, really.

“Maybe I can… Maybe I can tell everyone that if I win, I’ll do a giveaway with the iPad. I’m sure that will lure some people in,” you mumble, fixing your eyes onto the poster of Ross Lynch stuck on your bedroom door, lost in thought.

Jisung looks at you with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what’s going on inside of that brain of yours. The scheming look on your face doesn’t look the nicest, but he won’t tell you that in fear of being beaten up on the ground.

“That’s…”

“An amazing idea? I know, right?” you grin, looking at your friend with euphoria running through your veins.

“Y/N, I don’t think-”

“Bingo!” you yelp, eyes glimmering with joy and excitement, “We are about to give everyone who buys two cupcakes a lottery ticket and then, if we win, we randomly pick someone and give them the iPad! This is a brilliant idea!!”

No amount of effort can make you stop now. Jisung won’t even try anymore.

“I’m going to work on it right now. This is perfect!” you grin.

Jisung sighs.

He kind of wanted that iPad…

Sitting in the library, your laptop open as you try hard to focus on studying after the frantic preparations for the charity event, your eyes are stuck to the screen, starting to hurt a little from how hard you’re concentrating. The world around you is a mere blur, the background noises being no distraction to your brain as you type away on your keyboard from time to time, taking notes.

You like to study alone. You never really got the magic of studying in groups, since every time you tried it with Jisung, you two just grew distracted and didn’t know how to focus on your studies, too busy gossiping and talking about anything and everything. So to go here like this, in the evening, the university library has become your safe haven.

When suddenly, there are footsteps landing into your ear, the noise making you lose your focus for a moment when the owner of them decides to sit in the space next to you, making you swiftly look around and see who dared to pay you a visit when you’re studying.

Met with the gaze of none other than Zhong Chenle himself, you suddenly shrink in size and bashfully look away from the male. You’re not used to the feeling of embarrassment in your veins, not used to how you feel pathetic in his eyes and how you really want to disappear from the face of the earth every time you notice him registering your existence. It’s all your fault anyway, for snooping around in his room and being caught, but you’re not ready to admit that to yourself just yet, even though the reality is slowly catching up on you.

“Hi,” he greets, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. A conversation between you and Chenle is a rare sight– you just like to jab at each other and scream curses each other’s way– and starting one with a greeting is even more unusual for the two of you. It’s like both of you lose all sense of formality whenever you’re around each other– only the hatred remains.

“Hello,” you mutter, nervously scratching your forearm. Not daring to meet his eyes, you suddenly feel like he has something above you– the reality of catching you red handed, the very moment at his party. You won’t admit it out loud, but it’s the most defeating thing you’ve ever felt in your whole entire life, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to recover from it. Never in a thousand years did you expect to be met with the fact that Zhong Chenle is above you in something, but it came down to it, and you don’t know what to do with this information.

Your posture screams hesitance. Not knowing how to act around him, you refrain from acting at all– you don’t think you’re in the position to be rude to him anymore, for it would make you seem even more petty. His presence makes you nervous, the tingling sensation in your whole body and the heat you feel rising to your cheeks making you the most uncomfortable you’ve felt ever since you were cornered up against the wall of Chenle’s room last weekend.

“What’s up?” he asks, the casual tone of his voice confusing you even further. Taking one short look at him, you try to scan his features and somehow find out his true intentions. The boy has an inviting smile on his face– making your heartbeat quicken with a detail you choose not to pay any attention to– and his eyes are soft, opposed to the stone cold look he usually has reserved for you.

“Um… not much, ‘m just studying, I guess…” you mumble, too confused to pay attention to just how lost and puppy-like you must look right in this moment. Kicking your foot up and down under the table, a nervous fixation to ground yourself, you await his next steps.

The boy hums in acknowledgement. If he noticed your state, at least he didn’t mention it– a fact you were grateful for. Cracking your knuckles in the silence of the library, you forget how to keep up a conversation– or you just never learned how to keep up a conversation with Zhong Chenle, of all people. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, when he just takes out his stuff from his backpack and starts working on his homework.

Watching him for a while, you clear your throat and just decide to get it over with. You don’t like the quiet tension in the air, wanting it to disappear, so you just face it with a confident face (well, the most confident you can master up right now). “What are you doing here?”

Your rival looks up at you from his textbook with furrowed brows, shrugging. “Studying.”

“Yeah,” you blink, “but… why are you studying next to me?”

“Is this spot not free?” he asks, obviously teasing you with how the very well-known shiteating grin slowly starts to appear on his face.

“I- I mean it- it’s free, but-”

“Then I don’t see a reason why I shouldn’t study here,” he shrugs, momentarily pointing his look back to his textbook, driving you absolutely insane. Did he lose his mind? Was he having a fever?

“Chenle-”

“Look,” he says, looking up from the textbook again, turning to you with his full body– while also bumping into your knee with his for a second, making you jolt in a weird sense of electricity, “I know we’re not really on the best terms, but I think I’m done with being petty and acting like a child. Seeing that we’re kind of similar, in a way, I think we could even make good friends, so that’s what I’m trying to do here,” he says, smiling at you with that friendly expression he only reserves for his closest friends, making you feel light-headed. Are you having a fever?

“I- I don’t think I understand,” you mutter out, your expression lost. What was going on? Why did your rival suddenly want to be friends with you? After you searched through his room at one of his parties? You felt like you were having a weird dream.

“Let’s just… focus on our own projects for the charity event and forget about the rivalry. What do you say?” he asks, the glint in his eyes taking you off-guard.

What does one even say to that? You’ve spent your whole university years hating this boy, all for being too good at things you always wanted to be exceptional at. The rivalry made you so crazy you didn’t even recognise yourself anymore in the actions you were taking, and while it all felt worth it at the time, to see Chenle himself not even taking it that seriously made you feel even more embarrassed. Was this all just a one-sided battle?

Blinking a few times, you notice the boy out-stretching his hand for you to grip, the handshake a silent seal of the war between the two of you ending. “Friends?”

Gasping for air, you hesitantly reach for his hand, too lost in your own brain and thought spirals to even register what was going on around you. The contact of his skin on your burned, but you shook it nonetheless. “I- I wouldn’t say friends, exactly…”

“Acquaintances on good terms, then, got it,” he grins, seeing your empty eyes and the mess in your brain at the very moment. Suddenly, you feel a hand ruffle your hair, making you jump up in shock. “I’m sure you’ll do great, Y/N,” he grins, making you turn back to your homework and– although to no use– try to focus on the assignment again.

Feeling heat rising to your cheeks and your hands shake with nerves, the rest of the afternoon comes by like a blur.

Mixing the batter in one of the big bowls Jisung’s mum provided you with in their spacious kitchen, you are too lost in thought to even sing along to your favorite baking playlist your best friend put on to make the atmosphere lighter, despite the tension of the upcoming charity event rising. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the boy, when he cautiously approaches the matter.

“What’s gotten you so weird?” he asks, opening the oven and taking out the cupcake tray that’s been sitting in there, prepared for your baking session, since yesterday evening.

“I’m not weird,” you mumble, but don’t even meet his eyes. That’s an instant hint.

“Y/N, you’re not even singing along to One Direction right now, of course something’s up,” he says to prove his point, seeing you sigh and look up to the ceiling for a moment, seemingly debating on finally talking about what’s bugging you the most these days.

“Chenle approached me the other day… to make amends? I guess?” you mumble, shrugging.

Your best friend takes the information in, analyzing what you just uttered out of your lips. Are you sure you weren't dreaming? He wants to ask you if you’re sure it wasn’t all an image of your imagination, but he choses against it as he steps closer to you, scanning your face for any signs of mania.

“He did that after catching you looking through his stuff?” he clarifies, seeing you nod.

“That’s strange.”

“Isn’t it?” you ask, still not believing what you saw at the library the other day.

Jisung hums, furrowing his eyebrows to get his brain cells to work better, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Well, maybe he was sincere, however strange it might sound… He realized the little war you two have is childish and wanted both of you to have fun,” he shrugs, mirroring the exact words Chenle said at the library. Is this really so easy? Is this the final conclusion? The end of everything? You couldn’t just believe that.

“I don’t know…” you hum, moving to drape the cupcake batter into the tray, ready to bake it for tomorrow's event. Jisung helps you with the cleaning-up process, not wanting the burnt batter stuck on the tray to make the whole house smell like forest fire, wiping the excess away with tissues. After you’re done, he plops the tray into the oven and sets a timer for 15 minutes, resting his tall figure against the kitchen counter.

“Maybe you can… quit with the iPad giveaway thing? I mean, now that you don’t have to win, you can forget about that part. I think it’s kind of against the rules as well, since it’s a hint of false advertising? You’re supposed to win by selling the goods, and not by bribing them with an iPad, so I don’t think professor Lee will like that,” he mutters hesitantly, seeing your mouth open agape, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not. Just because Zhong Chenle hit his head or something, I won’t back away from this fight,” you sternly say.

“Y/N, I promise you it’s not a good idea. You’re just going to get in trouble-”

“I’m not! It’s totally legal, and if I really win, I’m ready to give the iPad away, if that’s what I’m gonna have to do, Jisung.”

A heavy sigh escapes his lips at this, shaking his head. Yeah, maybe he is petty– maybe he just wants the iPad for himself, but at the same time, what he said was right. This wasn’t a fair game and he doesn’t think it will get approved by your business professor, no matter how hard you try to back it up.

“Life would be so much easier if you constantly didn’t try to impress Zhong Chenle,” Jisung mutters, making blood boil in you, anger felt at the tips of your fingertips.

“Take that back. I am not trying to impress him,” you coldly say, snapping.

“Yeah, sure,” Jisung rolls his eyes, “every single time, it’s all I have to be better than Chenle, I have to win against Chenle, I have to beat him in this and this and that… to me, it just seems like you want him to be impressed with your abilities, because you like him.”

Gasping, you catch the edge of the kitchen counter to steady yourself. “I do not like him. I absolutely despise him, that is,” you grit your teeth, trying to convince your best friend…. and maybe yourself as well.

Jisung just hums, mocking you. The look on your face is enough of a confirmation to him, he doesn’t have to fight you anymore. Besides, the looks you give the boy are surely not you trying to get his business strategy. Not in the gym class, when your rival is a little sweaty and overly-enthusiastic about basketball, at least.

“I still think you should stop with the iPad thing, though,” he says, crouching down to the oven to check up on the cupcakes.

Angrily stomping, you reach towards your backpack on the ground, taking out your papers for the charity event so you can quickly calculate how many batches of the batter you’re going to have to make to fill your goal. Looking through the stack of papers, seeing worksheets from English class and old exam papers that you should’ve thrown out long ago, you disagree with your partner. “Absolutely not, I think-” you stop in your tracks, looking through the papers, still not finding the ones you’re looking for.

Leaning back towards your bag, you stumble through it, still not finding your charity event plans and documents. Stress rising inside of you, knowing too well that you always have the papers with you and there’s no way you left it at home, the reality dawns on you, making you scream in despair. Of course Zhong Chenle’s sudden amends were a little weird.

“That motherfucker stole my charity event plans while I was too busy freaking out over his charming smile!” you yelp out.

Jisung snickers at the state of you. He called it.

When you’re 6 years old, you go to school for the first time. You manage to make every single teacher in your elementary school gasp in amazement as you tell them that you already know how to read and that you don’t need help with signing your textbooks– you know how to write your name as well. As you grow, you only get more intellectual; being put into special level classes, being told you were the best pupil out of the whole school, being constantly praised and made to believe that you are, simply put, much better than everyone else your age.

When you’re 19 years old, you get to university. The gifted child in you starts slowly dying out with the pressure of assignments and the realization that maybe, your whole life, you’ve been lied to and you’re not as extraordinary as everyone told you you were. At 19, you meet Zhong Chenle– the model student, the social butterfly, the teacher’s pet– and suddenly, he’s your enemy. You promise yourself to always be better than him. That itself was your only goal.

When you’re almost 20, standing in the enormous gym of your university, looking over at Zhong Chenle’s stand with fast food and the giveaway tickets for a brand new iPad being given with every purchase above 5 dollars, the flood of people gladly giving money to the man dressed in a neat black suit, looking like the businessman he, at heart, truly is, you finally admit that you’re losing.

The cupcakes stay abandoned at the trays, no one paying attention to all the effort you and Jisung gave into the charity event. If you really think about it, it’s kind of unfair– you did play fair, despite your previous antics, and you did everything in your power to raise as much money as you could. Looking at the lonely pastries, you feel defeated.

“Want one?” you ask Jisung, pointing towards the ones covered with pink icing– the exact ones he wanted to eat yesterday evening instead of dinner, after several hours of baking– seeing the boy furrow his brows in confusion.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to eat them until the event ends,” he says, watching over your dull look.

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “it’s over for us anyways, so I don’t really care anymore,” you proclaim as you take a bite of the cupcake, not even paying attention to the icing smearing all over your face.

The boy next to you only pouts at your argument, not used to seeing you so discouraged. He can’t say you’re not right– hell, he does have eyes and common sense, he can see the row of people waiting for Zhong Chenle’s fries from McDonald’s and pizza from Papa John’s– but still, he expected more determination from your ambitious persona.

“Y/N,” he whines, “it’s okay. Maybe we can still win,” he lies through his teeth, trying to cheer you up.

“Jisung, look at Chenle’s stand.”

“I am looking.”

“Do you still think we can win?”

“No,” he says, “but I thought my white lies could make you feel better.”

“Well, they can’t.”

“Okay, just eat your cupcake, will you?” he mutters, sighing at the state of you. Some freshmen girls come by to buy a cute little cupcake, but the few dollars in your basket right now won’t make any difference to the money moves your moral enemy is making.

“I tried so hard, Jisung,” you mourn with a full mouth, letting your emotions run free, “I tried so hard, and I still got nothing. This is so embarrassing, you can’t even imagine. I was supposed to be the winner, I was supposed to have the masterplan,” you complain, seeing Jisung sympathetically, although a little absent-mindedly, nod at all your points and arguments.

“It’s okay, Y/N, you can’t win all the time. It’s not embarrassing,” he encourages you, slyly taking a cupcake off the tray and biting into it, still acting cautious in case you decide to change your mind and revoke your approval to eat your goods.

“It is! You can’t imagine how defeating this feels.”

“I can see it on your face, sweetheart. Maybe if you stop frowning…?” Jisung mumbles, making you glare at him momentarily, his insides loosening up a little from the image of taking your mind off the issue at hand for just a few seconds.

“We have the last few minutes until the charity event is over!” you hear the voice of professor Lee through a megaphone she borrowed from the drama club, making you grunt. “Everyone, the sale is over at 2pm! Count your money after and bring it to me.”

Sighing, you don’t even try to sell any last-minute cupcakes anymore, opting to gather the money you’ve raised today. Quickly counting it and finding a scrap of paper to scribble down the amount (which is a sad, poor 20 dollars, if any of you were interested), you put the money into a zip-lock back and walk over to your professor, handing it in.

“Why did you rush it? Maybe someone would want-”

“Jisung, just… leave it. I’m over this already,” you say, sitting back next to your best friend, seeing him pout– mirroring your saddened expression– suddenly making you feel bad for impacting the mood of your business partner so much. “But hey, we had fun, didn’t we?”

Jisung looks at you in disbelief, breaking out into a grin at your poor attempt at easing the mood. “I guess we did, yeah,” he notes, “I know I did, although my stomach kind of still hurts from eating all the left-over icing from yesterday.”

“I told you there were raw eggs in that, what if you get salmonella, for fuck’s sake?” you sigh, shaking your head at him.

“It’s not salmonella! I just don’t handle sugar well-”

Your conversation is ended soon with a noise of a gong, signaling that the charity fundraiser was now over and every single stand should stop selling their goods. Looking around, you see the gym slowly empty out, leaving behind only the business majors that participated in the event, all counting up their raised money.

“Dude, I think we got around 150,” you hear Yangyang gasp from the stand next to yours, making you sigh with the information that even the condom stand raised more money than your cupcakes that were baked with care and love (and maybe a little bit of spite for Zhong Chenle. You can’t see it on them, though, so you guess it’s fine).

The next events come by in a whim– everyone hands in the money they raised at the fundraiser, one by one, gossipping about how much they’ve earned and how good they’re doing. Throughout the whole process, your eyes are glued to one person in particular– the one you were competing with in the first place.

Zhong Chenle moves through the place like he owns it, like it’s his own prestigious branch of his successful business, dressed formally, now shrugging off the suit jacket, leaving him only in a stylish white button-down and black pants, leaving you gasping for air. Grinning to his companion, Na Jaemin– although dressed similarly, but not leaving the same impact– you can only imagine how much he’s shit talking you right now, laughing maniacally at the fact that he stole your plan and won with it, taking all the credit and being the best yet again. It makes your stomach turn and twist in angry knots, feeling stupid each time your eyes flash down to his toned forearms when he moves away the things from the little stand, cleaning it up; for if you would’ve paid less attention to the man with the name Zhong Chenle, you wouldn’t feel half as defeated as you do right now.

“Stop ogling him,” Jisung teases, making you grunt.

“I’m trying to kill him with my glare.”

“I think you confused it with heart-eyes, sweetie-”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I’ll choke you with your favorite pink cupcakes,” you smile at him innocently, making the boy shut up instantly, fearing for his own life.

Professor Lee triumphally stands in the middle of the gym, looking around at everyone. The proud smile on her face tells you that the other stands most likely made more money than yours did, earning the charity a solid amount of money that your university doesn’t have to be ashamed of. The only thing is that you are ashamed– of yourself, though. You thought you’d do better than you did, but you guess you have to come to terms with the fact that you can’t always be the winner.

“Everyone,” the professor starts her speech, “I am really grateful for every single one of you standing here right now. I want to thank you all for your effort, and I also will be grading everyone with an A for this event, because I can see that all of you truly worked your hardest. Now, though, is the time to announce the team that earned the most money, and therefore, won the little competition I made to motivate you.”

Looking around at everyone, you suddenly feel like you’re watching Eurovision, waiting for the points to be added up until 2am, slowly losing your motivation to keep watching further. Professor Lee smiles before she turns to the stand expected to win, making everyone’s suspicions correct.

“The team that made the most money, ladies and gentlemen, is Zhong Chenle and Na Jaemin,” she proclaims, making the boys scream in joy, jumping up and down in their places as they rush into a hug. They look like their hard work has paid off after 20 years of effort, however, the only work they did was steal your plan and buy some fast food… pathetic, really. Seeing the wide grin on Chenle’s face, you find yourself rolling your eyes, especially when your make eye contact with him and quickly force yourself to look away. “However,” the professor continues, making the boy’s faces fall.

“I was met with the information that you two violated the rules,” she says, making Chenle furrow his brows in confusion.

“H-how-”

“You worked with false advertisement, which, as I already said, was against the rules of the whole event.”

“How was this false advertisement?” he asks, getting all defensive. Something inside of you lights up at the sight of him all frustrated, but you wouldn’t say it out loud, for you think Jisung would accuse you of being a sadist.

“What you were supposed to be selling was the food, although I don’t agree with it being store-bought either, but I’m willing to ignore that fact,” she explains, “but what you did instead was sell tickets to your iPad giveaway, which was not in the business plan you’ve given me a few days ago.”

“But professor Lee, it’s not like that-”

“Therefore, you will not get the iPad, and the price goes to the second place, which is Lee Yangyang and Lee Donghyuck. Congratulations, boys.”

The duo on your right fist bumps and screams at the top of their lungs, making everyone in the university gym scowl with the sharp pain in their ears. Now, this wasn’t exactly the outcome you were expecting… you can’t say you hate it, though. Turning to Jisung, ignoring the yells of despair uttered out of the mouth of Zhong Chenle, complaining that condoms weren’t technically allowed as the product for sale, you hug your best friend with stars in your eyes, tugging him closer. He was right with his previous arguments, after all. Not that you'd admit it to him, since you're still super petty, but you're glad you didn't proceed with your innitial plan nonetheless.

“Woah, there,” Jisung gasps as he hugs you back, “we didn’t win, Y/N, though…”

“I know,” you hum into his chest, satisfied.

“So…”

“I’m just happy Zhong Chenle isn’t the winner,” you grin, pulling away from the boy, ready to celebrate the win of the two dumbasses in your business class. You never thought you’d see the day when Chenle is beaten by a duo that rarely attends the class, but you’re more happy than ever to let them indulge in the joy right now.

Hearing someone clear their throat behind you, you turn around. Surprised to see Chenle there, your smile freezes at your face, making you look like you’ve just been paralysed, earning yourself a kick into your shin from Park Jisung sitting at the chair next to you before he excuses himself and leaves for a bathroom break.

“Hi,” you greet as you see Chenle sheepishly look at you, his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“You got me there, Y/N,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief, “I didn’t take you for such a mastermind,” he adds, making you confused.

“What?”

“The plan in your bag… you had it there because you knew I’d take it, didn’t you? You were trying to make me lose all along,” Chenle adds, finally bringing clarity into your brain. He’s not right– you were just too stupid to realise the consequences of your future actions in that moment, but now you’re glad the universe worked in your favor and you were too gullible to trust your moral enemy in the moment. You may have been weak back then, but now, you’re the winner out of the two of you– and you can’t say it doesn’t make your ego rise to enormous heights.

“Y-yeah…” you hum, not realizing your expression gives it away almost immediately, bringing Chenle the last hint of confidence he needs before he takes his next step towards you. The knowledge that you didn’t plan to sabotage him, and that this was self-sabotage all along, makes the boy content– you may hate him, but not as much.  The fact that you were so out of your mind to let him take your plans right under your nose must be a hint of something.

“So…” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, “what I said back then in the library still stands, though,” he says, chuckling. “I know I kind of lied back then, but now I mean it. I don’t… I don’t really want us to fight anymore, and I actually think the two of us would make a great pair- I mean, friends, so…”

Blinking at him a few times, feeling heat rising to your cheeks, you feel like you’re having another fever dream. There’s no competition right now, no business strategies, no exams to be taken. So… the intentions behind his words must be truthful, right?

“Um, I…” you start, but end up gasping like fish on sand, at a loss for words. Flickering your eyes from his to your feet and back to his shy smile, you feel like your brain is overheating. Curse hormones, really… it can’t be anything other than that. There’s no other reason why your brain keeps contemplating if this is him asking you out, and no reason why you so desperately want that accusation to be true.

“We can hang out after this, if you want,” Chenle suggests, rocking a little in his place, “with- with Jaemin and Jisung as well, since they seemed to get along…” he adds, the hint of blush creeping onto his cheeks making you want to scream into your pillow with overwhelmingness.

“That would be great,” you say, seeing the boy nod at your words, relief visibly flashing behind his eyes.

“Okay, great,” he smiles, “I’ll just get my things and I’ll find you later?”

“Sounds good,” you nod, your brain turning into a foggy mess.

Watching him turn on his heels and walk towards Jaemin standing on the other side of the gym, grinning at his friend with a suggestive wiggle to his eyebrows, you zone out. Is this your reality? Did you shift into another universe where the two of you don’t want to kill each other? How did you even move on from those emotions?

“You okay?” Jisung suddenly emerges from behind you, feeling shocked at the sight of you completely unfocused and still in your movements.

“Mhmm,” you peep, taking deep breaths.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, turning to your friend. “Do you wanna hang out with Jaemin later?”

You meet Zhong Chenle at 19, hating everything about him with burning passion, despising the way he always made you feel challenged and on your toes. He shakes with your word, turning you into a competitive mess, always trying your best to be better than him at everything, just so you could see the defeated look on his face and get acknowledgement.

When you’re almost 20, you realize that a hint of what you always wanted was acknowledgement from Zhong Chenle.

It might not solve all your problems, but maybe turning less competitive is a start.

The artist’s muse - H.RJ

Pairing: Huang Renjun x (fem!bodied) reader

Word count: 1494 words

AU/Genre: artist!AU, artist!renjun, muse!reader, smut, fluff, angst (not really)

Warnings: confessing during sex, nude modeling, unprotected sex (don’t ride your bike without your helmet, guys), insecurities, but yeah, it’s pretty vanilla

Summary: Renjun is an artist and you are his muse. Today, you’re at the museum where his works of your nude body are displayed.

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Paradiso | Richkid! Jaehyun (M)

   Description: Escaping to Italy and having a torrid fling to escape your pushy father sounded like a good idea, but the man you were screwing? Yeah, well, he was, erm… married.

Genre: Rich Kid/ Summer Vacation AU angst | fluff | humor WC: 15.3k Warnings: graphic smut (semi-public sex, dressed, hardcore dirty talk, unprotected ), profanity, cheating/ infidelity, mentions of mental illness

NCT Writer’s Prompt: You’re traveling around Italy this summer, hoping to escape from the ‘worthy men’ your father keeps setting you up with. It wasn’t your plan to fall in love with the rich, handsome bachelor that you met at the winery, that’s just a plus. (yeah yeah I know i’m tweaking it a bit)

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